He remained silent, shamed by his answer. In truth, he hoped it would, but never expected Victoria to call him on it. Nor did he want to force her into humbling herself.
Heavy rain continued to whip against the window panes, tempered only by the rolling rumble of thunder, as Victoria shrugged out of the shoulders of her gown revealing more ivory skin. He longed to caress her, to learn if her body was as soft as her hands, her neck, and her lips.
He’d bet riches that it was.
“Will disgracing me diminish your pain?” she murmured, pulling the pins from her auburn tresses, shaking her hair until it cascaded in waves over her bare shoulders.
Tristan’s erection was now throbbing for her. He could take her right now. Not only was she willing, but she was handing control to him.
Domination no longer mattered, he realized, as Victoria’s fingers traced a path to her back, where he knew her corset laced. Tristan reached for her, encircling her in his tight embrace, halting her lest she further humble herself to him.
He caressed the creamy flesh at the nape of her neck with his fingertips, noting with a thrill of excitement that her skin was silkier than he remembered.
If he believed in fate, Tristan would have thought that Victoria was created just for him.
“You shouldn’t lose faith in your sister,” Victoria whispered, flattening her palm against his chest.
“You heard the doctor,” he replied, surprised at how calm he sounded. Even frightened for his sister and incensed with God, Victoria brought out the best in him. Or perhaps she suffused him with it, for he didn’t think he possessed it of his own free will.
“Regardless of what any physician says, you and I both know that Gwen can accomplish anything when she is determined.” Victoria caressed his chest. The slow, circular motion seemed so simple, so effortless, that for one brief second Tristan wondered if Victoria was even aware of the action.
“She’s half of me, Victoria.” The words escaped his lips in a ragged whisper. He could no longer carry the weight of his increasing panic, which was now battering him like a rough ocean current. “We were born minutes apart and have spent our lives together, as a pair. Gwen can’t leave me alone.”
Raw emotion rose to the surface as molten tears burned the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, willing them to subside. He would never have made such an admission to anyone else, but somehow he knew Victoria would understand.
She was like a drug to him.
“I am sorry, Tristan,” Victoria buried her head against his chest, her own tears dampening the thin fabric of his shirt, “for you, for Sebastian, and for the twins. No child should grow up without their mother.”
“What will we do without her?” Tristan didn’t expect Tori to have an answer for there wasn’t one. At least none that made even one iota of sense.
Her response was barely audible. “I don’t know.”
Neither did he. The only thing Tristan understood at this particular moment was that Victoria was warm, supple, and suited him to perfection. She also understood him and, on this night, that came as a relief. For once, he didn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Victoria comprehended his loss and he longed to connect with her, seeking a diversion from his grief and fear.
Tristan kissed the top of her head, offering her the same comfort he sought. He then raked his fingers through Victoria’s silken tresses, inhaling the heady scent of gardenias. Intoxicated, his languorous kisses traced a path to her face. He kissed one eye, then the other, the taste of her salty tears lingering.
At last he reached her lips, swollen from their previous kiss he noted with satisfaction as he gently traced them with his tongue. Victoria’s breath hitched, sending a surge of exhilaration through him as she granted him entrance. Her tongue sought his, heightening his urgent desire as it lightly brushed against his.
A sharp flash of lightning clashed with a deafening boom of thunder, nature’s fury causing the glass window panes to tremble, shaking him to his very core.
Or perhaps it was Victoria’s impassioned kisses that caused his every nerve ending to tremble in response?
With each kiss, each stroke of her tongue against his, Tristan knew he was closer to the point of no return. This woman, who he’d known for years, affected him like no other and drained him of all reason. Ever since their first kiss, he had tried to forget her, tried to replace her. Yet no one kissed him with such a ravenous desire or caused his body to respond like Victoria.
Tristan knew he should go no further. Struggling with his persistent conscience, he even tore his mouth from hers in an attempt to do the honorable thing. Laughable, really, since Tristan was far from honorable. Yet, he did so just the same, pressing his forehead against hers as he battled to calm his frantic pulse.
Several seconds passed, perhaps even a minute as a steady rain lashed against the window panes, the turbulent rhythm attuned to his rapid heartbeat. Tristan thought he’d conquered the urgent desire that coursed within him. However, instead of the relief he expected to feel, a blow of disappointment pounded against his temples like an anvil.
It was pure madness.
He was certain of it, until Victoria’s hand brushed against the bare flesh of his chest causing his body to shudder in response to her delicate touch.
Victoria continued to unbutton his shirtfront, her fingers trailing downward, causing his shaft to harden in response.
Did she have any idea the inferno she was igniting within him?
He met her hooded gaze. Never had he witnessed such intensity in her azure eyes. Victoria continued her exploration lower, her gentle fingertips grazing his abdomen, tracing a path towards his waist, towards his manhood, which was throbbing for her, having long ago reached the painful stage.
The flames of passion that burned within him ignited as Tristan reclaimed her lips in a hard, demanding kiss. He no longer cared about honor, motivated only by his fervent need to possess her, to fill her.
Tristan reached under her skirts then placed his hands on her buttocks and raised her onto his lap. She wore very few skirts, he noted. She must not have taken much care in dressing after they found Gwen.
Gwen.
Christ, he needed to forget.
He groaned as he tore his lips from Victoria’s long enough to yank her tattered gown above her head, his mounting desire seeking release. It was obvious that Victoria sensed the change in him as she straddled him, shoving his shirt open, exploring his chest with her soft fingertips until his shirt fell askew off his shoulders.
Tristan shrugged out of the garment as Victoria grasped the nape of his neck, leaning into him. This time, her lips devoured his with such urgency that it surprised him.
His was a voracious hunger, like nothing he’d ever imagined. It motivated Tristan to lift Victoria up off his lap and press her backwards until she reclined against the carpeting beneath them. Though he had briefly considered the bed, it was nothing more than a fleeting thought. Instead, he stood long enough to remove his breeches, consumed by his need to possess her.
Her gaze lingered as she watched him undress, his body reacting with waves of heat and a surge of desire.
Lying beneath him, bathed in a combination of muted candlelight and lightning flashes that streaked through the turbulent sky, with her hair fanning her face, dressed only in her corset and her chemise, Tristan had never seen anyone more beautiful.
Nor had he ever wanted anyone more than he wanted Victoria.
Fear once again seized his chest as he tossed his breeches to the side. This time, he feared that Victoria would change her mind.
As if reading his thoughts once again, Victoria sat upright and turned. In a slow, seductive gesture that caused Tristan’s blood to rush to his manhood, she pushed her hair over her shoulder. She was allowing him to unlace her corset, he realized, as he dropped to his knees.
In spite of his trembling hands, Tristan managed to unfasten each lace. Once his task was completed, he removed her
corset and inched his hands around her waist then upwards cupping her full, rounded breasts through her gauzy chemise.
Victoria gasped when his hands made contact with her breasts and arched her back against his naked form. Tristan kissed her neck as his fingers teased the taut buds beneath her chemise. She reached for his hands, cupping them in her own before shifting her weight and turning to face him.
Placing her palm against his cheek, Victoria flattened it against his stubble. He hadn’t shaved since this morning but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead she leaned into him, a small gesture but one that thrilled him. In response, Tristan buried his hands in her thick tresses.
The intensity of his heated gaze emboldened Victoria to claim his lips in a gentle kiss, using everything she’d learned from his previous kisses against him by tracing his full lips with her tongue.
Tristan was quick to grant her entrance.
Longing to comfort him, she made a concerted effort for this to be the most sensual kiss he had ever experienced. Slow and seductive, Victoria wanted to help him forget his grief if only for a moment by driving him mad with desire.
As if sensing her yearning, Tristan deepened their kiss, tracing the length of her spine with his fingertips. Even through the soft fabric, her skin quivered beneath his dexterous touch.
Victoria explored his bare chest, reveling in the splendor of his body. God, this man was perfection. Her hands trailed down to his abdomen, where she traced his taut muscles with her fingertips. His tendons twitched in response and Victoria’s bit her lower lip to suppress a grin. She, this inexperienced virgin, was making his body react to her touch.
After further exploration of his chest, her hands trailed to the nape of his neck. Victoria grasped him tighter, clinging to him in an attempt to steady her mounting desire as Tristan slowly inched her chemise up her legs, his fingers exploring her flesh, leaving a fiery path in their wake.
He then cupped her buttocks with his hands. Flesh to flesh, her skin seared from his intimate contact.
Did he feel the breadth of what occurred?
He must realize that she belonged to him. He must sense how much Victoria loved him. Wasn’t it evident in her heated caresses and sensual kisses?
Tristan lifted her onto his lap as a guttural moan escaped her throat. Though she experienced slight discomfort upon his entering her, it was quickly replaced with waves of heat as her feminine heart tightened around his shaft.
She had never imagined their joining yet, even if she had allowed herself to do so, Victoria was confident that nothing could have prepared her for the burning desire that seemed to radiate from within her.
Tristan tore his mouth from hers then trailed kisses down her neck and throat. She was intoxicating. Like a drug, he thought, as his lips traced a path down the thin fabric of her chemise to her breasts, where he then teased one of her firm buds with his mouth through the fine fabric.
Victoria arched her back, digging her nails into his flesh as he flicked it with his tongue, claiming it as his own, nipping it with his teeth.
He knew she wanted more, could feel Victoria’s moist womanhood throbbing for him as he released her nipple, her rugged sigh slicing through the torrents of rain that continued to pound against the window panes. In response to her obvious disappointment, Tristan then captured her other breast while Victoria’s body trembled beneath his tongue.
Her response to his kisses heightened his need to fully undress her. Tristan lifted Victoria’s chemise above her head, tossing it aside with urgency. He then guided her backwards against the carpet, pausing briefly to admire her naked form before settling atop her, balancing his weight on his forearms, burying his hands in her hair.
“Look at me,” he instructed, his baritone rough with emotion.
She complied at once, meeting his gaze as he entered her once again – that one simple gesture unexpectedly filling his heart with pride. Teasing her moist womanhood with his shaft, Tristan probed, exploring deeper with each thrust. It was a deliberate effort, not penetrating her feminine wall fully. Not until Victoria writhed beneath him. Not until he was positive that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Victoria arched her back as her womanhood tightened around his shaft. Then she whispered, “Tristan.”
She’d whispered his name once before, during their first impassioned kiss and the intimacy of her tone had sobered him from further acting upon his desire for her.
Not this time.
It was, quite simply, his given name yet he’d never heard her utter it with such unabashed fervor. It was enough for him to realize that he wouldn’t rest until she belonged to him body and soul.
Shifting her thighs beneath his weight was such a simple motion and yet Tristan understood the unspoken significance of that one gesture.
This brave, magnificent woman was giving herself to him completely.
Tristan quickened his thrusts, probing deeper into her feminine core. As if instinctively, Victoria began to move with him, her body melding to his. It was his undoing as he thrust harder, penetrating her feminine wall at last.
Victoria cried out, her nails again digging into his flesh. Tristan devoured her with his impassioned kisses, thrusting harder, faster, until she wrapped her leg around his. Tristan was no longer aware where each of them began and ended as together they climaxed, spasms of pleasure wracking both of their bodies.
Long after their waves of rapture had passed, he continued to kiss her, their tender kisses almost more intimate than the act of joining they just shared. When he finally released her from his protective embrace, it was brief. Reaching for the corner of the silk coverlet, Tristan pulled it to the floor, wrapping them in a warm cocoon. Victoria curled up against him, resting her head in the crook of his neck as her hand gently caressed his chest.
Tristan kissed her head, stroking her silken tresses and listening to the rhythm of light rain tapping against the window panes like a gentle drumbeat. Victoria remained enveloped in his arms as she fell asleep.
With the storm now abated, Tristan’s haze of passion slowly began to lift. In direct contrast to his previous euphoria, stark reality set in.
What in bloody hell had he done?
Victoria was pure, until tonight when he sullied her. Much like the late Duke of Davenport had done to Tristan’s own mother and like Colin with Eve, although Colin’s indiscretion with Eve consisted of a kiss. Tristan had committed a sin much worse than any of theirs, hadn’t he?
Disgust doused him like the cold rain that had battered his windows during the tempestuous downpour.
He took Victoria’s virtue, knowing full well that he had no intentions of marrying her. Quite simply, he wanted her and took her, consequences be damned. His intimacy with her was precipitated by his necessity to avoid thinking of the future.
A future without his sister.
Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat that formed with the mere thought of his sister, Tristan stared at the ceiling, wondering if Gwen had succumbed to this phantom illness that threatened to take her life.
Assuredly he would have sensed it?
No, Tristan was certain that his sister was still alive and fighting for her life. If she were to awaken and ever learn of the sin he committed on this dreadful night, Gwen would be mortified.
What had Tristan said to Colin after he caught his brother kissing Eve?
Prove how unlike your father you are.
Now Tristan must take his own advice. This is Gwen’s sister-in-law, for God’s sake. How could he not marry her now?
He desired Victoria for so long and, in spite of his many attempts to keep his distance, had taken her at last. Because he had filled Victoria with his seed, it was possible that a child might have been created.
Swallowing hard against the bitter taste of self-loathing, Tristan was well aware that he had officially lost control over his tight-knit life yet was unable to stop it.
Slowly, his eyelids began to feel heavy. He welcomed t
he oblivion of sleep, wishing it would expunge his guilt over this night. Instead, the same words repeated themselves through each of his nightmares:
“I will marry you. But I will never love you.”
He sensed that he was trying to convince himself. If he repeated the statement enough, it would become truth, would it not?
Even in his sleep, however, Tristan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was in danger of falling for the woman sleeping beside him, of being hurt, of being rejected.
No, love was a risk he wouldn’t allow himself.
It would be his solemn vow as he faced his fate in the morning.
Chapter 6
Oh, dear God, what have I done?
Victoria loved him and thought he loved her, as well. Sometime between entering Tristan’s suite and making love to him, she had convinced herself of it.
His hollow words echoed in her ears.
I will marry you. But I will never love you.
Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, she instead concentrated upon the gentle pitter-patter rhythm of the light rain rapping against the window panes.
Tristan must not have thought she was awake when he uttered the words. But she had been, and his statement crushed her heart, which had been brimming with rapture just moments before. She fought to steady her rapid pulse, feeling as if she was trapped in his solid embrace that mere moments before brought her warmth and comfort.
With each gentle rise and fall of his chest, Victoria waited for the proper time to escape until at last, Tristan had fallen into a deep slumber.
Taking great pains not to wake him, she pried his arm from her shoulder and placed it atop his chest. Though he shifted, he didn’t awaken, allowing Victoria to exhale a silent sigh of relief.
She squinted in the semi-darkness, noting that the candlelight was flickering at a most inconvenient time as she inspected the carpet in an effort to recover her garments. First, she located her chemise and immediately slid it over her head. Victoria then shrugged into her gown, the faint sound of the rustling fabric fraying her nerves. As she searched for her other articles of clothing, Victoria clutched the ripped bodice of her gown for dear life. Thankfully, she found everything rather quickly and without waking Tristan.
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