‘To prove their own loyalty, I dare say.’
‘There are other benefits. The proceedings will be closed to the press. They can hound the witnesses outside, but not within, as they did you.’
‘There was one reporter who used to sit in front of me and draw me every day.’
Hadleigh sighed. ‘I know. I used to watch him and regularly had to fight the urge to rip his sketchbook to shreds or bash him over the head with it. But you dealt with it with more grace than they showed. I was proud of you.’
‘What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.’
‘An adage I need to adopt. Right now, with all the past clouding my head alongside all the speeches and arguments I still need to construct for the case, I am in danger of becoming buried beneath it all.’ He seemed suddenly deflated. ‘If feels like a mountain to climb in only ten days.’
‘One which you will climb triumphantly once you are rested, of that I am in no doubt. You are the most meticulous lawyer, after all. Everybody says so—not that I would need their word on the matter, having witnessed it myself.’ And there it was again. The trial. Her awful marriage. Demons she had faced and come to terms with, yet still pieces of her past which she couldn’t seem to whitewash over no matter how hard she tried. Maybe they would fade once this last trial was over?
‘And what about us and that kiss? Both kisses, in fact? We are yet to discuss either and what they mean.’ Her stomach clenched and she fought the urge to swallow nervously. Perhaps she hadn’t faced all her demons, although to be fair, after Penhurst she had been certain she would never feel the inclination to need to face this one. Another man had never been on the horizon—even temporarily—so why bother?
But now she wanted to bother. Which meant she had to lift the lid on her own box, dredge up horrid memories and do some heart-searching of her own. ‘Yet more confusion to cloud your judgement—do you really need that now?’
‘I fear I will be mired in cloudiness unless I know. Please don’t make me wait weeks for your answer?’
‘Very well. Once the day is done tomorrow and we have pondered it all with clear heads, we should talk. Properly. And decide whether to blame it all on the fraught circumstances in which we find ourselves or whether it is something we...explore again when there are no excuses to stand in our way.’
‘I know already which I want.’ She watched the golden flecks in his dark amber eyes turn molten and that sight alone made her wonder why she was stalling. ‘But tonight has been fraught and, as much as it galls me to agree with you, I do feel, if not vulnerable, then certainly off-kilter. We are also both tired, so perhaps we do need time to digest it all with a level head. For me, that means considering more than kissing you. I doubt I’ll ever stop wanting to do that.’ He took both her hands in his, his gaze locked thrillingly on hers, and brought them to his lips. ‘Until tomorrow, then...and cloudless heads. And no more excuses.’
Chapter Seventeen
Penny had been doing a great deal of further soul-searching all day, listening to the different voices in her mind and their conflicting advice until there was so much of it, none of it made sense. Two hours ago, once dinner was cleared and the house full of noisy guests were all happily ensconced in the drawing room with Tristan, she had returned to the privacy of her own sitting room, determined to come to a conclusion. She had played with Freddie, bathed him and stroked his silky curls till he fell asleep, then she had sat at her table with paper and a pen. Seeing that all else had prevented her from seeing the wood for the trees, perhaps one of Tristan’s lists would do the trick? She would compare the pros and the cons and hope the truth would show itself.
Do you want to kiss Tristan again?
After writing those words, she underlined them to mark their importance, because this was not a decision she was prepared to take lightly.
Reasons not to: it muddies the water.
There was no denying that, whether it be employer versus servant or Crown Prosecutor versus Defence Witness, theirs was an unconventional relationship.
I don’t know what I want from it?
His words last night had stayed with her and bothered her. For me, that means considering more than kissing you.
Did that mean he wanted an affair or was there a chance he was suggesting a future? She didn’t know and needed to before any decision could be made. Penny had not considered another future with a man once since the day Penhurst had died. Not once. In all the scenarios she envisaged for her new life, the only male in them had been Freddie. She had assumed her horrid husband had succeeded in putting her off men for life. Apparently not...but did that follow that she wanted another man for life? In the short term, she was more than tempted. Anything more made her feel uneasy, so...
Is he worth sacrificing my new-found independence for?
She sat for several minutes mulling that one over and then shook her head at her own indecision. Why was she even thinking about such a thing after everything she had gone through? She liked standing on her own two feet and that was that. She scratched out the question and replaced it with a statement.
I will not give another person control over me ever again.
Much more decisive!
Am I ready for intimacy?
A tricky one, and doubtless jumping the gun, but one she had to face if she did kiss him again. Because kissing was not ultimately what she would be signing up for and, while his were quite lovely, the expectation would be that kissing turned into more and Penny had uncomfortable memories of more.
While she had indulged in a few kisses with other suitors before her hasty marriage and enjoyed them, and she had definitely enjoyed a certain handsome barrister’s since, she had never been intimate with any man other than Penhurst. And while Tristan was nothing like him in character, looks or physique, the process would be the same. His body would join with hers in exactly the same way. It didn’t matter that Harriet and the Dowager had come right out and said they had thoroughly enjoyed the physical aspect of their relationships and had reassured her it would feel entirely different with the right man. Their bodies weren’t her body. Hers had never worked that way.
What if hers failed to feel any passion as things progressed to the act itself? With Penhurst it had been an intrusion, one she had endured with gritted teeth at first until she had discovered that she could block out his relentless pummelling simply by transporting her mind elsewhere. Would she have to resort to that with Tristan—and if she did, would he be able to tell she abhorred it? Penhurst had never given a moment’s thought to her, so it had never mattered, but Tristan was too thoughtful and her lack of passion would wound him. He’d take it personally and then what? Or did she want to endure something which gave her no pleasure? Of course not. That would be merely jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Will Tristan also find me unattractive?
This was a niggling, deep-rooted fear which had been newly reawakened since their first kiss. Because, as much as it galled her to give Penhurst any power over her now, even if she took a leap of faith and assumed her body could respond with passion, what if his constant complaints about her lack of allurements were correct? Their couplings had taken place in the dark, she had always been wearing her nightgown because he delighted in telling her that her naked body was not the slightest bit seductive. She had hardened herself to those criticisms, eventually coming to realise they were all designed to control and manipulate her, or to simply make her feel wretched like the unflattering dour dresses or the rationed time with Freddie—because Penhurst had bizarrely found excitement in her pain. But what if her breasts weren’t big enough? Or her curves tempting enough? She had carried a child since the last time and that had left its marks upon her skin. What if Tristan’s passions faltered at the sight of her? Could she bear that? Was she brave enough to face that with a man she was coming to care about a great deal?
S
he didn’t know.
Reasons to kiss him: his kisses feel divine.
It was perfectly acceptable for widows to indulge in brief affairs.
Curiosity.
There was no denying that. It was driving her mad, wondering if things might be different with another man, especially as her body was responding to him differently already and they had only kissed twice. She recalled the Dowager’s wise words and decided to jot them down as a point all by themselves.
What better way to forget the awful chore of the marriage bed, than finding passion with another who is willing?
I like him.
She stared at those insipid three words and shook her head. Good grief! If she couldn’t be honest on her own private piece of paper, then she really was a coward. Decisively she drew a line through them and replaced them with the truth.
I have a deep affection for him.
He was kind and noble. The way he treated Freddie melted her heart. He was maddening and stubborn—but also not too pompous or proud to admit when he had done things wrong. And of course...
I find him very attractive.
She underlined this three times. Shallow, perhaps, but there it was. He was broad and golden and filled his breeches exceptionally well. And his eyes... Heavens, they were something to behold, especially when they burned with passion for her. Just thinking about it made her feel all warm and ripe and—
The light tap on her door had her jumping guiltily out of her skin. That was quickly followed by shame at what she was doing.
‘Penny?’ His voice was low and silky, filled with forbidden promise, and her insides melted like butter.
‘One moment!’ Guiltily she snatched up her list and looked frantically for a place to hide it quickly. Why were there no drawers in this silly room? In desperation she stuffed it under the nest of threads in her sewing basket and then scurried to the door, patting her hair and smoothing down her dress. Realising, too late, that this dress was a statement in itself. What had possessed her to change into it? Red was the colour of passion and seduction and the neckline! It was too daring for a sensible discussion about kisses. He would think she had worn it in invitation!
Which, of course, she had. Because...
She wanted to.
The list she had just made proved that. Four reasons against and five for. The truth in glaring black and white.
Her hand shook slightly as she opened the door and her knees felt weak to see him stood behind it. He was so handsome—and she was going to kiss him again.
Gracious!
‘Come in.’ Nerves had her pulse beating like an out-of-time drum in her head. She had no idea what to do with her hands, then felt a fool for clasping them behind her back. ‘You should probably sit down.’ And she should probably calm down or she was in grave danger of babbling and hopping from foot to foot on the spot like a ninny.
He sat on the sofa and she dithered, having no idea if she should immediately sit next to him or perch on the chair opposite. She stared at it, hoping it might give her the answer.
‘Should I take your desire to sit there as a bad sign?’
‘No! Er...no. I am just a bit nervous.’
‘Then that makes two of us.’ He smiled and she felt marginally less silly. ‘Just sit, Penny.’
She did. On the chair. Then her mind went a total blank. ‘I have no idea what to say.’
‘Well, if we avoid what is bound to be an awkward preamble while we both dance painfully around the issue, I suppose it all boils down to one thing. Will there be a third kiss or not?’ He looked her dead in the eye. ‘And I am afraid that has to be entirely your decision. Because I shall go out on a limb and state I am all for it. I find myself quite besotted with you, Penny. So much so, I can barely think straight.’
Out of nowhere, massive butterflies began flapping in her stomach at his pretty and heartfelt confession and unwittingly her hand went to her abdomen to calm them. His eyes dropped to it, then rose to meet hers, staring intently while he waited for her verdict. For a second, she seriously considered running away, because this was a big decision. A positively huge leap of faith. One that frankly terrified her now that the time for mulling and pondering was done. She wasn’t certain she was ready for it—and all that went along with it—but then would she ever be? There was every chance the longer she debated the wisdom of it, the less chance there was of her doing what her body plainly wanted her to do. And then, out of sheer cowardice, she was giving Penhurst power over her from beyond the grave.
That settled it once and for all. Six to four on the should. ‘I suppose we could give it a try.’
He exhaled loudly and she watched his mouth curve upwards in amusement. ‘Not quite the giddy yes I was hoping for, but I shall take it.’
Now what? ‘Shall I fetch some tea? Some brandy?’ Should she offer him a snack perhaps, or should she attempt some small talk? What exactly was the correct etiquette in this sort of situation? She risked glancing at him for some sort of direction and the wretch was still smiling. ‘Are you laughing at me?’
‘I am trying not to, but you are making it very hard. I have never seen you so jittery.’
‘Perhaps we should just get it over with?’
‘Be still my beating heart...’ But he had stood and easily closed the distance between them. He took her hand and tugged her to stand. Then tortured her frayed nerves by gently brushing his index finger down her cheek. ‘Have I told you that you look particularly lovely this evening?’ His lips brushed her forehead, trailed down to the exact bit of her skin still tingling from his touch seconds before while that seductive index finger which had caused the tingles had now found the tendril of hair she had left loose by her ear. Involuntarily, she shivered as his warm breath caressed the sensitive spot just beneath it, then held her breath when his lips found it, too. ‘I’ve been dying to taste you here.’ His teeth nibbled her earlobe, causing goosebumps to erupt all over her body. He trailed soft kisses all the way down to her collarbone, making her neck arch of its own accord. ‘And here.’ Who knew clavicles were sensitive? This was all boding very well.
At some point her eyelids must have fluttered closed, because she had not been expecting his mouth to brush against hers just then. She sighed into his, her body instinctively pressed against him, her fingers closing around his lapels, then pulling him closer.
She felt one arm snake its way around her waist as the other cupped her cheek, then gave herself over to the delicious feel of her body opening itself to true passion for the very first time.
He deepened the kiss, but was in no mood to hurry, using his tongue and teeth to seduce her more thoroughly than she had ever allowed herself to be before. An exciting heat pooled between her legs. Her breasts ached to be touched. By the time he wrapped both arms around her, she was already draped shamelessly against his body, her hands fisted in his hair and her wits abandoned completely to the thrilling sensations her senses were bombarded with.
She groaned at Freddie’s angry wail, refusing to remove her lips from Tristan’s. Only when it became quite apparent her son had no intention of allowing her to indulge in her pleasure any longer, did she reluctantly tear her mouth away. ‘I’m sorry... I’ll be quick.’ Silently, she prayed that just this once her son would settle swiftly.
‘Take as long as you need to. I am not going anywhere.’
However, Freddie was in no mood to be compliant and the few minutes she had hoped it would take rapidly turned into half an hour as he insisted on drinking every last drop of the milk she had left warming in a bowl of hot water on his nightstand. Then, as if sensing the odd new tension in his mother’s body, he flatly refused to settle until she had to practically wrestle him back to sleep.
When she returned to her sitting room, feeling suddenly self-conscious, Tristan was stood as cool as a cucumber at the window, gazing out. He turned as she e
ntered, his expression odd despite his smile and she hoped the enforced break in proceedings hadn’t irrevocably destroyed the mood. He walked towards her and took both of her hands in his, staring down at them. ‘I suppose it is time for bed.’
Unease immediately replaced anticipation. ‘I suppose it is.’ Perhaps this time it would be different, because he was different. Only one thing was absolutely certain: unless she tried it, she would never know and always wonder. Thanks to him. Penny smiled, in what she hoped looked like encouragement. His slipped off his face the second his hands dropped hers and he started towards the door to leave.
He hadn’t been referring to intimacies at all.
‘Would you like me to come and kiss you again tomorrow?’
She wanted him to continue kissing her some more tonight. ‘If you want to.’ Disappointment replaced the unease rather than relief that she had been spared. Surely that said something?
‘Oh, I want to.’ His amber eyes positively sizzled with the truth of it, which in turn made her wonder why he was leaving. ‘Goodnight, Penny.’ His gaze raked her body slowly...possessively. ‘Sleep tight.’
Chapter Eighteen
There were some things you couldn’t pretend were unseen. For Hadleigh it was Penny’s list. He hadn’t been snooping or prying. He had stumbled upon it by accident the second she had left him all alone to see to her crying child. Quite literally. He had been so consumed with the power of what he had now labelled the Kiss to End all Kisses, he had backed towards the chair on slightly unsteady legs, needing to sit, and tripped over her sewing basket. As he knelt to stuff the haphazard mess back into it, he noticed the paper. Then he saw the columns and then, before he could stop himself, he had read the blasted lot.
He still wasn’t entirely sure what he felt about it despite leaving it all to ruminate for the day. Even the brisk gallop he had taken across the estate to clear his head hadn’t given him any true clarity. Some of it had been very encouraging. She found him handsome, thought his kisses were divine, had a deep affection for him... All music to his ears.
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