Lydia shrugged. "Believe what you want. I have a copy of the will, but I'm sure you'd want to see the original. Mr. Bently has it in his office. If you like, you and I can visit him tomorrow."
"Ill visit him myself, thank you."
"There's plenty of room, Tristan. Don't worry. You and your little wife," her blue gaze hardened as it moved over every inch of Meg's small form, "will hardly know I'm here."
"God," Tristan shuddered with emotion as his hands tightened into fists, "I hate that woman." He had just returned from a visit with the family lawyer. "What the hell did she do to my father? How did she ever get him to sign such a thing?"
"Your father loved her."
"My father was a fool."
"Tristan, does it matter so terribly? Surely we can ..."
"Share?" he asked with loathing. "Share a house that was always to be mine? Do you want her here? Can we trust her around our children?"
"Buy her out"
"That's exactly what I plan to do. And I don't care if it takes every cent I have."
Lydia laughed. "Don't be silly, darling. I don't need your money."
"Lydia, you're treading on dangerous ground," Tristan said, never noticing that his wife had entered the room, for his attention was on the woman who had wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I always thought a bit of danger exciting, don't you?" She smiled prettily. For a woman nearing forty, she was remarkably beautiful. Tristan had never imagined she'd age so well. Actually, he hadn't imagined it because he'd rarely given her a thought in the thirteen years. Her eyes grew soft and inviting, her lips pouty and moist. The seductive action brought about no response. "And you remember how as when I was excited, don't you?"
Tristan's mouth formed a hard, tight line. "You disgust me."
"There was a time when I drove you wild."
"I was twenty, little more than a child."
"You became a man in my arms."
"I learned about sex in your arms. That didn't make me a man."
Lydia chuckled. "But you're a man now. Do you remember the things we did together. Would you like to-"
"Lydia," he sighed, as he removed her arms from around his neck, "what I'd like to do is talk about this place."
Lydia shrugged and sat in a chair facing the desk and gave him her most charming smile as he sat across from her. "I'm all yours."
Tristan raised his gaze to the doorway, and his heart sank as he saw Meg. How long had she been standing there? Damn! He was going to catch hell for this and he hadn't done a God-damned thing.
Tristan ignored the comment. "Over the next year so, I'm freeing the slaves."
Lydia came suddenly to her feet and then laughed.
"Lord, you really had me for a minute there." She laughed again. "It seems the years have improved your sense of humor, if not your need to wile the afternoon away the way we once did."
He made a face at her sexual reference. "I'm not making a joke. I want them free."
Lydia realized he was perfectly serious. Her eyes widened with shock, and she thought of the men who often serviced her on a hot lazy afternoon when she had nothing better to do. There -was no way she was going to let them go. "Are you out of your mind? How can we run this place without them?"
"I never said to get rid of them. We'll be paying them a salary. They'll work for it, or others will take their place."
"First of all, you can't free them without my permission. I own half of everything, remember? Besides, it's impossible. We don't have the kind of money that could pay their salaries."
"We should. This place, run properly, can make a fortune."
"Now you're telling me I don't know how to run this place? I've been doing it for years while you were playing with your god-damn boat."
"Seems to me you could have used some help. There's not enough in the bank to cover next year's bills. Where the hell did it all go?"
"Expenses."
"What kind of expenses? Traveling? Clothes? Jewelry?"
She shrugged. "A lady has to live, darling."
"Except you're no lady, are you?" He sighed with disgust as he looked over the page before him. "Damn it, these books are a disaster."
"Now you sound like Bently. God, I hate that little bastard."
"Why? Because he refused to go to bed with you?"
"I'd have to be pretty desperate to want it from him."
"It seems to me you're desperate enough if you're getting it from Jarvis."
Lydia laughed. 'Jealous, darling?"
Tristan laughed at the thought. "Lady, I don't care if you bed the entire state of Virginia. All I want is to run this plantation and to be left alone while doing it."
"Fine," Lydia said with a shrug. "You don't mind if we cut this conversation short, do you, dear?" She glanced at the timepiece pinned to an indecently low-cut bodice. "I have an appointment."
"I don't mind in the least," he said, turning back to his papers as she exited the room.
"I don't think this is going to work."
Tristan sighed as he looked up at his wife. He smiled, delighting in the small, dark sight of her. She was like a breath of fresh air after the few minutes spent with Lydia. She'd never appeared so clean, so virginal, so appealing in his eyes. "What's not going to work?" He waited in dread for her condemning words.
"Her living here."
"As long as she leaves the running of this place to me, I'll just have to learn to ignore her."
"But can I?"
Tristan smiled as he moved from behind the desk to take his wife in his arms. Her hands moved automatically for his neck and then pulled back as if reminded that she shouldn't. "You can touch me, Meggie." She made no movement. "Please, sweetheart. I love it when you touch me." And then she did, trailing her fingers tantalizingly up his chest to wrap securely around his neck, and Tristan thought his heart might break with the love he knew for this woman. His mouth lowered to brush against hers, but he felt too much for this woman to be satisfied with gentle kisses for long. His lips parted as did hers, and both groaned with enjoyment as tongues played and dipped into fiery heat.
No one felt like her, no one tasted so sweet. He wanted more, much more. "Meggie, my god," he groaned into her mouth. "You taste so good. I love the way you taste."
Meg moaned delightedly. "This is wonderful."
"Is it?"
"Mmmm," she sighed. "Very."
"Jesus God, you're driving me insane." His body shook, with longing as he pulled her tightly against him and ground his hips into her softness.
His body was trembling by the time he tore his mouth from hers: his breathing was ragged and harsh near her ear. He took deep calming breaths as he strained for control. "Has she been bothering you?" he asked as he nuzzled his mouth just below her ear.
"No, but her invitations for you to join her in bed are getting a bit much for me to swallow."
Tristan laughed at Meg's flashing black eyes. "A few days ago you would have been furious."
"I am furious."
"But not with me?"
Meg smiled, feeling very much the fool for her earlier jealousy. "Not with you."
"Maybe we can work out something," he said, his chin resting on her head as he rocked her gently against him. "Maybe there's a way to get rid of her."
"How? She refused your offer. What else can you do?"
He smiled, his heart as light as air at the newfound trust he saw in her eyes. "I'll think of something. I promise."
Chapter Seventeen
Tristan might have promised to think about ways to rid themselves of Lydia, but besides the running of his plantation, the thoughts that occupied his mind were only of Meg. Meg and her deliciously sweet scent, her girlish laughter, her sparkling eyes, her silky skin. And his body ached to know hers again.
A week after their arrival, the horses he'd bought in England were finally delivered. Two beautiful stud stallions and three mares, plus the raven beauty both he and Meg had admired at the Gypsy camp.
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br /> "Come out to the barn for a minute, Gypsy." Tristan said as he stuck his head into their bedroom to find her fixing her hair just before their company was due to arrive.
Meg stood before her mirror. Three hairpins were clamped between her lips. She shot him an aggravated look as she tried to smooth her curling hair into place. "I'm trying to get ready," she said out of the corner of her mouth, "and my hair won't stop curling."
"It looks all right to me," he said, clearly not having the slightest idea of the effort it took for Meg Jo look her best.
"Wonderful," she returned with no little sarcasm. "I've always wanted to look all right." She pushed another pin into place and then groaned unhappily at the results. "Tristan, I wanted it to look good." He reached for a wayward curl. "And leave it alone!" She slapped his hand. "Every time you're around me I look like I've just suffered some tremendous shock. In seconds you have it sticking out all over the place."
"I can't help it. The stuffs so gorgeous I can't keep my hands to myself." They were expecting their next-door neighbors, the Coopers, and Meg had been bustling about the house all day in preparation. "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself," he grinned, "until they leave. If you come out to the barn with me."
Meg smiled at his teasing leer and asked, "What's in the barn?"
"A surprise."
Meg allowed him to lead her from the house and over the two hundred yards of uneven ground that separated house from barn. Inside the warm musky-scented building, Meg's eyes widened with surprise. Where yesterday only three stalls had been occupied, today all but one housed a horse.
"Where did they come from?"
"My ship."
Meg smiled as she remembered the six horses and how she'd spent part of each day talking to them, brushing them, and how she nagged at Cook to give her carrots for their treats.
"I thought you were going to sell them"
Tristan shook his head. "Nope. I bought them to keep."
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" she said in awe as she moved from stall to stall, studying each perfect animal.
Tristan nodded. "Gypsies understand the meaning of good horseflesh."
Meg grinned. "Is that where you got them all? From my cousins?"
"And no discount to family, either. I don't mind telling you they cost me a fortune."
Meg laughed. "But you weren't family then. You were simply a pest."
Tristan grinned. "Perhaps, but being a pest got me what I wanted."
Meg looked away from the cocky look in his eyes, refusing to give him the pleasure of agreeing.
"Nothing to say to that?"
"You, Mr. Hall, are arrogant enough. You don't need my adding to it."
Tristan laughed. "Come over here. I want to show you something."
Meg moved to his side and realized he was petting Star, the horse she'd been brushing when he'd come to the Gypsy camp. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Meg said as she ran her hand over the smooth midnight coat.
"Aye, but she doesn't compare with her new owner."
Meg shot him a puzzled look and then realized at last what he meant. "She's mine?"
Tristan shrugged. "I never gave you a wedding gift"
"She's really mine?" Meg repeated in awe. She turned to an expectant Tristan and laughed as she nearly lunged into his arms. "Thank you. Oh, this is the best present anyone has ever given me."
Tristan's heart pounded in his throat. He said nothing, but simply held her in a light embrace, not trusting himself to move an inch. He hadn't held her in almost a week, knowing he couldn't bear touching her without knowing all of her again. He made a low sound deep in his throat as she pressed herself against him. God, but she felt wonderful in his arms. His mind swam with the clean, delicious scent of her, and his arms trembled with the need to crush her against him. He'd never needed a woman so badly in his life. He'd never wanted one the way he wanted his own wife.
Meg never realized the suffering her husband knew. She leaned back, unthinkingly bringing their hips together, and smiled at his pained expression. "What's the matter? Didn't you think I'd like her?"
Tristan swallowed. "I wasn't sure."
"Well, I do. Thank you," she said again, her tone ever so much softer this time as she leaned toward him. Her arms moved over his chest, and her hands linked behind his neck as she pulled his face to hers for a sweet kiss.
Tristan willingly allowed the kiss, even knowing it was sure to bring him unequalled torture, yet he hadn't the will to resist. But something happened the moment their lips met. An explosion of heat suffused both their bodies. Fire met fire and instantly ignited to roaring flame. They groaned in unison at the depth of this exquisite pleasure.
Tristan knew nothing could come of this and yet there wasn't a power on earth that could stop him from touching her, tasting her.
Her mouth opened wider as his tongue moved over her lips and with carnal delight sought again the delicious texture and taste of her mouth. He rubbed his hips against hers, and Meg eagerly reciprocated. All was forgotten but this need. They were wild, hungry, straining beings, yearning for long-withheld satisfaction.
His hands reached for her hair. Pins fell unnoticed to the floor as he tunneled his fingers into the curling sweetly scented mane.
A tug on her gown caused her breasts to tumble into greedy hands and Meg cried out in delight as he tore his mouth from hers and sucked a rosy nipple into blazing heat. He raised her from the floor, his hand cupping her backside, bringing her softness even with his mouth.
And that was exactly how Adeline and Bradley Cooper found them.
"Why can't we wait in the house? I don't want to step in anything."
"Bennett said they were out here, that six horses — " Bradley Cooper's words halted abruptly, and his wife gasped at the most wantonly erotic sight either had ever seen.
A small woman was held high in a man's arms. A cloud of beautiful, thick, black curls hung free of pins to her waist. Eyes closed, her head had fallen back as if the pleasure sustained was too great to bear.
Meg's head snapped up at the sound of voices. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes and then gasped at the sight of an older couple standing hand in hand at the barn's open door. Even in this dim light, it was easy enough to see they were stunned. Eyes wide, mouths agape, they stared as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing.
It was too late to go back. Too late to make believe they'd seen nothing.
"Oh dear, I'm sor~-" Even as Adeline whispered her apology, she realized she was only making everything worse. The best thing to do was to brave out this mortifying moment and ignore the fact that her neighbor had quite a bit of wife's breast in his mouth. Good Lord, how in the world was she supposed to ignore that?
Tristan grunted a low curse and instantly turned Meg from shocked eyes. She was going to kill him for this. He hadn't a doubt she'd be raging at him the moment their company left. It was his fault. He never should have allowed this to grow so wildly out of control. He knew better. What the hell was the matter with him? How was it this woman could make him forget every rational thought once in his arms? He lowered her to the barn's dirt floor, ignoring the panic in her eyes and stood before her as she quickly adjust her gown.
It was impossible to do a thing with her hair unless she was willing to crawl around the floor searching for her pins. Meg raised her head, squared her shoulders, and tried to ignore the fact that she no doubt looked as if she'd just come from a good toss. She took her husband's offered arm and moved with him to greet his friends.
Meg could only thank God their company hadn't arrived a few minutes later. There was no telling what they might have seen then. It took Meg a bit longer to recover from her embarrassment than did her husband, but an hour and two glasses of wine later, she finally managed to put aside her profound embarrassment and began to enjoy her newfound friends.
"I want to know what the hell is going on?" "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Tom. Why was he up
stairs for a good hour or more?"
Lydia laughed knowingly while shooting him an arch look. "Why do you think?"
"Don't ask me what I think. Just tell me what's going on."
"I needed him to do something for me."
"What?"
"Is that any of your business?"
"What, Lydia?"
"A woman has certain needs," she said coyly.
"Jesus!" Tristan muttered with disgust.
"Don't give me that holier-than-thou look." She laughed. "I'm sure you've had your share of darkies, darling."
Tristan remembered back to his youth and his first experiences with sex. Yes, he had learned from black girls then. In truth, there'd been no one else he'd dared to touch. But the innocence of a fifteen-year-old just discovering the pleasures of the flesh couldn't compare to this depravity.
"Is Tom the only-"
"Actually, no, he's not."
"It will stop, Lydia," he said in a voice that was meant to strike fear.
It did not.
Lydia laughed. "Will it? I don't think so. I have the same needs as anyone else. I'm not about to go into a convent just because I've been widowed."
Tristan didn't bother reminding her that her actions while married were hardly any different than they were today. "What about Jarvis? Isn't he enough for you?"
"Jarvis isn't always around when he's needed most."
"Then find another and leave the blacks alone."
"Someone like you perhaps?"
Tristan shot her a look of disgust.
Lydia grinned, not at all offended by his obvious repulsion. "I didn't think so. It's easy enough to pass judgment while a woman is warming your bed, isn't it?"
"I'm telling you to leave the men alone."
"And I'm telling you I own half of everything on this place." Lydia grinned. "And with or without your permission, darling, I most certainly will continue to do as I please."
Two weeks grew into three and then four, and still he waited, fearful to touch her. Each night they shared the same bed, but not passion. Tristan lay for hours on end waiting for his body to ease its suffering so he might sleep.
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