by Faye Hall
His raised voice made her jump slightly. “I found the newspaper clippings in my room,” she confessed. “I also found the letter you wrote to me offering me help.”
His eyes narrowed. “And are you claiming that’s why you’re here?”
“I told you the truth when I came here,” she said in a strained voice. “I really do need your help.”
“What kind of help?” he asked. “Given that Albert was killed several months ago, I don’t believe you’ve only arrived here now desperate for me to protect you from those hunting his killer. So why are you here?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “What happened to Albert was an accident, but there were things that happened afterward.” She let out a shaky sigh. “Someone saw me leaving the Heather estate house the night of the murder…”
Her words drifted off, and he could see she was struggling with her confession.
“And what?” he persisted, trying to make her talk. “Did you come here to hide? Is that why you’ve been so eager to sleep with me? Did you think if you fucked me, it would be easier to persuade me to help you?”
A tear fell down her cheek, and she lifted a hand to quickly wipe it away. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what was it like?” he asked, his voice rising again slightly.
“It’s not like I planned on ending up in your bed again when I arrived on your doorstep,” she rebutted.
“And not once have I forced myself on you,” he reminded her. His gaze narrowed on her as he sighed. “You have welcomed me inside you time and again, acting almost as if you have some hunger for me you can’t seem to quench.”
She averted her gaze. “You needn’t act so surprised. I seem to remember we both had quite an appetite for each other.”
“But that was before the fire. That was before this,” he said, his hand coming up to point at his scarred face. “Now, few women can even abide to look at me, let alone contemplate spending a night with me buried inside them. So why are you so different?”
Finally, she dragged her gaze back to him. “Do you remember your father’s autumn equinox party?”
He nodded. “It seems like a lifetime ago.”
She smiled slightly. “I remember what happened that night like it was yesterday,” she admitted. “And with every horror I’ve been made to live through, I have held the memory of that night close to my heart.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m not that man anymore.”
She stepped toward him. “Yes, you are. To me, you always will be.”
“So why did you walk out on me last night?” he asked, needing to understand what he was to her.
Lifting her hand to his face, she stroked his cheek. “I used to love you so much, Tristen,” she confessed. “Lying with you last night though, looking at the man you have become, I realized what I feel for you now is so much more than that love, and it scares me.”
Her words lit a fire in his heart, but he couldn’t act on that feeling just yet. “Why does it scare you?” he asked, needing to know. “Or is it me who scares you?”
Her fingers ran over his lips. “You could never scare me, but what you make me feel…” Her words trailed off, and her hand begin to tremble. “I’m scared to love you as much as I do. You left me once…I couldn’t bear for you to do that again.”
His heart thudded heavily in his chest. “I never left you, Amalie. I could never leave you when you own my heart.”
His lips lowered to hers, his hand coming up to lace in her hair. As he embraced her hungrily, he pulled at her clothing, almost daring her to refuse him. When he laid her fully undressed on the bed, he shifted to between her thighs. He wanted to touch her—feel the love she claimed to have for him. Placing his hand between her legs, he stroked her quim, marveling at how she felt. He wanted more than to just feel her though. Bending down to her, his finger pushing inside of her, he licked along her wet slit, his eyes shutting at the pleasure her taste filled him with.
“Tristen,” she gasped. “What are you doing to me?”
He lifted his face slightly from her. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his finger still caressing her.
She arched her back, and he knew he had touched her tender spot. Lowering his face back to her, his tongue lapped along the length of her quim. Her hands went to his head, her fingers lacing in his hair as her hips lifted to him again and again. Hearing her moans getting louder, he could only hope her release was upon her. Feeling her sheath contracting around his finger, he lapped at her honey.
When her body began to relax, he withdrew his finger from her and shifted up and along her body, thrusting his throbbing cock inside her wet quim, forcing yet another passion-filled gasp from her. Holding her to him, he joined her in passionate release, filling her with his seed.
* * * *
Lying together, their legs entwined, Amalie rested her palm on Tristen’s chest as he stroked her shoulder.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked. “Please.”
His fingers moved up and began stroking her hair. “Anything.”
She nervously traced patterns on his chest, unsure if asking her question was the right idea. She let out a shaky sigh. “What kind of relationship did you have with Amanda before she died?”
His fingers stilled, and she knew she had hit a tender spot. “I never slept with her if that’s what you’re asking.”
She propped herself up so she could look at him, her naked body still nestled against his. She was trying to figure out a way to ask him what she most wanted to know without sounding like she was accusing him.
His fingers stroked her hair again, his gaze holding hers. “That’s not what you’re asking, is it? You want to know if I wanted her dead.”
She suddenly felt very uncomfortable. “I’m asking if your relationship with her could have been the reason she was killed.”
“We both know that it was Jacob who was sleeping with Amanda though. Not me.”
“Did she have any other suitors, someone who didn’t take nicely to competition?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. I only learned about her and Jacob the night of the fire. Given your apparent friendship with Carter, you’d know more than me about her affairs.”
She shook her head. “He told me about a man who kept coming to call on his sister, but she always refused him. He had blond hair, but that’s all I know.”
“Blond hair?” he asked. “I asked Nicholas before about the men who came to call on you after Jacob’s death. He told me there was a man with blond hair. The first person I thought of was Bastian Tanner.”
She nodded. “I avoided him when I could, but he would always find me. It was him who told me you wanted to buy up properties from as many of the townspeople as you could. He said you were ruthless and would stop at nothing to take what you wanted from those you targeted.”
His hand stilled, and he took a deep breath. “There were a few properties I went out of my way to buy and debts I made sure were called in, but they had nothing to do with Amanda or Jacob. The others I purchased so I could safeguard the future of the assets until the original families were able to buy them back from me. That’s what I did with your father’s properties.”
“You told me that my father lost most of my family’s assets to debts he owed,” she continued. “Would any of these men have wished my brother harm? I mean, enough to want him dead?”
He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. All I have managed to find out was that a man with fair hair was seen running from the building that night moments before it went up in flames.”
“Do you have any idea who it might have been?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, but I doubt he was working alone. Bastian Tanner told me he saw a woman also running from the cottage that night. He hinted that Amanda and this woman were in a relationship.”
Her body tensed. “How do you know Bastian?”
His lips pursed. “We went to school together, and then his father did some bad bu
siness deals with my father. The Tanners cost our family a lot of money.”
“You were friends?”
He laughed. “Hardly. He’s more an acquaintance that I can never quite be free from.”
“But you just said you spoke to him about the fire that night, so obviously you’re still in contact with him.”
His humor faded. “Yes, I am. I went to see him not long ago hoping he might be able to explain why you were suddenly at my station. I thought because you were once engaged he’d have some knowledge of your recent situation. He suggested you were here to seek revenge for the death of your brother.”
“And that was all he said?”
He shrugged. “Mostly. I did ask him what he knew about the fire that night and that’s when he told me about the woman. But when I asked him to describe her, he told me she looked very much like you, so I assumed he was playing with my head. It’s something he does to most people.” His expression turned somber. “Bastian came to see me a few weeks after Jacob’s death. It was he who told me you blamed me for the death of your brother. He told me I would be shot should I ever go to your estate again. I’ve been trying to find Jacob’s killer ever since. I thought if I could find his killer, you would stop holding me responsible for what happened to your family.”
“I tried not to blame you, Tristen, but everyone kept telling me you were the one responsible. I just didn’t know what to think. When you never even came to see me, I assumed you deserted me.”
“Why did you never come to see me?” he asked. “Was it because of the fire and the scars it left me with? Is that why you ended up accepting an engagement from Bastian?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t allowed to leave the house. After Jacob’s death, Father was so scared of losing me too that he imprisoned me inside our home. The next thing I knew he was announcing my engagement to Bastian. I begged him not to. I pleaded with him to let me see you and ask you what really happened the night Jacob died, but he refused. He told me you were the one who lit the fire and that he needed me to marry Bastian in order to keep me safe.”
“Bastian killed our baby though.”
She nodded. “I told Father all of that, but he wouldn’t break the engagement. It was almost like he was scared of Bastian. But then a few weeks later, he called it all off, even told me I could come and see you.”
He stroked her hair. “That must have been about the time I bought his properties. I guess your father felt braver knowing his daughter would be cared for should anything happen to him.”
Her brow furrowed. “But I wasn’t well cared for. I ended up working for lecherous, old men who cared for nothing but trying to crawl under my skirts.”
“And now you’re here seeking my protection?”
She nodded. “I had nowhere else to go.”
Pulling her back down to him, he kissed the top of her head. “You stay for as long as you need. I will keep you safe.”
She kissed his chest. “There is still more you don’t know about yet.”
“Sshh,” he hushed her softly as he stroked her hair away from her face. “Whatever it is, it can wait. All that matters right now is knowing you’re back with me and you’re safe.”
* * * *
Though Amalie dozed on and off beside Tristen, she couldn’t relax. She needed to tell him so much more yet, especially about Bastian. She didn’t realize they knew each other. Knowing that they did changed everything. She couldn’t keep hiding her association with Bastian, but she was fearful what would happen should she reveal their relationship and the hold he had over her.
Feeling Tristen moving beside her, she opened her eyes to look at him.
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized. “I need to go check on the workers. We were supposed to receive a shipment of feed for the cattle today, and I need to make certain it has arrived.”
Holding the sheet around her to cover her nakedness, she reached for her clothes and began to dress. “Do you think you’ll be long?” she asked. “I will go down to the kitchen to see about your lunch. I can bring it up to you when you return if you wish?”
“I would like that.” He smiled. “We can eat together when I return.”
Standing from the bed, she pulled on her shirt and began to button it. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up at him.
“Maybe when I come back, you can finish telling me what you were talking about before we nodded off.”
Finishing buttoning her shirt, she slid her hands into her jeans pockets. “You might not like what I have to tell you,” she warned him.
“I know that, but whatever it is, we will handle it together. And if you’re in some kind of trouble, I will help you in every way I can.”
Going to him, she lifted her hand to his face, and stepping on her tiptoes, she kissed his lips. She pulled away from him and stared into his eyes, treasuring the emotions she saw there.
“You will be fine, Amalie,” he assured her. “I will be as quick as I can down at the paddock.”
Watching him leave the room, she sighed heavily. She needed to find a way to tell him why she had been sent there and make him understand that she had no choice in the matter. She was trapped with no way out. Bastian would never let her be, and should she ever try to leave him, he would immediately go to the police and tell them of the murder she committed. If that happened, she would surely hang. Then she would never see Tristen again. Such a thought pained her heart as nothing else could.
As she went to step from the room, she suddenly felt light-headed, the room spinning around her. Reaching for the nearby chair, she grabbed the back of it to steady herself, taking deep breaths to try to clear her head. She hadn’t suffered from dizzy spells in quite some time, and it was rather strange that they should revisit her after so long. Her mind finally clearing, she returned to her room, certain it was the constant stress she was under of late that was causing her light-headedness.
Walking into her room, her attention was immediately caught by the note on her bed. Unfolding the piece of paper, she began to read, her hands trembling when she recognized the handwriting. It was from Bastian. He wanted to see her in town at the hotel right away or else he was going to the police to hand her in.
Fear filling her, she knew she had to go. Sneaking from the station, she went to the stables to borrow a horse. She knew the risk she was taking with Tristen being in the next paddock, but still she could see no other choice. Saddling the animal, she swung up onto its back and kicked it in the flanks, directing it toward town.
Arriving at the rear of the Anabranch Hotel, she dismounted and threw the reins of the horse over a nearby rail. Walking into the hotel, she went straight up the stairs and to the room Bastian was staying in, apprehensive about the merits of this man who was waiting for her. After everything Tristen told her about Bastian, and about the fire that killed Jacob, Amalie began to wonder just what secrets Bastian was keeping from her. Knocking on the door to his room, she waited to hear him bid her enter before opening the door and stepping inside.
“What have you brought me?” he asked immediately upon her entering. “Have you found the deed papers yet?”
“There is nothing at the station house,” she replied honestly. “If there is anything incriminating to be found on Tristen, then it’s hidden somewhere else.”
“Damn it!” he cursed. “There has to be something somewhere that will prove he was responsible for that fire.”
“Why are you so certain it was Tristen who lit the fire that killed my brother?” she asked bravely. “What would he gain from such an act?”
He studied her, and she could see his fury growing. “Did you know Amanda was about to call off her engagement to Tristen?” he asked, sounding almost smug. “In fact, she was going to talk to her father about it that night. Apparently, she’d been given a much better offer.”
She found this statement hard to believe, knowing for a fact that Amanda was quite besotted with Jacob. “Say you are
right, that still doesn’t explain how she died.”
His face filled with irritation, and she knew she would have to tread carefully in case he suddenly turned violent.
“Amanda went to tell Tristen that she was marrying another,” he persisted. “That was why she was out in the cottage. She thought such a conversation in private would be better. When she confessed her love for another, he got furious and attacked her. Amanda fought against him, but he was too strong for her. In desperation, she reached for a piece of broken glass and lashed out at him, cutting his cheek. He hit her so hard she fell unconscious. I guess he thought he’d killed her and lit the fire to cover up his crime.”
“You’re saying it was Amanda who gave Tristen his scars?” she asked, testing to see just how accurate Bastian’s story was.
He nodded. “You just have to look at him to see how well she carved him up before he killed her.”
She pondered for a moment, her eyes narrowing on him. “Tristen claims he got his scars from exploding glass bottles in the fire.”
He shook his head. “If that were the case, he’d have scars all over him. Even you must realize that it wouldn’t have just scarred his face.”
She knew the inaccuracies in his story. After all, she had seen Tristen’s scars and how much of his body they covered. She wouldn’t call him out on his lie just yet though. She still needed to know one last thing. “So why did Jacob have to die?”
He pursed his lips, looking positively furious. “It was your brother Amanda wanted to wed.”
Before Amalie could tell him that she knew at least parts of his story were lies, there was a loud banging on the door.
“Bastian, it’s me,” a familiar voice yelled. It was Tristen. “Open up. Now.”
“He can’t see you here,” Bastian said, shoving her in the direction of the door adjoining to the next room. “You will have to go through there and out of the tavern straight away so he doesn’t see you.”