Having already dismissed Jane for the evening, Marion moved to the dressing table and sat on the chair’s soft cushion to brush her hair. Once in a while she liked taking over her nightly ritual. She enjoyed running the bristles through her hair herself, closing her eyes, savoring the feel of the brush.
Her thoughts drifted to the last few hours. It appeared she and Tristan had reached a stalemate. As she joined him in the drawing room before dinner, he asked her to sit, as he had something to tell her. Her heart started to pound at the serious expression on his face.
Mrs. Downs had made it a point to tell her that Tristan had met with his solicitor earlier in the day. “What is it that seems to weigh so heavily on your mind?”
Tristan walked to the sideboard and uncapped the decanter of brandy. “Would you care for a drink?”
“No thank you.” Her stomach in knots, she waited patiently while he poured his drink, then crossed the room to sit in the chair farthest from the fire, Argos at his heels.
“I had a visit from my solicitor, John McGregor, today.”
She had a feeling this was not a conversation she wanted to have. “Yes?”
“I had asked McGregor to investigate the best way for us to allow you your freedom.”
Marion bristled. “Tristan, I’ve told you many times, I do not wish—“
“Allow me to finish.” He took a sip of his drink while her insides twisted with fear that the solicitor had found a way. She licked her dry lips and tried to quell her rising panic.
“Given the information he provided, a divorce is not probable.” He paused. “An annulment is impossible.”
She released a breath. If that was the result of the solicitor’s findings, why did Tristan still appear so determined to have his way?
“Then it seems we have no choice. We can resume our marriage and all will be well.”
Tristan placed his glass on the table and ran his fingers through his hair. “No.”
It was a good thing she had refused his offer of a drink. Right now she would have been hard pressed not to dump the contents on her very stubborn husband’s head.
“I have asked John to look into seeking a divorce in another country, perhaps France, now that Napoleon has been soundly defeated.”
Marion stood, her hand at her throat. “My God, Tristan. Do you really hate me so much? Would you move to another country to be rid of me? Give up your English heritage in order to be a free man?” Her voice rose in anger as she tried very hard to keep it under control. It was becoming difficult.
“No, Marion, no. Not at all. I’ve told you this is for you. So you can have a full life.”
“Dammit, stop it. Stop it now!” Hands fisted at her side, she barreled across the room until she was no more than two inches from his face. Tristan leaned back, his eyes wide. Argos growled.
“Stop pretending this is for me. I’ve told you numerous times I don’t want to be ‘free.’ I want our marriage to continue. It makes no difference to me that you’re blind. I don’t care. Do you hear me, Tristan?” She cupped his face in her hands. “I. Don’t. Care.” Sinking to her knees as if her bones had melted, she rested her cheek on his knees. “I don’t care,” she whispered.
Now, as she finished brushing her hair, the sounds of Tristan mumbling to his valet had her longing for his presence. Just to have his strong arms around her, to hold her. He didn’t realize how secure he made her feel, even though he felt useless as a man. During the two years of agony she’d gone through when she thought him dead, all she had ever wanted was to hold him once more.
She blew out a breath and moved to the bed, climbing in and pulling the counterpane up to her chin. Something needed to happen soon. She’d been here almost a month, and they were no closer to a resolution than when she’d seen him in the assembly room with Mrs. Gibbons on his arm. She anticipated another night of tossing and turning, her body aching for the warmth of her husband next to her.
…
Tristan sat on his bed, studying for a Latin exam, when a shout came from somewhere downstairs. No one ever shouted, his father didn’t allow excitement since his wife suffered from delicate sensibilities. Tristan put the book aside and hurried to the door. Flinging it open, he immediately raised his forearm, the back of his hand covering his mouth. Billows of smoke filled the corridor and rolled into the room, clogging his lungs and stinging his eyes.
“Master Tristan!” the butler, Bertram, called to him.
Unable to speak with the spasm of coughing that overcame him, Tristan doubled over, trying desperately to access clean air.
Bertram appeared at the bedroom door, a wet cloth over his mouth. “Come. We must leave the house, there is a great fire in the front rooms.”
“My parents? Brother?”
The butler shook his head. “Unknown, but we need to leave.”
With Bertram holding his hand, they made their way slowly down the back stairs, the heat from the fire already curling the wallpaper as they passed. They stumbled down the outside stairs, coughing as they attempted to pull fresh air into their lungs.
When he was finally steady on his feet, Tristan rounded the house and skidded to a halt when he reached the front. The entire structure was in flames. “Mother!” He raced up the steps only to have his arm yanked, causing him to tumble to the ground. “Let me go!” Tristan attempted to rise, but strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, dragging him back.
“No. You cannot go in there. It’s about to collapse.” Bertram’s grim expression threw Tristan into a panic.
“I have to go in. My parents and brother are in there.”
The butler shook his head. “No.”
Just then a loud groan reached their ears as the house slowly folded into itself, flames, sparks, and clouds of smoke and dust shooting up to the sky.
“Noooooo!”
Tristan bolted upright in bed. A fine sheen covered his face and his hands shook. He threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands.
“Tristan?” Marion’s voice seemed to come from a distance, even though he knew she would be only steps away. The last thing he needed was another pity visit. He stiffened his spine and sat upright.
“I’m fine. You may return to your bed.”
The mattress shifted as she sat alongside him. “I wish you would let me in, Tristan.” She reached for his hand. The softness of her skin, the scent of her body, the warmth from her closeness, worked together to transform his remaining fear into an agony of repressed lust.
How he missed her! He’d spent two years adjusting to never being near her again, never burying himself deep inside her body while she moaned his name. But to take her, to once again feed the voracious desire for her that consumed him, would be fraught with foolishness.
“My love?”
Her whispered words, so familiar, so achingly dear, mocked him, reminding him of what he’d lost and would never have again. He pulled his hand away lest he gave in to her siren call and shoved her nightgown aside to slide into her welcoming heat. “Please return to your bed. I do not need you here, and would like to attempt to sleep once more.”
It wasn’t necessary to see her face to know how much he’d hurt her and how his rejection had stung. With a wrenching sob she lurched from the bed, and her footsteps receded as she padded across the room, the sounds of her weeping fading as the heavy door between the bedchambers closed.
You have turned into a consummate bastard.
Tristan attempted to lie back down, but the soft sound of Marion’s weeping twisted his gut. God help him, he had to go to her. At least try to explain.
Explain what? That I love her so much and ache for her so much that I spurn all her offers of comfort?
Once again he threw off the covers, felt around the side of the bed for his cane, and started across the room. Argos’s sigh at being disturbed from his slumber announced the dog once again followed along behind. “Dratted animal. You don’t have t
o accompany me everywhere I go,” he groused.
Tristan leaned his ear against the door separating the two rooms. Shuddering breaths indicated Marion was still crying. He knocked lightly, then entered the room. “Marion?”
“What?” Her muffled voice made him smile. He remembered as a little girl she’d always ended up with a very red, stuffed-up nose when she cried.
“I am sorry.” He walked to the bed and reached out. She clasped his hand, and he sat next to her. “I…don’t know what to say.” He paused. “I do love you. Very, very much.”
Her quick indrawn breath frightened him. He never should have said that. It would give her hope. Something he didn’t dare offer.
He felt her shift on the bed, and before he had time to adjust to her nearness, she’d cupped his face and kissed him. Her soft lips were like the finest rose petals, sweet, fragrant, and plump. She slid her tongue out to taste him, and he pulled her closer. Just a few kisses, he assured himself, and then once he knew she was feeling better he would leave.
The explosion of need that raced through him brought his body to life like nothing since before his accident. He slid his hand up to cup her breast and almost wept. No longer able to talk himself out of it, he eased her down onto the mattress and covered her body with his.
He didn’t need his eyesight to remember how she looked, how her eyes darkened with passion, her cheeks flushed. He slid his hand underneath her nightgown and caressed her calf, moving up the outside of her leg to her thigh, clasping her hip. She felt much thinner. He could feel her ribs, her collarbone, as he shoved the nightgown up and then over her head.
Her soft moan as he took her breast into his mouth and tugged was like the finest symphony to his ears. His tongue teased the taut nipple as he skimmed lightly over it, smiling against her as she clasped his head and tried to bring him closer.
Tristan rose over her, burying his face into the soft skin of her neck, inhaling her oh-so-familiar scent. He hardened further as memories of other nights, other times he had held her like this, rushed into his memory. “I love how you taste, love the feel of the soft skin under your ear.”
“Oh, God, Tristan. I’ve wanted you for so long. I need you.”
“I know. Oh my love, I need you, too.” Bracing himself on his elbows, he rested his palms on her cheeks, brushing tears from her eyes with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice thickened. “I prayed and prayed for you to return to me.” She smoothed back the hair from his brow. “But I never thought to see you again.”
He had wandered into very dangerous territory here. If he was smart, he would ease out of her arms and return to his bed. But her scent, touch, and voice captured him as surely as if she held him in chains. His body betrayed him. He couldn’t stop now..
Without his sight, he found her sighs to be melodious, the perfume of her arousal stronger, the touch of her fingers on his skin more provoking.
His hardened male flesh throbbed with an intensity unknown before now. With his blood racing to his cock, his brain was left to flounder, and he could no longer remember why this was a bad idea. The woman beneath him was the only woman he had ever loved. The only woman he ever wanted to hold, to make love to.
Marion’s breath caught as he moved his hand down and teased the plump flesh between her legs. The moistness covered his fingers as he continued his ministrations until he felt her stiffen and sigh his name. He grinned, remembering how calm her releases had always been. One day he’d like to change that, give her pleasure like she’d never had before.
Once her breathing returned to normal, he used his knee to push her legs apart, and without hesitation, thrust into her, an explosive feeling swamping his senses as if he had come home. His hands clamped onto her shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting to allow him to plunge deeper. His movements, as he slid in and out of her moist, warm sheath, was a catharsis, something that he’d needed for a long, long time.
It didn’t take more than a few thrusts to bring him to completion. As he poured his seed into her body, tightening his muscles and straining against her, he experienced a moment of panic that he may have impregnated her. He rested his forehead against hers, attempting to catch his breath. Then, with a groan, he rolled onto his back and pulled his wife close. He offered a quick prayer that no new life would result from his lack of control.
Marion snuggled into his side, her hand resting on his chest. “Perhaps we have already started our family tonight.”
Horror shot through him at her words. Of course he had known the possibility existed, but he’d managed to shove that alarming thought to the back of his mind. Now with Marion’s sleepy words, the reality moved to the front and center of his mind. What have I done?
He assured himself since she’d never conceived during their time together before, it was highly unlikely she would be with child already. But the nagging thought kept him company until his satiated body joined hers in deep slumber.
Tristan slowly came awake with an odd sense of rightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. He stretched his cramped muscles, and his sense of peace immediately evaporated and turned to panic when he felt Marion sprawled over him, both of them naked. Memory swiftly returned. His recurring nightmare, sending Marion away in tears, then joining her in her bed. And what had followed.
Her soft breaths tickled the hair on his chest, but any comfort taken from awaking in her arms was tamped down by the fear of the repercussions from what he’d allowed to happen.
Perhaps we have already started our family tonight.
This was a disaster.
He slowly eased himself out from under her. She stirred and mumbled but remained asleep. He cast off the covers and hurried to his room, his heart pounding. He had to get out of here. Had to leave Marion, and what he’d done, as far behind as he could.
Summoned by his employer’s frantic call, Ellis arrived in Tristan’s room as he paced up and down, his anger a palpable thing. “Ellis, we are leaving this morning for London.”
The valet paused. “London, my lord? For how long of a stay?”
“Forever.” It would have to be forever. He could not remain here and once more break Marion’s heart.
Isn’t that what I am doing by leaving?
Ellis’s voice broke into Tristan’s thoughts. “I beg your pardon. I’m afraid I do not understand.”
“You need not understand. It is a simple matter. Pack everything up and arrange for the carriage to be brought around. We leave for London immediately.”
Once more the man paused before speaking. “As you wish, my lord. Shall I notify Jane to begin to pack my lady’s things?”
Tristan stopped his pacing and turned in the direction of Ellis’s voice. “No. Lady Tunstall will be remaining here.”
He didn’t need to see his valet’s face to feel the man’s disapproval. However, this was not a conversation he intended to have here and now. “Please hurry. I would like to leave as soon as possible.”
Less than an hour later Tristan tugged on his gloves as he stepped through the front door of the house. He stopped at the sound of Argos whimpering.
“My lord, the dog appears to be distressed. I believe he wishes to join you.” Mason’s chilled words pulled him up short. He needed to see about enforcing some more discipline among the servants. They took way too much upon themselves. He didn’t need their added disdain to feel as low as he already did.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Why does this animal plague me so?” Shaking his head in disgust, he hit the side of his leg and said, “Come, then.”
He felt Argos brush up alongside him, the dog’s enthusiastic tail beating a cadence against his leg. “Annoying beast.”
Master and dog proceeded down the steps and into the waiting carriage.
Chapter Ten
Marion rolled over in bed, the faint scent of Tristan surrounding her like perfume t
o her senses. Lazily reaching out her hand, her fingers landed on empty space instead of the warm flesh she’d expected. She opened her eyes to see the indentation where he’d slept alongside her. Disappointed that he’d already returned to his room, she rang for Jane so she could bathe and dress for the day.
Perhaps he would allow her to drag him away from his estate business today and go for a trip to the village. They could have hot chocolate at the inn, and maybe even buy a warm meat pie from one of the street vendors as they strolled along. She giggled, feeling like a young miss with her first beau.
She smiled as she recalled their time together during the night. Her body was sore in places she hadn’t been aware of for quite some time. Now that they were husband and wife once again, excitement welled within her at the possibilities. A child!
Lying in bed, she linked her fingers together over her stomach, wondering if a new life was already growing within her. How she would love a little girl with Tristan’s beautiful blue eyes, or a small boy with his blond curls. Or both—or even several more. An entire houseful. Giddy with delight, she couldn’t wait to see him again.
Bouncing out of bed, she hurried to her wardrobe to pick out a gown for the day. A slight scratch at the door caught her attention. “Enter, Jane.”
“Good morning, my lady.” She curtsied.
“Yes, it is a good morning. In fact, it is a wonderful morning.” Marion clutched the blue and white striped walking gown to her chest and spun in a circle.
“I’m so happy to see you in such a fine mood, my lady.” Jane directed the footmen to fill the tub behind the bathing screen.
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