“Thank heavens.” Shaking her head, Hester turned back to her soup. An awkward silence followed.
To change the subject, Lila asked after the family’s health.
Her hostess smiled and replied that she had heard from everyone recently and could report that all were well.
“That reminds me, Tristan.” She looked to her brother. “Our parents are in town.”
“They’re here?” His eyes widened.
“Yes.” She laughed. “You look as though I had announced the presence of the king. We’re all to dine together Friday night. Lila, I’ve told our mother about you, and she’s quite eager to meet you.”
“Has Father heard from the Comte D’Amiens?” Tristan asked abruptly.
D’Amiens. The name sounded familiar to Lila. Then she remembered why: He was the man who’d caught a glimpse of her in Tristan’s room in Paris—in bed. Poor Tristan must be worried that the tale had reached his father’s ears. She certainly hoped not, if they were all to dine together on Friday.
“Why?” Hester set down her spoon, her brow furrowing. “Did something happen in France? That’s why you’re so skittish, isn’t it? Was there a problem with the West Indies ships?”
“No, no.” He watched as a footman cleared his bowl. “Everything went well. I met with D’Amiens–that’s all. He’s a fine fellow. I’m being daft. I’m sure the man would have nothing but good to report to Father.”
“You are being daft. The way you reacted, I thought you’d expected this fellow to have told Papa something dreadful.” Hester put her hands over her breastbone. “All I can say is that you must truly need a good night’s rest. You’ve been back in England for several days, haven’t you? Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”
“Not much.” He reached for the champagne bottle and poured himself another glass. Looking into his drink, he muttered, “But more than I’m likely to get tonight.”
Lila nearly choked on the water she’d just sipped. He seemed to be implying he would lose sleep because they couldn’t make love tonight. His frustration didn’t surprise her, but she could hardly believe he’d allude to such a topic amid company.
During the rest of the meal, Tristan couldn’t seem to sit still, continually shifting in his seat or dropping his napkin. She wondered if she should try to speak to him alone, but to do so seemed pointless. Nothing she could say would make him feel better about their situation. She was as upset as he.
After dinner the men immediately joined the women in the drawing room, instead of lingering over port. Lila wouldn’t have been surprised if Philip didn’t want to endure Tristan’s mood all by himself.
Hester chose a chair by the hearth and motioned for her husband to sit opposite her. The only other seating nearby was a small settee, so Lila and Tristan had to share it.
The warmth of his thigh grazing hers tantalized her. She longed to nudge over closer to him. Pretending they were practically strangers felt unnatural and unbearable.
Nursing a glass of ratafia, Hester asked, “So, Tristan, when do you think Lila will have access to her trust?”
“Possibly as soon as tomorrow.” He stared into the fire, eyes fixed as though unseeing. “Once Higginbotham gets the second confirmation he’ll open a new account, to which she’ll have full access.”
His sister blinked. “Goodness, Lila, you’ll have your money in no time. I hope you won’t leave us right away. You mustn’t go before you’ve had a proper, long stay.”
Lila smiled but said nothing, knowing any reiteration of her desire not to impose would be met with further protests.
“Where will you be living?” Philip asked her. “Tristan mentioned that you don’t have many close relatives.”
“No, I haven’t.” She set down her untouched drink on an end table. Despite avoiding alcohol all evening, she felt exhausted. “The one cousin I’d care to reside with recently moved to Italy. I had hoped to stay with her until I could arrange for my own house. Now I may have to find another suitable companion. Otherwise I’ll have to live quite modestly.”
“Not to mention that a young woman cannot live on her own.” Hester tapped her chin with her index finger. “Can’t you go back to the uncle you’ve been living with?”
Lila bit her tongue about the first comment and shook her head in answer to the second. “To be frank, I’m not eager to see him ever again. This morning Tristan and I found out he’s been trying to appropriate my trust for himself.”
“Good Lord!” Hester exchanged a look of shock with her husband, then turned back to her. “Your own uncle would leave you without a shilling for your dowry? Why, you would virtually have no future.”
Tristan grimaced. “Lila’s trust is not the same as a dowry. She may do whatever she pleases with it. She doesn’t need to get married.”
The resentment in his voice surprised Lila. She’d thought that he understood her beliefs, despite their prohibiting his wish to marry her. Frowning, she wondered if he had come to blame her for their predicament.
His sister tilted her head, as if looking at him askew might help her understand him. Softly, she said, “Tristan, remember that Lila is a guest and deserves our best manners.”
He looked at her, then paused to squeeze his temples. At last he met Lila’s gaze for the longest stretch he had all evening. “I’m sorry. Truly. Pray forgive me, all of you.”
“Of course,” she murmured, and the others followed suit.
“Why don’t you step outside for a breath of air?” his sister asked. “You can show our guest the little garden out back.”
His frown only deepened again. Lila couldn’t bear seeing him so distraught.
Hester looked to her. “Being in town, the garden is small, but, personally, I think it quite pretty. We even have a little maze with a surprise at the center.”
“Sounds intriguing.” Regardless of the fact that she knew no way to comfort Tristan, she thought they needed to talk. “I’d like to see it, Tristan. Please, if only for a moment.”
He hesitated, then nodded curtly.
“There are lanterns on the terrace,” Hester said as her brother stood.
“No need,” he shot back. “We won’t be long.”
“Take your time.”
He glanced at her once more but didn’t reply, his lip curling. Turning to Lila, he offered his elbow.
She couldn’t understand why he seemed to resent every word his sister uttered. Rising, she rested her hand on his arm. The slight contact spread warmth through her palm.
As soon as they walked out of the room, the world felt different. They were alone again. She found it hard not to lean into his body and yearned to rest her head on his shoulder. He, however, had gone back to avoiding her gaze.
Without speaking, he led her to a pair of French doors at the rear of the house. They stepped out onto a small terrace, and a temperate breeze fanned her face. The long summer evening had just turned to dusk. A huge full moon hung low on the horizon over a cluster of buildings on the next street.
Tristan slipped away from her and went to the iron railing, staring out at the grounds. Unsure how to break the uneasy mood, she stepped up beside him and took in the view.
Hester had been modest to call the garden “pretty.” At the bottom of three steps leading down to the lawn, scattered flower beds burgeoned with a variety of exotic blossoms. In daylight their colors must have looked exquisite. Beyond them, a wide square of shrubbery flourished, thick and precisely trimmed. The maze, no doubt.
“What a beautiful evening.” She moved up beside him and leaned on the rail. Still, he didn’t respond in any way. Searching for a topic of conversation, she said, “Your sister is remarkably cheerful.”
“Cheerful.” He snorted. “That’s one word for her, though personally I’d choose meddling. You do realize she’s already attempting to make a match of you and me?”
“The thought that she might do so occurred to me earlier, though tonight I’ve had other things on my mind.�
� She followed his gaze out at the greenery. “Tristan, are you angry at me?”
For a long moment the only sound was the crickets, punctuated by an occasional frog’s croak. Softly, he said, “No, not at you, at the world.”
“But I’m part of the world.” She turned to him again, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Hurt, she looked up at the moon.
“As am I,” he said.
“I wish we weren’t—not this world, anyway, but another one without conventions that force a woman to forsake love for autonomy. Oh, Tristan, this night is so lovely, the setting is gorgeous, and the company... “ She reach up and touched his cheek, her fingers trembling. “...is the only company I want. Everything is perfect—and yet everything is wrong.”
“Lila...” He grabbed her hand and held it to his face, closing his eyes. “How can I bear to let you go? This day was hell. I counted the hours we were apart. Am I to spend my life this way?”
A metallic clatter from behind them jerked their attention around. Just outside the door they’d used, a maid stooped to pick up a tinderbox. She darted them a look and a clumsy curtsy. “Beg yer pardon. Milady told me to light the lanterns.”
They watched the poor girl fumble with the equipment until she finally completed the task.
Once she’d scurried back into the house, Lila grabbed one of the lights and took Tristan’s hand. “Come on. I want to see the maze.”
He froze in place. His face twitched, fluctuating between a frown and gaping disbelief. In the end he settled into a grimace. “Are you mad? We can’t be alone together.”
“Would you prefer to risk our conversation being interrupted again? You know that we need to talk.”
He paused and looked back at the doors just as a footman passed, staring out the windows at them. Frowning, he turned back to her and nodded—much to her relief. He took the lantern from her and held it out to light their way down the steps. She was grateful that he let her hold his hand.
“Mazes symbolize life, you know,” she said as they entered the shrubs, the leafy walls topping both of their heads. The gravel of the path crunched softly under their feet. “One never knows what’s around the next bend.”
If in this case Tristan did know, he didn’t say, allowing her to navigate their course. Surrounded by the deep foliage, she felt like they were children in a magic forest.
The third turn she chose brought them up against a leafy wall. She stopped short and spun around, surprised to be confounded so soon.
Her consternation must have shown on her face, because Tristan’s lips wavered with a halting smile.
She lifted her chin and continued in a prosaic voice, “Sometimes you come upon a dead end and have to retreat and try again.” Smirking, she dragged him back over their last steps and took a different path. “No one makes it through without a few wrong turns along the way.”
“Alas,” he said when, after a mere two more corners, a pale structure appeared up ahead of them, “Towns are crowded, leaving mazes—and lives—with little room for adventure.”
Indeed, they’d found the goal already. Lila tilted her head as they approached a gazebo that held a huge, boxlike shape. “What on earth is this?”
“A teahouse.”
As they approached, she could see the wooden framework of the box and what appeared to be paper walls.
“Is it Chinoiserie?” she asked. Excited, she slipped away from him to run up and peek in the entrance. The small room was empty except for a low table and some cushions on a bare wooden floor.
“Japanese, actually,” Tristan said behind her. “A wedding gift to Hester and Poinsett from our father. He acquired it through an associate of his in the Far East.”
“How adorable—a private little haven!” She ducked to enter, but he grabbed her shoulder.
“I believe you’re supposed to remove your shoes first.”
“Really?” The idea appealed to her, making the teahouse seem even more intimate. She slid off her slippers and stepped inside, wriggling her stocking-covered toes. The low ceiling
barely exceeded the top of her head.
Tristan followed, crouching. “‘Tis not a very practical shelter for any man of average height or better.”
“I’ll wager that you’ll be comfortable enough seated.” She took a place on one of the cushions, tucking her legs under her to one side.
He set the lantern down on the small table and sat next to her, legs sprawled in front of him in a boyish way.
She giggled. “I feel like a little girl playing tea party—not that I ever did so when I was one.”
“Never? Do you wish you had?”
“Sometimes. Perhaps I did play when I was very young, before my mother died. If not, why would I feel nostalgic now?”
He leaned back on his hands. “Maybe domestic yearnings are instinctive.”
“But a tea party?” She laughed. “I’ve never attended a real one, either. I’ve simply never moved in feminine circles.”
“Oh, Hester’s likely to fix that.”
Her smile faded. “You think she’ll want to continue the acquaintance?”
“I’m sure she will.” His expression went somber, too. “I wonder what will that mean for us.”
“Torture.”
She dropped her gaze, letting her attention fall to his thighs, their muscles shown off to perfection in well-tailored breeches. Alone, with him lolling on the cushions like this, she couldn’t help thinking of lovemaking. Following a trail up his body, she skimmed over the contours of his groin, his flat stomach, broad chest, the tiny dark whiskers budding on his chin. She let out a sigh. “You’re so handsome, Tristan...so handsome.”
He met her gaze, his focus intent. His eyebrows tilted upwards, pained. The look told her he loved her more plainly that any words could have.
“Come here, Lila,” he said, his voice husky. “Please.”
Surprised and yet not surprised, she slid over and into his arms. He pulled her closer and met her mouth. She parted her lips and tasted him, savoring the experience. Who knew if she’d ever have it again?
He deepened the kiss and dragged her onto his lap. Her mind swirled, dizzy with desire. Through their light summer clothes, the evidence of his excitement prodded her bottom.
She held his face in both her hands, her nose pressed against his. “Oh, God, Tristan. I want you so much.”
He groaned. “What are we going to do?”
Beneath her, his erection hardened and heated, demanding notice. As she shifted, he groaned again. She glanced down at their fused bodies then looked out the door. The night was dark and peaceful—a contrast to their seething embrace.
“We’re alone.” She reached down and unbuttoned his breeches.
“You’re mad,” he said but didn’t move to stop her. He gasped as she freed his erection.
“I know.” She moved off him briefly to reach under her gown and shimmy out of her underthings. Hitching her hem up to her knees, she straddled his legs. She covered his lap with her skirt and reached underneath.
They both gasped as she touched him. She took him in her hand, guiding him into her body.
A whimper escaped her. He was inside her again—where he belonged, one with her. The act, hidden within the folds of her skirt, felt secret and deliciously dangerous.
Nudging downward on him, she felt him filling her. She marveled at the experience, pressing harder to deepen his penetration. Unsure of her movements, she lifted her body and pushed again. Ecstasy spiraled through her.
“Oh, God...Lila, you feel amazing.” He gripped her thighs and let his head fall back.
“You do.” She repeated the motion and soon fell into a rhythm. Slowly remembering where they were, she whispered, “We’d best make this quick.”
“No problem, I daresay.”
On top of him this way, she found she could drive her most sensitive spot against him. The tension built in her quickly, reeling with each thrust.
He moaned and she felt the
pressure between them tighten, exciting her even more.
“Oh,” she whispered. “I won’t have a problem, either.”
She pushed again and he grunted, lifting his body to meet her motions. The smallest move either of them made multiplied the sensations of both.
“I’m close already,” he said.
“Me, too.” More stirred than ever, she arched her back, thrusting against him. With each push she felt him react and fill her further.
“Oh, Lila.” He held her hips to stop her movements. “I can’t last much longer.”
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his, hot and moist with perspiration. “Tristan, spill your seed inside me.”
He loosened his grip and let her move. With each movement her body tensed and sang. She felt him hardening inside of her. His excitement primed hers yet more. She teetered on the brink of ecstasy—and then burst into release.
“Oh!” Her body shattered into scintillation.
He moaned and thrust upward into her. Hovering deep inside, he broke into his own series of shudders.
She let her head loll back in wonder, knowing he was giving her part of him. The very essence of him would stay with her, even after they’d parted.
As the aftershocks of their climax slowed, she looked down and met his gaze. They smiled softly at each other while they caught their breath.
Once again she began to hear the crickets and frogs, seemingly silent during their lovemaking. Recovering from the frenzy, she wondered how much noise the two of them had made.
Tristan stared at her, reaching up to touch her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You’re beautiful—beautiful and mad.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too.” His smile faded.
As they watched each other’s eyes, all the hopelessness of their situation rushed back to her.
“Lila,” he said, his voice grave, “this was amazingly foolish of us.”
She couldn’t deny that it was. Glancing outside, she imagined what would happen if Hester decided to follow them to the garden. Mortifying! In such a case, she would never be able to face his sister again. “We have to get back in the house. We’d better pull ourselves together.”
For the Love of Lila Page 20