A wariness of his own making.
Somehow . . . someway . . . he had to become a better man for her. A man sufficiently worthy of her heart.
Swallowing, Tristan stepped backward. Wrenching his sodden limbs from the ocean had been easier.
“I think you can manage from here.” The rough growl of his voice reverberated.
Startled, she glanced over her shoulder.
Her haunted expression struck him anew—a lock of hair clinging to her cheek, the wide openness of her blue gaze, the charm of her freckled skin.
Want. Want. Want.
“Thank ye,” she whispered. “Thank ye, Kendall.”
Kendall.
His father’s name clanked between them like an anvil.
“Tristan,” he rasped. “My name is Tristan.”
He pivoted and left the room.
Isolde stared atthe doorway Kendall—ehr . . . Tristan?—had just vacated. Her eyes wide as saucers.
Something had changed in him.
He had been so focused and so . . .something. . . behind her. Intent? Judgmental?
And had he . . .
Had he nearlykissedher neck?
She could still feel his breath against her chilled skin.
And that look he had given her just now—
Haunted and . . . if she had to name it . . .
Hungry.
So terribly hungry.
She shivered andnotfrom the cold.
Moreover, it appeared she was to call himTristan.
What had caused this abrupt shift in his behavior toward herself? Had he hit his head when the rowboat toppled them? Was he fevered?
Frowning, she finished dressing—toweling off and donning the simple underthings and woolen dress of the mistress of this house—before braiding her hair into a thick rope that hung to her waist. She would need to loosen it at some point to dry fully. But for now, she was content that it no longer dripped down her back.
A quick glance outside showed the storm had worsened. Rain battered the glass windowpanes and wind flattened the dune grass into horizontal sheets. Thank heavens they were out of the elements.
She found Tristan downstairs building a fire in the hearth. Despite the pampered life he had certainly lived, he knew how to lay peat and arrange dry grass so the flame from a Lucifer match would catch.
He looked up when she entered the room.
“Thank ye again for your assistance,” she said, running her palms down her skirts.
