And kissing her . . .
Well, he was tryingnotto think of kissing her. Because once he started reliving the give of her body under his hands, the rise of her chest to meet his lips with her own . . .
Deep breath.
Yes.
Best not to think of that.
Otherwise, he would do nothingbutkiss her and where would that leave them?
“You said you would ask me questions?” he prompted.
“Aye. I would love to hear of your experience with Uncle Rafe, my father, and your own. I ken ye dislike all three men. Where would you like to start?”
He winced.
All three tales were dreadful . . .
“You must realize you are asking me to relate some of the most humiliating and painful experiences of my life.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Would it help if I told a mortifying story first?”
Tristan perked up.
She dropped his hand and faced him, walking backward across the white sand, pushing strands of hair out of her face.
“Do you even feel humiliation?” he asked. “I find it almost impossible to believe.”
“Well, I do have a strange ability to laugh at my foibles. And well—” Here she shrugged. “—to be rather honest, I think ye have already been central to most of my humiliating moments.”
“I have?”
“Aye.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Our first meeting in Montacute’s garden, and then there was the business of my letters to Jarvis.”
Anger lit in Tristan’s chest. He caught her around the waist and pulled her against him.
“Isolde, you cannot blame yourself for that man’s perfidy. He is a disgrace to gentlemen everywhere, abusing your affections and deceiving you as he did.”
“I should have been more astute.” She rested her hands below his shoulders.
“No. Did you not hear what I just said?”
She sighed and tipped her forehead to his chest, relaxing into him. “’Tis so lovely, being held by you.”
It was, indeed.
She patted his pectoral, a small frown denting her brow. “Though I must ask, where did you learn to swing an axe like that? Ye are a duke, if ye recall. Ye don’t need the impressive muscles ye hide beneath your finery.”
“Impressive,” he repeated. “You appear to appreciate said muscles, Wife.”
She laughed in reply, a delightfully wicked laugh that utterly tested Tristan’s resolve.
With a steadying breath, he tucked her hand back into his and motioned with his free hand for them to resume walking.
