Lord and Lady Hadley fussed over their daughter.
“Isolde, my darling! I have been so anxious to see you.” Lady Hadley framed her daughter’s face between her hands. “I feared for my heart when I heard about your near drowning.”
“I am well, Mamma,” Isolde laughed, her eyes bright.
Lord Hadley embraced his daughter, but his baleful gaze met Tristan’s over her shoulder. Glowering and livid.
Tristan read it all there.
Hadley knew.
Of course, he knew.
And he also, rightly, intuited that Isolde did not.
A series of whoops sounded from the doorway on the opposite side of the room.
“Isolde!”
“Finally!”
Mac and James Langston burst into the room, rushing to sweep their sister into their arms. Lady Mariah Langston followed behind more decorously.
“I cannot believe ye almost died!” Mac laughed, spinning Isolde in a circle as she giggled in delight.
How odd, Tristan thought.
That he could feel such aching tenderness and joy for Isolde and, yet, such wretchedness for himself.
He swallowed and walked over to the windows, studying the view. The sun sank toward the horizon, bathing the ocean in streaks of golden coral.
It felt apropos, the sunset.
An ending. A descent into darkness after a singularly stunning display of light and beauty.
Much like Tristan’s marriage.
Granted, the thought was perhaps more than a tad maudlin.
But as he listened to the familial laughter behind him, he also found a thread of solace. If his betrayal drove Isolde away, she would find support and affection within her family’s loving embrace.
And he . . .
Well, Tristan would continue on as he always had—isolated and alone, attempting to live out—
“Tristan!” a familiar, ebullient voice cried.
Startled, he turned just in time to catch Allie in his arms. His sister clasped her hands tight around his waist and buried her face in his chest.
And just as Lady Hadley had moments earlier, his twin burst into tears, sobs wracking her frame.
“Allie,” he murmured, gathering her close, aghast to feel emotion stinging his eyelids. “You’re here.”
“Of course, I’m here,” she said, the words muffled against his ribcage.
And then she hit his upper arm. Hard.
“Ow!” Tristan yelped. “Whatever is that—”
