He touched her properly, fingers sliding against slick folds, and the wanting which Madeline had felt before blossomed again, spreading through her like butter over hot bread. She wrappedher arms around his shoulders, mostly to steady herself as her knees had gone weak. He kissed her cheeks, her lips, her throat, whispering things which she only heard snippets of, and his touch sped up, sharpening the feelings. She felt herself pulsing, growing tauter like a band waiting to snap.
Abruptly, a crest of pleasure rushed over her, taking her entirely by surprise. It cleared her mind quite effectively. She clung to him, gasping aloud, and listened to the blood drum in her ears.
At last, Tristan kissed her again and withdrew his hand from beneath her skirts. She could still feel the hard thing of his pressing against her hip, and she was vaguely aware that something should be done about it, but she was not sure what thatsomethingmight be.
“Are you well?” Tristan asked, his voice a low, rasping murmur. She imagined that she heard desire in his voice, too.
I should… I shoulddosomething for him. But what?
“This is a very quiet, useful little room,” Madeline managed, with a tired sort of half-laugh. “How did you come upon it?”
Tristan hesitated, and something like guilt passed across his face.
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been emptied onto Madeline’s head. She blinked, staring up at him.
“She showed it to you, didn’t she?” Madeline breathed. “You came here with Juliana Bolt, didn’t you?”
“I… Would it have mattered if I had?” Tristan responded, rallying.
Madeline stepped back, shaking her head.
“I cannot believe that you… How could you bring me here?”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “You said yourself, Madeline, that it was a quiet, useful little room.”
In the silence that followed, she clearly heard the music stop, followed by a roar of applause. The intermission then had come.
The room, of course, was only a room, but Madeline could not seem to stop tears pricking her eyes. She shook her head, swallowing thickly.
“Howcouldyou?” she snapped and yanked back the curtain. Her legs were still wobbly, but they bore her out into the hallway well enough. She lifted her skirt and began to run, ignoring Tristan’s shouts following her down the corridor.
CHAPTER 22
Tristan wasted a few precious moments by dithering in the room. His gut told him to follow Madeline at once, but his head warned him that she might want to be alone for a moment. His indecision did not last long, but it lasted long enough.
“Madeline, wait—” he cried, bursting out into the hallway, but the corridor was empty. She was gone. Clenching his jaw, Tristan hurried along toward the box. As the intermission began, people started flooding the halls. They would be traveling between boxes to visit friends, family, lovers, and potential lovers. This was a rich time in the evening. Like everything else in society, the opera was all about seeing and being seen.
Unless, of course, one had a reason forwantingto avoid attention.
Tristan burst into the box, already formulating what he would say to Madeline to get her in private again. Arousal still pulsed through him, desire making him ache. He had planned to showher that she could trust him by ignoring his own wants on this occasion. She was afraid of falling pregnant; well, very well, he would make sure she did not. It was easy enough to avoid if one was clever enough.
Madeline was not in the box. Dorothea was there, of course, as was James, and they glanced inquisitively up at him.
“Oh,” James remarked, blinking up at Tristan. “You look as angry as a bull. What is it?”
“More to the point, where is Madeline?” Dorothea asked, gaze sharpening.
“I… I do not know,” he stammered. “We had a small argument. She ran off, and I assumed she had come here.”
Dorothea sighed, shaking her head. “I think you might find that she has gone out to the carriage. You and I will be traveling home with James, I think, unless she remembers to send the carriage back for us.”
Tristan let out a long, ragged breath. “Well, I must speak to her.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Dorothea murmured.
“Yes, I would agree,” James added. “If she is distressed, then perhaps a little time is required for her to calm down.”
Tristan clenched his jaw. He could not, of course, explain to his mother and cousin what had gone on. Why could Madeline not understand? He had taken her to that room becauseshewas the one he wanted, not because of Juliana.
