There was a brief moment of silence. Fighting a sudden feeling of foreboding, Madeline turned back to the door.
She had left it ajar, but at some point, it had been softly closed. She hurried toward it, but already knew the truth. Sure enough, despite jiggling the doorknob, the door would not open.
“We’re locked in,” she announced flatly.
Tristan crossed the space between them in a couple of strides and angrily tried to wrench the door open.
“Why, how on earth has this happened?” he cried.
“I suspect that your mother has arranged it,” Madeline muttered, flopping down onto one of the sofas facing the fire. “She keeps asking me if we have had a disagreement, and why we are avoiding each other. I imagine she intends for us to spend some time together to work it all out.”
“Well, that is unacceptable. It is entirely inappropriate, and I shall have sharp words with my mother once we escape,” Tristan snapped, stamping over to the bellpull in the corner, yanking on it.
“I have a feeling that nobody is going to answer that summons,” Madeline sighed.
“Not going to answer? I am the duke! This ismyhouse! These are my servants!”
“Yes, but it was Dorothea’s house, and they were all Dorothea’s servants first. Unless you plan to break down the door or climb out of the window, I believe that we are trapped. We’ll have to wait until Dorothea chooses to release us.”
She sat still, staring at the jumping flames. The room was comfortably warm, and she noticed for the first time that a tea tray had been set on a low table, the teapot warm and full. There was cake and a generous plate of biscuits.
“This won’t do,” Tristan growled. “I have to go out. I have an appointment.”
A flush of anger shot through Madeline. “Why, is your opera singer waiting for you?”
There was a moment of silence, then Tristan came storming toward her, standing between her and the fire so that she was obliged to look up at him.
“I told you, did I not, that I was not seeing Juliana Bolt anymore,” he snapped. “You did not believe me?”
“She seems determined to seeyou.”
“Yes, I daresay she is, but she will lose interest. If this is to be a battle of wills, my dear, then mine is stronger.”
Madeline closed her eyes. “I am not angry at you, Tristan. I was, but I understand that I have no right to prevent you from enjoying intimacy with somebody else. I just… Perhaps an annulment would be best. For both of us.”
The silence hung in the air between them. She kept her gaze lowered, fixed upon the midpoint of Tristan’s waistcoat. It was easier than looking him in the eye.
She had not expected him to drop into a crouch before her, forcing her to meet his gaze. His jaw was tight, and there was a frown between his brows.
“I did not think that you were so easily defeated, Madeline,” he murmured.
“I suspect the war was already lost.”
His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Who has put thoughts of annulment into your mind?”
Madeline hesitated. Perhaps if she told him of what James had said, he would turn his anger onto his cousin, and that was not fair. James was, after all, only trying to help. Nobody else had talked of annulments.
“It was just something I was thinking of,” she murmured. “It hardly matters.”
“You think not? Let me tell you something, Madeline. Look at me. Look at me!”
She fixed her eyes on his face and felt as though her breath got stuck in her throat. He was staring at her, eyes dark and angry and a little hungry in a way that made desire flutter in her stomach once more.
“You are mine,” Tristan said quietly, never even seeming to blink. “I will not let you go without a great fight. You are mine, and that will not change.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing clever came to mind. Perhaps there wasn’t anything to say.
There was no time for words in any case, because at that moment Tristan surged forward, curling his fingers around the side of her neck to cup her nape, and kissed her full on the mouth.
