He moved to walked past her, and Ophelia touched his arm. He glared back at her, ready for another quip, but he found her green eyes full of gratitude.
“Thank you, my Lord,” she said, her tone respectful.
Tristan bristled at her change in behavior, not used to it. He grunted, pulled his arm away, and went to arrange the carriage.
CHAPTER FIVE
“God’s teeth, Tristan, what has gotten into you?”
The air was filled with the sounds of labored breathing. Before him in the boxing room, his oldest friend Dominic was doubled over, his hands braced on his knees as he drew in great mouthfuls of air. Tristan was not in much better of a state, but there was one large difference. He hadwon.
“Oh,” Tristan panted, feeling the sweat drip down his defined pectorals and abdomen, “You know. Sometimes one just has a good day.”
“A good day,” Everett chortled from outside the ring. “Good enough to beat Dominic? I do not think so.”
“Maybe he has been practicing,” Alistair offered, taking a look around the large room, “He has, after all, turned his old bachelor house into a private boxing club. What else does he have to do all night besides watch our money grow?”
Tristan smirked, amused that was what all his friends thought. He rose to his full height, and then walked over to help Dominic stand.
“Are you well, old chap?” He asked.
Dominic scowled at him as he swatted Tristan’s hand away and stood on his own.
“I am perfectly fine, thank you,” Dominic said defensively, “Just tired. My wife keeps up most night’s you know.”
“Allof our wives keep us up at night,” Everett tittered, tossing towels to them both.
“Indeed,” Alistair agreed, smirking.
“Ah!No!”Tristan snapped, wiping the towel over his sweat-soaked neck and hair. He and Alistair’s friendship had come a long way, but he still refused to listen to such things in regard to Theo.
“We will not be discussing what happens between you and my sister, thank you. Now who’s up for another round?”
“I am tapped, old boy,” Everett said, taking a seat at the nearby table.
“As am I,” Alistair agreed.
“I would,” Dominic said gruffly, still sore over losing, “But my wife would not appreciate it if I did not save a little energy for her for when I return home.”
“Hugo?” Tristan asked, turning to him.
“The dark haired Duke shook his head, held up the bloody rag, then brought it back to his lip.
“Seraphina would string me up if Dominic busted my lip again and rendered me unable to kiss her.”
Tristan chuckled, shaking his head at all of them. In the eye of theton,the five of them were some of the most powerful aristocrats of their generation. Behind closed doors, though, these big brutes were willing caterers to their wives’ every need. Save, of course, for Tristan.
“So seriously, how did you beat Dominic?” Alistair asked as Tristan took a seat beside him.
“Hugo and I barely beat him and we’re about his size. You’re a scrawny little thing compared to us. How’d you get the upper hand?”
“Scrawny?” Tristan chortled, then made a point to look down at his sweat-slicked pectorals and abdominal muscles. He may be slightly shorter and less hulking as Hugo, Dominic, or Alistair, but neither he nor Everett were even close to scrawny.
“Pay them no mind,” Everett said, throwing a wry look toward Alistair, “They are just jealous that you and I can actually fit through doorways without having to turn.”
Tristan reached for the snooker of brandy Everett had poured him and grinned.
“Jealous indeed,” he agreed as the three hulking men rolled their eyes and lifted their glasses toward Tristan’s and Everett’s.
