Tristan glanced behind her, his smile still firmly in place.
“Theo?” He called.
Ophelia turned, and found all of her friends on the stairs, smiling like mad women.
“Yes, brother?” She asked quickly, taking another step down toward them.
“I wish to show my future wife something. It will take a few hours. Would you be so kind as to make an excuse for our absence?”
“Unchaperoned?” Theo asked, appearing offended as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Why brother, would you have allowed me to take a day unchaperoned with my husband-to-be the day before my wedding?”
Tristan and Ophelia both gave her a glaring look, and she giggled.
“Go,” she said, shooing her hand toward them. “I shall tell Lord Whitebridge something or other. Just have her back by dinner. We are all supposed to eat with him, remember?”
“I promise,” Tristan replied.
Ophelia threw her friend a thankful glance before she slipped her hand into Tristan’s, and the two of them hurried outside toward his carriage as snow started to fall.
“Tell me!” She insisted the moment they were alone.
“Christopher purchased everything,” Tristan stated, sparing no time. “The guest list, the decor. He took the hired women under his wing and is keeping all of the guards. The only things I would not sell him were your paintings. They are far too precious to me. Other than that, theDevil’s Masqueradeis officially no longer mine.”
“However,” he added with a growing smirk, “All ten of us have a free life-time open invitation, and we are allowed to attend whenever we wish,ifwe so wish.”
Ophelia let out a happy squeal as she climbed into his lap and kissed him.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” She asked. It was the hundredth time she’d asked since he’d told her his plan, but still, she wanted him to be completely certain.
“I am positive,” Tristan stated, stroking his hand up her outer thigh as he held her closer, “The allure of it is gone for me. All I want now is you.”
Ophelia sighed as he drew a hand around her throat and kissed her again; both of them losing track of time as the carriage drove through the mid-morning snow.
Their kissing soon grew into heavy petting, and neither thought to stop their wandering hands until a bang atop the carriage ceiling interrupted them. Ophelia drew back from Tristan’s kisses, heated and dazed, and looked out the window. To her surprise, she saw a beautiful, quaint, sea-blue painted cottage sitting atop a snow-covered cliff.
“Where have you brought me?” She asked, sliding out of Tristan’s lap.
Tristan smirked as he bundled her up in a hooded fur cloak, then opened the carriage door. Together they hurried up the small, snow-covered walk. To Ophelia’s surprise, a wave of delicious heat curled around them as Tristan brought her inside, and she shivered at the contrast in temperature.
“Welcome, Lord Darlington, Lady Darlington,” A cheerful male voice boomed from the left.
“Harry,” Tristan greeted the man as Ophelia turned to the voice. She was greeted by the sight of a hefty man in a heavy black coat and matching boots. His gray and white curls poked through the edges of his black newsboy cap and blended into his large, matching beard that sat just below rosy cheeks and glittering brown eyes.
“This is my wife, Lady Darlington,” Tristan said, waving toward Ophelia. “Ophelia, this is your new groundskeeper, Harry. He will be here at your beck and call any time you want to come here.”
Ophelia felt a spark of excitement through her confusion as she heard Tristan call her Lady Darlington, and she smiled wide as she bowed her head toward Harry.
“It is pleasure to meet you, Harry,” she replied as he took off his cap and bowed toward her, “Though I am confused.”
Harry chuckled as he put his cap back on.
“I lit the fires as your requested, my lord,” he said to Tristan, “But for now I believe I should take me leave.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Tristan replied politely.
Ophelia pulled her hood back as she took a moment to take in the cottage. It had a small wooden staircase to the right, but to the left, was a massive open space. Its dark wood floors were covered with fine, dark blue and beige Persian rugs. Plush, dark blue couches and chaises sat atop the rugs, and thick, heavy navy blue brocade curtains stretched along the opposite wall from one side to the other.
To the left sat a beautifully handcrafted mantle and fireplace, which was already filled with burning wood and warm flames. The walls of the place were stark white, and on either side of thefireplace sat two tables, riddled with pots of paint, brushes, and rolled up canvases.
