“When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you’ll understand that calling oneself a gentleman just because you were lucky enough to be born into a status you did not earn, means nothing. As for the deed to my home, it will be mine again.”
Lord Meed narrowed his eyes. “Would you like to make a bet?”
“I don’t gamble with the things I love, Meed.”
“Your brother did.”
“And he’s dead. What is your point?”
Lord Meed scoffed. “Highland trash.”
“Tell your mother I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That she was forced to birth something as pathetic as you.”
“Enough, Chase,” Lord Hugstead said. “Just go. You’re both giving me a headache.”
Tristan strode to the door without looking back.
“I’ll have your land and sell it off in pieces,” Meed shot at him as he past.
“Careful what you say, or you’ll end up in piecesunderthat land,” Tristan said darkly.
He shut the door on Meed’s gasping rage and headed for the stairs.
His anger pulsed in his temples as he descended the stairs. He passed the secretary, and the lad ducked in his chair as if afraid Tristanwould lash out at him.
But once he entered the sunlight, he looked across the cobbled commons and there she stood, his ray of sunshine, petting the nose of the carriage horse. She was singing and she was smiling and all the black rage in his heart dissipated like smoke.
Until the day she chose a husband, she was his, and he’d spend every moment cherishing her.
She looked up as he approached, her smile never faltering. She didn’t look at him like he had some secret violent nature. She didn’t look at him like he was less than the men around him. She looked at him like he was her hero, and that made him feel like a king.
“Ready?”
“Where are we going now?” she asked.
“How about...” he wanted to say Bond Street, to shower her with gifts, but he didn’t have the coin. “Why don’t we take a walk in Richmond Park? There won’t be many people there. It will be quiet and secluded.”
“Isn’t that a bit far?”
Tristan looked up at the driver. “What say you, Briggs?”
“I don’t mind the drive if you don’t. I’ve been cooped up with a cold.”
“Richmond it is,” Tristan said.
Two hours later,with light traffic through the city, they reached Richmond Park just as it started to rain. They still stopped, letting the horses rest and chomp on the grass while Briggs sat under his umbrella and smoked from his pipe.
He winked at Tristan as Tristan handed Felicity out of the carriageand walked some ways away under the shelter of the trees. They had one umbrella stowed in the carriage to share between them, which suited his purposes nicely.
They were a few yards away from the carriage, the trees shielding them from Briggs’s view enough that Tristan felt confident in putting his arm around her. They strolled in silence, her cheeks pink from the cold or maybe it was him. He liked thinking it was him that made her body flush and heat. He’d gotten carried away in the carriage earlier. The scent of her skin and hair had gone straight to his head, like a good whisky on a cold night, and he’d lost himself in her body, the sounds of her clipped breathing and soft sighs. When she’d moved her hand toward his cock, he’d battled his inner demons for some sanity, but he wanted her hands all over him. He wanted her as desperate and hungry as he was.
Somehow, good sense had prevailed, and he was glad. A carriage was no place for Flick to further her journey. A little kissing and groping? Fine. But if she’d put her hands on him, her curiosity and enthusiasm getting the best of her, he couldn’t guarantee he would stay in control of the encounter. She might have him on his knees or—God willing, though this would only happen in his fantasies—her down on hers with his cock in her mouth. He’d spent himself to that very image last night.
He knew she was still shackled by her fears and what happened to her, but something so incredible happened when she was in his arms. She came alive. She was a passionate woman at her core. He hoped she could see that and embrace it.
