Never in his life had he felt so alive and his heart raced so fast from just kissing a woman, yet he didn’t want to stop to ponder these foreign feelings. Instead, he wanted to pick her up, carry her back to the sofa, and make them a little more comfortable as they continued kissing.
He broke the kiss to do what he’d just been planning, but when her hooded eyes met his, he practically melted from her smoldering gaze. Passion was evident in her sapphire orbs, and for the life of him, he couldn’t stop staring. He’d once called her eyesamazingjust to get her ire, and now he realized he’d been correct to label them such a word.
“Forgive me, my lovely,” he said in a deep, soft voice, “because I was wrong about you. Very wrong.”
A slow smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and for the first time, stars gleamed in her eyes. Her gaze dropped to his mouth again and she moved forward to kiss him once more, but just as her lips touched his, Lady Hollingsworth screamedget out immediatelyfrom the other room, followed by the loud bang of a door slamming. Both noises echoed through the house, shaking the walls.
Tabitha jumped back. Her face turning pale as her eyes widened. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and Nic was certain his breathing was just as ragged.
“I must go see to Lady Hollingsworth,” she muttered in a tone entirely too sensual and unrecognizable.
“Indeed, you should,” he said, although he really wanted her back in his arms.
Tabitha stood, having a staring war with him for a few earth-quaking moments. Before too long she blinked, turned, and left the room.
Sighing heavily, he pushed his fingers through his hair. Something was definitely wrong with him. He knew Tabitha was the one who killed Hollingsworth and Lord Elliot, yet at this moment, Nic had wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman. No other woman had made him so breathless and confused at the same time. And none intrigued him as much. Yet, she would be arrested soon and placed in prison.
And possibly hanged.
And there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it, even though he was halfway tempted to try.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tristan stared atthe door for the longest time, praying it would miraculously open and Diana would rush back into the room and ask for forgiveness. She would tell him how much she loved him—much more than the devotion she had toward her maid—and that she would assist him in any way she could to put Tabitha in prison where the murderous woman belonged.
But his prayer went unheard. The longer he watched the door waiting for Diana to return, the more his heart ripped apart piece by piece and became heavy with sadness. Clearly, Diana did not love him as much as he had wanted her to, as much as he loved her.
Tears burned his eyes, but he refused to shed them. Anger was the emotion governing him as it forced him to march across the floor in haste, yank open the door, and leave. His wide strides ate up the floor as he hurried to the stairs and took two at a time on his way to the bedroom.
Inside the room he paced like a caged animal. Bunching his hands at his side, his thoughts tumbled with confusion and betrayal. This was the second time in his life he had allowed this woman to upset him so, enough he almost couldn’t bear the pain. His chest weighed heavily with despondency and he scarcely could breathe.
He found himself at the window staring out into the night’s storm, but he didn’t know how he got there. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to move. His mind didn’t want to think and his body stood stiff as a board. He wished his heart could remain as still and unaffected as the rest of him.
The bedroom door opened and strong footsteps walked in. Tristan didn’t need to look behind him to see who it was.
“Worthington, what in the blazes just happened?”
It took Tristan a few moments to gather enough strength to talk. He didn’t want his voice to choke and prove his vulnerability right now. “My hopes and dreams have been shattered, Hawthorne, that’s what happened. Diana doesn’t love me enough to turn her maid over to the magistrate. And because I wouldn’t change my mind, Diana yelled at me to leave. Tonight.”
Nic groaned and moved closer. “She cannot be thinking clearly. We would catch our deaths riding in this storm.”
“I know.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“No. There was hardly time.” Tristan leaned his forehead against the glass. “Once she ordered us out of this house, she rushed out of the room and slammed the door.”
“Then I shall go speak with her, because sending us out into this storm in highly improper and not cordial at all.”
“We will stay in the stable with our horses. I’ve spent many of nights in the stable, and I’m still alive to talk about it.” He glanced over his shoulder at Nic who stood with stiff legs and his arms folded across his chest as he scowled. “We will take some blankets to keep warm.”
“I still cannot believe Lady Hollingsworth would even think of sending two gentlemen, such as ourselves, out—”
“Hawthorne, we shall be fine, I assure you.”
Nic grumbled. “Tabitha must have some kind of hold over Lady Hollingsworth’s mind to have a lady act in such a way.”
“I know not, and right now, I care not.” Tristan walked to the chair where his coat hung and shrugged into it. “Come, Hawthorne. It is time we take our leave.”
