For the Love of Lila (17 page)

He had struck upon the chief reason she had hesitated in her choice. She twisted her mouth in thought. “Yes, but the conventional aspects don’t ruin the story.”

“So Lila is more romantic in nature than you believed,” Tess said to Tristan. “You see how useful this game is? You have learned something about her already.”

Tempted to argue but not sure she had sufficient grounds, Lila held back and took another draught of ratafia. “Let’s hear what book Tristan selected.”

He smirked and turned his parchment for her to read.

“
Pride and Prejudice
!” She broke into laughter.

Tess lifted her eyebrows. “So you are a romantic as well.”

He bowed his head in consent. “I have a soft spot in my heart for Elizabeth Bennett. I like a woman who is willing to revise her opinion after weighing all the evidence.”

“Is that so?” Lila knew even before he shot her a sideways glance that he referred to the evidence he wanted
her
to weigh—but she felt too merry to be annoyed by his hint. She pursed her lips, still smiling. “Don’t forget that Mr. Darcy dismisses his first impression, as well.”

“And they end up the most well matched couple in the universe,” Felicity said, holding up her drink in a mock toast. She caught the count’s eye, and he clinked his glass against hers.

Observing the exchange, Lila felt a pang of longing for that sort of playfulness. She looked at Tristan and found him watching her again. This time he didn’t turn away but gazed back at her, his expression serious. Did he think
they
would make a well matched couple?

Her smile faltered, and she couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. Of course, they couldn’t be a couple at all—but the longer they stared at each other, the more convinced she became that he contemplated the possibility. His gaze felt so intense. She believed if they had been alone, he would have kissed her, a notion that jabbed her with longing.
To be alone with Tristan again
. She wondered if she could seize one last chance for such a meeting before he left for London.

Felicity’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “What did you choose, Domenico?”

“Another romantic selection, though I have no shame in my preference.” He gave her a long, slow smile. “Petrarch’s sonnets to Laura.”

“Love poems,” she murmured.

He nodded. “What is your choice, caro?”

“A naughty one.” She bit her lower lip. “
Roxana
 by Daniel Defoe.”

Lila heard Tristan snort beside her and looked at him with curiosity. “I am not familiar with
Roxana
. Is it a novel?”

“Yes,” Felicity said, breaking a mutual stare with the count. “A story about a woman who lives her life to the fullest. You would like it.”

Signore Rapallo made his first attempt of the evening in English, addressing Tess. “You choose?”

She smiled and lifted her parchment, as if she needed to read her selection. “Another naughty one, I am afraid:
The Decameron
by Boccaccio.”

“Boccaccio?” With a peal of laughter, he turned his answer toward the rest of the group. “
Il Decameron
” was scrawled across the top.

Tess, Felicity and the count all laughed heartily, and Tristan leaned closer to Lila, one eyebrow raised. “Are you familiar with that one?”

She shook her head, beginning to feel naive.

“You would find it amusing,” her cousin assured her, still giggling. “A group of noblemen hiding from the Black Death divert themselves with bawdy stories.”

“Really?” Lately, the subject of sex had haunted Lila’s mind more and more. Gathering that the others present were all more sophisticated than she in this realm, she felt foolish. “I shall have to read it.”

The other women gave her wide grins, and the men must have worn similar expressions, though she didn’t dare check. Instead, she sipped her ratafia. “Who else has a question?”

After an instant’s hesitation, Tristan said, “I do.”

Lila looked at him, reminded that he likely had an ulterior motive for playing. She wondered what sort of topic he would introduce. Surely he wouldn’t strike too close to the matter of her cousin’s morals.

Felicity lifted her drink and leaned back in her chair. “Ask away.”

“I am not certain I should.” He glanced at Lila, then turned back to her cousin. “My topic may be a bit indelicate, but given the last answers, I am curious...”

Lila nearly choked, fearing he would indeed ask about Rebecca.

Felicity, however, appeared no less than delighted. “We are among friends. Ask what you will.”

“Yes, please,” Tess said. “In fact, the preface to your question makes me curious.”

“Lila?” he asked, peering at her from the corner of his eye.

After the other women’s comments, objecting would make her look even more naive than she did already. Besides, she had a natural resistance to showing trepidation. She lifted her chin. “I am intrigued.”

“Good.” He gave the other men an almost sly look. “I think my Italian counterparts can appreciate this. My question is: What setting would you consider the best place to make love?”

Lila’s mouth fell open, while everyone else laughed and murmured translations to Signore Rapallo.

Tristan now avoided her gaze, looking down to pick up his writing materials.

As the others quieted and followed his example, she shook off her shock. At least he hadn’t asked about Rebecca—but, good Lord, what a question. And she had to think of an answer!

Surprisingly, one came to her immediately.

In a way, it was a “naughty” one, but once in her head, she could think of nothing else. Seeing that everyone else had begun writing, she lifted her quill and followed suit.

“Would you like to start again, Lila?” Felicity asked.

She set down her quill but shook her head, both excited and shy about her answer. “You start this time.”

“Very well.” Her eyes gleamed as she peeked over her parchment at the count. “I chose a villa on the Italian Riviera. I picture a bedchamber with windowed doors opening out onto a veranda. Beyond it, morning mist clusters over the water...”

“
Che bella
,” the count said, smiling back at her. After lingering a moment, he broke away to interpret for his friend.

Lila sighed. “What did you choose, Count?”

He laughed. “A similar motif to your cousin’s. I would like to make love in a gondola in the Grand Canal in Venice.”

Signore Rapallo snorted, clearly able to pick out the chief words. He waved a dismissive hand and said something in Italian.

The count grinned at him, then said to the rest of the party, “Giuseppe declares my choice commonplace. He chooses no less than the master chambers in the Doge’s Palace.”

“Grand,” Tess said, casting an admiring look at her partner.

Lila had to agree. A yearning little knot began to twist inside of her. All of the ideas tantalized her, but she would never make love...anywhere.

Tess looked down at her paper. “I am afraid my choice is not quite so magnificent. My favorite spot for lovemaking has always been on a big bearskin rug on a hearth, though I suppose a bearskin rug in the Doge’s Palace would be finer than one in my own chamber.”

She grinned at Giuseppe while his friend interpreted for him, and Lila noted the phrasing of her declaration. Tess had actually lived her fantasy. She, as well as Felicity, had experienced lovemaking. Lila was the only one who had not—the only one in the room, no doubt.

Her focus shot to Tristan’s face, though he sat watching the rest of the party. She had to assume he’d had women before, as sexual experience didn’t stigmatize men. Nay, in this world, remaining inexperienced was the disgrace for them.

The knot inside her tightened with envy of the unknown women who had known his body the way she wanted to. She felt cheated and victimized by her place in society. It was all so unfair!

She moistened her lips. “What did you choose, Tristan?”

He looked at her, solemn rather than capricious like the others. “I’ve always wanted to make love within a stone circle. An ancient structure so mysterious, seemingly impossible—almost magic in its very existence—seems a fitting complement for the ultimate human expression.”

She stared back at him. For a moment, they were the only

two people in the universe.

“Bravo,” Tess said. “Do we have stone circles in France? Lila, if I were you, I would seize him now and be off posthaste to find one.”

Lila looked at her, surprised to hear someone encouraging the preposterous compulsion she felt. Taking in the other woman’s soft smile, she got the impression Tess meant what she had said.

“No, no,” Felicity said. “Before you two run off, we must hear Lila’s answer.”

Lila turned to her and saw that she wore the same satisfied smile as her friend. Both these women had experienced lovemaking out of wedlock. The prospect of her doing the same didn’t shock them.

And why should it?

A revelation struck her. In this arena, she had again passed her life accepting a false premise created by a patriarchal society, the tenet that women should not have sex outside of marriage. This was a freedom men enjoyed without social consequence. Why shouldn’t women be entitled to the same experience?

Her heart thumped in her chest as she looked back down at her answer. The aspect she had thought “naughty” suddenly seemed to add reason for her choice.

She turned to Tristan. “I’d like to make love on a picnic blanket in a secluded country grove, preferably along the Loire, with a view of an old chateau off in the distance.”

If the fact that she’d once asked him for such a picnic didn’t reveal she wanted
him
for her partner, her steady gaze into his eyes certainly would.

He met her gaze, his eyes alert and intent, almost alarmed.

“Nice one,” Felicity said from a million miles away. “Domenico, what do you say to a private little game of hide-and-seek with me? Count to ten, then come after me.”

Lila heard her run off, giggling, and still she and Tristan stared at one another.

“Giuseppe,” Tess said, “you will come after me, won’t you?”

Her skirts rustled, and Lila looked over to see her run into the hall after Felicity, who had just scurried up the main staircase. They meant to lead the men to their
bedrooms
, she realized with a start. The count murmured something in Italian to his friend, who grinned and nodded, looking toward the stairs.

She looked back to Tristan, who yet sat watching her. Putting down her parchment, she took up her drink with trembling fingers. She drew in a deep breath, exhaled and stood. “Well, when in Rome...”

He rose slowly, his face unreadable, his voice silent.

She felt rather shy but determined. “I believe the count settled on is ten.”

Before he could tell her to stay, she picked up her skirts and scurried to the stairs. As she ascended, she glanced one last time at him and saw he still stood watching.

Lord, she hoped he’d come after her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tristan watched Lila ascend the stairs, not quite believing his own eyes. Was it possible she hadn’t understood what Felicity had in mind in suggesting they play hide-and-seek?

She gave him one last glance, the quickness of which seemed to indicate uncertainty, and disappeared into the upstairs hall.

No, it wasn’t possible, he thought, turning toward the Italians, one of whom was counting in his native language. She must have realized her cousin’s intent, especially given the course of the preceding conversation. She might have been inexperienced, but she caught on quickly.

So, did she actually mean for him to follow her?

“...
otto, nove, dieci
.” Count Goldoni finished and exchanged grins with his compatriot. “
Andiamo
.”

Tristan stood undecided as the other men headed for the staircase in the hall.

The count stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at him. “You are coming, Mr. Wyndam?”

He hesitated another moment but, considering the others’ intentions, he was hardly going to leave Lila on her own upstairs with them.

“Of course.” He started after the others.

“Eh, eh.” Signore Rapallo held up his drink and tapped it with a finger. “
Il vino
.”

Tristan leaned over and grabbed his port, as if he truly believed he would be spending time upstairs. More likely, he would sneak Lila back down while the others were preoccupied.

By the time he got to the staircase, the Italians had reached the second floor. He noticed the count indicating to his friend which door to enter. Apparently, Goldoni knew the locations of both Felicity’s and Tess’ bedrooms.

The other men went into separate chambers and closed the doors behind them, leaving Tristan alone in the hall. Only two other doors remained untried, but he felt reluctant to approach either. If Lila understood what the other couples were doing, he couldn’t imagine why she had followed Felicity’s lead—unless, perhaps, she had done so out of bravado. During the parlor game, he had sensed that her lack of sexual knowledge embarrassed her. Maybe she had emulated her cousin to hide her inexperience.

He shook his head to himself. In reality, such rash judgment only underscored her inexperience. She was a fool to trust him to come into her bedchamber and remain aloof. He didn’t even know if he could trust himself.

One of the untested doors opened a crack, and Lila peeked through the space at him. For a moment, they both stood frozen, staring at each other. Then she opened the door the rest of the way and stepped to the side, still eyeing him.

With a feeling of disbelief, he accepted her wordless invitation and drifted past her into the dimly lit chamber. While she closed the door, the sight of her bed struck him, a canopied affair with plenty of room for two. He deflected his attention to the other furnishings, a vanity and armoire on one side of the room and an armchair on the other. Beside the chair, a blaze crackled in the hearth, which was fronted by a thick rug equipped with large throw pillows directly out of Tess’ lovemaking fantasy. A glass of ratafia stood by the pillows.