For the Love of Lila (22 page)

When he reached for the buttons of his fly, she moved her hand to give him access. He shifted to her side and undid them, his gaze fixed on her eyes.

Trembling, she kicked off her shoes and crunched up her skirt to take off her undergarments. While he shrugged off his waistcoat and shirt, she marveled at the perfection of his chest. Persuaded that a “pure” act of lovemaking called for total nudity, she pulled her gown up and over her head. As she untied and removed her shift, he yanked off his boots and breeches.

They lay back down at the same time, gliding into each other’s embrace. She ran her hands up and down his arms, awed by the strength in the sinewy lines. The warmth of his abdomen felt wonderful, and she flattened against him, moaning when his erection nudged her. In response he pressed closer, and her desire escalated until she writhed with need.

So entangled with her, he slipped in between her thighs, sliding against the most sensitive area of her body. A tickling, teasing promise of ecstasy rippled to the center of her being. She arched her hips toward him, incited to wriggle more each time he let out a groan.

“Oh, I need you,” she moaned, her yearning for him unbearable.

In answering to her plea, he rolled atop her, supporting himself on his elbows. His gaze met hers with a question, and she nodded without hesitation.

He kissed her and pushed, squeezing inside her almost instantly. A shared moan parted their mouths. She braced for the pain she had felt the first time, but none came. Grateful, she lay back and basked in pleasure.

The sensations amazed her, soaring higher with each thrust he made. Amidst the fervor, she thought about what the act meant: the ultimate expression of love, an opportunity to meld their beings, a bid to create new life. In this exalted state, even the latter appealed to her. No fear existed. Tristan filled her both physically and spiritually.

As she climbed closer to climax, she noticed that his groans coincided with her own peaks of excitement. She could feel the tension build in his body as well as hers. They seemed to share a single perception.

At one exquisite apex, he paused. Their passions teetered at the edge of ecstasy, threatening to plunge with the tiniest movement.

“Lightning was an unfortunate comparison.” His body slipped a smidgen and he gasped. “This may not last long.”

“Lightning never does.” She stretched her arms out to reach for his hips. “The hottest flames burn quickest.”

She pulled him toward her and he sank into her body. Her head dropped back in rapture. She shut her eyes, concentrating all her awareness on the act of coupling.

He no longer held back, hastening his thrusts until they fell into a rhythm. She could feel the crest approaching, nearer with each beat. The wave of pleasure swelled to an agonizing height, and she knew it was about to break.

“Tristan.” She gasped. “Oh, Tristan, here it is.”

Shudders of release rolled through her.

“Lila—” He thrust again and his body jolted as he joined her in climax.

She clung to him for the duration, sharing each surge of intensity with him. As the physical energy ebbed, her sense of spiritual closeness to him held. She had never imagined one could feel so connected to another person. Overwhelmed, she opened her eyes to look into his and tell him she loved him.

The tension she saw in his face stopped her. As he gazed at her, silent, the facts of the situation returned to her. Suddenly a declaration of love seemed pointless, even cruel.

Once her euphoria had cracked, the damage spread quickly. She could think of nothing to say to him, no way to express her feelings, despite the enormity of them.

He pulled from her body and she felt empty, cold. As he moved to her side, her sense of loss sharpened. She turned and wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could. But the effort failed. She couldn’t get close enough. The exquisite connection they’d shared had broken.

Everything felt wrong. In the afterglow of lovemaking, they ought to have lain gazing at each other. Instead, he closed his eyes and she felt yet further detached from him. They should have clutched each other as though they’d never let go. But he hung his arm hung loosely over her side, and even that, she knew, he would tear from her all too soon.

Longing for some sort of reassurance, however small, she propped herself up on one elbow. “Tristan?”

“Yes?” He lay so still that if he hadn’t answered she would have sworn he’d dozed off.

She bit her lip. “You
will
sleep with me tonight, won’t you?”

A long pause ensued, during which he opened his eyes, only to blink at the ceiling. At last he said, “I’d best sleep in the dressing area.”

“Oh, no.” She collapsed on his chest, squeezing him in her arms. “I can’t bear to sleep apart from you tonight. Please stay in here with me.”

“I don’t believe that’s advisable.”

“Forget what’s ‘advisable.’“ She bolstered herself back up. “You said yourself that some things can’t be governed by reason.”

He met her gaze, a frown his only answer.

“Blast it, Tristan, don’t let arbitrary conventions dictate your behavior. Do what is right by nature.” She touched his cheek with the back of her fingers. “Please sleep here with me.”

He reached out and stroked her hair, studying his own movements as he tucked a lock behind her ear. His chest expanded with a deep intake of air. Slowly, he released it and looked back into her eyes. “Very well. I suppose at this point it makes little difference.”

“Oh, thank you.” With a great sigh, she lay her head on his chest and nestled up to him. “Thank you so much.”

“I am not happy about this, Lila,” he said, draping his arms around her shoulders. “I am not happy with myself.”

“I know.” She also knew that though he spoke of himself,
she
was the source of his unhappiness—a fact that pained her more than anything else. She swallowed and hugged him more tightly. “I wish I could make you happy.”

He lay still another moment, then bent and kissed her head. “I know.”

Given this small consolation, she tried not to focus on her remorse. A more important fact stood to occupy her: Tristan had agreed to sleep with her. He would lie beside her all night, his body in contact with hers or, at most, a handsbreadth away. She could wake at any hour and touch him, even take him in her arms.

Heaven was hers...for one brief moment, until the jaws of darkness devoured it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Once again properly stowed inside a hired carriage, Lila watched the English countryside mutate into town. She could hardly believe she was back in her native country when she’d planned to be gone for years—or maybe forever. How naive those plans seemed now, after a mere few weeks of learning and growing. She should have known that women’s plans would be subject to the same whims of fate as those of mice and men.

The outside scenes seemed to go by too quickly, while she sat passive, her heart beating with slow, dull thuds. She wished the two speeds could have been transposed, so she might never reach her destination.

As the coach rolled onto the cobblestones of London, the summer sun, strong but still cool in the early hour, burnished the city’s brownstone buildings with brilliant patches of light. The scents of baking bread and tolls of church bells added to a glorious morning.

Too bad it would be her last with Tristan.

Eyes clouded with tears, she stared out at the passing streets and soon recognized some of the neighborhoods. As they passed Lincoln’s Inn, where she had first met Tristan, a fresh flow of tears rolled down her cheeks. That had been the beginning of the most exciting time of her life, and now she was approaching the end.

The carriage rolled on, and she knew that any time now they would reach the bank that held her trust. In another hour she might have her money in hand and live as an independent woman. Ironically, the prospect no longer appealed to her. She dreaded losing her sole connection to Tristan.

Far too soon they turned onto the street where the bank stood. If she could have delayed the encounter, she would have, but she had no right to continue complicating Tristan’s life. She knew he regretted their intimacy and could only count herself lucky she’d had the past week with him. The evening before he had even agreed to stop outside the city rather than forge on into town. She ought to have been grateful that she’d had one final night alone with him in a country inn, but at the moment gratitude eluded her.

While she reflected on those last magical moments, the carriage pulled up in front of the building. She felt the vehicle rock as Tristan jumped off the box. Knowing reluctance would get her nowhere, she brushed away her tears and tried to put on a brave face. While he tethered the horses she opened the carriage door and stepped onto the pavement without waiting for assistance.

Tristan charged a local lad with watching the equipage, then joined her in front of the bank. Fixing his gaze on her face, he asked, “Are you ready?”

His scrutiny unnerved her, threatening to penetrate her thin mask of composure. Looking away, she nodded and hooked her arm through his and they started toward the entrance. While they ascended the wide marble steps, she could feel his attention lingering on her.

“We should have stopped for breakfast,” he said at the door, his tone one of forced enthusiasm. “I, for one, am famished.”

She didn’t have the spirit to emulate his cheer. In fact, her stomach lurched at the very thought of food. She swallowed as they crossed the threshold. “I couldn’t eat a bite.”

They entered a large, open hall, spattered with bustling clerks. The marble floors and high ceilings gave the premises an austere air. Walls covered with dark paneling bore portraits of severe looking men, presumably honored associates. If she’d had any potential for greater nervousness left, the imposing decor had assured she reached full capacity.

Her gaze fell on two workers standing near the entrance and examining a shared document. They must have sensed her watching them, because they both looked up at once. The younger, slight of build and wearing wire-framed spectacles, held up a finger indicating he would be with her and Tristan soon.

One hand still on his arm, Lila held her abdomen with the other. She turned toward him with her back to the clerks. “The way I feel, I may never want food again.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, barely audible beneath the din of the workers. “I’ve done business with the senior officer here before. Higginbotham is a reasonable fellow. He won’t deny us the trust money.”

The bulk of her distress had nothing to do with her trust, but Tristan must have known that. She felt grateful for his effort to comfort her. Taking in the concern in his eyes, she thought he looked more handsome than ever. To boot, he had groomed extra carefully for the occasion, foiled to perfection in a navy-colored jacket and fawn breeches. Even under such strain, her desire for him took her breath away.

“You look the perfect gentleman,” she said. “Dressed as you are, no one dare deny you.”

“Ahem.”

Coming from just beside her, the throat-clearing made her start. She spun around to face the younger clerk, a crooked grin twisting his mouth. Evidently he had heard her comment and was pleased to find it suggestive.

She leveled a cold stare at him, likely rendered less effective by the heat she felt seeping into her cheeks.

“We’re here to see Mr. Higginbotham,” Tristan interjected, his voice commanding and devoid of mirth.

The clerk understood the message, immediately tempering his expression. He gestured toward the back of the building. “Very well, Sir...Madam. Follow me, if you will.”

Lila did as told, afraid to look at Tristan. He must have thought her quite reckless. This example only proved what difficulty she would have had concealing a continued relationship with him. Disgusted with herself, she felt another wave of nausea and slowed her pace, struggling to stave it off.

The clerk led them into a small private office. Directing them to sit in two straight-backed wooden chairs, he took his own seat behind the desk. He pushed his spectacles up his nose, the picture of professionalism. “Now, who may I say is calling?”

Her nausea swelled again, and she cursed her senseless nerves. While she pressed a hand against one hot cheek, Tristan introduced them and explained their purpose.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Wyndam.” The man rubbed his chin. “Mr. Higginbotham received your letter on Friday—postmarked from France, I believe.”

“Then it did arrive? Excellent.” He glanced at Lila with eyebrows raised. “That will make for less explanation today.”

“Perha-aps.” The clerk’s tone fluctuated with doubt. He flipped through a ledger on his desk. “Hmm. I believe Mr. Higginbotham may be able to see you directly. Please give me a moment to confirm his schedule.”

As he disappeared into an inner office, Tristan turned to Lila and frowned. “You look rather pale. Are you all right?”

“I don’t know.” She sat with hunched shoulders, willing her stomach to calm. “I feel even worse than I did the first time I called on
you
.”

“You have no need to worry.” He reached over and gave her a pat on the hand. “This is a standard transaction. Higginbotham even has the letter I wrote last week. This will all be over before you know it.”

She didn’t really want it all to be over, but she checked her protest.

The clerk returned, bringing a halt to the exchange. “Mr. Higginbotham will see you now.”

He stepped to the side, motioning for them to go through to the back.

Tristan thanked him and helped Lila up, escorting her into the other office. Poorly lit with a bare floor and the same dark paneled walls as the lobby, the room smelled of pipe smoke and seasoned wood.

A frail old man with wild white hair sat behind the single desk, a large piece of furniture with nearly every inch of the surface covered with documents and ledgers. He rose slowly and greeted them with a deep nod. To Lila’s surprise, he offered her a smile, his twinkling blue eyes backing up the gesture.