Taste of Desire (6 page)

“It is too late for another coach to depart.
” Her words were barely a whisper as she stepped towards the chair.

Victory
. Tristan resisted the urge to smile. She was sniffing the bait, but not yet been trapped. “What can I have fetched to tempt you? There should still be some venison from dinner.”

She paled.

“Ah,  , what about toast soldiers and a nice pot of tea?”

“With lots of lemon and sugar
. Lots of lemon.”

She was caught
. She didn’t realize it as she sank into the wingchair, but there would be no escape. The tension seeped from his shoulders. She was his.

He rang for the maid and ordered the repast
.

“I’ll be sure all is as you request.”

“Why are you being so cordial, suddenly?”

“
I told you, I like watching women eat. I am already anticipating the event.”

“
Tell me the truth,” she answered, her gaze sweeping his face. “I do not believe you do anything without a more definitive purpose. I stayed with my sister long enough to hear Wulf tell many tales of schooldays and later. He said you always got your way. He was not sure how you did it, but somehow people always acted as you wanted.”

“I am sure that can’t be true
. Why would anyone do something just because I said so?” He gave her his most innocent grin.

Her eyes fastened on his lips
. That was good. Once women concentrated on his lips . . . He let his own gaze linger on hers. Now that she was sitting, their color had returned and they were a split cherry, ripe for the tasting. He could see them part with each breath, the lower one moist from her tongue. He leaned towards her slightly, letting the spell grow, entwine about them both. He raised his glance slightly, prepared to meet her darkened gaze, the pupils dilating with desire.

She drew back suddenly, her lips clamping shut, her eyes burning with – suspicion
.

This time it was he who shook his head, trying to shake free the blood that had rushed there.

“Wulf was right,” she said.

“What?
”

“You weave a web of words and charm and . . . I must be going.
”

Just as she prepared to rise, the maid entered the room with a tray
. The steam rose from the pot and filled the room with its light, crisp scent.

Her eyes fastened on the tray, on the lemon
. Her lips parted again and he could see her tongue dart over her teeth. She dropped back into the seat.

“I suppose you were right that a little refreshment would not do any harm, but then I really must leave.”

“Whatever you wish, my dear.” He’d never considered the seductive powers of tea before.

“Do not call me that
. If you will not be serious I will depart immediately.” Her fingers were already reaching for the wedge of lemon. She picked it up and with the tiniest glance at him, brought it to her lips. Her eyes closed in rapture. The tiny muscles in her cheeks working as she nibbled at the edge.

“You have most unusual tastes,” he said.

She dropped the wedge, then hurriedly lifted it again.

“I do not really, but it just looked so inviting, like it would taste of summer
. It’s so tart and fresh. I didn’t even know I wanted it until you mentioned tea and then I craved it. I love lemons. I always have.” She brought the wedge back to her mouth and this time she sucked. There could be no other word for it, those red lips wrapped tight around –

Tris shifted uncomfortably in his chair
. He forced his gaze away. Citrus fruits were not erotic. Neither were pregnant chits. Why then were his breeches growing so uncomfortable?

“Have some tea with that.”

“Oh, you’re right, I suppose I should. I am forgetting my manners. It is hard to maintain proper decorum with a near stranger who has just asked you to marry him.” She was rambling, but no longer looked so desperate.

He poured the tea into her cup, a most unfamiliar task, and offered her the bowl of sugar
. She took two heaping scoops and then squeezed three slices of lemon.

She sipped.

And smiled.

It was the first genuine smile he’d seen flit across her face and it caught him off guard
. Just for a moment he was back in that long-ago ballroom, watching a young enchantress glide down the stairs, her enthusiasm barely restrained. Her aquamarine eyes had flashed at him and he’d been the one captured, all thought of purpose gone. It had been all he could do to restrain himself until he could maneuver her into some dark corner of the garden. He clenched his hand into a fist, fighting the remembrance of how soft her palm had been in his, how she’d quivered with first awareness as he stroked that virginal skin. He’d let her distract him then; he would not now. He had determined his goal and he would pursue it.

“Would you like some
? There are two cups.” Her question caught him off guard again.

“No
. I am not partial to tea. I prefer coffee or chocolate, and then only in the morning.”

“Oh.
” She bit into a toast point, nipped at an escaping crumb. Her lips had been so red, so innocent in the moonlight. He’d known she’d never been kissed, had been slowly seducing her into his arms when they’d been disturbed.

“What are you thinking about
? You have a most peculiar expression.” Her teeth caught at her lower lip.

“Nothing in particular,” he answered
. Damn it all. He supposed himself the master wordsmith and he couldn’t seem to keep his mind off her mouth for more than a moment. This would not do. “Or rather, I was merely considering your situation.”

“I thought we were done discussing that.”

“Actually, I think we have barely begun.”

“How do you suppose?”

“Well, it seems that we have not reached a solution that is agreeable to us both.”

“I do not see that it needs be agreeable to you
. It is my life.”

How little she knew
. “Then why will you not be sensible? Do you think I am without suspicions of your intentions? You have become much too amenable to returning to the mother you fled from. I do not believe it.”

As if on cue, her eyes dropped to her plate
. The hand holding the toast shook until delicate crumbs fluttered through the air. So, he had been correct.

“Even I, with all my acknowledged wickedness, cannot send you out with only a handful of coin and no known destination.”

She kept her head lowered and brought up the tea for a sip. No, it was more of a gulp. She placed the cup back on the saucer. It clattered loudly, echoing in the growing silence.

He walked around the small table and knelt down before her
. Her shoulders straightened as she attempted to edge away from him. He pressed forward against her slightly open knees.

She turned away and stared at the old masters on the wall.

“Look at me, Marguerite.”

She kept her eyes turned away and did not answer.

This close he could smell the dust of her journey, the faint floral scent she wore, and over it all the crisp tang of the lemons. He caught one of her hands between his, rubbing his fingers gently across it, and then brought it to his lips. First, he nuzzled her wrist, then worked his way over her palm and up to the soft pads at the base her fingers. The sharp scent of the lemon was overpowering and, unable to resist, his tongue darted out and tasted.

She turned back to him, startled.

“This is where we stopped a year ago. I tasted only your fingers, never your lips. Do you wish it had been different?”

“What I wish is of no consequence now.
” Despite her words, her glance moved over his face and settled on his mouth. He parted his lips and watched her inhale. He bent closer.

She did not draw back.

He pressed tighter against her legs, and moved until only a butterfly’s eyelash separated them. He could feel her breath upon his lips, but he did not close that final gap.

They breathed as one and he forced himself to a perfect stillness
. She would come to him; he need only wait.

He felt her eyes move up his face, the weight of her gaze caressing him, assessing him
. Their glances joined and, with a sigh of surrender, she moved forward.

The door banged open
. A commanding presence strode in.

“What is going on here
? I could not believe it when Lady Carrington told me I was needed. Here. A lady of my consequence appearing at a bachelor residence. Unheard of. But, I see that she was correct. Miss Marguerite Wilkes, what would your sister say about this? Alone with a gentleman well past any decent hour. And Wimberley, you of all men should know better, and do know better. Huntington would skin you alive if he knew with whom you dallied. You know what this means, I trust?”

Tristan rocked back on his heels
. He could not help the ironic smile that spread across his face.

Lady Smythe-Burke had arrived.

Chapter Three

Marguerite wanted to hide beneath the tea table as the formidable lady stalked towards them, her full skirts swirling above her narrowly fitted waist. Lady Smythe-Burke was one of the true doyennes of society, the aunt of the powerful Duke of Westlake and the widow of an earl. One whispered word from her and worlds rose and fell. Fortune and power were embodied in this woman whom a good puff of wind might blow away. Marguerite had spent time at her sister’s house party with Lady Smythe-Burke and ever since the lady had taken a great interest in her life, too great an interest. Marguerite shrank into her chair.

“I’ll ask again, Wimberley, you do know what this means, what you must do?
” Lady Smythe-Burke caught Tristan with an iron glare.

“Why yes, my lady, I do know
. I believe I’ve hopelessly compromised Miss Wilkes and will have no recourse but to marry her. What do you think, my dear?” Tristan turned to Marguerite and she slumped further.

How had she placed herself in this position
? Now if she didn’t marry him, both of them would be disgraced. What had she done? Acid bit at the back of her throat.

“That’s settled then.
” Lady Smyth-Burke picked up her pacing. “Will it be banns or special license? I suppose under the circumstances it will be the license. Too many of these hurried affairs these days. In my day everything was done properly at St. George’s. Don’t understand the young. Maybe we should just let you walk up to the magistrate, sign yourselves away, and be done with it. Why ask God’s blessing when it’s clear you’re already making a hash of everything? Splendid idea, that. Just sign and be done with it. No need to make a spectacle of the whole debacle. You’re not with child are you, my dear? No, of course not, I’ve heard your mother is not the most sensible of women, but I am sure she’s trained you better than that. Besides I myself know that Wimberley would never be so careless.”

Lady Smythe-Burke turned a
way from Marguerite, who prayed silently that her lack of color would not betray her. She lifted the teacup and swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the hot liquid, hoping the steam would bring a flush to her cheeks. She didn’t even dare glance at Tristan, who had moved across the room.

“You’ll have to come home with me, of course.
” Lady Smythe-Burke was still talking. “Yes, that is the only answer. I take it your mother is not in town. I will not even begin to inquire as to how this circumstance came about. I would have credited you both with more sense than this. If it ever comes out that you have been here this evening, we will simply say that I was here with you from the first. Yes, that’s what we will do. Violet Carrington will provide an alibi. Who else saw Miss Wilkes’ arrival? In a normal household I’d worry about servants’ gossip, but somehow I imagine that is not of major concern here.”

Tristan nodded curtly as he turned and faced them
. Marguerite still refused to look in his direction, but she could feel the air stir at his movement.

“Sir Thomas Lan
gdon and Lord Darcy,” he said. “Neither would have recognized her and, once this affair is completed, neither will risk my ire. They both believe they have much to gain from my friendship.”

“And that of Lady Carrington, I imagine,” Lady Smythe-Burke snorted.

“As usual, you see too much.”

“I played this game long, long before you’d put on
your first pair of breeches.”

Marguerite remained silent
. She stared at the now empty cup in her hands. She longed for Tristan to catch her tight to him and tell her again that all could be made well. But, that was a child’s dream. If nothing else, the past year, the past months, had taught her that dreams did not come true. Besides, at the heart of all this, Tristan himself held much of the blame for what had come to pass. If she had never met him, the world would have been a very different place. He was the one who had taught her to dream, had made her seek a different world. She could still close her eyes and be back in the magic of that summer garden, remember how her life had changed at his touch, how she’d seen how wonderful the world could be.