The Skilled Seduction (13 page)

Victoria explored his bare chest, reveling in the splendor of his body. God, this man was perfection. Her hands trailed down to his abdomen, where she traced his taut muscles with her fingertips. His tendons twitched in response and Victoria’s
 
bit her lower lip to suppress a grin. She, this inexperienced virgin, was making his body react to her touch.

After further exploration of his chest, her hands trailed to the nape of his neck. Victoria grasped him tighter, clinging to him in an attempt to steady her mounting desire as Tristan slowly inched her chemise up her legs, his fingers exploring her flesh, leaving a fiery path in their wake.

He then cupped her buttocks with his hands. Flesh to flesh, her skin seared from his intimate contact.

Did he feel the breadth of what occurred?
 

He must realize that she belonged to him. He must sense how much Victoria loved him. Wasn’t it evident in her heated caresses and sensual kisses?

Tristan lifted her onto his lap as a guttural moan escaped her throat. Though she experienced slight discomfort upon his entering her, it was quickly replaced with waves of heat as her feminine heart tightened around his shaft.

She had never imagined their joining yet, even if she had allowed herself to do so, Victoria was confident that nothing could have prepared her for the burning desire that seemed to radiate from within her.

Tristan tore his mouth from hers then trailed kisses down her neck and throat. She was intoxicating. Like a drug, he thought, as his lips traced a path down the thin fabric of her chemise to her breasts, where he then teased one of her firm buds with his mouth through the fine fabric.
 

Victoria arched her back, digging her nails into his flesh as he flicked it with his tongue, claiming it as his own, nipping it with his teeth.

He knew she wanted more, could feel Victoria’s moist womanhood throbbing for him as he released her nipple, her rugged sigh slicing through the torrents of rain that continued to pound against the window panes. In response to her obvious disappointment, Tristan then captured her other breast while Victoria’s body trembled beneath his tongue.

Her response to his kisses heightened his need to fully undress her. Tristan lifted Victoria’s chemise above her head, tossing it aside with urgency. He then guided her backwards against the carpet, pausing briefly to admire her naked form before settling atop her, balancing his weight on his forearms, burying his hands in her hair.

“Look at me,” he instructed, his baritone rough with emotion.

She complied at once, meeting his gaze as he entered her once again – that one simple gesture unexpectedly filling his heart with pride. Teasing her moist womanhood with his shaft, Tristan probed, exploring deeper with each thrust. It was a deliberate effort, not penetrating her feminine wall fully. Not until Victoria writhed beneath him. Not until he was positive that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Victoria arched her back as her womanhood tightened around his shaft. Then she whispered, “Tristan.”

She’d whispered his name once before, during their first impassioned kiss and the intimacy of her tone had sobered him from further acting upon his desire for her.
 

Not this time.

It was, quite simply, his given name yet he’d never heard her utter it with such unabashed fervor. It was enough for him to realize that he wouldn’t rest until she belonged to him body and soul.
 

Shifting her thighs beneath his weight was such a simple motion and yet Tristan understood the unspoken significance of that one gesture.

This brave, magnificent woman was giving herself to him completely.

Tristan quickened his thrusts, probing deeper into her feminine core. As if instinctively, Victoria began to move with him, her body melding to his. It was his undoing as he thrust harder, penetrating her feminine wall at last.

Victoria cried out, her nails again digging into his flesh. Tristan devoured her with his impassioned kisses, thrusting harder, faster, until she wrapped her leg around his. Tristan was no longer aware where each of them began and ended as together they climaxed, spasms of pleasure wracking both of their bodies.

Long after their waves of rapture had passed, he continued to kiss her, their tender kisses almost more intimate than the act of joining they just shared. When he finally released her from his protective embrace, it was brief. Reaching for the corner of the silk coverlet, Tristan pulled it to the floor, wrapping them in a warm cocoon. Victoria curled up against him, resting her head in the crook of his neck as her hand gently caressed his chest.

Tristan kissed her head, stroking her silken tresses and listening to the rhythm of light rain tapping against the window panes like a gentle drumbeat. Victoria remained enveloped in his arms as she fell asleep.
 

With the storm now abated, Tristan’s haze of passion slowly began to lift. In direct contrast to his previous euphoria, stark reality set in.

What in bloody hell had he done?
 

Victoria was pure, until tonight when he sullied her. Much like the late Duke of Davenport had done to Tristan’s own mother and like Colin with Eve, although Colin’s indiscretion with Eve consisted of a kiss. Tristan had committed a sin much worse than any of theirs, hadn’t he?

Disgust doused him like the cold rain that had battered his windows during the tempestuous downpour.
 

He took Victoria’s virtue, knowing full well that he had no intentions of marrying her. Quite simply, he wanted her and took her, consequences be damned. His intimacy with her was precipitated by his necessity to avoid thinking of the future.
 

A future without his sister.

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat that formed with the mere thought of his sister, Tristan stared at the ceiling, wondering if Gwen had succumbed to this phantom illness that threatened to take her life.

Assuredly he would have sensed it?

No, Tristan was certain that his sister was still alive and fighting for her life. If she were to awaken and ever learn of the sin he committed on this dreadful night, Gwen would be mortified.

What had Tristan said to Colin after he caught his brother kissing Eve?

Prove how unlike your father you are.

Now Tristan must take his own advice. This is Gwen’s sister-in-law, for God’s sake. How could he not marry her now?

He desired Victoria for so long and, in spite of his many attempts to keep his distance, had taken her at last. Because he had filled Victoria with his seed, it was possible that a child might have been created.

Swallowing hard against the bitter taste of self-loathing, Tristan was well aware that he had officially lost control over his tight-knit life yet was unable to stop it.

Slowly, his eyelids began to feel heavy. He welcomed the oblivion of sleep, wishing it would expunge his guilt over this night. Instead, the same words repeated themselves through each of his nightmares:
 

“I will marry you. But I will never love you.”

He sensed that he was trying to convince himself. If he repeated the statement enough, it would become truth, would it not?
 

Even in his sleep, however, Tristan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was in danger of falling for the woman sleeping beside him, of being hurt, of being rejected.

No, love was a risk he wouldn’t allow himself.
 

It would be his solemn vow as he faced his fate in the morning.

Chapter 6

Oh, dear God, what have I done?

Victoria loved him and thought he loved her, as well. Sometime between entering Tristan’s suite and making love to him, she had convinced herself of it.
     

His hollow words echoed in her ears.
 

I will marry you. But I will never love you.

Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, she instead concentrated upon the gentle pitter-patter rhythm of the light rain rapping against the window panes.

Tristan must not have thought she was awake when he uttered the words. But she had been, and his statement crushed her heart, which had been brimming with rapture just moments before. She fought to steady her rapid pulse, feeling as if she was trapped in his solid embrace that mere moments before brought her warmth and comfort.

With each gentle rise and fall of his chest, Victoria waited for the proper time to escape until at last, Tristan had fallen into a deep slumber.

Taking great pains not to wake him, she pried his arm from her shoulder and placed it atop his chest. Though he shifted, he didn’t awaken, allowing Victoria to exhale a silent sigh of relief.

She squinted in the semi-darkness, noting that the candlelight was flickering at a most inconvenient time as she inspected the carpet in an effort to recover her garments. First, she located her chemise and immediately slid it over her head. Victoria then shrugged into her gown, the faint sound of the rustling fabric fraying her nerves. As she searched for her other articles of clothing, Victoria clutched the ripped bodice of her gown for dear life. Thankfully, she found everything rather quickly and without waking Tristan.
 

Creeping towards the door, she remembered the broken glass and tested each spot with her tiptoes before setting her foot down. Because fumbling for the doorknob in the dark took longer than she would have liked, Victoria kept praying – no not praying. God would no longer answer her prayers. Instead she kept hoping that Tristan wouldn’t awaken.

She couldn’t face him yet.

Once she found the cool knob, Victoria pressed her ear against the door. Met with nothing but silence, she cracked the door open with a faint
creak
of its hinge.

Several seconds passed as she peered through the small gap she allowed herself. It was dark, save for a few flickering wall lamps illuminating the hallway, and Victoria suspected it was later than she originally thought.

What if one of the servants heard us?
An icy panic surged through her veins at the thought of shaming herself in her brother’s home.

Stop it!
Her conscience screamed at her.
Your ruin means nothing compared to Gwen’s suffering.

Her conscience was right. Gwen was all that mattered. Victoria clutched her ripped bodice as she snuck down the dim hallway towards the sanctuary of her own bedchamber, ticking off the facts in a quick staccato. The lamps remained lit. The servants hadn’t ventured to Tristan’s wing, probably because they expected him to check on his sister throughout the night.

Gwen … please be all right.

By concentrating on the only person who mattered, her sister-in-law, Victoria was able to keep her emotions in check until she heard muffled voices down the expansive hallway. Victoria darted into her suite just in time to hear her maid stating, “His Grace asked me to check on his sister before retiring.”

Closing her door in silence, Victoria headed into her dressing room. Hastily removing her gown, she flung it along with the items she’d been carrying into her wardrobe before grabbing her dressing robe. Only after she had tied the sash did she slam her wardrobe doors shut and re-enter her bedchamber.

Just in time to hear Meg’s faint knock.

“Lady Victoria,” Meg whispered as she opened the door a crack then peered through it.

She then caught sight of Tori, who was trying her hardest to look innocent of any wrongdoing. And the intimacy she and Tristan had shared on this night indeed qualified as such.

Victoria was certain she would rot in hell for all eternity as her cheeks burned under Meg’s close scrutiny.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Lady Victoria,” Meg’s tone was tender. “His Grace asked me to check on you. He is sorry he sent you away, my Lady.”

“How is Gwen, Meg?” The thought of her dear friend caused tears to well in Victoria’s eyes.

“Her Grace is still with us,” Meg replied as she prepared her mistress’s bed for the night. “His Grace won’t leave her side, God bless the man.”

Victoria swallowed hard. Words couldn’t form past the lump in her throat. In one night, everything had changed and now, even if Gwen did survive, Victoria’s actions would hurt everyone she loved. She had disgraced herself in her brother’s home and would bring scandal to him and his family. Slumping her shoulders, she began to sob.

“Oh, dear me,” Meg approached her mistress.
   

Meg was a kind, thin woman ten years Victoria’s elder. Her husband had been a groundskeeper until he passed away five years ago. It was around that time that she and Victoria had become friends. Most improper for a Lady and her maid, however Victoria cared not for propriety. She never had and her lack of restraint on this particular night cost her dearly.

Meg hugged Tori. “Don’t cry, Lady Victoria. Oh, dear me.” Meg patted her mistress on the back. “It’s not too late for Her Grace. As long as she is alive there is hope.”

Victoria clung to that possibility with all her might as she pulled away. “I’m sorry, Meg, I am a bit emotional tonight. Pray, tell me how is Sebastian?”