The Skilled Seduction (2 page)

“Ollie,” she leaned towards him, taking great pains for her tone to sound sincere as she tilted her head to the side. “I am so sorry. I had no idea you have never kissed a woman. Had I known, I never would have suggested you kiss me tonight.”

Oliver laughed.
 

Victoria continued with her artifice, furrowing her brow as if concerned for her dear friend.

“You cannot be serious,” Oliver drawled, visibly affronted. He then yanked his pocket watch from her, thrusting it back into his vest pocket. “Of all the bloody ridiculous things for you to imply. What would make you consider such a ridiculous notion?”

“What other reason could you possibly have for refusing to grant your dearest friend one kiss that may define her future happiness?” Victoria asked.

Oliver shifted his weight. “I don’t want to see you to get hurt, Tori,” he reached for her hand. The fact that Ollie was touching her bare flesh wasn’t the least bit improper, at least not for them. Victoria and Oliver had been childhood friends for as long as she could remember.
 

“I can’t help but be protective of you,” he continued. “You are my dearest friend and MacAlistair sure as hell isn’t good enough for you.”

She grinned. “You’re biased, Ollie. I dare say no man would ever be good enough for me in your estimation.”

“True enough,” he mused. “No one other than me, that is.”

“Oliver!” She smacked his arm with her gloves, her smile bright.

“What?” he bolted upright. “You and I have been best friends since we were eight. It would be the most prudent arrangement and you know it.”

Victoria took a small step towards him, whispering, “By
prudent
you mean
safe
– that we would never betray one another.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Neither of us would ever be content with that arrangement,” she studied his jade eyes in the dim light, gauging his reaction. “I would bore you in a matter of months and you know it.”
 

His expression remained guarded, confirming her suspicions. “So, why do you insist upon arguing with me?”

She waited for a reply but, instead, Oliver tugged Victoria towards him, splaying his hands flat upon her waist as he claimed her lips in a tender kiss.
   

Tristan was the first man, the lone man, to kiss her until now and his kiss was the complete opposite of Ollie’s. Tristan’s kiss had been passionate and demanding. Oliver’s kiss, just like the man, was gentle. Slowly, he coaxed her lips open with his tongue. Tristan had done so, as well, though with much more urgency.
 

Something firm clamped her shoulder from behind, wrenching Victoria backwards. She stumbled, struggling to remain upright as her skin prickled, alert.
 

Victoria stared at Oliver, noting a smug smirk sweep across his bronzed features.

“What is the meaning of this?” Tristan’s deep baritone sliced through the still night air.

She opened her mouth to respond, however, Tristan held up his hand. Victoria studied him in silence, noting that a vein pulsated violently in his neck.
 

Just the response she hoped for.

Victoria had struck a nerve.
 

She clasped her hands behind her back and fought to conceal her grin as Tristan glared at Oliver, setting the full force of his fury upon Victoria’s friend while at the same time stepping in front of Victoria in a clear attempt to separate them.
 

“
Answer me
, Wainright!” Tristan demanded again, his resonance thunderous. “What is the meaning of this?”

It was just as she predicted, Victoria noted with a twinge of excitement.
 

Tristan was envious.
 

Why else would he be so incensed?
 

Victoria studied Tristan’s back, noting with a pang of appreciation how his tawny colored jacket hugged his broad shoulders. She then peered around Tristan’s tall frame, catching a glimpse of Oliver’s refined features. His smirk widened and it was clear that Ollie enjoyed wielding so much control over the situation.

“Victoria is my friend.” Oliver paused then tapped his lips with his forefinger, his smirk widening with every second that passed. Victoria was certain that he was drawing attention to his lips in a deliberate attempt to remind Tristan of the kiss he had just interrupted.
   

Tristan smacked Oliver’s hand.
 

“Your friend happens to be a member of my sister’s family and, by extension, my own.” Tristan took one step forward. “And I don’t find your public mauling of her acceptable.”
 

The two men stood, nose to nose and for the first time, Victoria witnessed the vast differences between Tristan and her friend. To be sure, both were tall in stature and possessed chiseled features.
 

But that was where their similarities ceased.

Oliver was fair haired and possessed a casual air and cutting wit. Grace and fine manners personified, Ollie was everything a man of nobility should be while Tristan exuded strength, intensity and raw masculinity. His dark hair, broad frame and turbulent eyes the color of rich mahogany made him appear downright dangerous in comparison to Oliver.

A barrister by profession, Tristan was sharp and cunning. He was also fiercely independent, choosing to practice the law at a time when it wasn’t considered a respectable profession for a second born son. He defied convention out of noble intentions and a desire to protect the defenseless.

Another trait that set Tristan apart from Oliver was his guarding nature. Victoria had seen him protect his sister and, when warranted, Tristan could become downright dangerous. Like a panther stalking its prey, he studied his opponents, assessing their strengths and weaknesses while biding his time until he found the perfect moment to attack.

In a sudden moment of clarity, Victoria realized that Tristan was currently stalking Oliver.
 

Her friend didn’t appear to notice.

“First of all, ours was a private moment until your unforeseen arrival. Secondly, Victoria is beautiful, intelligent and witty.” Oliver’s eyes danced with mirth as they locked with Victoria’s, “Why wouldn’t I want to kiss her?”

Tristan rounded on Victoria. “Are you betrothed to this man?”

Victoria steeled her shoulders, meeting his intense scrutiny with her own. She refused to cower. The reason for this ambush was to convince Tristan to concede that Victoria was a woman. He would see her as such before this evening was through.

Taking a step forward, she claimed her ground. “I never expected you to be so proper, Tristan,” Victoria teased, offering him a sweet smile.

Oliver shot her one of his
I hope you know what you’re doing
glances before stating, “I have half a mind to propose to you if it means more kisses like that, Lady Victoria.”

Tristan’s attention snapped back to Oliver. Never at a loss for words, it appeared that Tristan lacked his usual stinging retorts. Victoria couldn’t help but smile at the realization.
 

So far, the first step in her plan was a complete success.

Oliver further stoked the fire by adding, “It’s no wonder you have so many suitors when you kiss like—”

“Enough,” Tristan’s hand sliced through the charged air again.
   

For one brief moment, Tori half expected him to hit her friend. Instead, Tristan grabbed her hand. “Say goodnight to your …” Tristan paused, glaring at Oliver. “Just say goodnight, Victoria.” His words dripped with venom.
   

Tori mouthed
thank you
to her friend as Tristan tugged her away from the scene. She turned her attention toward him, his profile illuminated by a combination of the silver moon hanging high above them and the many gas lamps accentuating their path.

A mask of rage contorted his handsome features causing her every nerve to stand on end.

Guiding her past the ballroom doors to the other end of the terrace, they encountered a couple kissing. From his ragged intake of breath and the clenching of his hand over hers, she assumed that the sight further aggravated him.

The still night air seemed charged with his mounting exasperation as he led her to another venue, the gardens.

Tristan’s blood pounded against his temples, his wrath unlike any he had ever known. What the hell was Victoria doing kissing that fop, Wainright, in the dim light of the terrace? For God’s sake, her brother was due to walk out at any moment.

“Where are we going, Tristan?” she asked.

Instead of offering a response, he chose to remain silent, waiting for his frustration to abate. Victoria had matured since his kiss with her, Tristan realized with a surprising pang of regret.
 

Why Wainright,
he wondered.
Why not me?
 

There it was – his damned inner voice reminding him of the kiss they once shared.

The same kiss he longed to repeat.

As one might expect, the events that occurred on the day that Tristan’s former fiancée married his brother forever changed him but not for the reasons one would assume. Eve marrying Colin did enrage him, though he was much more affected by his kiss with Victoria.

Try as he might, he couldn’t forget how perfectly she fit within his arms. Nor could he purge himself of her savory taste, her heady scent, her alluring essence or the warmth her kisses ignited within him.

Tristan had attempted to recreate what he felt with Victoria on numerous occasions since their encounter without success. No other woman came close to Victoria and her spellbinding pull over him. He was certain that not a woman alive measured up to the inexperienced young woman he had kissed so long ago.

She was no longer innocent, he noted, regret forming in a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard in a concerted effort to douse the distaste from his mouth.

At the time, Tristan had blamed their brief encounter on the liquor they had consumed but that had been a lie. He wasn’t inebriated when he kissed her unless there was such a thing as being drunk with desire. No, he kissed Victoria because he wanted her and no matter what remedies he tried, none were enough to prevent him from craving another kiss.

His desire had quickly become downright obsession, festering within the dark crevices of his very core. Because Tristan liked to torture himself, his favorite pastime of late was to remind himself that Victoria was an eligible female of marrying age and that she would soon be betrothed to another man. In doing so, he thought that he had prepared himself for the inevitable, convinced himself of it, in fact.

Why, then, did the sight of Victoria in Wainright’s embrace send him into such a blinding rage?

Perhaps it was because Tristan never suspected Wainright? The man was her childhood friend, or so Victoria always claimed.
 

Tristan now knew why the fop was so damned cordial to her during those many years.

Reality, stark and cold punched him hard in the gut. Wainright had nothing to do with his wrath. No, his anger stemmed from the fact that Victoria was kissing someone else when all Tristan craved was for her to kiss him again.

“Tristan, where are we going?” she repeated, as he veered towards the steps and led her down towards the gardens.
   

“Somewhere private,” he managed, powerless to trust his own voice. Did she have any idea what she had just done? Or, better yet, the damage to her reputation that would have occurred if someone else had caught them? He intended to talk some sense into her.

He should tell her brother! Yes, that would stop her from kissing anyone else the way—

The way she had kissed Tristan a little more than two years ago.
 

Twenty-four months and eighteen days ago to be precise. If pressed, Tristan could probably tick off the number of hours and minutes.
 

His intimacy with Victoria had altered his life.
   

Tristan led her to a stone bench buffered by tall, manicured shrubs. Why did her encounter with Wainright bother him so? He couldn’t explain it, but it did indeed bother him.
 

Once again, his inner voice reminded him that
he
wanted to kiss her.
 

It had been his soul’s deepest desire ever since their first kisses occurred. Hell, if she were anyone else’s sister, he probably would have seduced her by now.

Instead, Wainright was seducing her.
 

And Tristan’s blood boiled at the realization. Victoria, he was growing to realize, now resembled most females by being easily tempted. Would she grow to be untrustworthy as well, if given enough time?

As if sensing the dire direction his thoughts had taken, Victoria broke the thick silence. “Regardless of what you may believe, I do not kiss every man I meet.”

“No?” he asked, motioning for her to sit. “Perhaps you reserve that honor for the multitude of men who court you?”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed as she stood in defiance, her hands on her hips, accentuating her voluptuous hourglass figure. “If that were the case, I would never have kissed you.”