The Skilled Seduction (28 page)

He placed a small chunk of sugar in her tea then added some milk. Funny, wasn’t it, that he knew how Victoria took her tea? Such a mundane fact that he remembered. “Nevertheless, you will not be paying him a visit this evening.”

“Why, Tristan?”

“Because,” he said, carrying the cup of tea to her. “If you insist on destroying your reputation by spending tonight in a bachelor’s home, it will be in my home, with me.”

“If
I
insist? I had no choice in the matter.” She refused his offer of tea with a wave of her hand. Thirsty or no, she was much too furious to accept anything from him.
 

Comprehension dawned on her, dousing her like an icy rain, chilling her to the core. “Is that why you’re doing this – to openly ruin me? It isn’t bad enough that my brothers know the truth or that Sebastian’s servants have been entertaining each other with tales about your physical altercation with him on this very day. No, you want to further punish me by disgracing me in front of all of London?”

Setting the tea cup on the bedside table, Tristan turned his full attention to her, his deep mahogany gaze locking with hers. “Your accusation is lacking in merit, my dear. If all I wanted was to damage your reputation, I wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble. Nor would I insist upon you marrying me. Need I remind you that this isn’t the first night you’ve spent with me?”

“Damn you,” Victoria shot him a reproachful look.

His hand stilled in the process of pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “If you insist.”

“What if I refuse to marry you tomorrow, then what?”

“Then I shall instruct my servants to prepare more trays for us,” he shrugged, his tall frame towering over her, his close proximity and the spicy scent of his cologne causing her already frantic heartbeat to quicken. “We have ample provisions and the staff are quite resourceful. We can survive like this for weeks, if necessary.”

“Like hell we will.” She glared at him.

Tristan rested his knee on the bed beside her, leaning so close to her now that her skin prickled from his nearness. “We won’t be bored, trust me.”

“How dare you,” Victoria growled, clenching a fistful of her mud encrusted skirts as she climbed down from the massive four-poster. Once on her feet, she stood less than a foot from him, her shoulders proud, her countenance regal. “Did you honestly think I’d fall into your arms, or into your bed, so easily?”

“A man can hope, can’t he?” he quipped, taking a step closer to her before adding, “After all, you did so once already.”

His smug statement caused her blood to boil. “Oh, but Mr. MacAlistair, there wasn’t a bed involved, was there? Besides, one night with you was enough for me to learn my lesson.”

Tristan flattened his palms against her waist, pulling her against him. “Would you like to wager a bet?” Tristan’s challenge was issued, complete with a seductive baritone and hooded gaze.

“Any time,” Victoria asserted, refusing to cower before her words actually registered in her emotionally exhausted brain.

“I bet that you can’t help yourself,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath causing a tingling sensation to prickle against her flesh.

Do not relent.
It was her silent edict as Tristan nibbled her earlobe then trailed a path of fiery kisses down her neck. In immediate response, desire surged within her though she ignored her traitorous body, Victoria’s pride bolstering her weak will with much needed resolve.
 

She steeled her shoulders. “It appears I can help myself.”

“It is a momentary lapse of judgment,” he nipped her earlobe with his teeth.

Tipping her head to the side, her expression was animated. “Or perhaps it is my conscience awakening?”
 

The same bloody conscience that was absent the night her life changed forever. Was it just a coincidence that the storm had been so ominous or perhaps it had been a foreshadowing of events to come? Either way, her damned conscience had been silent for far too long and though her determination was strong, she was nevertheless tempted.

Tristan nipped the nape of her neck and Victoria swore that her heart skipped a beat, maybe two.

Do not relent. You are stronger than this!
She silently reminded herself, repeating it until her body heeded her unspoken commands.

Clenching her hands into tight fists, Tori took great care that her voice be strong and controlled, even if her character was not. “I am not tempted by you, Tristan.”
 

“You’re not?” Tristan’s heated gaze locked with hers, his smoky eyes aglow with amber flecks and an intensity she’d never before witnessed. It was as if he was peering straight into her very being and her blood ran cold with fear of just what he would discover in the depths of her essence.

He caressed her cheek with his thumb, a slow gentle motion that was so intimate, so endearing, that her breath caught in her throat.

It had been a subtle response but Tristan heard it, nevertheless. It was evident in the broad smile that curved his perfectly chiseled lips. “You can’t still assert that you aren’t the least bit enticed?”

Victoria didn’t trust her voice.
 

“Perhaps I should prove you wrong,” he whispered.

A swell of excitement at the mere prospect of what Tristan might have in mind threatened to overpower her. She was losing all sense of reason.

Where was her bloody conscience now?

“I am a lady.” Victoria’s ridiculous assertion escaped her lips before she could think twice. That was her argument? It sounded weak even to her own ears but it was all she could muster. To say that she was unaffected by his touch, his nearness, was a lie and she was tired of deceiving herself.

He didn’t respond. Instead, his fingertips trailed the nape of her neck. The raw intensity of his gaze told her that he was about to kiss her. Even though Victoria knew she should protest, she was powerless to resist him.

Tristan’s soft lips brushed hers in a feather light kiss before pausing, his mouth hovering over hers. Her body ached for his kiss. He must have sensed it, for he prolonged her agony by parting his lips as his warm, sweet breath fanned her face.

Well aware that he was teasing her, Victoria closed her eyes, reveling in his nearness. It was divine torture as Tristan’s fingertips traced a path from the nape of her neck to her tresses, running his fingers through her thick curls, gently pushing them off her neck, exposing her flesh. That’s when he leaned into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, as if reveling in her scent.

“How can you deny this?” he murmured in her ear. “Can’t you feel the current between us? Pulling us towards each other – the charged air that crackles between us? Surely you feel it, too.”

He was right. No matter how much she denied it, Victoria couldn’t deny the tempest that seemed to form whenever she was with him. No matter how hard she tried to fight against it, the winds seemed to thrust her towards him, as if a lifetime with him was inevitable, as if her fate was no longer her own.

Tristan nibbled her earlobe before his tongue traced a path towards her jawline, then to her lips, where he then paused as if waiting for permission.

Her eyes locked with his and the gentle longing that met her gaze was her undoing. It was a vulnerability she never expected. Leaning into his embrace, Victoria’s fingers trailed up his arms, to the nape of his neck, where she buried them in his thick mane and pulled him towards her. She then brushed her lips against his. Unlike most of their kisses, this one was lingering and even more intimate than all the others they had shared. Tristan responded in kind, his tongue exploring her mouth in the most sensual kiss she’d ever experienced.

His kiss was heaven.
 

His touch was sinful.

Tristan’s hands trailed down the flesh of her neck, over her bodice down to her waist. He lifted her off the ground and onto the mattress.

A guttural moan escaped her throat when she settled on the bed. He tore his mouth from hers, studying her regal profile. Victoria’s eyes were still closed, her long eyelashes fanning her face in the shadow of the dim light. Her breathing labored, her chest rose and fell in quick breaths. She was precisely where he wanted her – in his life, in his bed, and at his mercy.

Tristan deepened the kiss, well aware of the flames he was stoking within her as he, too, settled atop the thick mattress. Victoria’s skin was warm, her body lithe next to his.

Gathering her skirts, his hands explored underneath her petticoats, seeking his final destination. He fully expected her to resist, pull away even.
 

She did neither.

His arousal hardened at her willingness as Tristan continued with his mission, peeling the layers of fabric from her womanhood until his fingers reached the feminine petals of her warm flesh.

Victoria’s legs tensed, albeit briefly, before her body trembled from his most intimate touch. He continued his gentle massage, his fingers teasing her thick curls, exploring her womanhood.

A jolt of excitement surged through him as Victoria moaned in response to his sensual caress. Warm and moist, she welcomed him by shifting her weight and granting him further access to her intimate feminine core. Tristan’s mouth claimed hers in a possessive kiss.
 

She belonged to him. Tomorrow was a formality. There was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable. Their fates had already been sealed.

He needed for her to recognize it, as well.
 

That is why, just when he was certain that Victoria was on fire beneath his fingertips, Tristan tore his mouth from hers. His own breathing erratic, it took him several seconds to find his voice. At last, he slowed his massage, his fingers now resting against her feminine core. Victoria moaned in disappointment as his hand stilled.

“Look at me, Tori,” he urged in a husky whisper.

Victoria obliged.

“You are no shy English rose, my darling,” he murmured. “Make no mistake, a proper lady doesn’t allow a gentleman such access, doesn’t welcome a man the way you just did with me.”

Her body tensed and her expression hardened. Victoria tried to pull away, however he rolled on top of her, his hand still resting at her feminine core.

He knew she was still throbbing for him as he again teased her feminine heart with his fingertips. Although she was determined to appear unaffected by his touch, the increasing wet warmth beneath his fingers betrayed her. She wanted him and ached for release – he could feel it. In response, he kissed her once more, this time gently, well aware of what he was about to do and how angry she would be. He wanted to offer her his heart, yet all he could give on this night was one gentle kiss before his parting blow.

Slowly, he extracted his lips from hers, kissing her neck as his fingers stilled. With his hand resting between her legs, Tristan prepared himself for the worst as he again asked her to look at him.

Victoria’s eyes locked with his.

“A proper lady doesn’t enjoy this but my wife does. Tomorrow, we will wed,” his tone brooked no argument, “and we will finish what we began here tonight because you want me and you want more of this.”

With reluctance he withdrew from her, smoothing Victoria’s skirts over her legs so she wasn’t exposed before rising from the bed in one fluid motion.

Tristan reached the door, surprised to see that his fingers actually trembled as he removed the key from his vest pocket and unlocked the door. “I am aware that your trunks haven’t yet arrived but you may use my robe and anything else you deem appropriate from my wardrobe. My butler brought warm towels up earlier and the basin is fully equipped.”

How he had managed to sound so calm when his nerves were beyond raw, Tristan knew not as he exited the room. It wasn’t until he was in the hallway, again turning the key in the lock to confine his captive, that he discerned something shattering against the door. The sound was loud enough to cause his ears to ring.

There would be a mess in the morning, in more ways than one.
 

Tristan knew what he was doing when he brought Victoria so close to the edge. He understood that his actions tonight would anger her. A lesser man would have made love to her and insisted she marry him in the morning. Or not, as many men had mistresses, but not him.

Why was that?
 

He was well aware of the answer. She was, quite simply,
his
Victoria and because Tristan was done playing games with her. She wanted him, damn it. His goal this evening was to make her admit it, if not with words then by using her own body against her.
 

He had succeeded in accomplishing the latter.

Victoria’s body betrayed her and, because he ignited such flames of desire within her, she wouldn’t dare refuse him now.

His erection throbbed beyond the painful stage as he descended the staircase to his study. It had taken every thread of self-control he possessed to leave Victoria lying on his bed tonight and he was still sorely tempted to return to her and finish what he just begun.

Tristan placed several small chunks of ice in a tumbler and filled it with water. He then downed the contents of the glass in several large gulps. Even the cool, clear liquid failed to quench his thirst for the woman locked in his suite upstairs. Nor could it extinguish his scorching desire for her.