Wicked Knight (11 page)

Edmund yawned loudly on the phone. “And you've been having wet dreams because of her.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I'll tell your mom you need to drop a quarter in your curse jar. Okay. I'll take your shift, but you owe me, man.”

“Thanks, bro.” He ended the call, then dialed his dad's family line. Arthur picked up in one ring.

Tristan could hear the coffeemaker grinding. Dad was up.
Good
. In three short sentences, he explained about the ferry workers’ situation and why he left.

Arthur sighed on the phone. “Bring that young woman back here, son. I'll talk to her. Don't worry about Mrs. Belfry, I'll see what I can do.”

“Belfry?”

“Yeah. The ferry terminal employee. She called already.”

Hot damn!
“Sorry, Dad. I didn't know she'd call you right away.”

“It's okay, son. I'm up anyway. Mom wants her coffee.”

Tristan smiled. If Arthur Knight's friends could only see him in his light blue pajamas, fluffy slippers, hair tousled, carrying a tray upstairs, they'd strip his tough judge suit in a hurry. He said his goodbye and tossed the cell on top of his overnight bag.

Through his windshield, he watched the sunrise slowly paint the horizon. What a great view. Too bad he didn't have anyone to share this view with. His mind drifted back to Julie. She'd appreciate nature's magic like this. A smile tugged each corners of his lips. What a lovely brat.

* * * *

Julie stepped out of the shower and reached for the green towel she hung on the rack. The tenderness between her legs was gone now, as if what had happened in the hut was but a dream. Her first time though, was real. She had sex under the stars with Tristan. She couldn't have asked for a better time to give up her virginity. When she would experience sex again, only time would tell.

Right now, she had a bigger problem to face. Feeling sluggish from her hot shower, she dried her body and forced her mind to focus on the task at hand—Marla, the evil stepmother. She wondered what she would lay on the table this time. Most likely an outrageous accusation. She pressed the towel on her eyes. Her head throbbed from thinking too much.

Good God!
She hoped her books wouldn't cause her troubles. Writing was her only way to express herself freely, without leaving her house. Through writing, she could do things without fear, without inhibitions. Using her imaginations, she could live the life of a free woman.

Marla's insane obsession of ruining her just to get a hold of her mother's inheritance must end. This had been going on for far too long. She was tired of counting her steps, of making sure she wouldn't make any mistakes. How to end this though? By marrying someone like Armand? But the idea of marrying him without love was too bitter for her taste. She believed marriage should be bound by love, not money or a dire situation. Although, if she were honest with herself, the idea of marriage seemed plausible. It would be a one-sided marriage, yes, but she would be free from the will's binding.

Maybe Kirsten was right. If she gave Armand a chance, she might fall in love with him. She liked him already. During their meetings to talk about her mom's Microsoft shares, she found him pleasant company. He'd been an enjoyable coffee date, gentleman, polite, and with fantastic money market brains. And he loved her. He said so at least a couple times. But should she tell him the reason why suddenly she decided she would marry him?
She should
. If he loved her enough, he would understand. And if he didn't, perhaps he might agree to marry her and stay together for a month. After that, they would divorce and she would pay him handsomely.

One phone call
could
solve her problem.
Call Armand. Give him a try
. Julie glanced at the clock on her dresser. It was almost ten in the morning. Armand must be glued to his computer right now.

Eenie Meenie Minie Moe. Should I call Armand and tell him my dilemma or jump off the Aurora Bridge?

No. Jumping off the bridge wouldn't be good. Her death would mean hitting the jackpot for her father and Marla.

Dammit, why couldn't I be like Elizabeth Bennet of the famous Pride and Prejudice?
Elizabeth was so lucky to find a man she loved and who loved her in return. Wouldn't it be nice if she ended up like her? But how? Her love life was shot. No prospects, with only one suitor she liked and saw as a good friend. Of course, there was one she wouldn't hesitate to marry if he offered his help.
Tristan
.

Dream on, Julie.
The man was allergic to the word
marriage
. It would be a miracle if he showed up at her door ready to marry her.
Gah!
Of all the men to fall in love with, she fell for a man who was obviously still in love with his ex-wife, despite the pain she had caused him. He talked about Carly as if she were a goddess on a pedestal.

Julie took her cell phone from the dresser, composed a short text, then pressed
send
. Armand would call her back. He would probably come running here if she asked him to come over. He couldn't though. Having a man—visitor or a friend—could jeopardize her inheritance.

She would be honest with Armand. If he still wanted to marry her, despite her reason, they'd do it right away.

Julie was deep in her thoughts when the doorbell rang. It must be Teta or the UPS guy she nicknamed Brownie. She bet Brownie was wearing his tight brown shorts and shirt again today. Brownie was a real Crotcher. Unlike Tristan. He didn't have to wear tight shorts to show his...

For the first time since Weatherholt called, a smile crept on her face.

The bell rang again. She hoped it was Brownie delivering the final copy of her manuscript. She could use a diversion. The only way to forget Marla was to immerse herself in her story.

Julie rewrapped the towel around her, then left her bedroom.

Only a woman so desperate would enter a loveless marriage. And she
was
desperate. The will's stipulation clearly said if she married, she'd be free. The sound of the word
free
was as tempting as double chocolate fudge ice cream.
Yes!
All she had to do was convince Armand, get a ring on her finger and a marriage contract. It would be that easy.

The doorbell rang again.

Julie ruffled her hair and combed it with her fingers. Forgoing the slippers, she headed downstairs.

Yanking the door open, Julie flashed a bright smile. “Hey! Got my manuscript—” Her next word died on her lips. “What are you doing here?” She felt the gap on the towel open and quickly grabbed the edges to pull it together.

Tristan's eyes grew wider as he looked her up and down. He then pointed at the towel. “What the hell are you doing answering the door wearing only that?”

“Well, I thought, uhm, normally I—”

“Are you entertaining someone, or you're expecting someone?”

“No to both. I thought you were Brownie, the UPS guy.”
Lord, what is he doing here?

Tristan came in and kicked the door shut. “So you normally answer your door with barely anything on when the UPS guy rings your bell?”

“No. This is the first time. I just got out of the shower when you rang the bell. I was in a hurry and didn't think about putting any clothes on.”

“In a hurry to grab a shirt?”

“Well, you rang the bell as if the house was on fire.”

Tristan stared at her like a bull with its nostrils flaring. “Well, next time think about it first. Where can I put these?” Tristan asked, holding up three plastic bags, a six-pack of Diet Coke and a tray with two Grande Starbucks coffee cups.

“That way is the kitchen. Are you...” She noticed the duffel bag slung on his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Your fight with Marla and your mother's will.”

“Oh, no. Kirsten told you? I told her not to tell anyone about—”

“Yeah, she told me about your stepmother, but she forgot to warn me about your habit of opening doors naked.” He stormed off to the kitchen.

Julie followed, getting annoyed at his sarcasm. “I already told you, I am not in a habit of...never mind.” Actually, at home alone, she wore something comfortable all the time. Like underwear and a shirt or a long t-shirt without anything else on, especially during summer. But never around other people. Not even when Kirsten stayed overnight for their
Pride and Prejudice
marathon. “I'll strangle your sister for sending you here.”

“Get in line, Strawberry.”

Julie watched Tristan open the plastic bags. She could smell a mixture of breakfast—donuts, muffins, pancakes—and Chinese food. The delicious smells made her stomach growl. She was so busy thinking about Marla that she hadn't even thought about eating.

“Did you eat breakfast? If you want lunch, I brought Chinese food also,” Tristan stated, without looking at her.

“I had coffee. Tristan, we have nothing to talk about,” she added, while keeping her arms around her to keep the towel from coming undone and to silence her rumbling stomach. Her eyes focused on the overnight bag. He didn't plan to stay overnight, did he?

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of Tristan in her house all night.
Your thoughts are running away with you, Julie.

“Yes. There are things that we need to talk about.”

“What exactly do you think we're going to discuss?”

“How I can help you.”

“Help me? I don't need your help.” She sat on the table with half of her butt cheek hanging and one foot dangling. Another habit she acquired from being alone all the time.

“Don't be so stubborn and proud. I made a promise to Kirsten to help and you'll accept it.”

“How exactly do you think you're going help me?”

“By marrying you.”

Stunned, Julie just stared at him. She couldn't think quick enough to protest his offer.
Did he say, marrying me?

“Uhm, did you say you want to marry me?”

Tristan was looking at her with intensity so strong she felt like going to a different room. Not with his usual kind, almost attentive look. From head to toe, he assessed her. Slowly he walked toward her. “Kirsten said getting hitched is the only way to release you from the will's binding. So I am here to marry you.”

She should be happy. Here was a handsome man whom she shared her body with, offering the very thing that would put an end to her problem. The man she was in love with. Nevertheless, he was also the man whose aversion to marriage was known to the whole Orcas Island. So why offer to make a promise to marry her?

“You want to marry me. Why? Do
you
want to get married?”

“I made a promise.”

“Did Kirsten beg you to?”

“Julie, she was worried about you. We all are.”

“You all are? Meaning your whole family knows about my problem now.”

“
My
whole family? Wait. Well, let's see. It's not two in the afternoon yet. So, Bors and Gawain are most likely still in bed. No not the
whole
family—yet. By the way, Dad asked me to take you back to the island. He wants to talk to you.”

She groaned her irritation. “If I didn't love your sister, I would put a curse on her right this minute.” Kirsten had been half-asleep when she left her. Had her friend misheard when she said she'd think about Armand, and thought she said Tristan? But... Whatever. Tristan shouldn't be here. “I am sorry you had to come all the way here, but I think your sister heard me wrong. When we talked this morning, I told her I would consider—”

“Armand, your avid suitor? Kirsten told me about him. Have you made a deal with him yet?”

“Well, not yet. I am still waiting for his call. I just texted him before you—”

“Good. Then you'll marry me.” His blue eyes darkened as she held his gaze.

Julie noticed Tristan said the word
marry
heavily, as if it weighed a ton. She knew why. He didn't want to get married. “Why you?”

“What?”

“You have other brothers. How come Kirsten forced you to make the promise of helping me and not Bors, Gawain, or Percival.”

“Maybe because I'm the easier brother, the one she could boss around.” Tristan let out an aggravated sigh. “I didn't get a chance to ask her. The sun wasn't even up yet when she came in my room to tell me you left. There wasn't any time to flip the coin on who would want to marry you.”

“Well, Marla's not here yet. You still have time to think this through—somewhere else. This house is not open for male visitors.”

“I already did a lot of thinking on my way here. Besides, I already made a promise.”

“Still, as far as I know, you don't want marriage. You're done with marriage.”

“I am.”

“So don't do this.”

“Can't. I made a promise.”

Julie gritted her teeth. If he said the word
promise
one more time, she'd flick his straight nose. “Promises are made to be broken.”

“Not in my book. You want Marla to stop pestering you, right?”

“Tristan, I do want to stop Marla. But—”

“So I'm here. Let's stop her.”

“Will you let me speak?”

Tristan faced her with his arms akimbo. “Speak.”

“I am desperate, okay. Tired of dealing with Marla and her viciousness, but I wouldn't ask a man to give his help knowing the help is the thing he hates most. I am talking about you. Now, Armand, I could ask him. He wants to marry me and—”

“Well, you can forget him now. You are marrying me, not Armand, not anybody else. And I am not going home without you wearing my ring.”

“Oh, that easy, huh?”

“Yes. We say
I do
and the deed's done. We're husband and wife.”

“For a month.”

Tristan looked at her. His face clearly expressed the sign that her words baffled him.

“A month,” he repeated with a scowl.

“If we marry, you'll be stuck with me for a month. After that, we can get a divorce.”

“That's part of the condition?”

“
My
condition. Nothing on the will says I have to stay married forever. So a month is good.”