Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“God in heaven,” Ophelia muttered, jumping so high her tea spilled from the cup in her hand and the saucer on her lap tumbled to the floor.
“Ophelia!” Theo laughed, leaning over to hand her a white cloth napkin. “What has gotten into you?”
Tristan raised a curious brow as he and Ophelia locked eyes, waiting for her answer. When she didn’t answer Theo, he tilted his chin, giving Ophelia a warning look.
After he’d discovered that Mr. Perley was also a member of the Masquerade, he’d found himself unable to sleep. The man had been close, very close, and he’d never noticed. Now he was certain he knew Tristan’s true identity and was using it as the source of his blackmail.
He’d tried, in the early morning hours to focus on his work.
After several failed attempts, Tristan had decided to give up and join his sister for lunch at her home; hoping for a distraction.
He’d been as caught off guard by Ophelia’s presence as she had been with his when he’d walked in, but it was Ophelia that lost her nerve.
“N-nothing,” Ophelia stammered, quickly looking away from him. “I think something bit me.”
“Bit you?” Theo questioned, roaming her eyes over Ophelia’s pristine gray-blue day dress. “Where?”
“The leg. Yes, it was the leg,” Ophelia stated, leaning down to brush her skirts.
Tristan almost laughed, knowing that she was lying. She had not been bitten, she was just startled. It was the first they’d seen another since their little night of discovery.
“Perhaps you should take a bath when you get home,” Tristan said, taking a seat beside Theo. “Wash off any filth you might have contact with.”
Ophelia’s nervous look shifted into a glare.
“Perhaps you should suck an egg,” she shot back.
Tristan smirked as Theo sighed and shook her head.
“Must you two always be at each other?” Theo asked. “Honestly! You are both most precious to me, and I would appreciate it if you would try to get along better.”
A wave of guilt sifted over his amusement, and his smirk faded.
“Apologies, sister,” he offered, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“Yes, apologies,” Ophelia muttered, lowering her gaze to her plate.
“Thank you,” Theo replied, picking up her knife and fork, “Now Tristan, what a lovely surprise that you chose to join us. Is there any particular reason you dropped by? Alistair is not here. He is on the search for some more of that tobacco Leah had given him for Christmas a couple of years ago.”
Tristan shifted his gaze back to Ophelia, studying her intensely. She refused to look back up at him; instead putting all of her focus into cutting the filet of fish on her plates into tiny bites. Still, he caught the flush in her freckled cheeks, the nervous hunch of her shoulders.
“I just wanted to check on my baby sister,” he said aloud.
And make sure this one over here has kept her mouth shut, he silently added.
“Well, are you not the sweetest brother,” Theo cooed. “Ophelia, is he not the sweetest?”
“Pure sugar this boy is,” Ophelia muttered, then popped a piece of fish into her mouth.
“Speaking of sugar,” Tristan said, taking over the conversation, “What have you two been up today? Or yesterday?”
“Tristan, what is wrong with you?” Theo asked with a laugh, “What does sugar and our time have in common?”
Tristan shrugged, mentally daring Ophelia look at him. He needed to know if she kept her word, or if she’d kept her secrets. Thus far he figured the latter, as he was sure Theo would have stabbed him with a fork if she knew the truth.
“I do not know. Something,” he replied with a casual tone, “So. Tell me. What have you two been talking about?”
This time Ophelia looked up at long enough to throw him a ruthless glare as her knife scratched annoyingly across the china plate.
“Still working on your table manners I see,” he muttered.
“Tristan, you promised!” Theo said, throwing him a pleading look. “Be nice!”
She shook her head in disapproval and continued with her own meal.
“Anyway, to answer your question, we have not talked of much other than books and painting,” Theo answered.
Tristan went rigid in his seat as he quickly asked, “Painting? Why painting?”
She had told Theo! He was going to thump Ophelia. Put her right over his knee and thump her good for not keeping her mouth shut!
The thought came out of nowhere, startling him as the mental picture came glaringly vivid to the forefront of his mind. It sent a lick of pleasure through his veins, shocking him. Was that something he wanted?
“She has been giving me painting lessons,” Theo answered, obviously not noticing his sudden tension.
Tristan immediately easy back into his chair.
“How kind of you, Ophelia,” he stated dryly.
Ophelia threw him another glare, but said nothing.
Tristan began to tap his foot restlessly as he let Theo go on about their last two days, listening for any indication of trouble.
Since finding out about Mr. Perley he was now more nervous about their deal than ever, and the last thing he wanted was to risk any more exposure.
After several minutes he could not take the curiosity anymore.
“Theo, darling, could I beg of you a favor?” He asked. “I believe Alistair picked up my brown leather portfolio instead of his at our last meeting. Would you mind going to his office to check?”
Theo tsked her tongue in irritation.
“The man has dozens of brown leather portfolio’s! How am I to know which one is yours?” She asked.
“My name is embossed on the cover,” he lied.
“If that is so, why would he take it?” Theo asked.
Tristan’s irritation ticked upward. Theo was a bright, perceptive young woman. Most of the time he was proud of her for that. Today he was annoyed.
“Mistakes happen all the time,” he said hastily, feigning a pleading look at her, “Now please, could you look for me?”
Theo tsked her tongue again, but rose from her chair.
“You men,” she sighed, “Sometimes you are as helpless as children!”
Tristan continued to pout in her direction until she left the dining room, then shifted into a deadpan expression as he whirled back around and glared at Ophelia.
“What have you said?” He demanded.
Ophelia looked at him with indignation and shoved her chair away from the table.
“Nothing!” She whispered loudly. “What have you said?”
Tristan brows flew up, flabbergasted.
“Nothing! Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you asked me first!” She seethed.
“Well, I need to know,” he whispered loudly back, pushing away from the table as well, “I have more to lose here and I do not need my secret to get out!”
Ophelia’s lips drew into a smug smile as he pointed an accusing finger at him.
“Ha! I knew it! I knew you had no true care for my reputation. You only worry for yourself!” She continued in loud, accusatory whispers.
Tristan’s irritation ticked upward as he began to walk around the table.
“Oh, would you stop putting words in my mouth!? I am simply stating the facts, that it not to say that you are not also in a precarious situation!” He fired back.
“Oh, yes, poor little, handsome Lord Perfect might be in danger of people seeing him as anything less than a model gentleman,” she mocked, bobbing her head as she put her hands on her hips. She then blew a raspberry with her lips in the most unladylike fashion and rolled her eyes.
“Get over yourself, Tristan!” She hissed.
Irritation ebbed through him in great waves as he scrunched his nose and reached out his hands, showing her a slow closing of his trembling fists.
“What is that?” She scoffed, pointing with her chin at her hands, “Showing me how you want to strangle me? I thought Lord Perfect did not hurt or disrespect women?”
Tristan let out a rueful chuckle as he shook his head, a slow, wicked smile forming on his lips as he took a step toward. The air around them filled with static as Ophelia’s widened; as if she felt it too. She took a step back, her throat bobbing as if she were trying to swallow something.
“Hurt them? No. Never. Disrespect them? I would not dare. But teach them a lesson? Oh, I most certainly would. Do I need to teach you, Ophelia?”
Satisfaction roiled through him at her shocked reaction.
Her mouth gaped open, but she gave no response.
He normally did not like seeing women so intimidated, but with Ophelia, it sparked his nerve endings in a wickedly wonderful way.
He’d argued with Ophelia often over the last several years, and her attitude had always irritated him- but now, suddenly, there was something else that pulsed along with his annoyance.
“Do not look at me like that,” she warned, lifting a trembling hand to point at him.
His expression remained steadfast, his pleasure at seeing her vexed increasing.
“You need to keep quiet about the club, Ophelia,” he insisted, taking a step closer to her. “Do not forget that you have just as much to lose as I do now.”
Ophelia wide-eyed expression shifted to one of self-righteous pride. She stopped moving away from him, and crossed her arms. The Devil damn him, but it only made that static around them amplify.
“I have kept quiet” She whispered with authority. “I have said nothing to no one, you paranoid dandy.”
“I have warned you about your manners!” He growled.
“Oh, please,” Ophelia scoffed, taking a defiant step toward him, “As if any of your ‘lessons’ would prove effective.”
“Do not goad me,” Tristan warned, his rage crackling.
She lifted a defiant brow, leaned forward.
“Consider yourself goaded, Lord Perfect,” she purred.
Tristan’s movement were lightning fast; Ophelia was in his arms in an instant; her head cradled in his hand, her waist pinned tightly to his by his other arm. Sparks erupt behind his eyes as his lips took possession of hers, coaxing and nipping at their surprising softness.
“Let go!” Ophelia gasped upon his lips.
He did so at once, letting her push at his chest as she drew in ragged breaths and stared at him.
He raised a querying brow, waiting for her next move- and then she was rushing him.
Tristan caught her quickly, letting her lips mash hastily against his for a moment before he took control and showed her with his own lips how to kiss properly.
He pressed his palms lightly to the sides of her neck, pulling her back just enough so that he could caress his bottom lip over hers, then followed with the tip of his tongue.
Ophelia let out a soft sigh, relaxed in his grip, and began follow his lead.
Pleasure flooded through him as the hasty pressing of her lips transformed into long caresses; her tongue no longer prodded, but took coaxing, gentle strokes into his mouth.
He suckled lightly, keeping her tongue there as his grip shifted down her neck, over her back, and to her waist.
She whimpered as he pulled her tightly against him.
Tristan waited, like the hunter he was, until she was lulled into a sense of relaxing arousal.
Then just as quickly as he started the initial kiss- he ended this one.
His hands were off of her in an instant, his body an entire step back away from hers.
He watched in deep satisfaction as Ophelia swayed on her feet, her eyes still closed; her plump lips, glistening and pink from his kisses, moving slowly.
Then he saw it. The moment she realized she was no longer being held by him- the moment she realized what she just done.
Ophelia’s eyes flew open as color flooded into her cheeks.
Her green eyes, though still glazed with arousal, looked at him with pure bewilderment.
She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, and swayed at the small movement.
“You,” she rasped, putting her fingertips to her lips. “What did you to me?”
Tristan smirked, reveling in her reaction.
“I warned you not to goad me,” he replied. “Now I suggest you sit down. You look like you might fall.”
There was no argument from her this time. She walked with a slight sway to her chair and plopped down, her bottom no doubt hitting the seat hard. Even that did not seem to snap her out of her daze.
Satisfaction swirled with longing as Tristan watched her try to gather her wits.
Never in all his days had he thought he would kiss Ophelia.
What was even more surprising to him, though, was how greatly he had enjoyed it.
Her lips had been buttery soft, and the spark that had shot through them both had jolted senses he never knew he had despite his deep well of erotic experience.
Even so, he would not show it. He had the upper hand now, and he was intent on keeping it.
“The carriage will come for you tonight at ten,” Tristan stated, taking advantage of the precious few moments they had left alone.
He sat down and picked up his fork, readying another bite.
“I took another look at your work. I still maintain that it is dull. You can do better. You will do better. Tonight.”
He popped the bit of fish into his mouth and chewed, waiting for her respond.
“Do you understand, Ophelia?” He asked when she only continued to stare at him with that dazed look.
She nodded silently as the sound of Theo’s footsteps could be heard from the hall.
“Now be a good girl and act normal for my sister,” he commanded with a smirk.
That taunt was enough to pull Ophelia right out of her dazed state, and she glared at him just as Theo entered the room.
“I am sorry, brother, but I found no such portfolio in Alistair’s office,” Theo said with an exasperated sigh as she sat back down next to him.
“That is no problem,” Tristan replied, glaring right back at Ophelia; hiding his triumphant smirk with another bite of his food. “I will speak to Alistair about it later.
Theo looked from him to Ophelia, rolled her eyes, and groaned.
“For heaven’s sake!” She said with exasperation. “Will you two ever get along?”