Chapter 38
thirty-eight
Effie hadn’t found a free moment to see Tristan that day.
Pepper had suffered from a minor stomachache after having gobbled down some grapes he’d found in the garden. Kettle had brought a dead rat into the kitchen, causing Mrs. Young to have a fit. And her neighbour’s dog had needed stitches for a minor cut.
She was about to finally leave her house when Jane walked into the entry hall, carrying Turi in her arms.
“Good afternoon.” Jane’s tone was cold. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you if Turi weren’t sick. Do you have a moment to examine him?”
“Of course.” She removed her coat and resigned to see Tristan later. “What’s the problem?”
“There’s something in his mouth, again, and I can’t remove it.”
Effie put Turi on the table in the drawing room and opened his small mouth gently. A piece of red rubber was stuck between his molars. “Did he chew his rubber toy?”
“He did.” Jane remained clipped.
“There’s no need to be so cold.” She selected a pair of small tweezers from her bag.
Jane squared her shoulders. “My best friend accused me of spreading lies.”
“I only meant to say you shouldn’t waste your life worrying about rumours since they usually turn out to be untrue or at the very least inaccurate.”
Turi didn’t like the intrusion of the cold piece of metal and started to move his head right and left. She had to hold his jaw while working with the tweezers.
Jane slouched. “I heard rumours about me after my visit to Montcrest.”
“Really?” She grabbed the piece of rubber with the tweezers and snatched it off.
Turi worked his jaw as if he were chewing something, his upper lip curling.
“I would be happy if you were less worried about what everyone thinks. That’s all.” She petted Turi who was licking his lips and teeth. “Turi is fine.”
“At least one of us is.”
“What did they say about you?” She cleaned the tweezers.
“That I might have an affair with him.” Jane’s voice quivered. “I’m risking my reputation for no reason.”
“Exactly my point.” She snapped her medical bag closed. “Rumours can destroy people’s lives.”
“I think I understand now.” Jane gathered her dog and headed for the door.
“Jane, don’t leave like that.”
“I need a moment alone but thank you. I mean it.”
Effie rubbed her forehead. Perhaps she’d been bitter with her friend, but between her uncomfortable night and Tristan, her patience was spread thin. And it was only a matter of time before Jane got caught in a web of gossip, too.
By the time she entered Tristan’s house, dusk crept over the streets still wet from the day’s downpour. The rain had come and gone through the afternoon, and a red sunset bled into the sky scarred by dark clouds.
Tristan welcomed her in his study, pale and tense as if he’d just recovered from a serious illness.
“I came as soon as I could,” she said, running to hug him.
“Thank you for coming.” He held her close, his breath caressing her skin.
She released him to see his face. “Your visit took me by surprise.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t have come to your house like that. I’m sure I gave your servants something to chat about.”
“You were very brave.”
“Brave? Mrs. Young could be intimidating, I suppose.”
She chuckled. “I mean brave not to go to The Octagon. When you left last night, I was angry with you, and I was certain you would have fought again.”
He took her hand. “I shouldn’t have asked you to punch me. I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself.”
“You were desperate, but you found the strength to stop yourself from going to the ring. I’m so proud of you.”
“It was harder than I thought and draining.” He touched his face again. “Look at me. I feel bloodless.”
She wrapped her arms around him. His muscles were hard and tense, but his embrace was sweet and caring. He smelled of citrus and rain.
“What stopped you? Why didn’t you go?” she asked.
“You stopped me. Your words tormented me until I had to listen to them.”
She caressed his hair. The firelight hit his blond curls with red and golden hues. He closed his eyes as she tangled her fingers through his hair.
“I’m glad you listened to me,” she whispered. “Do you believe now that you can leave this deadly need behind?”
He gave her a sad smile. “With your help, yes.”
He traced her cheek, chin, and neck with a finger, his gaze lighting with a familiar hunger. Her spine wilted under his touch.
“I want you, Effie. I’ll never grow tired of saying that.”
Her reply was a sigh.
He kissed her cheek and the corner of her mouth slowly. “If you say yes, if you want to be with me, nothing will change. I’ll propose anyway.”
He didn’t need that speech because she already knew that, and she knew herself well enough to get what she wanted. She wanted him.
“I say yes, Tristan. To you, to everything.”
Tristan had found a new addiction.
Pain was nothing compared to his need to pleasure Effie. It was a longing so strong that it turned into starvation.
She had no idea how difficult it was to contain his desire for her.
Watching her bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and parted lips triggered a storm of emotions he had to rein in. Her ‘yes’ filled him with hope and love.
Holding her hand, he led her to his bedroom, careful not to meet any servants. Before locking the door, he gave her another chance to change her mind.
“I won’t disappoint you,” he said. “But if you wish to leave, you have only to say it.”
She shook her head. “Here is where I want to be.”
The beast inside him purred in happiness. He locked the door and kissed her, feeling her soft lips under his. Ignoring the quick pang of pain shooting through his body, he gathered her in his arms and laid her in his bed.
That was where she belonged, in his bed, among silk pillows and soft candlelight, in his arms.
After bunching her skirts up, he caressed her lovely legs, and she rolled her hips, perhaps unaware of doing so. The sweet scent of her skin wafted from underneath the layers of silk covering her. Too many. He wanted to see her properly. He wanted to see if her whole skin was as pink as her cheeks.
He pushed her knees apart and filled the space with his shoulders. Alarm widened her eyes when he opened the slit of her drawers. He gave her a moment to realise what was coming, brushing her intimately. Her response was immediate. A ripple went through her, culminating in a soft moan.
The amount of pleasure he drew from that sound was ridiculous.
As she half-closed her eyes, he dipped his head.
A jolt brought her hips up, and he had to put a hand on her thigh to steady her.
He kissed her deeply again, feeling her sweet heat around him.
Her legs hugged him tightly as he kept kissing her.
She gasped, moaned, and writhed in a dance choreographed by passion.
When she shuddered, he scattered kisses to her inner thighs, making her feel the light graze of his teeth. He propped himself up on his elbows, needing to see her.
She was stunning. “Take your clothes off,” she whispered her command, and he didn’t think of disobeying it.
Her wide eyes stayed on him as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt. His trousers slid down his legs with a yank of impatience.
“You’re magnificent,” she said.
Cool air touched his skin when he lifted his undershirt.
He even removed the bandage around his ribs but regretted it when worry lines appeared on her face.
“Oh, Tristan.” She caressed his chest with her clinical touch, but it didn’t last as she started to explore his body with curiosity.
He lay down, and her elegant hands on his chest left a path of fire on his skin. It didn’t matter that her movements weren’t expert; his body was turning into an inferno anyway. He trembled as she moved her attention south.
Each inch of him that she conquered brought a new ounce of light to his dark soul.
“I want…” The rest of her sentence was inaudible so low she talked.
“What?”
“I want to do to you what you did to me.” She blushed a fierce pink. “Guide me again.”
A stir of anticipation coursed through him like a bolt of lightning.
He did as told and watched her as he gently led her down.
He helped her when she dipped her head over him.
When the velvety heat of her mouth closed around him, a primordial force stunned him.
The sensation was too much, too intense, and too powerful.
Her soft tongue stroked him lazily, and her lips squeezed him. Like a lad at his first experience, the release came quick and merciless, intense, and absolute, like his love for her. He’d barely the time to move her away before he spilt.
She’d branded him for life. There would be no one but her.
Tristan’s mouth brushed hers. It was a gentle touch but also a deceit because it hid all his passion underneath it.
He drove his fingers through her hair and kissed her deeply. She slid her hand between them, and he couldn’t suppress a curse when she touched him again. His body was a rope taut with desire, and she easily undid him.
They tugged at her clothes together without talking, without explaining.
Petticoats fell first, followed by her shoes and stockings.
He paused only to caress her shapely legs and explore every curve and soft spot.
How lucky he was to be able to touch her.
Soft moans left her glossy pink lips as he touched her.
He resumed undressing her and didn’t stop until they were skin against skin.
She clamped her legs and arms around him, holding him so tightly that even the pounding of his heart became part of her. As did his soul.
“I’ll wear a sheath,” he said.
“All right.” Pink spread across her face.
As he took the sheath out of a drawer, he gave her time to think about her choice once again.
She sat upright. Her lovely breasts bounced, and her taut nipples drew his attention. “I won’t change my mind. I want you, Tristan.”
He stretched out over her, propped on his elbows, and waited again. He would wait forever if needed.
She opened her legs further. “I’m yours, Tristan. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you.”
“You’re going to kill me with your words.” He ran a hand over her breast and rubbed her pretty nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
Her sharp intake of air made him smile against her skin. When she writhed and clenched her fists over the bedsheets, he lifted his head from her breasts.
He inched onwards as slowly as he could, watching her face closely for any signs of discomfort. Pain throbbed in his body, but he pushed it aside. The only good thing about The Octagon was that he knew how to manage the pain.
Then they moved together flawlessly as if they’d rehashed the movements for weeks on end. She followed his rhythm, undulating and arching with him. Their body had a conversation of mutual understanding easier than his attempts at explaining himself.
The feeling of her all around him was more intoxicating than any session at the ring, more satisfying than any end of a fight.
They stared at each other in the midst of their passionate dance. She was helping him even now, doing her best to follow him and making him feel safe. They found their releases at the same time.
She’d claimed his heart when she’d shown him compassion. She’d captured his body with her first kiss. Now she’d conquered his soul, fighting his need for the ring.
“I want to take an oath,” he whispered, caressing her glorious chestnut curls.
Her chignon had come undone between a thrust and a kiss, and he loved how her curls framed her glowing face.
“I swear I want to marry you and spend the rest of my days with you. There will never be anyone else but you for me. I love you, Effie.”
She pulled him down for a hard kiss he approved of. “You don’t need to take an oath because I feel your words as fiercely as if you’d shouted them. And I’ll be honoured to be your wife, my love.”
He hugged her, shivering with happiness and hope. His heart burst with love, so much love he wondered how his body could contain it. In fact, he didn’t want to contain it but spread it as much as he could.