Chapter 26 #2
He nodded. “You smelled deliciously of lavender on our wedding day, do you recall? I thought that you suited the scent and seemed to like it. For my part, I prefer mint, so I had a few sprigs of the plant put together.”
“It’s lovely,” Madeline murmured, rubbing a finger and thumb over one of the lavender plants, bringing her hand up to her nose and breathing in the scent.
“I rather hoped you’d have had a poem for me in recompense,” Tristan observed, grinning at her. “After all, we met because of your poetry.”
She reddened, glancing away. “I have been composing a little something, but it’s hardly proper.”
“I love improper poems. In fact, they are my favorite kind.”
She bit her lip, hiding a smile. “Very well, I’ll tell you, but you mustn’t repeat it.”
He held up his hand solemnly. “Cross my heart, my dear.”
She drew in a breath and scuttled over to him, rising up on her tiptoes. She whispered the poem in his ear.
“I care not for flowers and sweetmeats,
My lover only cares for me.
I care not for lace and buttons,
My lover is the one I see.
I care little for gossip and nothing for dancing,
So long as my lover is not easily led.
I care only for him and he only for me,
I care only to stay in my lover’s bed.”
He gave an amused chuckle, and Madeline pulled away, reddening.
“It’s not very good,” she admitted.
He took her hand, pulling her roughly against him. The warmth and firmness of his body against her made Madeline’s breath stutter, and she stared up at him, struggling to formulate the words.
How can it be that this man makes me feel so strongly?
“It is an excellent poem,” he insisted, grinning. “If I were not about to kiss you at this moment, I would demand to hear it again.”
She yelped, leaning back before he could fit his lips to hers.
“You cannot kiss me here! People might see.”
“Might they?” Tristan mused. “Well, I hope they do not let me catch them, or else I would have to gouge out their eyes for daring to look at my duchess.”
She snorted. “You had better be joking.”
He tilted his head. “Perhaps.”
He bent down and kissed her, and this time she did not object. His lips were soft against hers, and she tasted mint once more. Madeline closed her eyes, and the world melted away. It was only the two of them in a warm, well-lit gazebo, and nothing else and nobody mattered.
She felt heat rising in her again, and the desperate ache of wanting returned in full force. It struck Madeline that she was not sure what she wanted at all, or how to ask for it. Just as she was thinking this, Tristan pulled back, eyeing her thoughtfully.
“You seem preoccupied,” he said.
She bit her lip and nodded. “I am confused, I suppose. All of this,” she gestured between them, “confuses me.”
He nodded. “I hoped that tonight we could talk more about ourselves. You and I, that is. Would you ever consider allowing me to be a proper husband to you, Madeline? Would you let me share your bed, and the rest of your life?”
She sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Do you truly mean it? You won’t… won’t get tired of me?”
“Tired of you? Never. I know that such assurances might be a little hard to believe, coming from a man with a reputation like mine, but give me a little time, and I will prove myself to you. I will, Madeline.”
She nodded, swallowing. “I… I find myself thinking of you often, you know.”
His eyes darkened, and he lifted a hand, knuckles grazing her cheek.
“Ever since that poetry night, I have thought of nothing but you,” he confessed. Madeline stared up at him and found that she believed him.
“If we were to become proper husband and wife, you must not share your bed with any other woman,” she said cautiously.
He chuckled. “I couldn’t even if I tried. Did I not tell you that you have possessed my whole being? But there is another matter to discuss. You are afraid of bearing children, is that right?”
A cold sensation rushed through Madeline’s limbs. She nodded tightly.
“My grandmother died in childbirth, and my mother was made very ill, as I told you.”
“Do you resemble them very much?”
She shook her head. “I did not know my grandmother, of course, but she was a very small, petite woman, and it was said that the difficulty came there. My mother, too, was much smaller than I.”
“My suggestion is this, Madeline. I will do my best to prevent you from getting with child until you are ready for it, but I fear that once we are truly intimate, I may not be able to control myself. So, you must visit a doctor. I know an excellent physician who is most discreet.”
“A physician? What will he do?”
“He will examine you and determine how much danger you would be in,” Tristan answered firmly. “Beyond the usual danger, of course. If he deems it too risky to try, then we shall take further precautions. Would you feel better then, my dear little duchess?”
Madeline mulled it over for a moment, and Tristan waited patiently for her response.
“Since we have had Adam,” she confessed, “I have felt a strange sort of… I suppose it could be called a yearning. I would like a baby of my own, I think—a sibling for Adam. But I am still afraid. Childbirth is such a frightening thing.”
He nodded, putting his arms around her and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I understand. I would never put you in danger, Madeline, and I would do nothing without your consent, do you understand?”
She closed her eyes, letting her head rest against his forehead, and wound her arms around his waist.
“I know,” she whispered, and found to her surprise that she believed it. They stood there for a minute, arms wrapped around each other, and it occurred to Madeline then that she was… she was happy. She could not imagine being happier.
“I am glad we have reached an accord in this,” Tristan murmured.
“I did not think you would ever let us grow close together,” Madeline confessed. “Nor did James, I think.”
He tutted. “James had no faith in me? The wretch.”
Madeline opened her eyes, nibbling her lower lip. “He said something strange, something that I cannot understand. It has been bothering me since he said it.”
“Hmph, James says odd things all the time; I should not let it concern you. What was it?”
“He said… he said that blood will out. What on earth does that mean?”
Tristan went very still. He stayed quiet for so long that Madeline was entirely sure that he had not heard. She was wondering if she should repeat it when he abruptly pulled back, his arms loosening.
“What did he say?” Tristan asked, his voice hard and tight. “Madeline?”
“J-Just that,” she stammered. “That blood will out. I thought it a strange thing to say, as I said.”
She had misstepped somewhere; that was clear. Anger was blazing in Tristan’s eyes. She was not sure that it was aimed at her, but it was clear that the mood had shifted between them.
Abruptly, Tristan released her altogether, spinning around to pace around the brazier. The fire glinted off his face—harsh and angry, brow furrowed, lips pursed together.
“James, you fool,” he muttered to himself. “My wretched cousin cannot keep his mouth shut, it seems.”
“Did he insult you?” Madeline ventured, twisting her fingers together. “I should not have told you.”
“No, I am glad you did. James is… He requires attention, I think. It was an insult, a graver one than you could ever understand.”
“Well, explain it to me.”
“No.”
She flinched at the single, brusque word. Staring at him, Madeline waited for Tristan’s face to soften. She waited for an apology, an explanation, anything.
Nothing came. He just continued pacing, shaking his head, and muttering under his breath.
“Are you going to tell me what he meant?” Madeline asked at last.
Tristan shook his head tightly. “It is not my story to tell.”
She deflated. “That is also what James said.”
“Yes, he likes to create mystery. He should not have said this to you.”
“You are frightening me a little, Tristan.”
At last, he stopped in his pacing and stared at her.
“I am sorry,” he said at last. “I did not mean to upset you. But you must not ask me about this again, Madeline.”
She held out her arms to the side. “More secrets, then? Did we not finally agree to trust each other?”
“Yes, but this is different.”
“If you could only tell me…”
“No.”
“Again with no,” she snapped, beginning to get a little angry. “You disappoint me again and again, Tristan.”
He bit his lip, looking away. “Would you believe me if I told you that this is not personal at all?”
“I would try to believe it. You are confusing me again, Tristan. It tires me out.”
He nodded, almost unhappily. “I understand. But we all have secrets, Madeline. As I said, this one is not wholly mine to share.”
She let out a long, ragged breath. “Very well.”
He glanced back at her and held out his hand. The heat of the moment had gone, but so had the desire. Madeline took his hand, even so.
“We should go inside,” he said softly. “It’s cold out here, Duchess.”