2. Tristan
CHAPTER 2
TRISTAN
I wasn’t prepared, not even a little bit, for the woman standing in front of me. Have I seen pictures of her before? Yes. I may not have met her, but I was given glimpses of the woman who would eventually be mine. Did they do anything to capture her beauty? Not even close.
Dark hair, flawless skin, bold lips, sexy as fuck eyes that appear to be looking straight through me. Immediately I feel as if I’m standing in front of her without the walls I’ve worked hard to erect. I’ve had my walls up since I awoke in the hospital after the wreck with my mother. They haven’t come down since, but there’s something in those depths that reminds me of the woman who raised me. Her voice; I want to hear it, want to hear my name against her lips, want her to offer me some piece of herself in return.
“What’s your name? Others have told me, but I want to hear it from you.” My voice is pitched low. I want no one else to hear us, want no one else to be involved in this. There are few things in my life that are just mine. This moment here will be mine for the rest of my life.
“Amelia, Your Grace.”
Her voice washes over me, a husky, hoarse sound that travels up and down my body. Awareness raises the hair at my neck and along my arms. The Your Grace annoys me. Enough people kiss my ass. I want her to see me as a man, not my title. For her, I’ll be the best man I can be.
“I’m Tristan. Please call me that. Know me as who I am, not what I am.”
She smiles, her teeth white against the bold color of her lips. It doesn’t go to her eyes, though; she’s nervous, possibly scared. I want to tell her I understand, I’m nervous too, but I’m never supposed to show weakness. It’s been ingrained in me since I was a kid.
“Tristan,” she says my name and damned if I don’t want to hear her say it again and again. Preferably while she’s under me, begging me to go harder, deeper, faster. “Nice to meet you.”
I chuckle slightly, trying to control my wayward thoughts. “Hell of a meeting, huh?”
Her tone is wistful as she nods her head toward me. “One for the history books.”
It occurs to me that she’s correct. This will be one for the history books. After we’re long gone, the people of this country will read about our marriage in school. They’ll study and compare it against all the ones that came before and those that will come after. They’ll debate whether I was a good king or not, whether she was a queen the country can be proud of. The pressure is immense, but I’m glad to have someone to go through it with me.
“Would you like to sit?” I ask, taking her by the elbow, directing her over to the couches in front of the roaring fire. “No one will disturb us. I’d like to speak with you. To get to know you as much as I can in the next few hours.”
“We won’t go to the party tonight?” She looks equal parts relieved and disappointed.
“We’ll see how the night goes, but tomorrow you’ll be introduced to the people and I would like for us to be at least friendly. Expect the world to pick your introduction apart, and that will include how we act toward one another,” I explain to her as we have a seat on one of the couches.
“I understand.” She sits with her hands clasped in her lap. It’s the way she’s been trained.
“You don’t have to be on your best behavior with me, Amelia. I’ve never been what one would call a stickler for the rules. You can lean back against the couch, slouch a little, and even give me a real smile later on in the night.”
She seems shocked with what I’ve said. “I’m aware of how people react to me, and I know what we’re about to embark on isn’t normal, but we have to be partners in it, Amelia. The only way we’re going to do that is by getting to know each other.”
“I agree, Tristan.” She leans back a little against the couch, seeming to relax slightly.
“How scared are you?” Deciding to go for the jugular first thing, surprisingly I want to know more than anything how she’s feeling.
Her eyes move down to her hands. “Terrified. I’ve been training for this since I was a teenager, but you’re larger than life, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Other people have described me using the phrase before, but I’m not sure I like her referring to me in that way. “I’m just a man. A man trying to figure out how to run a country while dealing with all the expectations that go with it. I’m sorry you’ve been dumped into this too, but I have to admit I’m happy not to go this alone.”
She surprises me by reaching over and entwining my fingers with hers. As our flesh touches there’s a sizzle of attraction, just like there had been earlier. We obviously have chemistry, and that makes me dread this less. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be, Tristan.”
“Is that what they trained you to say?” I don’t mean for it to come out the way it does, with a touch of disgust.
“No, that statement is one hundred percent me. I’ve watched you from afar for a long time. Read the articles about you, snuck glances when you’d come to our residence. You’ve always seemed so sad, like you need a friend. Someone in your corner. Like you used those women because you weren’t happy.”
How someone who’s never met me before can see my truth I’ve tried so hard to hide, I’ll never know. Because she’s right on all her observations. “Now I’ll just have one.”
“You will.” She sits up straighter, her neck extending with a regalness I hadn’t expected. “You’ll be faithful to me.”
She phrases it as a gentle command, not a question.
“And you to me as well.”
“Well we have something in common already.” She gives me a smile, and this one goes to her eyes.
“What will be your platform?” I ask hours later. When I glance up at the clock over the fireplace, I see that we’re about to go into the wee hours of the morning. We’ll have to get some sleep soon. Her introduction will be at ten sharp. My father doesn’t allow for lateness.
She takes a dainty sip of the second glass of wine I poured her an hour ago. Her eyes are bright, possibly feeling some of the effects of the alcohol. But she’s done what I wanted her to do. She’s dropped her guard, relaxed, and started treating me like a normal person.
“To me, it doesn’t matter where you come from. You should have an education, you should be given that opportunity. Just like mandatory service in the military here, I believe that if you’re required to serve us, perhaps we should be required to serve you. The United States offers financial assistance to the people of their nation who serve in the military, we should do the same, if they so choose.”
“That’s an interesting thought, I can’t wait to see you debate it.”
She takes another sip of her wine, and she looks at me over the rim of her cup. Her eyes are dark, dangerous, focused. “I’m ready, Tristan,” she says just before the liquid washes down her throat.
“I do think you are.” I swallow roughly from the heat her gaze ignited within me.
“And of course,”—she wipes at the moisture on her lip with a pink tongue I long to take into my mouth—“I’ll work with you on the mental health aspect for the people of the country. I’ve been watching your speeches on it. You’re very passionate about it.”
“I am.” I clear my throat uncomfortably. “After I was in the accident with my mother, no one thought to send me to someone to speak about my feelings. It caused me to act out, and it wasn’t until a few years ago that I, of my own accord, sought out counseling and realized why I do some of the things I do.”
She reaches over, grabbing my hand. “Together, we’ll make a change.”
With everything in my heart, I hope she’s right. This place hasn’t been a home for a long time, and it’s my deepest desire to make it one again. The clock on the mantel strikes two, and I know this night has to come to a close.
“We should go.” The regret is deep in my voice. “In eight hours, we have to present you to not only our people but to the world.”
“I do need to get some beauty sleep.”
“I don’t think you need sleep for that. I think it’s inherently natural for you.”
Her cheeks darken to a pink I would like to see all over her body as I get up and go to the desk in the room. Once there, I open one of the drawers, reach in, and take out what I’ve been thinking about for most of the night. Holding the box, I walk back over to the couch and have a seat beside her again.
“I’m aware that you feel as if you weren’t given a choice when it comes to me, but I want you to know, you do. If after meeting me, sitting with me for these hours and talking, you don’t feel comfortable, please tell me.”
“Tristan, I’m nervous, that’s who I am, but I’m not nervous about you. Not anymore. I’m a good judge of character, and I think given some more time, we can become not only friends, but more.”
There’s a hope in her voice, a little fringe of desire that I desperately want to grab onto and never let go. “Then as long as you’re sure.” I slide off the couch, getting onto one knee. “Amelia Irving, will you do me the honor of marrying me? Of becoming my queen? Making the history together that the people will talk about for generations?”
I open the box, showing her the ruby stone that had once been my mother’s. When she gasps, I know she recognizes it. “I’m glad I picked the ruby, it goes so well with your complexion and darker hair. The ruby is you—passion and fire.” My mother had been both passion and fire, too.
“Yes,” she answers, her voice cracking slightly. “I will. I’m not going to lie to you, I’m scared to death, but we were chosen to do this, destined to do it, and I’m willing to figure out why fate put us in each other’s path.”
With shaking hands, I slide the ruby onto her left ring finger before bringing that hand to my lips to kiss. She gasps again when my lips touch skin. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”
We walk slowly in the almost-silence of the hallways. Obviously my party was over hours ago; everyone has gone to sleep, or left for the night. I can’t say I’m unhappy with how my birthday turned out. Much different than the ones before, but I’m getting older and a change must occur. When we get to her room, she stops to face me.
“I’ll see you in a few hours?” The question is accompanied by the tilt of her mouth, in a smirk that goes straight to my groin. Her face is expressive, I mark that down for future reference.
“You will.” I lean toward her, placing my hands on either side of her head, allowing my body to press her slightly into the wood of the door. “There’s one more thing we have to do, one more thing we have to get out of the way tonight.”
She’s breathing harsher as she looks up into my eyes. “What’s that? ”
“We can’t have our first kiss in front of the people. It needs to be private, in case we’re bad at it, you know?”
She giggles slightly, wrapping her arms loosely around my neck. “You think we’ll be bad at it?”
“We’ll definitely try not to be.” I tilt my head one way, she tilts hers to the other and slowly we move in.
Our lips touch and it’s an explosion of passion I wasn’t prepared for, something I’ve never shared with another human being. Unbidden, my mouth pries hers open, allowing our tongues to duel for space that we both occupy. My hands immediately come off the door, wrapping my arms around her waist, moving up to feel the bare skin at her back. I moan as she slides her hands up into my hair, pulling softly against the force of the kiss.
When I pry my lips from hers, she makes a noise in the back of her throat, tilting her head back as I claim the sides of her neck, wanting to touch every inch of her body that’s both covered and uncovered.
“Tristan.” Her voice is breathless, dazed sounding, as I smear my lips along her jawline, nipping with my teeth.
My hands have a mind of their own as they move up from her waist to her ribcage, my thumbs seeking out the telltale sign of arousal at her breasts. When I find what I’m looking for, I growl, moving my head lower to grasp the nub through the dress, through the bra, and whatever else is separating us. The gasp she releases this time is loud, reverberating off the bare walls. It’s enough to pull me out of the web of arousal we’ve weaved around one another.
When I let her go, we’re both panting. Her lipstick is smeared, eyes are dilated, and lips are swollen from the demanding nature of my kiss. I want nothing more than to pick her up, take her into the room, and show her what else I can do, but even I know now isn’t the time.
“Sorry.” I inhale deeply, letting my forehead fall against the door with a loud thump. “Didn’t mean for that to get out of hand.”
She wraps her arms around my neck again, this time slightly combing my hair at the nape. “It’s okay, I didn’t either.”
I chuckle deep in my throat. “At least we know we have chemistry.”
“Loads,” she agrees, laughing slightly against me.
With a concentrated effort, I unwrap her arms from around my neck and physically set her away from me. “Sleep well, my Amelia. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“See you soon.” She lifts up on tiptoe, even in heels, kisses me on the cheek, and then slips into her room, closing the door quietly behind her.
I lean against the door again, trying to get my body, my feelings, my mind completely under control. As I reach down to adjust my raging hard-on, I know one thing is for sure. My normal? It will never be completely normal again. The woman who now wears my ring…she’s fucked it all up in the very best of ways.