The Skilled Seduction (16 page)

No, of that Tristan was now convinced.

He turned to Colin. “Let’s just say I have come to the realization that I never truly loved Eve. Not the way you do, not the way a husband should.”

“Have you actually forgiven us, Tristan?” Colin arched his brow.

Tristan whispered, careful that the children not overhear him. “Gwen almost died last night. She still could. Reviling you and your wife for the rest of my life seems fruitless at the moment.”

Dr. Danbury cleared his throat upon entering the spacious room. In response, both Tristan and Colin rose immediately, reaching the doctor in record time.

Victoria watched as Tristan and Colin exchanged hushed whispers with the good doctor, though she was unable to discern anything from their facial expressions. Patting Nicholas’s head, she handed him the picture book that she had once created for the twins and placed him gently upon the carpet.
 

“Wait here, my darlings,” Victoria instructed as she rose, crossing the room in time to hear the doctor say, “Yes, a very good chance.”

“Chance of what?” she asked, positioning herself between Colin and the physician.

The doctor studied her with a reserved smile. “Your sister-in-law’s fever has broken and she has awakened. My colleague, Dr. Shaw, believes that with her current course of treatment and medication, she will make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank God,” Victoria released a sigh of relief.
   

She remembered just how hard the amiable physician tried to save her mother, to no avail. The expression of sadness on Dr. Danbury’s face when he admitted that her mother would not survive still haunted her. Victoria had seen the same expression on his face last night in Gwen’s room, and it had terrified her.

Reaching for the dear man, Victoria hugged him in a grateful embrace. “Thank you so much, Dr. Danbury.” She released him, noting a pink tinge creep across his high cheekbones as she smiled before reaffirming what she’d told him after her mother passed. “You have always been so kind to our family.”
 

Victoria knew he remembered for, ever since, he had joined her for luncheon about once a month. “After all you did for my mother, you have now managed to return Gwen to us. We couldn’t be more grateful for your efforts.”

“It is my pleasure, Lady Victoria,” the jovial physician winked at her. “If you will excuse me, I must return to my patient. His Grace and Dr. Shaw are with Her Grace. Visitors must wait a little while longer.” He bowed before exiting the room and heading towards the main stairs.

“What wonderful news!” Colin enthused as he wrapped Tori in a tight hug.

“You brought us good fortune, Colin,” she whispered to him. “You brought a miracle.”

Once Colin had released her, Victoria turned, bumping directly into Tristan.
   

He hugged her, just as Colin had done, though Tristan’s embrace felt far from brotherly. In fact, he held her longer than proper and rubbed her lower back in such a way that made her skin tingle under the crushed velvet of her gown.

Victoria recoiled from his grasp, gathering her wits as she addressed the twins. “It is bedtime, my dears.”

“No,” they argued in unison.

“Alas,” she picked up their book from the floor and placed it on a nearby bookshelf, grateful for the distraction they offered her, “the time has arrived.”

“How about I put them to bed?” Colin suggested.

Victoria turned to him, “No, that’s all right.”

“But I never get to put them to bed,” he glanced at the twins. “Shall we give Auntie Tori some free time?”

The twins appeared downright giddy at the prospect of their Uncle Colin doing so. They ran to her, grabbing her skirts.
   

“Good night,” they said in unison as Tori bent down, kissing each of them. From the corner of her eye, she caught Colin smirking, now standing right next to her.
   

“I will never forgive you for this,” she muttered to him through a faux smile, low enough that the children wouldn’t hear.

He feigned surprise. “It appears that Tristan wishes to speak with you. What is so wrong with my promoting such communication?”

You have no idea
, she thought as she watched his broad frame exit the library with the children. Of course, she must face Tristan tonight, the realization bolstering her with a steely resolve.

Never again will I be a fool for this man.

“Alone at last,” Tristan’s sensual baritone was smooth as he approached her from behind, splaying his hands around her waist. Victoria’s heartbeat quickened in response to his intimate touch.

His hands were strong. And she remembered the warmth that emanated from them last night as they explored her body, the sensations his caresses had stirred within her. Even though she couldn’t feel the warmth of his touch through her velvet gown on this evening, she remembered – the mere recollection causing her body to quiver in response.
 

Determined to stop such insanity, Victoria took two steps forward, just far enough to be out of his reach, before turning to face him. “There is nothing to discuss, Tristan.”

“I beg to differ,” he teased, his rich timbre smooth as port. “There is much we must settle.”

Before Victoria could voice her disagreement, Tristan had already grabbed a gas lamp from the desk. Leading her out of the library with his free hand, he escorted her down the hall to a set of French doors that led onto the terrace.

“Tristan, we should remain in the main house,” she said, her voice shaky, her nerves beginning to unravel. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him away from the main residence.

He stopped short, rounding on Victoria so fast that she hadn’t a chance to stop before colliding with his chest. Again he slipped his free palm upon her waist. She’d been chilled even since their encounter yet, for the first time, her body was beginning to thaw – from this man’s close proximity and firm grip. She fought against the urge to let down her guard.
 

Never again.
 

It would be her silent mantra.

Tristan leaned into her, his lips lingering so close to hers that he could have kissed her.

“Our conversation requires privacy. Come with me.” He steered her out onto the terrace and then down the stairs and through a maze of thick, manicured shrubbery.
 

Once they had reached her little art chalet on the outskirts of the duke’s garden, Tristan suppressed a grin. Only the Duke of Davenport would erect such a structure for his sister. The cozy chalet, designed by Sebastian, was complete with flower boxes accentuating the windows and a front porch with small columns. Inside, Tristan knew, was a large airy room, full of Victoria’s sketchpads, canvases, stencils, and paints. It also contained a small sitting room with a hearth, though it wasn’t currently lit.
 

As he knew from previous experience, Victoria’s art chalet would provide the privacy that was required for this particular conversation.

Illuminated by the bluish full moon, the quaint limestone and glass structure took on an unearthly glow, Tristan noted, as his boots echoed upon the front porch. Once he had opened the French doors, he motioned for Victoria to enter. The scent of dried lavender mingling with oil paints assailed his nostrils at once.

Though his gas lamp emanated a small amount of flickering light, the interior of the cottage was bathed in cool moonlight, shining through the glass- domed ceiling above the foyer. It was designed to allow optimal daytime lighting and tonight, under the opaque orb of a full moon, it lit the interior in a cool luminescence.
 

Tristan lifted the lamp, surveying Victoria’s haven. She had painted murals on each of the walls since his last visit. Depicted upon the first wall he passed was a manicured topiary set atop lush lawns as fluffy white clouds floated through the bright blue sky above. The theme continued, with the far wall featuring a white octagonal gazebo surrounded by colorful wildflowers and a large, leafy tree. He noticed with a surge of appreciation the bright red bird house hanging from one of the spindly branches and held his lamp closer to study a bird the color of robin’s egg blue, which hovered nearby.
   

With her works on full display, Tristan was awestruck at how talented Victoria was.

This woman is remarkable.

He crossed the room, noting that the third wall featured a tranquil lake dotted with floating water lilies and flowers of other varieties. He then wove his way around easels of a variety of sizes, each featuring a canvas of one of Victoria’s works in progress. He placed the lamp on a round table in the center of the room, between a vase of dried lavender and a small framed portrait of an older woman with raven colored hair accentuated with one lone streak of gray. Her smile, sweet and serene, reminded him of Victoria so much so that he absentmindedly picked up the frame, admiring the miniature.

“Who is this?” he asked Victoria, turning to face her.

She stood in the corner of the room, next to an oval table brimming with sketchpads and charcoal. He’d failed to notice them at first, all of the sketches strewn about the table. As Tristan bridged the distance between them, he noted that many of the sketches were of the same woman in various stages of her life.

Victoria gingerly caressed the woman’s framed portrait with her fingertips. It then registered at once, even before she answered him.

“My mother,” her voice was a ragged whisper. “I paint her portrait, or sketch it, every fortnight or so to ensure that I shall never forget her.”

This glimpse into her life, into her very essence, was unexpected and yet so endearing that Tristan’s fingers twitched with an unspoken wish to caress her cheek.

“You could never forget her,” his tone was one of reassurance.

“I have already begun doing so,” Victoria admitted, grabbing the portrait from his hand and placing the frame back atop the table from which he took it. “The passage of time dilutes our memories. It is inevitable.”

Her tone, rich with acceptance, was measured with an intense sadness, one that Tristan had never heard from Victoria. Her usual boundless energy, fierce wit, and mesmerizing smile had altered drastically since their encounter.
 

She had erected a barrier between them.

His actions and lack of restraint had caused this, Tristan realized with a pang of regret.

Victoria steeled her shoulders, a mask of hardened resolve having replaced her familiar features. “Why are we here, Tristan? I thought we settled everything this morning.”

Her body shivered. Though they were sheltered from the cool night air, there was still a slight chill. Tristan shrugged off his jacket, placing it around her shoulders then rubbed her arms in a slow circular motion to infuse warmth.

“Why do you refuse to discuss with me what occurred last night?” he asked, his calm tone belying the fact that his jaw was clenched so tightly that pain radiated from it.
 

Where did her denial come from? Could it mean that she felt nothing for him and regretted their night together?
 

Tristan feared that was indeed her reasoning and didn’t think he could endure it.

Victoria remained silent, avoiding his gaze by instead studying the ruby stud pinned to his crimson and gold cravat.
 

Illuminated by the moonlight, Tristan noted the drastic change in her features. Last night she was luminescent while, on this night, her serene profile instead appeared pallid and distant.

“Please don’t push the issue,” her gaze met his. “I have no intention of trapping you. Last night will be our secret. Let us leave it at that.”

“Tell me what has happened since last night, Victoria,” his heart skipped a beat, perhaps two. “Please help me understand.”

“Do you have any idea how much pain we will inflict upon our families if we continue this discussion?” Victoria’s eyes locked with his. “Please forget last night.”

They were at a stalemate. He was well aware that Victoria would never relent.
 

Neither would he.

“I cannot.” Two words, spoken in a raspy whisper.

“No, you will not, there is a difference between the two.” Victoria turned on her heel then marched towards one of the windows. She stood there for several moments, leaning her forehead against the cool glass until he approached from behind and placed his hand on the small of her back.
   

“Why this sudden interest in my opinion?” Each word dripped with malice. “Don’t you have everything planned?”

“I don’t understand,” he muttered. Truly, he didn’t.

“That’s not what you said last night,” she faced him at last, her azure eyes flashing with defiance. “Must I remind you?”

Cold, spindly fingers of dread crept up Tristan’s spine as Victoria jerked free of his grasp. “I will marry you, but I will never love you.” She began to tap her foot. “Does that sound familiar?”
 

Had he said it aloud?
 

The tears pooling beneath her heated gaze confirmed his suspicion.