The Skilled Seduction (19 page)

Her admission drained his very breath. So much so that Tristan felt as if he was suffocating, his lungs burning from lack of air.

“Your cruelty and insensitivity killed my feelings for you.” she said, wiping her cheek with the pads of her fingertips. “When you announced that you’d marry me but would never love me, with every hateful word and every insensitive gesture this evening, you slowly but methodically slaughtered the love that I once felt for you.”

Tori reached for his hands, which were now cupping her face, and pried his fingers from her flesh. For one brief moment, she glanced at their hands, intertwined. Tristan’s gaze followed the same path, studying the way her long, aristocratic fingers fit so well with his. They were the perfect fit. He’d noticed it with every kiss, every caress, and during their joining. The mere comprehension sent his brain reeling.
 

He felt as if he were being buried alive, crushed by soil, suffocating as it filled his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. No matter how many times he inhaled, his lungs constricted.

Tori’s eyes locked with his and, for a brief moment, he saw a flicker of … could it be affection? She then dashed his hopes by jerking her hands free from his with a force that caused him to sway.

“Make no mistake,” Victoria said as she backed away from him, her eyes flashing with rage. “I no longer love you. I will move to the far ends of the earth if I must, but I will never marry you nor will I ever make love to you again.”

Tristan swallowed hard against the lump of grief that had formed in his throat.
 

He refused to relent. “You belong to me now,” he said, alluding to their encounter.

Victoria glared at him. “I am no one’s property. Neither our antiquated laws nor one night of
copulation
, as you so eloquently described our encounter earlier, will change that.”

Tristan bridged the gap between them, his tone firm with resolve. “Because of that one night, you could be carrying my child. So I will not drop this, Tori. I will go to your brother if I have to.”

Well aware that he’d long passed irrational, Tristan paused, fully expecting that Victoria wouldn’t be pleased with his latest tactic.
   

She didn’t disappoint.

“I refuse to compensate you by sacrificing my heart or my soul nor will I respond favorably to your threats,” she said, the expression in her sorrowful eyes causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. “There is a difference between wishing to spend one’s life with someone and desiring to possess them. You want the latter and I will not succumb.”

“Must I remind you that you may have ample funds as you’ve admitted but you have no legal rights?”

Victoria turned, taking several steps towards the door before pausing with her head high, a regal portrait of pride.

“Think me irrational or churlish. Think whatever you wish but as long as I possess free will, I refuse to relinquish my soul to you.” She continued towards the door, resting her hand on the knob. “You were correct last night, when you declared that you aren’t the man you once were. I was a fool to believe in you but, rest assured, I will never make that mistake again.”

Victoria jerked the door open, fleeing from her art chalet. She couldn’t escape fast enough, Tristan realized with regret. He, however, remained rooted in the same spot for several long minutes.

Clouds drifted in front of the moon, leaving the cozy chalet dark and cold, the flickering wick from the oil lamp becoming his only source of light. With the doors open, the scent of damp garden soil permeated his nostrils. It was as if he was in a graveyard. Excellent symbolism for, on this night, he had indeed dug his own grave.

Victoria had loved him and he failed to notice? Was it truly possible for someone to know him so well and yet he himself fail to see it? It must be, for Victoria saw him with more lucidity than anyone else ever had.

The realization that she had seen right through him punched him so hard in the gut that he had to lean against the sturdy table for support.

All of her accusations about him not being able to love anyone, to trust, were absolutely correct. So much so that he felt as if he were as transparent as a pane of glass.

Tristan’s erratic pulse pounded within his temples. What did he just lose? No, it wasn’t a merely a loss for he had deliberately done this to himself. What had he discarded? Thrown away by refusing to be honest?

What would have happened if he actually admitted how he truly felt last night or even this evening? What would have happened if he admitted he’d never before felt so intimate with anyone? Victoria wouldn’t have fled from him, of that he was convinced as a large lump formed in his throat.

Tristan had come close to having the life, the wife and family, that he long since ceased believing was possible. He had been so close to it that he could have touched it. He did touch it, in fact.

When he had fallen asleep, Victoria was in his arms, she was his then but not any longer. Heavy torrents of regret pummeled his weary conscience at the realization.

The clouds shifted, bathing him once again in the bluish hue of the moon, illuminating the interior of Victoria’s sanctuary. On this night, Tristan realized what he wanted.

He wanted Victoria to love him again.

Hell, he needed it. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? He needed Victoria … her wit, her strength, her wisdom and the luminescence that was her very being.
 

She illuminated his dark, dismal life.
 

Victoria made him want to be a better man.

He should have seen it sooner, should have chosen her. It had taken him far too long to reach the realization and now it was too late.

Or was it?

Could Victoria truly cease caring for him so quickly and with such finality?

Tristan reviewed his actions since their intimate encounter. Damn him! Why had he goaded her tonight?

Clenching his hands into tight fists, he allowed his fingernails to pierce his flesh. The pain was welcome. It reminded him that he was alive. As did the deafening pounding within his ears.
 

He must fix things.
 

With the flawless translucency of a dazzling summer day, he knew why he must marry Victoria.
 

In her lay his salvation.

How many times had he mocked those who relied on others, those who fell in love and married? Hell, countless times. Yet, here he was craving the very commitment he abhorred.

Yes, he had wanted to commit to someone once before. But it was the wrong woman and it was for all of the wrong reasons. Once he looked into the deep crevices of his core, once he truly examined his pain and the root of it, the truth was blinding.

He hadn’t loved Eve.

Victoria had been correct in her assessment.
 

But she knew only half of it, for the instant he caught Eve with his brother, anger seeped into his very essence. Dark and deadly, it sheathed his heart from love, light, anything good and decent.

The man who now stood in his mirror every morning was a stranger to him. His features distorted with a foolish pride and a pathological need to hold others at bay. This transformation wasn’t because he loved Eve. No, the madness that overcame him was because she had betrayed him. That was the ultimate sin to self-righteous Tristan MacAlistair.

So the walls had been erected. He barred himself from any future relationships so he would never be wounded again.

Such was the life he’d constructed for himself. But Tori had been the one exception. She had been a part of his life for so long that she had already touched his heart.

Like spiders inching across an intricately woven web, a chill crept up his spine at the mere possibility that he could actually love Victoria. Could that be why it nearly killed him to hear Victoria assert that she didn’t love him anymore?

Tristan raked his hands through his hair, recognizing that to love her would be akin to running into a burning building and he refused to leave himself open to such devastation.

Not again.

At least not yet. It was too soon, too dangerous. Instead, he needed to know that she still loved him. It meant more to him than anything else in the world.

But how?

Tristan considered his options as he tidied up the remnants of the broken vase, discarding them in a waste pail in the far corner. He then perused the rest of Victoria’s studio in the hopes of discovering more about her.

Crossing to her cluttered work table, he opened one of the sketchpads strewn about, flipping through the pages. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of his own features staring back at him. Only he looked different. He looked happy, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his lips while his eyes were crisp and free of the haunting sadness that he now found in his own reflection.

Was this how Victoria saw him?

Tristan studied the sketch, the urgency of his situation causing his turbulent pulse to surge within his veins.

He couldn’t lose her.

Not now.

Not ever.

A seedling of his strategy took root. Tristan must negotiate the deal of his life. He couldn’t allow Victoria to use the option she discussed with him. No, he must marry her before Sebastian ever discovered the truth and offered her the financial solution she had mentioned.

Marry Victoria, earn her trust and her love once again. It sounded simple enough though, as Tristan knew from experience, Tori wouldn’t defer to his plan willingly. Not after tonight.

He must make certain she had no choice in the matter.

Tristan knew just what to do to persuade her, well aware that once he progressed with his plan, there was no turning back.

Yes, Victoria would have no choice but to marry him.
 

He only hoped that she would forgive him for what he was about to do.

Chapter 8

Tristan waited in the library for Colin to finish reading to the twins. As he knew from experience, it would be a long while so he poured himself a tumbler of whiskey, downing the contents in three large gulps. He then poured himself another, well aware that he was about to partake in the most difficult conversation of his life and needed all the strength he could muster.
   

Admitting the truth to Colin would be difficult for several reasons, the first on that long list being that Tristan had been hard on Colin when he caught him kissing Eve on that fateful evening, what now felt like a lifetime ago. Tristan had been unyielding, unforgiving, and downright sanctimonious.
 

Tonight Tristan must admit that his own actions towards Victoria were far worse than Colin’s had ever been towards Eve. As if that weren’t bad enough, Tristan now had to acknowledge that his indiscretion not only threatened to destroy his own future but Victoria’s future, as well.

Shortly after the clock struck nine, Tristan heard footsteps echoing in the hallway outside the open door. After taking another fortifying gulp, Tristan poured a second tumbler for his brother.

“A footman delivered your message,” Colin announced as he entered the room.

“Close the door behind you,” Tristan offered the tumbler of amber liquid to his brother. “And drink this. You will need it.”

Colin followed his brother’s instructions then demanded, “What the hell did you do to Victoria?”
 

“Nothing like getting to the heart of the matter, brother dear,” Tristan drawled in a feeble attempt at alleviating some of the tension that already hovered in the room.

His brother’s intense glower told Tristan that Colin remained undeterred. Never in his life did Tristan suspect that honesty would be so difficult to speak. He had once been honest, brutally so. It had been second nature to him. He had changed so much over the course of two years. Perhaps this was why his parents harbored so many secrets? To do so was far easier than admitting the truth.

“When I left you alone with Victoria it was because I suspected that you had finally realized your true feelings for her.” Colin raked Tristan with his cool, indigo eyes. “Please tell me that I didn’t underestimate you.”

“I never planned for any of this to happen, Colin. I swear I tried to stop it.”

“Damn it,” Colin slammed his glass onto the table, spilling half its contents onto the polished mahogany finish. “What the hell did you do?”

“I compromised her,” Tristan admitted at last.

His brother clenched his hands together so tightly that his knuckles cracked. “I assume that we’re not talking about a mere kiss, are we?”
   

Tristan shook his head in response.

“You selfish—”
 

“It wasn’t something I planned.” Tristan’s excuse sounded pathetic even to his own ears. “We were upset about Gwen, and turned to each other for comfort.”

“I thought that you’d come to your senses and realized how remarkable she is.” Colin took another gulp from his glass. “Why in God’s name are you confiding in me, of all people?”
 

Proceeding with caution in an attempt not to alienate a possible ally, Tristan explained, “Victoria is being stubborn, refusing to even consider marrying me, and I need you to help her see reason.”