The Skilled Seduction (23 page)

“If you think, even for one moment, that I will allow my sister to become embroiled in your scandal, you are sorely mistaken,” Sebastian leaned his weight against Tristan’s throat, until he was gasping for air while clawing at his brother-in-law’s jacket.

“You once demanded that I stay away from Gwen if I wasn’t going to be a good husband to her, if I wasn’t going to love her as she deserved. Do you remember that, Tristan?”

“Yes,” Tristan shoved Sebastian again, this time causing the man to stumble backwards. He then adjusted his cravat, struggling to inhale. “Yes, I remember that conversation. How could I possibly forget?”

Sebastian surveyed him with hooded eyes, like those of a hawk. “I can’t be certain. You have, after all, become a different man since then. Morality doesn’t exist for you anymore, does it?”

“You know nothing about me or my life,” Tristan asserted through clenched teeth.

“I know enough to keep my sister far the hell away from you.” Sebastian pointed at Tristan. “Which is precisely what I am going to do starting right here, right now.”

“No, I won’t allow it,” Tristan spoke calmly, his tone belying his rapid heartbeat. The situation had long since spiraled beyond his control and the realization that Sebastian could indeed keep Tori away from him robbed the very breath from Tristan’s lungs, even more than the man’s hold over him mere moments before.

“You have no choice,” Sebastian said, taking one step closer to Tristan. “I should have never allowed you near her in the first place – regardless of your close relationship to Gwen. I have learned my lesson, though, and will send Victoria away if I have to, for the rest of her life if need be. Rest assured that I will protect my sister from you until my dying breath.”

“What if Victoria is carrying my child?” The words escaped Tristan’s lips before he could check himself and, as if in response, a suffocating silence engulfed the room. It was the same eerie calm that precedes the gale and a violent tempest was indeed brewing, Tristan realized, as he stared at his brother-in-law. Reflected in Sebastian’s eyes was a fury the likes of which Tristan had never before witnessed.

Sebastian glared at him, a vein pulsating erratically in his neck as he muttered, “You bastard.”

His fist made contact with Tristan’s jaw, the intense pain upon impact causing Tristan’s ears to ring. Sebastian then shoved the younger man hard against the wall once again.

“I don’t want to fight you, Sebastian,” Tristan said, making a conscious effort not to fight back against his brother-in-law.

Sebastian didn’t relent, punching Tristan again, this time in his gut, winding him, sending him to his knees. “I loved you like a brother, Tristan. I welcomed you into my home and this is how you repay my kindness?” he hissed, grabbing Tristan’s shoulders, shaking him with every word. “This is my sister that you’ve ruined. This is Victoria, my remarkable sister who deserved more than to be labeled as one of your whores.”

It was Sebastian’s last statement that caused Tristan to retaliate. Lunging forward, he shoved Sebastian against the opposite wall with such might that the gilded frame of the colorful canvas that he’d admired earlier teetered then fell to the floor.

“Don’t you dare compare Victoria to a whore,” Tristan demanded, his tone steely-edged as he fought back, his own fist connecting with his brother-in-law’s jaw. Sebastian struggled to break free of Tristan’s tight hold but this time it was Tristan who possessed control. He slammed Sebastian against the sideboard, the sound of crashing crystal piercing his ears.

“
Never
disparage your sister to me again,” Tristan demanded as he released the man then dabbed his lip with his fingertips, the taste of his own blood bitter.
 

Sebastian leaned against the sideboard for support, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. Tristan was relieved to see that his brother-in-law had at last ceased his physical assault. For one brief moment, it seemed like the two had settled the matter until Sebastian lunged at Tristan, propelling him across the desk causing letters of correspondence, an ink blotter and a crystal tumbler to scatter in different directions.
 

Having hit the ground hard, Tristan had no time to regain composure before Sebastian pounced on him. In response, Tristan rammed Sebastian with his forearm, pinning him against the floor.

“Stop it!” A shrill voice sliced through the chaos. “Tristan, stop it!”

Gwen grabbed her brother’s shoulders. “Let go of him this instant!”

Tristan shoved Sebastian aside. Both men stood, glaring at each other, gasping for each breath.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gwen demanded from Tristan. When she failed to garner a response from her brother, she then turned towards her husband. “Sebastian, answer me.”

Sebastian didn’t look at his wife, not once, choosing instead to glare at Tristan. “Get the hell out of my home,” his baritone thundered through the ensuing silence as he removed his handkerchief from his vest pocket then dabbed his lip, the white linen tinged with crimson blood. “I will have one of my footmen deliver your belongings to Ainsley. You are no longer welcome on my estate.”

Gwen’s shock at the finality of Sebastian’s statement caused her to turn towards her brother, “Tristan, what have you done?”

“I am sorry, Gwen,” Tristan said, still slightly winded and struggling for each breath he inhaled. “I swear that I have been trying to right this situation.”

Turning to Sebastian, he added, “I will make amends, I promise you.”

“You’ve already done enough damage. Get the hell out of my house and stay the hell away from my sister,” Sebastian strode towards the door, holding it open, waiting for Tristan to leave.

Tristan turned his attention from Sebastian to his twin, the look of anguish etched in Gwen’s knowing visage splintering his heart into thousands of sharp fragments. Tears pooled in her eyes, each one representing her disappointment and despair from his own selfish actions.

“I am truly sorry, Gwen,” he reached for his sister and, for the first time in their lives, she pulled away from him.

“Gwen, please,” Tristan pleaded, his voice so hoarse that he could barely recognize it.

“Did you ever consider, even for a brief moment, that your actions could fracture my family?”

No. Instead he had acted upon his desires, consequences be damned. The realization winded him more so than his physical fight with Sebastian.
 

He studied his sister and, for the first time since that fateful night when Tristan thought his twin was going to die, a tear traced a path down his own cheek.

How could he have caused his sister so much pain?

“You must leave,” Gwen commanded in a choked voice, turning her back on her brother as if she couldn’t bear the sight of him.

Staggering to the door, Tristan paused in front of Sebastian. He noted the vein still pulsating in the man’s neck.

“What would you have done if I’d confessed love for Victoria? Would you have forgiven me then?” he asked.

“I would have felt some modicum of sympathy for you. But now, all I feel is rage … for wounding both my sister and my wife.” Sebastian leaned forward.
 

“I am deeply sorry, Sebastian,” Tristan whispered. He sought absolution. Instead, he received the response he rightly deserved …
 

“Get out of my home and stay away from my sister,” Sebastian replied, his tone now calm, devoid of emotion, as if Tristan were dead to him.

Tristan complied, walking out of his sister’s home, unsure when, if ever, he’d be allowed back into her family.

He had to make things right. Now, more than ever, he knew he must marry Victoria and he wracked his brain for some way to reach her, well aware that he must improvise now that his access to her had been denied.

Standing on the cobblestone drive, awaiting his carriage, Tristan stared at the wide expanse of ominous sky above him, dark clouds hanging as heavy as his heart. How appropriate that it would rain at any moment when his life had drastically changed during another storm.

He remembered the rain that lashed against the window panes during his night with Victoria. He could still hear the thunder rumbling, would always remember the way the windows rattled from it. As if even the heavens above recognized the significance of their act.

A cool droplet of rain pelted his face, followed by another as his carriage came to a halt. His eyes scanned the brick and mortar estate until he was staring at what he knew to be the windows of Victoria’s suite on the second floor. He squinted, hoping for a clearer view, when the curtains fluttered. It was a slight, almost indistinguishable motion, but he caught sight of it nonetheless.

Victoria was watching him.

Fortified by the knowledge that she was indeed studying him from behind her window coverings, Tristan knew Victoria well enough to know that she would be desperate for an escape after remaining isolated in her suite in an attempt to avoid him since their confrontation. Once Victoria realized that he was departing, she would no doubt want to walk the grounds, even in this abysmal weather.

Not wasting a moment, Tristan issued instructions to his driver before ascending the steps of his carriage. He had the perfect solution, providing neither Sebastian nor Gwen cornered Victoria before she could exit the main residence.
 

Even if they did, though, he wouldn’t relent. No, Tristan would adjust his plans if need be. He was determined to find Victoria, even if it meant traveling to the ends of the earth.
 

Sure as the steady rain that would soon be falling from the gloomy sky above, Tristan vowed that he wouldn’t allow anyone take Victoria away from him.
 

Not now.
 

Not ever.
 

Tristan would make certain that no one, not even God himself, would interfere with their impending union.

* * *

Victoria stared out her window at the fog hovering over the grounds. She despised the thick, soupy vapor. Unfortunately, the more she willed it to pass, the more it lingered, triggering her loathing to intensify. The murky weather meant she should stay inside, holding her hostage in her own home.

Mother Nature.
Ha! No woman would be this perverse. Victoria remembered her studies of Greek mythology. This was all Zeus’s fault. Yes, Zeus, the king of the Greek gods. As the supreme Greek god he had many responsibilities, she recalled. He controlled the skies and all weather, law, order and fate.

Fate.

Suddenly, she felt as if Zeus was playing with her like dice in some mythological game of chance. Victoria sighed, resting her forehead against the cool windowpane, willing the weather to clear so she could escape.

Victoria wished she could stop thinking about her night with Tristan and the sensations he awakened within her. But, inevitably, her skin prickled every time she remembered his caresses, his kisses trailing across her flesh. It was madness. As was the fact that Tristan was now leaving, just when she had come to a decision.
 

The irony failed to escape her as the sight of him ascending his carriage steps caused her mood to darken, like the swirling clouds above.

Studying the carriage until it passed through the main gates, her foul mood further intensified. He’d forsaken her. Silly, really, since that is what she intended to do, was it not?

She planned to depart as opposed to marrying a man whom she no longer trusted but, he set off first, reminding Victoria that Tristan didn’t love her and never would.

Her future would be downhill from here, as she still needed to speak with Sebastian and get her affairs in order. Humiliating herself by admitting the truth to her beloved brother would be the most difficult thing she would ever do.

Enough of this self-pity! Be strong and move forward.
Such was her silent mantra as she reached into her wardrobe, removing an indigo velvet and ermine cloak and a matching pair of leather gloves to protect her from the chill. She then crept down the servants’ stairs.
   

Though she knew sneaking down the servants’ staircase was a most unladylike act, she did so nevertheless. Victoria didn’t want to be forced to feign a smile lest anyone happened upon her. No, she needed some time to herself before she further burned the remnants of her once respectable life to the ground.

Peering left then right, Victoria proceeded down the servants’ hallway. And bumped right into Meg, who was rushing through an adjacent side corridor.

“Lady Victoria,” Meg whispered with eyes wide. “What in heaven’s name are
you
doing here?”

Before Victoria could answer, the sound of masculine whistling filled the hall.

“Quick,” Meg instructed, grabbing Victoria’s arm then abruptly yanking her through an open door. It was the servants’ parlor, Victoria knew, as she remembered secretly exploring this wing as a child.
 

The thick clouds outside were visible through a small bank of high windows, casting the room in an unearthly, grayish hue in spite of the lit wall sconces.
 

The room seemed smaller now and more dreary than she remembered, probably due to the gloomy weather, but the room was also familiar. She found the sight oddly comforting.