The Skilled Seduction (35 page)

“Not yet, you don’t,” Eve stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you care for her. You need to show everyone downstairs just how much. Those people can be ruthless for heaven’s cake – I mean sake.”

In spite of her obvious intoxication, Tristan found himself expelling a deep, calming breath in an attempt to hide his mounting frustration. “Eve, you’re not the most ideal person to lecture me. In fact, you are the last person who should do so.”

“This is not the evening to feign propriety.” Eve’s tone was dire. “Many of those witches downstairs are waiting to dissect your wife like she is a laboratory experiment. We all know it, as does Victoria. She needs for them to see how much you care for her. I know it isn’t easy for you to show such emotion but Tori is the one woman who is worth the risk and deep down you know I’m correct.”

Eve took a step backwards before adjusting Tristan’s lapel. “Victoria is upstairs speaking with your swister … your twister. Oh, she’s speaking with Gwen.”

Tristan remained silent, glancing from Eve to Colin then back to Eve again. The scene was quite comical really. He’d never seen Eve foxed and, by the dumbfounded expression on Colin’s face, neither had he.

“All right, then,” Tristan said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Nice talking to you, Eve, and thanks for the unsolicited advice. Colin,” he acknowledged his brother with a nod.
 

As Tristan headed towards the door, he could hear Colin mutter to his wife, “That went splendidly, darling. You were quite diplomatic.”

Eve’s laughter reverberated through the room.

Tristan hoped that his wife was far less inebriated than his sister-in-law otherwise this was shaping up to be a very long night.

* * *

Upon stepping into the main hall, Tristan caught a glimpse of his sister standing atop the main staircase issuing instructions to a footman. He swallowed hard against the lump of emotion that lodged in his throat at the mere sight of Gwen performing ordinary tasks.
 

Tristan had been so close to losing her, she had been so close to death, that Tristan doubted that he’d ever cease feeling grateful for Gwen’s presence in his life.

The fact that Gwen had forgiven him for events that transpired with Victoria meant the world to him. They were back to their usual sibling banter, as if nothing had ever separated them.

He had been fortunate, almost too much so, and Tristan found himself waiting with dread for the tide to turn. The exception was the time he spent with his wife and, with each step he took, his pulse quickened at the thought of spending the evening with Victoria.

“There he is,” Gwen’s sweet voice reverberated through the carpeted hall as she took several steps backwards, allowing Tristan his first view of Victoria that evening.
 

The sight robbed him of all reason.

Victoria was clad in a scarlet gown of silk and lace that hugged all of her voluptuous curves, accentuating them to perfection in spite of the fact that the gown was in all actuality, tasteful and elegant. The high collar dipped in a V-shape, revealing just a hint of the creamy flesh above her bodice, that same silken flesh that Tristan was intimately acquainted with, the mere memory making him warm with desire. His eyes roved lower, noting the arrangement of silk roses and red feathers that accentuated her voluptuous waist.

Who knew feathers could be tasteful?

“Good evening, Husband,” Victoria drawled with a seductive tone.

Tristan remained silent, his gaze fixed on Victoria, noting that her shiny auburn curls were tied into a lose bun at the nape of her neck with a single red rose tucked into her curls. His wife was the embodiment of an exotic temptress and the fact that she belonged to him filled his heart.

“Has your brother become mute?” Victoria asked of her sister-in-law.

Tristan suspected that Victoria was trying to play coy. Dressed like such a seductress, it was a useless attempt if ever he saw one.

“You look utterly bewitching, Victoria,” Tristan was suddenly aware that his voice had taken on a dazed quality.

“All right, you two,” Gwen grabbed Tristan by the arm. “I shall allow you both a moment to compose yourselves.”

“I am perfectly fine, I assure you,” Victoria declared as Gwen linked arms with her, ushering both she and Tristan across the hall to a study that was currently unoccupied.

“Yes, of course you are,” Gwen opened the door, whispering in Tristan’s ear, “Your wife is openly flirting with you and you are spellbound by her very presence. You have five minutes to compose yourselves. Then I come back. Do you understand?”

Tristan nodded. “I understand completely.”

“Thank you, Gwen. That’s terribly sweet of you!” Victoria leaned against the large mahogany desk at the far side of the room, accidentally knocking over a pewter picture frame with her hand.

As if slighted by the ensuing
thud
, Victoria glanced at the offensive object then pressed her index finger against her lips. “Shush.”

Gwen sighed audibly, surveying Victoria for several long seconds as the young woman fumbled

to right the frame.

“Let’s make that fifteen minutes, shall we?” Gwen asserted before turning to face Tristan. “I will have Winston bring more coffee. That will sober her. No one will notice, right?”

“There is no need to worry, Gwen. I’m not inebriated,” Victoria insisted, still leaning against the desk.

Tristan barely registered her words. Would any of their guests notice if he snuck his wife out through the servant’s entrance and back to Ainsley? As if reading his improper thoughts, Gwen pinched his arm.

“Ouch!” Tristan rubbed the point of impact, noting that her strength had returned.

“Tristan!”

His sister had reached the point of exasperation, he noted. Not willing to upset her in any way, Tristan took the only course of action available to him – reassurance.

“It will be fine, Gwen,” he assured his sister as he patted her arm. “Victoria is blissfully happy, nothing that attending her own wedding ball wouldn’t easily explain.”

Gwen shot Tristan a look of pure disbelief.

“Have you seen Eve?” Tristan arched his brow. When Gwen shook her head, he explained, “Compared to Eve, Victoria is the picture of sobriety.”

“Oh, good God in heaven,” Gwen muttered.

Her gaze returned to Victoria, who was now admiring a marble paperweight, rolling it between her palms.

“Besides, they’ll be too busy admiring my wife’s gown,” Tristan added.

Gwen pinched her brother for a second time that evening. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind, Tristan corrected his twin, “You said fifteen.”

“Keep looking at my sister-in-law like that, wife or not, and I’ll be back in five.”

Tristan shrugged his shoulders, feigning indignation. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of,” she said, her gaze heated.

Tristan placed his right hand over his heart. “You have my word.”

“I will return,” Gwen assured him as she exited the room, closing the door behind her. He sensed his sister’s statement was meant to be more a threat than a promise. But it failed to daunt him. Instead, he continued to admire his wife in silence.

Victoria looked enticing to say the least. The gown was spectacular, hugging her curvaceous form in all the right places but it was more than that. More than a pretty package, Victoria was radiant. She was also smart, sensual and witty. Only a fool would fail to see her many attributes. He had been just that, a fool for far too long, but no longer.

“You are staring at me,” Victoria said as she studied the paperweight between her palms.

How did she know, without even a single glance in his direction? Victoria knew him all too well, he was reminded.

“Forgive me, but I’ve never seen anyone more seductive. Why wouldn’t I stare?”

Victoria met his intense gaze at last. Her eyes, a smoldering azure, pierced through to his core. “Do you approve of my gown?” she asked him, her tone nonchalant.

“I approve of you more.”

“You are on your best behavior tonight,” she smiled, returning the paperweight to its proper position.

Bridging the distance between them in three long strides, Tristan splayed his hands upon his wife’s waist. “You look captivating, Victoria.”

“My gown matches my first betrothal ring, but I chose to wear my second instead. I prefer this ring infinitely more,” she placed her hand over her heart. In doing so, Victoria steered his attention to the delicate bluebell shaped ring he had designed for her as well as the creamy flesh above her bodice.

He took her hand in his, taking great care that his fingers caressed her silken flesh, much like a soft kiss. “You’re always beautiful. You don’t need a garment or jewels to make me notice you.”

“Now you tell me,” she sighed.

Victoria must have discerned his confusion, for she clarified. “I was a wreck earlier, trying to dress the part of your wife to perfection. I’ve been fearful that our guests will take one look at me and conclude that the only reason you married me is because you felt obligated to do so.”

It was such a painfully honest statement that Tristan’s heart ached for her. “You have nothing to be concerned about, sweetheart. You could be wearing the dowdiest frock imaginable and you would make it look like the latest Paris fashion. Trust me. Everyone in attendance will wonder what
you’re
doing with
me.
”

Of that he had no doubt.

“I have a confession,” Victoria placed her free hand on his shoulder. “I’m really not inebriated. I was hoping Gwen would allow us some time alone together and, as far as Meg is concerned, she was so frenzied about Eve that it provided a distraction from the daunting evening ahead. I’m shameful, am I not, sending my maid into a near swoon for my own amusement?”

“Firstly, I’m relieved to hear your admission. After all, I can’t keep you intoxicated forever.” Tristan slid his arms around her waist. “Secondly, seeing as how your maid threatened to shoot me tonight, I can’t say I regret your ruse.”

“Meg threatened to shoot you?” Victoria’s hands trailed to the nape of his neck, where her fingers threaded through his hair. “That is dire.”

Tristan arched his brow. “I can take her, I assure you.”

“Well, you may not be fearful but I am … about what awaits us downstairs,” Victoria’s auburn brow furrowed. “Silly, isn’t it? I care not about convention yet, no matter how much I detest the
ton
, I am nervous about how they will receive me tonight.”

“I will protect you,” he vowed. “Always.”

Victoria leaned into him, causing his every nerve ending to crackle in response. “I believe you. I can tell when you’re being candid with me now. I see it in your eyes, feel it in your touch. I just wish you would allow me access to your inner self more often.”

“You don’t want to see into my soul,” he caressed her rosy cheek with his thumb.

Her piercing gaze was fixed on his. “Yes, I do and I wouldn’t use it against you.”

His heart swelled with her sincerity. Holding on to her tighter, so she wouldn’t slip from his grasp, he admitted, “I am terrified that I’ll lose you once you discover the truth about me.”

“There is a roomful of friends and acquaintances waiting downstairs to celebrate our nuptials. It is far too late for me to cry off, Mr. MacAlistair.”

Tristan was sorely tempted to admit what he could to his wife now, before it was too late. But tonight wasn’t the night for that particular conversation.

As if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken, Victoria whispered, “We’re in this together.”
 

If Tristan were a religious man, he’d thank God for it. But, instead, his heart constricted at the possibility of losing Victoria. Because she was the one he needed, one of only two women that he really and truly cared for. As he’d learned from coming so close to losing his sister, losing Victoria wouldn’t be something he could easily survive.

“You are a complicated man, Tristan MacAlistair,” Victoria placed her forehead against his chin.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he drawled.

Unaware of how many minutes had passed, Tristan sensed that his time alone with her was running short. He nipped her neck, noting with a surge of delight that her skin was the delectable scent of vanilla with a hint of violets.

Tristan tipped her chin up then brushed his lips against her cheek, her jaw, then her soft lips. They parted for him as Victoria offered herself to him in a passionate, all consuming kiss, her tongue caressing his in a gentle rhythm.

A powerful urge to lock the door pulsated through him and, for one brief moment, he considered taking his bride in this very room, on the desk, floor, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to make Victoria his, again. To further brand her as his wife, his lover, to fill her with his seed, but his damned conscience chose this moment to rear its honorable head. Although he found it bloody annoying, Tristan tore his lips from hers, but he didn’t release her from his embrace. Instead, he caressed her neck, his fingers trailing up then down her silken flesh.