War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (13 page)

He used the material to add friction and
help build up her heat as he massaged her passage. His lips trailed
down her neck to stop at her bodice. He groaned in defeat, he was
blocked at every pass. Damn these seamstresses and their London
fashion.

Sarah was aggravated as well. Her heart was
pounding and she so needed his touch. Taking matters into her own
hands she lowered her knickers to her knees giving him full access.
She was not disappointed. His long, thin fingers gently parted her
folds and slipped inside, seeking her shelter. She was deliciously
wet and his hardness was almost painful as it strained against his
britches. Sensing his despair, she shifted slightly, reaching for
his belt. After much fumbling in the darkness, which Tristan
thoroughly enjoyed, he was free. Her hand grasped around his shaft
and traced the length. She was thankful for the darkness to hide
her flushed face. She couldn’t believe she was panting like a
whore, practically forcing him to take her.

Needing him, she twisted and straddled his
lap. She groaned in complaint; her feet were tangled in her
knickers, reducing her movement. Tristan reached down and ripped
them off in his haste. Grabbing her by her waist, he easily lifted
her, trusting her to guide him along the correct path.

Sarah cried out as he impaled her, clutching
onto his shoulder for support and her nails dug into his shirt. He
stopped instantly, worried that he had caused her harm.

“Don’t Stop!” she chided him, her mind
unable to form a whole sentence. Dutifully he complied. Using his
strength to increase her small thrusts, he planted his feet on the
stairs, using them to guide him into a rhythm. He was on the verge
of collapse as he felt her cry out and shudder, relaxing against
his chest. Tears trailed down her face as she wept in exhaustion.
All of her emotions spiraled together out of control.

He held her against him and kissed her hair.
It was awhile before either one could speak.

Tristan broke the silence first. “You know,
I think The
Vixen
is my new favorite ship.”

Sarah pushed up off his chest, trying to
remove herself. However, her worn out body betrayed her and she
found herself again on his torso. Sarah remained quiet and Tristan
was slightly worried about the usually feisty woman.

Once their breathing returned to normal,
Tristan helped to untangle them and rightened his clothing. He kept
a grip on her arm to make sure she would not fall in her unsteady
state. He reached up, quickly located the latch, and swung the door
open. As Sarah climbed into the sunlight, he scurried down to
retrieve the lantern & her bloomers.

He held them out apologetically as she
examined them. Ripped down the seam of one leg, they were useless
without being mended. A strong wind blew reminding her she had
nothing on underneath the spring dress; her cheeks turned the color
of her hair.

She felt cold in the wind and protectively
crossed her arms. The fresh air did help clear her mind from the
tendrils of lust, allowing doubt to settle in.

She would be with Tristan until the rescue
and then what? She obviously could not return to his home. He would
be fine if he insisted the boat was stolen. However, his
credibility would still be in danger.

Major Johnson would see to that.

“Tristan, can we talk?” she asked, willing
to speak at last.

He looked up at her tone; she sounded so
melancholy and he wondered if she regretted their tryst. “Of
course.”

He led her below deck to his cabin. It was
smaller than she expected and only boasted a small bed and a
drafting table with one chair.

He sat her on the bed as he pulled up the
chair to face her. “I’m worried about your safety after the
raid.”

“You’re worried about my safety? Shouldn’t
you concern yourself with your own?”

“I told you, I have nothing to lose.”

He grasped her chin and forced her to look
at him. “You have me.”

“Do I? You offered me a ship, nothing more,”
she said, so wanting to believe it.

He smiled. “Giving you a ship is akin to
giving you my heart.”

She shook her head. “You can still report it
stolen; there is no need to endanger yourself.”

He snorted. “I have been taking care of
myself long before you arrived. However, I do have you to thank for
opening my eyes. You have saved me as well.”

“How have I saved you? The only thing we
share is lust.”

“You are so young and deliciously naïve.
Would I sacrifice all my worldly goods and family for lust? I
thought Robert a fool when he left. Now I know I am the fool.”

Sarah shrugged. “It is hard to see the truth
when surrounded by lies.”

“It is indeed.”

The ride back home was too short. Sarah
preferred to be out and about rather than cooped up where she could
potentially run into the Major. Of course visiting the city had not
deterred him from following her either.

Reading her mood, Tristan laid a hand on her
leg to gain her attention. “Do not fret, I will take you out
tomorrow to procure a dress for your ball,” he teased.

She smiled back. “As long as it is
black.”

He lifted her down and they walked in the
house together.

“Where have you been?” Randall asked, his
ire flaring at seeing them together again.

“Why are you always underfoot?” Tristan
challenged as his anger rose. The bruises he left on Sarah returned
to his mind and it took every ounce of strength he had not to
strangle him.

“I am the newly appointed citizen liaison.
We want to keep the locals happy.”

“Well, I would be much happier if you left
my sight.”

Sarah watched the exchange with mixed
emotions. She needed to keep the Major in good spirits; he could
easily destroy her whole plan.

“Randall, that sounds like a very
interesting position, why don’t you tell me about it?” she grasped
his hand and led him to the sitting room.

Tristan followed the pair, not trusting the
soldier for an instant. He poured himself a drink and sat in a
chair across form Sarah’s. Randall had settled in on the
settee.

“The position is quite key; I collaborate
with the locals and make sure everyone is kept in line.” He spoke
proudly while sitting on the spindly furniture. The golden
embroidery matched well with his uniform, giving him quite a
stately appearance. Too bad he was such an ass.

“Kept in line?” Tristan asked with
disdain.

An eerie smile crept onto his face and Sarah
felt her heart clench at the implications.

“Yes, any citizen thought to be disloyal to
the King, can and shall be imprisoned.”

“Why that is absurd!” Sarah exclaimed. “So
you can read men’s thoughts?”

“You can tell much just by a man’s
expression.” Randall looked at her, fully letting his eyes slowly
wander down her body, proving his meaning.

Sarah blushed darkly, realizing she had no
bloomers on. Tristan’s grin above Randall’s head told her he
remembered as well.

“In that case,” Sarah muttered stepping
forward and slapping Randall on the cheek hard enough to turn his
head. With an hmph, she turned and left the room.

Randall watched until she was out of sight
before speaking. “So do you think she’ll go to the dance with
me?”

“How would I know? You are the mind reader,”
Tristan replied, sipping his brandy.

***

Sarah was furious as she returned to her
room. She had taken the servants’ stairs to prevent running into
anyone else. What game was Randall playing? He could legally throw
Tristan in jail purely on a whim.

Of course, it all could have been merely a
jest, a lie to prove his power to her, so she would choose him over
Tristan. In any case, she needed to be more cautious. The dinner
bell rang and she hastily donned her knickers before heading down
to eat.

Throwing open her door, she gasped, finding
Randall blocking her way.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Sarah. Please
forgive my liberties; I was hoping that since we are neighbors, we
could become better…acquainted. I would like to start by asking you
to accompany me to the ball.”

“I am surprised, I would think you have many
women to choose from.”

“I do, but none as ravishing as you.”

Sarah paused; she had never been called
ravishing before. Her mother always said she was beautiful, but
parents have to say that. She was flattered to say the least. She
would have been more flattered if she knew it was not just a ploy
to get under her skirt. The smart thing to do would be to say yes,
but still perturbed by their earlier encounter she wavered.

“I will consider your offer, along with my
others. You will have an answer in a week,” she said, hoping to buy
some time.

“Well at least join me for dinner,” he said,
extending his arm. She took it without hesitation; it was best to
keep him in good spirits, for now.

She regretted her decision as he guided her
down the back staircase, which was much narrower. His arm crept
around her shoulders and he pulled her close to him so they would
both fit. His breath kept tickling her ear and she shuddered
involuntarily. Finally they reached the bottom and she practically
darted for the table.

Taking her seat next to Tristan, she sat
down and tried to catch her breath. The main topic had returned to
the ball. It was peculiar how the Colonel knew so much about
decorations. Ryan sat next to him dutifully, writing down the
shopping list.

Sarah listened on in amazement; she couldn’t
locate many of the items on a regular day, much less in the middle
of a war. Where one would procure Chinese lanterns was beyond
her.

When dinner ended she headed to her room,
leaving the men to talk. She was surprised when Tristan decided to
join them. Thinking of him, she wondered if he still expected her
to visit tonight.

Things were more difficult with Randall
around. Tristan didn’t seem to take him seriously, which frightened
her even more. She knew men like him in the past. Men who would
lie, or steal to get what they wanted.

Walking past the library, she stopped in to
pick up the poem book she had started yesterday. She didn’t think
anyone would care if she borrowed it. Settling in on the large bed
she flipped through the pages to find the last section she had
read.

A folded piece of paper fell out onto her
lap and she picked it up. It was a poem; funny she had not noticed
it before. Looking closer she started to read: