After he made love to her, lethargy settled in and Tristan fell asleep still nestled inside her with one of her legs draped over his hip. He didn’t think he’d moved for the remainder of the night, because she was still within the circle of his arms when he awakened. It bothered him to realize how comforting it felt. He wasn’t a man accustomed to comfort. Comforts, yes. A good bed, a sturdy ship, well-tailored clothes. But comfort, bestowed by another, was foreign. Yet he couldn’t deny the joy it brought him to find her near enough that with only a slight adjustment of his body he could be buried deeply within her once again. A lovely way to greet the day.
“Tristan?” She nudged him. “Tristan, I hear the lark. You must go.”
Forcing his eyes open, he greeted her concerned expression with a grin. “Twenty more minutes.”
“No. The sun will be up at any moment. I can hear carts jangling about in the street.”
“If we were to stay here all day—”
“No!” She shoved on him. “Please, hurry. I shouldn’t have let you stay. We can’t do this again.”
“But it was so worth it.” He planted a quick kiss on her mouth before rolling out of bed. He gathered up his trousers and put them on before grabbing his shirt and drawing it over his head. He peered over at her, sitting up in bed, clutching the sheets to her chest, her hair a tangled mess that fell around her. She looked decidedly improper this morning. He sat in a chair and began tugging on a boot.
“Come with me.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Come with me. To the ship. We’ll set sail by noon and travel the world. I’ll show you water so clear that you can see the fish swimming along the bottom. I’ll show you islands that have not been touched by modernization and life slows to a crawl. I’ll take you to hidden coves where you can bask naked in the sunlight.”
She drew up her knees and pressed her chin to them. “How long will this idyllic journey take?”
“A year. Two.”
“And then? Upon my return, what shall I do with a tattered reputation?”
He sighed. There was the rub.
“No man will have me,” she continued. “My family will no doubt disown me. What will my future be?” She shook her head. “I want a proper life, Tristan. With a husband I see every day and children and a home on land.”
“Being proper brought you unhappiness. Being improper . . . Princess, I’ve seen the way you smile afterward.”
“Being improper in bed is one thing. Being improper with my life is something else entirely.”
He shoved his foot into the other boot. He would never be happy here, in London, living within Society, with all its blasted rules. He’d always known the sea wasn’t a life for everyone. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting it. But damnation, it didn’t stop him from wanting her.
He snatched up his remaining clothes, bundled them up, and walked to the window. He should say good-bye to her, never see her again. Instead he heard himself ask, “What are you doing today?”
“Making some morning calls. Going to Hyde Park this afternoon.”
“Carriage, horse, or stroll?”
“Horse, I should think.”
He grinned. “I’ve never seen you ride a horse.”
She returned his smile. “Do you know how to ride one?”
“I’m a lord. Of course, I do.”
With that, he slipped out the window. He’d thought one more night and he’d have his fill of her. It was disconcerting to realize that before his feet landed firmly on the ground, he already wanted her again.
“By God, but I’m famished,” Tristan said as he strolled into his brother’s breakfast dining room and headed for the sideboard where an abundance of delicacies awaited his appreciation. He’d experienced far too many occasions when food was scarce on a ship. All the planning in the world couldn’t guarantee good winds and the absence of delay in reaching a port.
“You’re not properly attired,” Sebastian chided from his place at the head of the small table.
Tristan had dropped his waistcoat and jacket on a chair in the foyer on the way in. He gathered up ham, eggs, bread, and a bit of everything else. “Do you know that I’ve eaten meals with no shirt on at all?” he asked as he took his seat.
Sitting beside her husband, rather than at the foot of the table, Mary blushed. Tristan had noticed that the two of them always stayed within easy reach of each other. He didn’t want to acknowledge the tug of longing that realization brought. How boring life would be to wake up to the same woman every morning. Eventually he suspected he’d just as soon not wake up.
“I imagine you did quite a bit on a ship that you do not do in a residence,” Sebastian chided. “You’re not setting a good example for my son.”
“I don’t see him about.” The little bugger was barely a year old. He wasn’t likely to notice anyway. “Perhaps you’d rather I not be here either.”
“Of course we want you here,” Mary quickly said. “Never doubt that.”
“It is simply that you are in Society now,” Sebastian added, “and certain behaviors are expected.”
Tristan relented. A blasted waistcoat, jacket, and cravat weren’t worth fighting over and creating a chasm between him and his brother. They’d had too many years apart as it was. “I shall come properly attired in the future.”
“Might help if you didn’t stay out all night.”
Tristan barked out his laughter. “Are you going to deny me all my pleasures?”
“Was it pleasures or creating trouble that kept you out?”
“A little of both, truth be told.” He winked at Mary, and her blush returned deeper than before, almost scarlet. She had spent a good many years in a convent, protected from the likes of him. She was fun to tease now, but she could hold her own. She’d proven that with Sebastian. Dammit, she’d proven it when she was twelve years old and helped them escape from the tower at Pembrook. “You should have some oranges, by the way. Prevents scurvy. I’ll see that some are delivered.”
“We are not likely to get scurvy here.”
“It’s not a pleasant thing, so humor me.”
“Did you ever suffer from it?” Mary asked.
“No, but I’ve seen plenty who have. I fear I became rather obsessed with oranges. Other fruits work, but oranges are my preference.”
He cut into the ham, like a gentleman. Marlow had insisted that his men not eat like savages. Marlow was a contradiction. A man who could order, without compunction, that the flesh be flayed off a man’s back one minute and the next offer solace, holding a seaman’s hand while he waited for death to claim him. Tristan had experienced both his kindness and his brutality.
“Lady Hermione seemed quite thrilled to see you returned,” Mary said, snapping Tristan from his musings.
“She doesn’t seem to have matured any during the time I’ve been away.”
“She’s simply an excitable girl. I would caution you to take care with her.”
“Trust me, Mary, I intend to avoid her like the plague.”
“That may prove a challenge at the balls. And elsewhere. She appears to be in pursuit of you.”
“I’m quite skilled at avoiding capture.”
“On the sea, perhaps,” Sebastian said. “It’s not always so easy in Society. If her father does little more than think you’ve compromised her, you may find yourself at the altar.”
“As I’ve already said, I have no plans to go anywhere near her.”
“And what of Lady Anne Hayworth?”
Tristan’s fingers tightened around his knife as he sliced off another bit of ham. His temper was straining its tether. “What of her, Brother?”
“We noticed you dancing with her last night,” Mary said softly enough to quiet his anger.
“She’s a beautiful woman. I happen to enjoy beautiful women.”
“She might be vulnerable. As I understand it, she’s only just coming out of mourning after having lost her fiancé in the war.”
“I know exactly what she’s coming out of. What have you done? Become the patron saint of unmarried women?”
“Don’t speak to my wife in that tone,” Sebastian said, his voice seething.
“I’m trying to understand what’s behind the bloody inquisition. I’m a grown man free to do as I damn well please.”
“Not if others may be hurt by it. This isn’t the sea, Tristan. You don’t rule here.”
Tristan shoved back his chair and stood. “Please give me some credit. I held the woman while she wept over her damned fiancé’s bones. The very last thing I would ever do is hurt her.”
At their stunned expressions, he spun on his heel and headed for the door, not so much to escape them, but because he feared the words that still echoed around the room and in his head were a lie. He had the potential to hurt her and he damned well knew it. But even knowing it wasn’t enough incentive to keep him away from her.
Anne had only just finished her breakfast and was considering a stroll in the garden when she was summoned to her father’s study. It did not bode well that Jameson was there or that both men were on their feet before she entered. They were going to discover that their strategy to intimidate held little sway over her these days. After all, she had climbed to the top of a mast. She doubted either of them could claim the same achievement. Although she planned to keep it to herself since she’d been wearing britches at the time. That revelation would no doubt give her father an apoplectic fit.
“Jameson tells me that you traveled with this Pembrook lord.”
“I traveled on his ship. Hardly the same thing.”
“Semantics,” Jameson barked.
“Quite. And in this instance crucial to the understanding of what actually transpired.”
“Which was?” her father snapped.
“A journey from England’s shores to Scutari. I visited the British cemetery. I said my good-byes to Walter. We began the journey home. I weathered a storm. I watched porpoises play. I heard whales moan. And I released the last of my sorrow at Walter’s passing. It was a journey of healing. Now I am ready for the Season.”
“Yet this man approached you last night,” her father said.
“Yes. As did Chetwyn. And the Duke of Ainsley. Lords Malvern, Summerly, and Churchaven. I’m not certain why you’re so bothered that Lord Tristan would do the same.”
“He does not treat women well,” her brother said succinctly.
“Women? Or Lady Hermione?”
Jameson glared so fiercely that she was surprised she didn’t ignite into a ball of fire. “Did you have a fondness for her?” she asked softly.
“It is you with whom I am concerned. Your reputation. The possibility for a secure future with a husband and children. You’re in a precarious position, Anne.”
“Yes, because I’m so old. I must stop leaving my walking stick in my bedchamber lest I discover I’m unable to traipse about without falling on my backside.” She was fairly certain Tristan would have smiled at that. Her brother only glowered.
“Chetwyn will be coming by this afternoon to take you on a ride through the park,” her father announced.
She jerked her head around to stare at him. “Pardon?”
“He mentioned it at the club last night. I expect you to behave as a woman who could one day be a marchioness.”
“I had plans for this afternoon.”
He arched a brow. “What were those?”
“A solitary ride through the park,” she said, knowing it was a weak excuse that would hold no influence.
“So now you’ll have a gentleman to accompany you, with our blessing.”
And to be present when Tristan approached her. What could possibly go wrong there?