Chapter Twenty-Six – Together
“Leave me alone!” Tristan grumbled as he climbed the steps to his townhouse rather weak-kneed. “I don’t need your help.”
Although he did not utter a single word, Derek remained by his side, his watchful eyes everywhere as always, taking in the bruise on Tristan’s temple, his unsteady gait, dishevelled clothes as well as the reek of cheap liquor.
Only once they had passed the threshold, did his friend take his leave, climbing the large staircase without difficulty as he himself was unhindered by the effects of a night spent in a tavern on the wrong side of town.
Taking a deep breath, Tristan gripped the banister and step by step hauled himself up the stairs, then stumbled down the corridor to his room. Missing the door handle, he slammed into the hard wood, groaning under his breath as his shoulder began to throb with pain.
Inside, he kicked off his boots and threw his coat into the corner. Pouring water into the basin, he splashed some onto his face, wishing it could wash away the memories that plagued him so.
Once again, he had sought out one of his father’s old drinking haunts, spending the whole night wondering what to do about his wife. Had his father faced a similar situation? Had he at one point feared to be a danger to her and considered sending her away? Or, considering their fate, had such a thought never occurred to him?
Deep down, Tristan knew that his escapades on the wrong side of town only made his descent into madness more likely. However, they were also the only means to feel closer to someone who had gone through the same problems that he was facing now. More than anything, he wished he could speak to his father, ask his advice, ask how it had felt to lose hold on reality, how to handle never knowing when it would happen.
Weeks had passed since his last lapse of memory, and Tristan didn’t know what to expect. Was it a good sign that it had not happened recently? Or would the next time be all the worse for it?
“Are you hurt?”
At the sound of her voice, Tristan spun around and almost lost his balance as the world suddenly became unhinged.
Dressed in a simple nightgown, her golden hair undone and falling in waves over her shoulders, his wife stood in the door which separated her bedchamber from his. “Where were you?” she asked, stepping into the room. Her bare feet made almost no sound as she walked across the room, her eyes sweeping over his person, taking account of his bedraggled state. “Were you robbed?”
“Not tonight,” he groaned, uncomfortable under her scrutinising gaze. Reaching for a linen towel, he dried his face and slightly winced as it brushed over his bruise.
“Not tonight? Were you robbed before?”
Tristan chuckled.
A frown drew down her brows. “I fail to see how this is amusing.”
Shaking his head, Tristan sighed, unable to remember when things had become so complicated. Or had they always been like this? “You know nothing about my life.”
“But I would like to,” she whispered, completely unimpressed by his endeavour to maintain a certain distance from her. Stepping around him, she reached out a hand to his face. “Tell me what happened. Where were you?”
Instantly, Tristan shrank back. “That is none of your concern, my lady! I suggest you return to bed.”
Her eyes narrowed at his tone; however, she stood her ground, her gaze unwavering. “I am your wife,” she reminded him, a touch of disapproval in her voice as she eyed him closely.
Uncomfortable with the way she looked at him, Tristan strode over to the window. “It still is none of your concern. Leave!” he ordered. “Now!”
“Did you meet another woman?”
Taken aback, he turned around.
Determination on her features, she stepped closer as a nervous tension gripped her shoulders. “Tell me.”
His jaw clenched as a sudden wave of joy caught him off guard. Was she jealous?
As he remained silent, she drew in a deep breath. “Do you truly believe that it does not concern me if my husband takes a mistress?”
Tristan swallowed, worried by the distance that decreased with each step she took. “Many husbands do,” he retorted, seeking to drive her away. “It’s not uncommon. What is it to you?”
His wife scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I care,” she growled out, “whether you like it or not. Now, tell me!” Her eyes remained hard, and yet, there was a slight quiver in her jaw as she stared at him.
Holding her gaze, Tristan involuntarily took a step closer as he searched her face. Then he said, “No.”
The moment that single word fell from his lips, the tension left his wife’s shoulders and utter relief washed over her face. For an instant, she closed her eyes, and a smile drew up the corners of her mouth.
Surprised at what he saw, Tristan shook his head. “You were jealous,” he whispered, barely able to believe his own conclusion.
Her gaze narrowed with confusion as she looked back at him. “Of course, I was jealous. You’re my husband.” A new insistence came to her eyes. “You’re mine.”
Tristan’s heart danced in his chest, and he could barely keep his arms from reaching for her.
“Where were you?” she asked again. Only this time there was less suspicion in her tone, but rather a touch of concern.
“Passing the time,” Tristan grumbled nonetheless, hating that she had to see him like this.
“How?”
“I already told you that is none of your concern.”
She drew in a slow breath, disappointment coming to her face. “How come you rarely pass your time with me? You often flee my presence as though you fear that…”
“That what?” he demanded, afraid that she would think him weak of mind…and body and soul. Gritting his teeth, he stepped toward her, his eyes hard, daring her to tell him what a disgrace he was. “That what?”
Unexpectedly, a deep smile came to her face, and she bit her lower lip as though his question was truly amusing. Then she shook her head.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed as he tried to understand.
“If you wish to know,” she whispered teasingly, “then you’ll have to kiss me first.”
Wondering if he could believe his ears, Tristan stared at her. He saw the flirtatious gleam in her eyes, the way her tongue snaked out and licked her lips, the way she almost imperceptibly moved closer, and he knew that if he dared touch her, there would be no going back.
Shaking his head, he took a step toward the window.
A hint of disappointment came to her eyes, but then she merely shrugged and turned to leave. “Well, then. I bid you a good night.”
As Tristan watched her walk away, something came alive inside him, an almost desperate need not to be alone, not to be left behind in this dark room with only the ghosts of his past for company. She was like the light to his darkness, and he could not bear the thought of being plunged into complete and utter blackness once again.
He needed her. He needed the glow in her eyes, the warmth of her smile, the gentleness of her touch as well as the kindness of her words.
He needed her to stay.
Crossing the room in large strides, he reached for her. His hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back. In the single moment before his mouth claimed hers, he noticed the warmth of her skin against his as her body pressed closer; he saw the deep emotions that shone in her eyes as her arms embraced him, and he knew that he was lost.
As all doubt fled his mind, Tristan held his wife in his arms and kissed her the way he had often dreamed of since their wedding night. Although he had been tempted countless times before, he knew that giving in meant taking a step in a direction he ought not to consider. It did not matter that his heart urged him on, whispering that she was the one after all. He had not been able to ignore the remarks he had heard countless times since the day he had been born.
That he wasn’t worthy.
That he was like his father.
That he had no right to the life he had.
However, when he felt his wife’s mouth open under his, when he felt her sweet tongue brush against his, he could not even remember the doubts that had plagued him all his life. In her arms, he felt safe and accepted and…yes, even loved. For although she knew nothing about him, she did not fear him; she did not look at him with caution or suspicion. She welcomed him into her heart without fear, without doubt, and slowly, the tiny cracks in his heart began to heal.
When she unexpectedly broke their kiss, Tristan frowned and his hands tightened on her.
Holding his gaze, she smiled. “…as though you fear that you won’t be able to stop yourself from kissing me,” she whispered, finishing the sentence she had begun ages ago.
Staring at her, Tristan chuckled as the truth of her words hit him. Then he took a deep breath, and his mouth once more sought hers.
Only this time, she drew her head away.
Tristan swallowed as fear clawed at his heart. Had it all been a game? Why had she−?
But then a radiant smile lit up her face, and the arms around his neck tightened as she gazed up into his eyes. “Say my name.”
“What?” Shaking his head in confusion, he tried to kiss her again.
And again, she drew away, amusement crinkling her lips. “Say my name,” she whispered once more, holding his gaze. “Tristan.”
For a long moment, he could only stand and stare at her as the echo of his name on her lips reached his heart. Yes, she was right. It did feel wonderful. He had never noticed it before.
“Maybe you should rest,” she said then, her arms releasing their hold on him, and stepped back toward the door. “I suppose sleep will do you good.”
Shaking off his trance, Tristan blinked as his heart screamed at him to act.
Before she had taken more than a single step, he once more caught her by the arm and pulled her back against him. Wrapping her in a tight embrace lest she try to escape again, he met her eyes. “Damn you, Beth. Don’t you dare walk away.”
A delighted chuckle rose from her throat as her arms returned to their place around his neck, pulling her close against him. “For a second, I was afraid you wouldn’t stop me,” she whispered, gently brushing her lips over his. “For a second, I thought you would let me go.”
“As was I,” he admitted, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “Beth, I can’t promise…I mean I…I don’t know if I−”
“I know,” she interrupted as he struggled for words. “We’ll find a way. Together.”
An honest smile lit up his face as he lowered his head and gently placed his mouth on hers. His hands caressed her neck and shoulders, slid over her arms and up and down her back. Holding her close, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
Her fingers slid up his neck, twirling strands of his hair around them, as he lowered her onto the mattress, and her eyes shone with the love and trust Tristan had always dreamed of, but feared he would never find.