“I believe you glared at Lord Halbridge so hard you looked ready to drag him out into the street to keep him away from me,” she declared, lifting her chin.
He swallowed. Had he done that? He couldn’t remember. But the urge was certainly there. He would gladly drag that man away from his wife for a number of reasons.
“He was… he wasn’t being respectful,” was all he said in response.
“Perhaps he was too familiar with me,” she relented. “But he was there whileyouweren’t.”
He started when she moved up another step to put some distance between them.
“You ignore me when I let you. You say and offer little when I’m with you. You’re always keeping your distance, Tristan. But the one time someone looks at me—reallylooks at me—you decide you care.”
His hand tightened on the banister. He thought about letting the truth and pain out, about telling her everything. But what good would that do? She didn’t deserve to be haunted by his past.
“It’s not that simple,” he gritted out.
“Of course it is! We are one now. You married me. You gave me your name. And you’ve given me nothing after that. Not a glance and not a thought. How can you claim a stranger, Tristan?”
But you’re not a stranger. I do know you, Verity. I listened. I know you prefer your tea and your favorite strolls out in the countryside. Your favorite flowers, your favorite memories of your aunt. You said so much when you brought me supper. How you enjoy strawberries for dessert, your childhood dreams of exploring the world. You haven’t been a stranger for a long time.
A lump formed in his throat as he gazed up at her, feeling worlds apart from her. He tried to find the words for the emotions warring inside him.
“I never wanted to claim you,” he said roughly while closing the distance between them.
He didn’t see why she kept moving away. All he needed was time to find the right words. And yet as he put his feet on the step below hers, meeting her head-on, he could smell her perfume. He felt her warm breath on his cheek, and the heady feeling had him holding tightly to the banister.
“Only I cannot recall how to stop wanting you.”
Verity let out a shaky breath. His gaze fell to her lips as she mumbled, “I don’t understand you.”
He wasn’t certain there was a person in all the universe who understood him right then. Not even himself.
His confidence wavered as he felt the world fading into the background. Everything about her distracted him, and he couldn’t think when she was this close to him.
“You undo me,” he murmured. His free hand rose of its own accord, slowly feeling the silk of her dress. “And I hate it.”
“You don’t have to fight it,” Verity whispered.
Her words were so soft that he pictured angel wings. A halo over her head. Perhaps someone as good as her could save what was left of him.
“Stop pretending you feel nothing.”
Moving his hand to her cheek, Tristan wasn’t very surprised to discover that she was as soft as he had imagined.
She didn’t move, silently reassuring him as she began to lean in. His heart pounded with an excitement he could barely comprehend. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, feeling her eyelashes flutter and her breath hitch.
This may be a mistake.
And yet he leaned in, yearning to know just how her lips felt. How warm they were, how sweet. Perhaps she would taste like summer strawberries or sweet champagne.
“We all make mistakes. Sometimes, they are still the right thing to do,” she responded, and he realized he had voiced his thought.
Their noses brushed gently, their lips so near. He didn’t think he could breathe. He didn’t know if she was breathing. They were so close, and all he could think about was connecting them in this moment once and for all.
But then Verity lifted her chin, and the moonlight shifted in her eyes.
Tristan couldn’t explain it, but at that moment, he found his thoughts and sanity. He inhaled deeply—a mistake, for he consumed her—and stepped back abruptly as if he had been burned.
“I can’t.”
