She tasted of sherry and rain, tantalizing and tender. He lingered in the moment as he felt layers of restraint falling all around him. Walls he had spent years erecting were crumbling at his feet with every breath they shared.
He could have stayed there with her forever. But there was the real world around them.
As the storm raged on, as they tried to catch their breath, Verity brushed her nose against his cheek and pulled away. Not far, however, for he rested his forehead against hers. He watched her as he tried to breathe in deeply. Her lips parted on short gasps as she gazed at him in amazement.
The world remained still. Were they finished?
Tristan ignored the questions niggling at him as he glanced down at her lips again. Plump and bruised. He wished to care for them.
But then a loud knock at the door snapped him out of his reverie.
He stepped back sharply, feeling the spell break between them. Verity stared at him with wide eyes. She reached out a hand like she could feel the distance growing between them.
He couldn’t help it. The world was there, right outside a kiss, and he couldn’t let it happen again. It was too risky. Verity was more dangerous than he could have ever realized.
“Tristan, wait,” she croaked.
He shook his head, fearful that daylight would never be enough. That darkness was too temporary for anything to last. “I should go.”
“Tristan!”
He picked up his pace, weaving through the shelves to take his leave. Pulling open the door, he barely spared his startled housekeeper a glance on his way out.
Away Tristan went with the knowledge that he had left Verity very much alone.
What he didn’t know was what might happen next for them. He reached his study, his haven, with heavy feet and a heavier heart.
CHAPTER 26
Verity dried her damp cheek as she heard Tristan retreat down the hall, his boots clicking loudly on the floor before fading away.
The man was as devious as the sun in London, so very sharp and infrequent. She could barely bring herself to look up. When she did, it was lovely. But it always ended too soon, leaving her cold and wondering why she was so alone.
I’m always so alone. But I wasn’t with him. I felt something there, that connection between us. It felt so warm budding in my chest. And he felt it as well, didn’t he? I could have sworn I saw it in his eyes. I might have believed it readily if he hadn’t left so abruptly.
Was he scared? Embarrassed?
Verity sensed there was something more to it. She gazed down at the fire for a brief while before she heard footsteps coming in her direction.
“Your Grace?” Mrs. Heavensby hesitated a short distance away. She held a small silver platter in both hands as she cast her gaze about. “The hour is quite late. Is all well? Are you still cold? If your bedchamber isn’t warm enough, I would be happy to assist you.”
Verity forced a smile. “Thank you, but no. I came here in search of… something.”
She didn’t remember anymore. A book? Peace? Tristan? Perhaps it no longer mattered.
“It is quite late indeed, but might you put out the fire here? I suppose I’ll retire, after all.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Mrs. Heavensby bobbed a perfunctory curtsy and nodded. “A parcel has just arrived. Since I heard you up and about, I thought I would bring it. The messenger stated that it was of the utmost importance to the Duchess.”
Verity’s heart clenched. What could require her attention in the middle of the night, and in a storm?
Thinking of her aunt, she inhaled sharply before crossing the distance to scoop up the parcel. Topped with a letter, it looked like several papers bound neatly beneath a thin wrapper. Butall of this was an unfamiliar weight, and the handwriting hardly looked familiar.
She studied the letter for a moment, noticing that it was in perfect condition. Not creased, hardly touched. She wondered what someone would want to send her. Who would travel at such an hour in such a storm? No correspondence would have made it from the countryside to the city looking like that.
If it’s not from or about Aunt Eugenia, who could it be?
“Your Grace?”
