Only to be interrupted by the loud squeal of hinges from the balcony door.
Like cold water to the face, the moment shattered— disappointment unfurled inside her like a living creature. Unhappy and throwing a tantrum as it surged through her and Tristan’s hands dropped from her, and they stepped apart. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he took a single step back to put some modicum of decent space between them. His eyes never once left her lips, even as he offered her a sad, remorseful smile.
Who was joining them was headed this way. A beat of panic registered, but Tristan was already walking backward to the nearest pillar so he would not be seen standing here alone with her. She did not wish to see him go. Already she felt the loss of his company deeply. She had never once considered herself irrational, but she wished to chase after him just to have another few moments together — no matter how ill-advised it was.
Her heart was still racing like a rabbit’s when she turned to see Elizabeth stepping out onto the terrace; Seraphina forced a smile, hoping to hide the lingering effect of Tristan’s presence.
“Seraphina! I have been searching for you everywhere,” Elizabeth exclaimed excitedly, linking her arm with Seraphina’s as they started walking back towards the manor.
“Apologies, Elizabeth. I needed some fresh air and found solace on the balcony,” Seraphina replied, trying to sound nonchalant. She glanced over her shoulder but did not catch even the slightest glimpse of Tristan. He had either slipped away when she was not looking, or else he was very adept at hiding.
Elizabeth could not contain her excitement as she shared the details of her budding connection with Michael. “Oh, you have missed so much! Lord Thorne stole away from the parlour where all the men were congregating to come and seek me out. Can you imagine it?! He told me that my company was far more interesting than the ‘stuffy old men,’ his words, not mine.”
Seraphina felt like a bad friend for the fact that she could not properly focus on what her friend was saying. Any other time she would have been over the moon with excitement for her and the developments with her long-time crush.
“Then he complimented my dress. Not in the casual way he used to do; well, it felt different this time,” Elizabeth gushed happily.
Seraphina wondered what Elizabeth might say if she told her she had almost got her first kiss.
What would she say if she knew what she had nearly walked in on? Seraphina wanted to think that her friend would be excited, but she was not entirely certain. For now, she would keep it to herself. Even if it did make it harder for her to focus on the things her friend presently said.
As they reentered the manor, Elizabeth continued to chatter, but Seraphina’s mind was elsewhere. The intensity of Tristan’s gaze, the proximity of their bodies, and the almost-kiss they had shared were all permanently imprinted in her memory. She grappled with emotions she had not expected to experience.
Chapter 15
After the ball, in the quiet solitude of his elegant bachelor pad, Tristan reclined in a plush armchair, his thoughts consumed by the recent events. The memory of his encounter with Seraphina, the enigmatic Lady of Emberdale, lingered in his mind like a beguiling melody, refusing to fade into the background. Her presence had left an indelible impact on him, challenging the foundation of his beliefs and rousing feelings he had long thought were beyond his grasp.
As he leaned back, gazing at the dancing flames in the hearth, Tristan’s mind wandered to the touch of her hand — the brief moment their fingers brushed during their intimate time alone together. He could almost feel the warmth of her skin against his, igniting a spark that sent shivers down his spine. Her laughter echoed in his ears, a soft and melodic sound that had the power to chase away any shadows lurking in the corners of his soul.
Tristan’s heart raced as he acknowledged the undeniable truth. He had fallen prey to an enchantment he had once scoffed at— genuine affection. The rakish Marquess of Aylesbridge, notorious for his charm and seductive ways, found himself captivated by the mysterious Lady Seraphina, the “Unattainable Rose” of the ton. He smirked to himself, remarking on just how much trouble he had managed to get himself into. Certainly not the outcome he had been expecting that night at the gentlemen’s club with Michael.
His thumb ran over his bottom lip as he sat in his contemplation. If only they had managed a few more moments together, something magical could have happened. Tristan’s knee bounced anxiously as he replayed the events over again. The more he thought about her, the more restless he felt. Before now, he had always laughed and mocked those who would spend their days pining after their women, and now he understood. She had so quickly become a permanent fixture in his mind. So much so that it was impossible to sit still. He felt full of energy and nowhere to put it.
Tristan pushed out of his armchair and paced momentarily, trying to convince himself that it would be beyond foolish to attempt to sneak off in the middle of the night to meet up with her unannounced. He hoped that she was thinking of him.
The thought of her lying in bed, thinking about him, roused all sorts of other feelings inside him. His hands moved to his waistcoat, undoing the buttons as he left the parlour and headed towards the stairs. He needed to take his irrational self to bed before he got himself into trouble.
If only they had not been interrupted. If nobody had come out in search of her, he could have pulled her into his arms. The moment was right. He would have been able to taste her lips against his, to feel her small frame against his body — her heat. He desperately wished to know what she tasted like … what noises she would make in heated passionate moments. Just how far was she willing to go once he broke her out of her shell of repression — he wanted to thaw her icy exterior and see just how warm he could make her.
The soft way her lips parted when she was surprised, the delicate blush to her cheeks that was such a pale shade of pink that it was almost impossible to see in the dim lighting — it was enough to have him stir in his trousers. He wanted to capture that full bottom lip of hers — first with his fingers and then with his teeth.
There could be no greater pleasure than seeing her — the picture of control — wholly and utterly undone, and Tristan desperately needed to be the one to do it.
He wanted to see her brilliant, overly busy mind blank with pleasure and think of nothing beyond him and the sensations he would wrest from her pliant body.
Tristan adjusted his trousers and scrubbed his hands up and down his face, attempting in vain to clear his mind of her.
Ice bath. That was what he needed — lots and lots of ice.
There was a light on in the parlour, a light that he had no idea why it would be lit at this hour. Half of the house had already gone to bed, and the other half was busy shutting things down so that they, too, could retire. His brow furrowed with curiosity as he headed towards the parlour and pushed the door open slowly. Perhaps it was his butler. Sometimes the man could not sleep and needed some decompression time with a glass of warm milk. Conversation would do them both good, then.
Only it was not the butler — it was the very last person he would have ever expected to see in his home at this hour. The unwelcome silhouette of a person whose presence could only be described as intrusive.
“... Evangeline?” Tristan asked, dreading the moment that she turned around.
It was not as if her slender frame could have belonged to anyone else. That brazen red shade of dress was going to match her lipstick perfectly when she turned around. The glow of the fireplace seemed to make her all that more ominous as she turned her chin over her shoulder to bat her impossibly long eyelashes at him with a soft, girlish giggle. “Hello, Tristan. It has been a while.”
Tension formed in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Could it ever truly be long enough between their meetings? He did not think so.
