“How did you get into my home?” he demanded gruffly, not caring in the slightest if his words or tone offended her.
Her smile was just as alluring as ever, but she had the eyes of a siren. The dangerous sort of beauty that had once bewitched him before he had learned of the poison lingering beneath those sultry looks.
“Oh, I have my ways.” Evangeline was deliberately vague as she turned to fully face him. “Careful lover, or I will think you are unhappy seeing me.”
The knuckles on his hand popped from the tension he balled his fist with. “I am not happy to see you. I think you should leave now.” Tristan rolled his head in the direction of the door pointedly.
Evangeline’s heels clicked softly over the wooden floor as she sauntered towards him with a seductive smile on her features. She pouted prettily. It was the expression that would have put him putty in her hands during their passionate affair, but that had been two years ago. They were beyond over and done with — she had run off to Bath claiming that he had broken her heart by leaving her, and he had honestly hoped that she would stay at bath so that he would not have to see her again.
Apparently, that was nothing more than wishful thinking.
“Are we to play games, lover? I must say I was hoping for a rather … passionate reunion,” Evangeline continued as if he had not asked her to leave at all.
He certainly did not like her referring to him as her lover. His lip curled as she closed into his personal space, her finger trailing down his chest lightly, her actions brimming with unspoken invitation. Unwanted. The soft lilac and almond of her perfume once had appealed so strongly to him on her skin, but now it only served as a potent reminder of the past mistakes he had made with her.
A chill shuddered down his spine at the memory.
His hand caught hers by the wrist, and he shook his head. No, he was not going to entertain her any longer. He was no longer hers to touch. He had not been for a very long time. In truth, if he never had to think of her again, it would still be too soon.
Startled by his actions, Evangeline looked up at him with something akin to resentment. Had she truly thought that she could just let herself into his home after all this time and that he would simply welcome her with open arms? Well, she had always been a touch on the delusional side, so he could not say that he would be honestly surprised if she had.
Whatever her intentions or purposes in coming here, he simply needed to set the needed boundaries into place to ensure that she understood that whatever they might have been once, they were not going to be that ever again. Holding her wrist in his hand, his grip was firm but not unkind as he met her eye. For a moment, she seemed to think that he was still playing some game. But, after a moment, she seemed to understand, her expression softening.
“Enough, Evangeline,” he warned her in a tone that offered no room for argument.
“Enough, what?” She countered, attempting to get him to budge in his limits already. She attempted to worm her way closer to him even while he held her away. “You cannot possibly be serious …”
“You are not welcome in my home, Evangeline.”
The silence that followed his words was so thick he could almost taste it. For a long while, she appeared frozen in a state of shock. She was not a woman who often was told no to anything she wanted, and this was hardly the first time he had denied her. No doubt it wounded her pride more than she cared to admit.
She wrenched her arm out of his grip and shuffled back a step, affronted.
While he did not intend to hurt her, he needed to be sure that she understood where he stood on the subject of them. There would be no continuation of their previous relationship, and he was quite glad that she did not press matters further.
She gathered her shawl from where it had rested above the mantel and hastily threw it over her shoulders before her clicking heels slowly faded as Evangeline left in an outraged huff.
There was only one woman he wanted to have touch him, and it was not Evangeline.
Chapter 16
In the sanctuary of her opulent bedchamber, Seraphina sat by the window, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on her delicate features. Her fingers absently traced patterns on the windowsill as her thoughts spun in a whirlwind of emotions. The memory of her encounter with Tristan lingered like a sweet enchantment, filling her heart with a delicious thrill she could not quite comprehend.
His intense and penetrating gaze seemed to have peered into the depths of her soul, unearthing secrets she had long kept hidden. The gentle touch of his hand had left an electrifying sensation on her skin, and his confessions about his changing perceptions of her had stirred something deep within her heart. As she replayed the moments in her mind, she wondered whether this newfound attraction was merely a fleeting infatuation or something more profound, something as compelling as love.
If only they had not been interrupted.
The “Unattainable Rose” of the ton was not accustomed to such inner turmoil. Her aloof demeanour had always shielded her from the frivolities of romantic entanglements, yet, here she was, entranced by a man she had once dismissed as a rakish rogue. But Tristan was proving to be more than a charming seducer; there was a vulnerability in his eyes, a glimpse of a man yearning for something genuine and true.
As she finally settled into bed, her thoughts continued to swirl like a tempest. She knew not what the future held, but she could not deny the allure of what had transpired that evening. Would he come to call on her again tomorrow? Would he truly take her to the gallery as he had offered? She had to hope that he would, for the more she thought about him, the more she found she was looking forward to their next encounter. Perhaps, if she were fortunate, they might even be able to conclude what they had started that night.
Seraphina pulled the blanket up to her chin, attempting to seek comfort from the warm layers but finding none. They did not provide half the comfort of being in Tristan’s arms. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the intensity of his hooded gaze.
Her hands drifted up to her neck as a smile played softly on her lips, and her finger hooked under her chin just like he had done. She allowed her mind to transport herself back to that balcony, feeling the sparks between them and the soft sound of crickets in the distance. It was so much better than her books — feeling it on a level she never could have.
Seraphina’s fingers trailed over her bottom lip with a contented sigh as she imagined if she had just surrendered to her more base desires. She ought to have gathered her courage and stolen a kiss — just one. Then she would know how it felt to be properly touched by him. She could not imagine where his hands might go, but she could imagine that if he were to treat her as indelicately as the heroines in the books they both loved so dearly …
Under the blanket, her hands traversed her body, imagining for an indulgent moment that they were larger, stronger as they moved over the flat plane of her stomach. Her nightgown caught on her fingers and pulled as she trailed her hands upwards towards her breasts.
