Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation Page 16

  Tristan had reassured her it was fine, but really he hadn’t heard much after ‘harmless fling’ and ‘cutting loose’. His memories of last night certainly did not fit under either one of those banners! And as for things being finished…

  Did that mean Lily actually wanted to be set up with one of Oliver’s cousins? This mountain of a man he was currently attempting to converse with, perhaps? Tristan hoped not, because objectively speaking he was an attractive devil. If Lily went for brawny males—and she had certainly been admiring his own muscles last night—then Hamish Blackstone would be right up her alley.

  He scoured the room again for Lily and tried to clear the scowl off his face. Where was she? Avoiding him?

  He’d deliberately stayed away from her all day to give her a chance to do girlie stuff with Jordana, convincing himself that the last thing either woman wanted was a male hanging around. But really, if he was honest, he’d been upset to find Lily constantly in his thoughts, and after their unbelievable lovemaking last night he’d needed time to think.

  And what he’d thought was that there was no way she was getting it on with one of Oliver’s cousins this weekend. Or the next, for that matter, and…Where on earth was she?

  He was just about to go in search of her when the hair stood up on the back of his neck and he knew she’d arrived.

  He turned to see her poised to enter the room from the single side door leading in from the south corridor and his heart stopped. For maybe a minute.

  Not enough time to kill him, but long enough that it had to beat triple time to oxygenate his brain again.

  George Bernard Shaw was meant to have said, ‘Beauty is all very well at first sight; but who ever looks at it when it has been in the house three days?’ Tristan could safely answer that he did! If anything, as he looked at her standing in the doorway wearing a powder-blue Grecian-style gown that left her arms and décolletage bare, with her glorious hair upswept, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a more divine creature. And by the intake of breath of his drinking companion he hadn’t either.

  ‘That’s Lily Wild,’ Hamish Blackstone announced under his breath.

  Tristan grunted and waited for Lily to make eye contact with him. But she didn’t. Instead she stepped straight up to a group of women that included the bridesmaids and Oliver’s mother, looking relaxed and composed and every inch the movie star that she was.

  ‘She’s taken,’ he found himself telling Hamish.

  ‘You’re joshing me?’ the Scot spluttered. ‘Jordana said she was single. Who’s the lucky guy? I’ll deck him.’

  Tristan looked him up and down and thought he just might with those tree trunk arms. ‘Excuse me. I need to mingle.’

  He needed to talk to her, that was what he needed to do, and he didn’t care who knew it. She couldn’t just ignore him after last night.

  ‘Cutting loose’ be damned!

  Lily smiled politely and answered questions about acting and America and everything else in between.

  When she had first walked into the drawing room she’d sensed Tristan’s presence and deliberately hadn’t looked for him. She didn’t want to see him. She had her pride, and she’d decided earlier that she wasn’t going to collapse as she had wanted to do in the shower. That had been shock, and she’d had all day to steel herself against seeing him again.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard.

  He hadn’t tried to see her once throughout the day, and since Jordana had set up a mini-beauty salon upstairs in her wing of the house she hadn’t had time to see him either. Not that she’d wanted to.

  What she was secretly hoping was that he would be glad she was keeping her distance and not make a big deal of it. He might even be happy about it. The last thing a man like Tristan Garrett wanted was a woman to go all starry-eyed over him. Or, even worse, over his precious title!

  Which reminded her of how Jordana had said that Tristan was to be partnered with Lady Amanda Sutton at the wedding. A woman Lily had met at lunch earlier that day, who was charming, titled, and completely enamoured of Jordana’s brother. Something Tristan hadn’t told her about last night while he’d been making love to her!

  ‘What was that, dear?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Lily smiled pleasantly at Oliver’s mother from behind her champagne flute.

  Lily let her anger at Tristan’s subterfuge course through her. Maybe it was illogical, and maybe even a little unfair seeing as how he wasn’t actually dating Amanda Sutton but Lily didn’t care. She didn’t feel logical right now. Or fair. She felt hurt and stupid and…empty.

  Tristan had been magnificent last night. Strong, gentle, masterful, funny—every woman’s ideal man come to life. Only he wasn’t…or at least he wasn’t her ideal man. Not that her body seemed to be getting that message. Even now it yearned for her to turn, seek him out, as if he was truly hers to touch and talk with. To laugh with and…

  Oh, stop mooning, Lily!

  It was time to smile and behave like the perfect maid of honour during the evening’s festivities, and to do that she’d clearly have to make sure that any interactions she had with Tristan were later rather than sooner.

  Which, okay, wasn’t exactly facing her fears head-on—but one step at a time. Come Sunday she’d fly home and lick her wounds. Regroup. Forget Tristan Garrett.

  ‘Lady Grove, Sarah, Talia.’ Tristan’s deep voice resonated directly behind her. ‘Do you mind if I borrow the maid of honour for a moment?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Lady Grove murmured. ‘I’m sure you both have final touches to go over before tomorrow.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Tristan smiled. ‘Lily?’

  Okay, so sooner was probably a good thing. It would mean she could relax for the rest of the night. Or not, she thought as she turned towards Tristan and saw him dressed in a black tuxedo.

  Oh, Lord, but he was sublime. And he’d had his hair cut. The mid-length layers framed his masculine features to perfection.

  Lily couldn’t suppress a shiver of awareness as he took her arm and led her across the polished marble floor to a far corner of the room. Fixing a pleasant smile on her face, she subtly broke free of his hold.

  At least this was one scenario she’d had time to plan for. No tears, no tantrums, she reminded herself. No matter how much she felt as if she was falling apart inside.

  She lifted her glass to her lips and glanced around the room at the other guests, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. But Tristan squared off in front of her, his broad shoulders effectively blocking her view and giving her nowhere else to look but directly at him.

  ‘If you think you’re sitting next to Hamish Blackstone tonight you’ve got another thing coming,’ he ground out between clenched teeth.

  Lily blinked, wide-eyed at his fervent tone. She had no idea what he was talking about.

  Tristan knew he had surprised Lily with the dark vehemence in his voice. Hell, he’d shocked himself.

  He’d known as soon as he’d laid eyes on her that she was miffed, and he planned to find out what was bothering her and fix it.

  He’d thought maybe she was upset that he hadn’t brought her tea up this morning. Or hadn’t sought her out during the day. Both theories he’d have put money on, but now he knew she’d taken umbrage at his tone as well, and logically he couldn’t blame her.

  ‘Excuse me?’ she said with icy disdain.

  Yep, she was definitely annoyed with him.

  ‘You heard.’ No way was he backing down now. She had to know she wasn’t sitting next to anyone but him tonight.

  ‘But maybe you didn’t,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m no longer under your protective custody any more. You’re free to get on with your own life. Get on with Lady Sutton.’

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed. ‘What does Amanda have to do with this?’

  ‘She’s your guest at the wedding.’

  Tristan shoved his hands in his pockets and relaxed back on his heels. She was jealous. Hell, he hadn’t even come up with that one
. He’d quite forgotten he’d agreed to partner Amanda at the wedding.

  ‘She’s no threat to you. She’s just a family friend, and she isn’t really my guest.’

  Lily gave a derisive laugh. ‘I’m not threatened.’ She tilted her champagne flute towards the light and watched the bubbles fizz. ‘But the local grapevine says she wants to be a lot more than just a family friend, and she does have the correct lineage.’

  Tristan frowned. As if he cared about Amanda’s lineage…‘Forget Amanda. She’s irrelevant.’

  ‘She’d no doubt be upset to hear you say that.’

  Tristan frowned. This conversation was not going at all as he’d planned. He declined a glass of champagne as a passing waiter stopped, and determinedly turned his back on an Italian count he’d befriended at Harvard.

  ‘I’d like to thank you for your help in solving my case,’ she said politely.

  ‘It was nothing.’ Tristan waved away her gratitude.

  ‘Still, I’d like to pay you for your services and—’

  ‘Pay me!’ Tristan thundered, halting her mid-sentence. ‘Don’t be absurd, Lily.’

  She didn’t seem pleased with his response, but no way was she paying him for something he’d wanted to do for her—had needed to do for her.

  His narrowed eyes lingered on her face. ‘Is this because I didn’t bring you your tea this morning?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Don’t play games, Lily. You know what I’m talking about.’

  She raked him with her gaze and he felt as if she’d actually touched him.

  ‘Or are you upset because I didn’t try to see you today?’

  ‘Didn’t you? I didn’t notice.’ She smiled, her wide kohl-rimmed eyes staring at him as if she’d like to slice him in half, her glossy peach-coloured lips clamped together tightly.

  He wondered incongruously how the gloss tasted and felt an overpowering need to prise those lips apart and sweep his tongue inside the warm haven of her mouth. At least then they’d be communicating a little better than they were now.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I would have but I thought you’d be—Damn, did I mark you?’ His eyes had drifted down over her neck to where a slight shadow marred her golden skin.

  ‘Er…no.’ She automatically lifted her hand to the exact spot he had been talking about. ‘I…scratched myself with the hairbrush.’

  He didn’t even try to curb the grin that spread across his face. Hairbrush, my foot.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he murmured softly, deciding it was time to cut to the chase.

  She shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at the nearby guests. ‘Wrong? What could be wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. But I’m not going to keep at it all night.’

  That brought her eyes back to his. ‘Is that supposed to be a threat?’

  Why couldn’t she just be happy he was willing to ask about her feelings? He knew plenty of his friends who wouldn’t have been. Hell, he would never have even considered having this type of conversation before Lily. He would have moved on long ago.

  So what’s different this time?

  He couldn’t answer his own question and so pushed it aside.

  He ran a hand through his hair and shifted the weight on his feet. ‘Lily, we had wild, uninhibited sex last night and now you can barely look at me. What’s wrong?’

  She smoothed at an invisible smudge on her cheek. ‘I hardly think this is the place for that type of discussion.’

  Tristan let out a frustrated breath. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He grabbed hold of her elbow and all but frog-marched her across the room, smiling pleasantly at the familiar faces milling around but avoiding all eye contact.

  He reached the side door and drew Lily out into the family’s private corridor. She hadn’t made a fuss, but then he’d been counting on the fact that she wouldn’t.

  He stopped beside a spindly hall table that was probably a thousand years old and turned, hands on hips, legs apart. ‘Now talk.’

  Lily folded her arms across her chest. ‘Is this your usual approach after a night with a woman?’

  ‘Don’t push me, Lily.’

  ‘Ah—your favourite expression comes out to say hello.’

  Tristan’s patience was wearing thin, and he knew she knew it. ‘What. Is. Wrong?’

  ‘What’s wrong? You’re behaving like an ape is what’s wrong. We had sex. What do you want—a reference?’

  ‘It wasn’t just sex,’ he denied.

  ‘What was it, then?’

  ‘Great sex.’ He smiled—a slow, sensual smile that was meant to cajole her out of her mood. Unfortunately it backfired.

  ‘Oh, well, pardon me. We had great sex. What more do you want? It’s not like it was anything special, was it? I thought you’d be pleased to be able to get on with your life and…’ Her voice trailed off and she clamped her lips closed, as if she didn’t want to reveal too much of herself or her intentions.

  ‘And what? Now you want to play the field? Get every other man’s attention?’ That had been his mother’s area of expertise. ‘You want to get it on with one of Oliver’s cousins now that I’ve broken you in?’

  Her shocked gasp reverberated off the vaulted ceiling and he knew his comment had been a low blow. But, dammit, he’d wanted to hear her deny any interest in other men. And now he wished she’d slap him. Anything was better than being stared down by this icy creature who just wanted to get away from him.

  ‘I’m going back in.’ She moved towards the door and his hand shot out to stop her.

  Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t anything like his mother and he knew that.

  ‘I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.’ His gaze fastened on her face and she stared back at him, her eyes glittering with barely veiled pain.

  Then the way she’d spat the word special at him, and get on with your life registered in the thinking part of his brain.

  ‘You overheard me talking to Jordana this morning.’ His tone was accusatory when he hadn’t meant it to be, and her eyebrows hit her hairline.

  ‘I wasn’t going to embarrass you by mentioning it.’

  ‘I’m not embarrassed.’ Actually, he was still trying to recall exactly what he had said. He’d spent most of the day trying not to remember that particular conversation.

  He tried to clear his head and think on his feet—something he was usually exceptionally good at, but which was eluding him tonight.

  ‘You weren’t meant to hear any of that.’

  Lily shrugged as if it didn’t matter. ‘I’m sure you didn’t say anything to Jordana that you wouldn’t have said to me if I’d asked.’

  Possibly. But hadn’t he said he was sick of her case? And that she wasn’t special? And something about his future title? Had he really said she was after that?

  Okay, he could understand why she had her back up. He probably would have too if their situations had been reversed.

  He shoved his hair from his forehead and smiled at her. ‘I know you’re not after my title.’

  She looked at him as someone might regard a mutant rodent. ‘What a relief.’

  ‘And after last night you must know I think you’re special.’

  ‘How am I special?’ she asked immediately.

  How was she special? What kind of a question was that?

  Tristan tugged at his shirt collar, annoyed when she held her hand up.

  ‘Don’t bother answering that. I think I know.’ Her voice was full of scorn, and that got his back up.

  Why the hell did he feel guilty all of a sudden? They were both consenting adults, and she had asked him to make love to her!

  ‘I didn’t hear you complaining last night.’

  ‘That’s because I wasn’t,’ she agreed.

  ‘Then what’s the problem?’ he asked aggressively.

  ‘There is no problem. We had a good time and now it’s over.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘You want
flowers?’

  ‘Lily—’

  She threw her hands up. ‘Tristan, I can’t do this.’

  ‘Then how about we do this instead?’ he murmured throatily, crowding her back against the hallway table, quickly reaching around her to snatch at a teetering vase that was probably two thousand years old.

  He righted the vase, coiled his arm around Lily’s waist and did what he’d wanted to do all day. Pulled her in close and sealed his lips to hers.

  She resisted for maybe half a heartbeat, and then her mouth opened and his tongue swept inside. He groaned at the sheer heaven of her wildfire response and swept his hands down over the gauzy fabric of her dress. She gripped his shoulders and pressed her breasts into his chest. He wished he’d removed his jacket. And his shirt.

  ‘Hmmm, nice gloss.’ He licked his lips, tasting…cherries? And then nearly fell over the table himself when she let out a sharp cry and pushed him away from her.

  ‘You ever kiss me against my will again and I’ll slap you,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘You wanted it,’ he said definitely.

  ‘No. You wanted it. I’m over it. And get that smug look off your face. Physically you’re one heck of a package, but when it comes down to it you’ve got nothing I want.’

  Tristan felt as if a bomb had just gone off in his head. His mind reeled, memories of his mother’s words from over a decade ago dragging him under, but he shoved them away with steely determination, blanking the pain that threatened to tear him in half.

  What was going on here? Was he actually about to beg? And for what? One more round in the ring? Not even his father had been that stupid. And Tristan could have any number of women. Didn’t she know that?

  He smiled—a true predator’s smile. He’d nearly lost it over this woman and for what? Sex?

  Forget it.

  ‘Good to know,’ he murmured evenly. ‘Because unless you’re willing to put out, Honey Blossom, you have nothing I want either.’

  Lily’s chin jerked up and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and slowly wiped his kiss off before striding down the hallway. It was a good move. An admirable one. And he would have applauded her if she’d hung around.