Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation Page 17

  Thank God he hadn’t offered her anything more. Not that he’d been going to. He’d never offered a woman anything more than a good time between the sheets, or on some other serviceable surface, and Lily Wild was no exception.

  He swore viciously. He hated her. God, how he hated her. Making him remember his mother, engaging his emotions like she had. Like some courtesan deliberately setting out to trap him. To make a fool of him.

  He glanced down at the antique vase and nearly picked it up and hurled it down the long corridor.

  He was happy she was gone because his instincts about her had been right all along: she was nothing but trouble.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  TROUBLE with a capital T, Tristan reminded himself the following morning as he stood beside Oliver in morning suit and top hat at the entrance to the Gothic cathedral, making small talk with yet another expensively dressed wedding guest.

  It was a splendid day—except the sun had come out to grace Jordana’s big day and brought half the paparazzi in the Western world along with it. No doubt the combined news of Lily’s near-arrest and subsequent release and the many royal attendants at Jordana’s wedding was causing them to swarm like coachroaches. The local constabulary was also out in force, to keep intruders at bay, as well as a top London security firm that looked as if it employed some of the men from Lily’s premiere.

  And if Tristan was feeling slightly seedy—well, that was just the Scotch he’d consumed last night, after a dinner that would surely go down as the worst ever. Having to sit next to Amanda Sutton and feign a civility he didn’t feel while Lily made eyes at one of the Blackstone boys hadn’t exactly put him in the best mood.

  ‘Smile, you great idiot,’ Oliver grumbled into his ear. ‘It’s my wedding day.’

  Tristan cut him a dark look and then gracefully bowed over some old dowager’s gloved hand.

  ‘And why is it, exactly?’ he drawled.

  ‘What?’

  He waited for Oliver to agree on the splendid weather they were having with the dowager’s daughter. ‘Your wedding day?’

  Oliver looked flummoxed. ‘Is that a trick question?’

  ‘You said you’d never give up your freedom for anyone.’

  ‘That was before I fell for your sister.’

  ‘You could have just lived with her.’

  Oliver shook his head. ‘And have someone steal her away at the first opportunity? I don’t think so. Anyway, I want the world to know that she’s mine. That we belong together. She’s my soul mate, and I can’t imagine a life without her in it.’

  Tristan fidgeted with the wedding rings in his pocket. ‘If that’s not already a Hallmark card you could probably sell it to them for a few quid. Carlo!’ Tristan shook hands with the Italian count he’d stayed up drinking with last night. ‘Good to see you up in time for the ceremony.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me there was alcohol in that Scotch last night, Garrett.’

  ‘Hundred-year-old.’

  ‘That’s the last of the wedding guests.’ The wedding planner stopped in front of them and gave the Count a scathing once-over. ‘So,’ she spoke to Oliver and Tristan, ‘if you’d both like to make your way down to the altar?’

  Oliver led the way, and when they finally reached the front of the church straightened Tristan’s tie.

  ‘Leave my bloody tie alone.’

  Oliver grinned. ‘You could just tell her and get it over with,’ he whispered.

  Tristan scowled. ‘Tell who what?’

  The harpist started up, and Oliver dashed a hand across his forehead. ‘Stop being a coward, Garrett. It’s obvious you’re in love with her. Just tell her.’

  Tristan swallowed. Hard. ‘Am I supposed to know who you’re talking about?’

  Oliver threw him a dour look. ‘Unfortunately ignoring it or denying it doesn’t make it go away. Believe me, I did try.’

  Tristan scowled.

  ‘Now, shut up and do your job, would you?’ Oliver growled. ‘And for God’s sake smile—or your sister is likely to make us do this all over again.’

  A look of utter joy swept over Oliver’s face as he did the non-traditional thing of turning to watch his bride walk down the aisle, and Tristan swallowed heavily as he too turned, his vision immediately filled with Lily walking behind Jordana in a flowing coffee silk and tulle creation that curved around her sublime figure like whipped cream. All the other women decked out in their wedding finery, including Jordana in her delicate couture gown, couldn’t hold a torch to his Lily. She was so refined, so poised, and yet so vibrantly alive—and then he knew.

  Oliver was right. He loved her. Maybe he’d always loved her. The words slotted into his head like the final piece in a puzzle. Actually, the second to last piece of a puzzle. The final piece was how she felt about him…and by the way she avoided eye contact with him as she moved closer he could see that wasn’t looking good.

  Lily gazed around at the grand ballroom of the manor house Jordana had chosen for her wedding reception. It was filled with circular tables, each with an enormous central flower arrangement and ringed with white cloth-covered chairs tied with bows at the back.

  Jordana and Oliver’s wedding day had been picture-perfect and she’d never seen her friend happier. Jordana’s beautiful face was still aglow as she chatted and smiled contentedly with her wedding guests.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to my daughter, Miss Wild.’ The eleventh Duke of Greythorn surprised her as he stopped beside Lily’s chair.

  ‘Actually, Your Grace, it is I who feels blessed to have Jordana’s friendship.’ Lily smiled, completely thrown by the Duke’s open warmth when previously, she knew, he hadn’t approved of her at all.

  ‘Tristan has informed me of all that you have done for Jordana over the years, and I know that if your parents were alive today they would be very proud of the person you have become.’

  Lily felt tears prick behind her eyes, and if she’d been standing she would have dropped into a curtsey in front of this stately gentleman. He seemed to sense her overpowering emotions and patted her hand, telling her to enjoy her evening, and Lily watched slightly dumbstruck as he returned to his seat at the head of the table.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ The MC spoke over the top of the band members tuning their instruments and drew her attention away from the Duke. ‘If I could please ask Earl and Countess Blackstone and their attendants Lord Tristan Garrett and Miss Lily Wild to take to the floor for the bridal waltz?’

  The bridal waltz? Already?

  Lily glanced around the room and noticed that Tristan had stopped conversing at a table in the opposite corner and was staring at her intently.

  No way. She couldn’t dance with him. She smiled serenely as she quickly threaded a path through the cluster of guests milling around on her pre-planned escape to the toilets.

  She had managed to avoid being alone with Tristan the whole day, and had already decided that there was no way she could dance with him tonight without giving away just how brokenhearted she felt.

  The band struck up a quintessential love song and Lily fairly flew out of the room—and right into Tristan’s arms.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ he mocked.

  Lily tried to steady her runaway heartbeat. ‘The bathroom.’

  ‘During the bridal waltz? I don’t think so.’

  ‘You can’t dictate to me any more, remember?’

  ‘No, but it’s your last official obligation for the day, and I didn’t take you for a shirker.’

  Lily huffed out a breath and noticed the interested glances from the guests around them. ‘I’ll do it because it’s expected,’ she stated under her breath. ‘Not because you challenged me.’

  Tristan smiled. ‘That’s my girl.’

  Lily was about to correct him and say that she wasn’t his girl, but they were on the dance floor and he had already swept her into his arms.

  She held herself so stiffly she felt like a mechanised doll, b
ut there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn’t relax, couldn’t look at him. Then she remembered an old childhood trick she’d used to employ when she was in an uncomfortable situation. Counting. Once, she remembered, she’d counted so high she’d made it to seven hundred and thirty-five!

  ‘You look exquisite today.’ Tristan’s eyes glittered down into hers and Lily quickly planted her gaze at a spot over his shoulder. One, two, three…

  ‘But then you look exquisite all the time.’

  Nine, ten…

  He swirled her suddenly, and she frowned as she had to grip him tighter to stop herself from falling. He was wearing a new cologne tonight and the hint of spice was doing horrible things to her equilibrium. Nineteen, twenty…

  ‘How’s Hamish?’

  Lily looked at him. She knew why he was asking that. She had found out from Jordana in a fit of giggles last night that her ‘surprise’ was to be set up with any of Oliver’s three single cousins. Which was what Tristan had been so angrily referring to when they’d talked prior to dinner last night.

  She hadn’t known about Jordana’s cunning plan then, and she knew Tristan’s ego had been bruised when Jordana had fooled him into believing that Lily had welcomed her attempts at matchmaking. Which she hadn’t. And she had apologised profusely to each of the men when she’d told them that actually she wasn’t available.

  They’d been completely charming, and she’d wished things were different so she might have been in a better position to invite their interest. But of course she wasn’t. Her feelings for Tristan were too real and too raw for her to even attempt friendship with another man at this point.

  Clearly Tristan’s ego was still affected, if the way he was studying her was any indication.

  ‘Fine, I expect,’ she answered.

  Tristan scowled and brought her hand in tightly against his chest. His other hand was spread wide against that sensitive spot in the small of her back. He was holding her so closely now Lily could hear the brush of her tulle skirt against his trousers.

  Lily swallowed and concentrated on holding in the quiver that zipped up her spine, completely forgetting what number she was up to. Damn. One, two…

  ‘Are you counting?’ Tristan’s deep voice was incredulous.

  ‘Would you stop talking?’ she whispered furiously, trying hard to ignore the growing tension in his big body.

  Then he stopped dancing altogether, and Lily became acutely aware of the murmur of voices and the soft sway of Jordana’s silk gown as she moved in time with the music. Lily stood in the circle of Tristan’s arms, glancing around nervously at the interested faces of the wedding guests circling the dance floor.

  She was just about to ask him what he was doing when he made a low sound in the back of his throat. ‘Oh, to hell with it,’ he muttered, deftly hoisting her and her close-fitted tulle skirts into his arms. ‘Excuse us,’ he threw at a surprised Oliver and Jordana as he strode past.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Lily squeaked, smiling tremulously as if nothing untoward was going on when it definitely was.

  ‘Keep still,’ he ordered, and Lily, not wishing to make any more of a scene, ducked her head into his neck just as she had done at the airport a little over a week ago, to hide her face from the amused glances of the wedding guests who were parting like the Red Sea to let Tristan through.

  ‘Oh, I hate to imagine what everyone is going to think!’ she fumed, scowling at the smiling waiter who had kindly held open the door to a smaller, private dining room and who was now in the process of closing it behind them.

  She glared at Tristan, her heart beating a mile a minute, as he let her down, and stalked to the other side of the room, feeling marginally calmer with a two-metre-long mahogany dining table between them.

  Tristan stood with his hands in his pockets and stared at her. ‘They’ll think I’m in love, I expect. Either that…’ He paused as if to gauge her reaction. ‘Or they’ll think I’ve lost my mind.’

  ‘Well, we both know the former isn’t the truth,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t play games with me, Tristan. I don’t like them.’

  Tristan blew out a breath. ‘Lily, I need to talk to you, and this seemed the only way to achieve that objective.’ He circled the table towards her, and stopped when he realised she was moving as well—but in the opposite direction. ‘Would you stop that? I’m not going to bite you.’

  Lily stared at him. He was so rakishly appealing with his ruffled hair and formal wedding attire it made her heart feel as if it was enclosed in a giant fist. She felt her old survival instincts rise up and did her best to blank out the pain of being so close to him and yet so far away.

  ‘I’m getting a little tired of you thinking you can pick me up and carry me wherever you want. Next time it happens I won’t be so concerned about creating a scene,’ she warned with haughty disdain.

  ‘Would you have come if I’d asked?’

  His voice was soft, almost like a caress, and it confused her senses. Made her body soften. Lily did her best to clamp down on the rioting emotions running through her and focused on his question.

  She lifted her chin and tried to stop her lips from trembling. Of course she wouldn’t have come with him. She had nothing to say to him that wouldn’t involve making a complete fool of herself.

  ‘Say what you have to say so we can get out of here. I don’t have much time left,’ she added, thankful that her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

  ‘Time left for what?’

  Lily noted Tristan’s sharp tone and decided now was not the time to tell him she was booked on the red-eye back to New York this very evening. After enduring the rehearsal dinner and feeling so tense a slight breeze might have snapped her in half she had changed her travel plans so she could head back to London and fly home to New York early.

  Being around Tristan and watching him smoulder with Lady Sutton last night had nearly done her in. She loved him too much to imagine him with another woman, so seeing him with one who could offer him everything she couldn’t was just unendurable. Better that she start her life again without him as soon as possible. Facing her fears head-on…or perhaps just running away. She didn’t care which at this point. Her only criteria was that when she finally broke down she did so in private.

  Lily steeled herself to look at him and lifted her gaze once more to his. He stood across the table from her, his expression as fierce as an angry warlord facing down a known enemy. She had no idea why. Had something happened earlier that she didn’t know about and for which she was about to get the blame again?

  ‘Are you going to answer my question?’ he asked, almost too politely.

  ‘Are you going to answer mine?’ she parried.

  Tristan exhaled and ran an agitated hand through his hair. He looked tired and strung out—very unlike his usually composed self.

  ‘Lily this doesn’t have to end.’

  Lily, stared at him, not sure what he was referring to.

  ‘We don’t have to end,’ he clarified, a strange, shadowed look settling on his face.

  Lily wet her dry mouth. All she could think about was how last night he had confirmed that he really didn’t want her. That she had just been an itch he had wanted to scratch. ‘Last night you said…’

  ‘Please forget what I said last night. I was hurt and angry.’

  ‘Hurt?’

  Tristan gripped the back of the upholstered dining chair in front of him. This conversation was not going at all the way he had hoped. Lily was supposed to have picked up on his lame declaration of love and thrown herself into his arms. Instead she was spitting at him and looking much the same way she had when she’d felt she had to defend her honour after they had made love that first time.

  Okay, so maybe he wasn’t going about this very well. But he’d never told a woman he loved her before. Had never wanted to love a woman before. Opening up about his emotions wasn’t exactly his strong suit after years of holding them at bay.

  He cleared hi
s throat, more nervous now than he had been during his first courtroom appearance—which, come to think of it, he hadn’t been nervous about at all…‘Lily, I’d like to say something to you and if you still want to leave after that then I won’t try and stop you.’

  Lily stared at him, seemingly transfixed, as he walked slowly around the table and pulled out one of the dining chairs for her to sit down in.

  She slid into it, almost with relief, and Tristan paced a short way away and then stopped, turning to face her.

  ‘I told you the other night that my mother left my father, but what I haven’t told you is that on the day she left, when I was fifteen, I overheard my parents arguing. During the argument my mother told my father she hated him and that he had nothing she wanted—that I also had nothing she wanted and that she was taking Jordana with her and not me.’

  ‘Oh, Tristan.’

  He held up his hand gently and shook his head. ‘I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. It has no doubt coloured my past relationships, as your parents have coloured yours, but I need you to understand something. My mother was not an easy woman to love but God knows I tried. There was a big age gap between myself and Jordana and for a while I was my mother’s saviour. Her little hero. Then Jordana arrived, my father started working more, and I became relegated to the sidelines. I never understood why, and slowly, over the years, I learned to protect myself by switching my feelings off. I became angry with my mother and blamed myself. Two nights ago you inadvertently helped me see that what I hadn’t understood was that my parents just had an unhappy marriage and I was one of the victims of that.’

  ‘Parents often don’t see the impact they have on their children when they aren’t happy within themselves.’ Lily offered softly.

  ‘No.’ Tristan shook his head. ‘And it certainly put me off wanting to risk my heart with another person, but…’ He looked down at Lily’s small hand enfolded in his, not even having realised that he had reached out to her. ‘Lily, the other night I accused you of using your past as a shield, and I’ve only just come to realise that I do the same thing. I’ve put up barriers to my emotions my whole life because my mother’s love was so unpredictable and my parents’ relationship was so unstable and I don’t want to do that any more. Actually, that’s not completely true.’ He looked up sheepishly. ‘If I could still do that I probably would. But if I do I’ll lose you, and after you walked away last night I realised that’s more painful than everything else put together.’