The Skilled Seduction

by Tracy Goodwin

  All things considered, Victoria’s teasing tone and humility with his grandfather was a good start.

  The Viscount beamed at her. “You look lovely, my dear. There is a superstition, you know, about the color dress a bride wears to her wedding. Blue means love will be true.”

  She turned to Tristan, winking at him. “This color was the closest I could get to mourning without being obvious.”

  For years, Tristan vowed he would never marry, not after the debacle that had been his previous betrothal to Eve. Now he was doing so, with a sarcastic bride to boot. His life had turned into a production worthy of the London stage, he realized.

  “May we have a few moments alone, Grandfather?” Tristan asked, his eyes still locked with Victoria’s.

  He could hear the relief in the kind man’s voice, “Of course. I’ll wait for you both in the morning room.” As soon as the words escaped his lips, it became obvious that he wished to retract them. “Not that I am in mourning, of course.”

  Victoria laughed, clasping her hands together, “Well done. I am determined that there will be much laughter today and predict you will be the perfect cohort.”

  “As you wish, my dear,” Malcolm bowed his head before offering his grandson an arched brow. He then exited the room, closing the door behind him.

  “You are rather amiable this morning,” Tristan joined her at his desk.

  Victoria turned. “Does that surprise you?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Yes.”

  “I am resigned to our nuptials and recognize that I am as much to blame as you are for our current predicament.”

  Relief washed over him like a refreshing spring shower. If only she had ended there. But Victoria dashed his brief moment of euphoria with her next statement.

  “I was awake all night mulling this over. Sebastian will never forgive us and I suspect that Gwen is of the same mind. Your grandfather may be offering his support but the rest of our families are in a shambles. How can any good possibly come from such wreckage?”

  He had wondered the same thing.

  “Before we proceed, please answer one question. Why were you so insistent upon our union?” She placed her head on his shoulder.

  Tristan leaned his head against Victoria’s, her warmth causing the hair on his neck to stand on end. “For the first time in my life, I wanted someone so badly that I would risk anything and everything, consequences be damned.”

  He honestly couldn’t let Victoria go, convinced that if he did so the sun would refuse to shine ever again.

  She didn’t understand but how could she? He barely comprehended the maelstrom of emotions that had encompassed him since their night together.

  At long last Victoria turned towards him, her azure eyes brimming with tenderness. “The person I am today is who you are marrying, not the besotted young woman you made love to.”

  Reaching for him, Victoria pressed her palm against his cheek. “I know what it is like to chase someone who no longer exists and to desire what will never be. Are you certain you want that for yourself?”

  Tori referred to him, Tristan realized, as he pulled her closer. He then leaned forward, bending down until he rested his forehead against hers. “I want you.”

  Between now until the end of time, Victoria would be the only woman he would ever want.

  They stood in silence for several moments, her sweet breath fanning his face before she tilted his chin up. Her lips were petal soft as she brushed them against his. In response, his lips parted, his heart soaring with the knowledge that she was kissing him.

  Their kiss, this kiss, was slow and sensual sending shock waves throughout his entire body. Her tongue, warm and moist, brushed against his and it was almost his undoing.

  Gently, Victoria’s lips lingered against his until she pulled away, resting her head against his chin. “Is that what you want? My heart?”

  His response was nothing more than a husky, “Yes.”

  Victoria straightened, “I offer you my sincerest apologies, Mr. MacAlistair, but my heart is the one thing you will never have.”

  She traced his jaw line with her soft fingertips, the intimate gesture meant to what? Show him that she, too, mourned what they could have had? Or perhaps she did so to draw Tristan’s attention to his bruise, a visible reminder of his fight with Sebastian and their fractured families.

  “Before we recite our vows, I have a confession to make. I am, in part, responsible for Eve choosing Colin. I witnessed an intimate moment between them and encouraged Colin to discover her feelings for him, though he didn’t require much convincing.” She looked Tristan square in the eye. “I thought I was saving you from heartache. Instead, I unintentionally helped you become the man you are today.”

  She smiled, though it never met her eyes. “Ironic, is it not? How you and I are responsible for the other’s transformation?”

  The clock on the mantel tolled, announcing that the hour had arrived, stirring Victoria from her previous thoughts.

  “We have a ceremony to attend,” she announced as she gathered her accessories from the sofa. Victoria then paused with her hand on the brass door knob. Her eyes met his, causing his chest to ache as he noted that melancholy and disillusionment replaced her usual radiance. “Shall we make this official?”

  Tristan nodded, unable to trust his voice. Instead, he watched his bride exit the room, studying her curvaceous form as she sauntered down the hallway before disappearing from view.

  It was at that very moment, standing alone in his study, that Tristan felt the full impact of what he had done, remorse weighing his every limb like an anchor.

  Would this relationship with Victoria ever survive the past and all of their heartaches?

  He feared the answer though his one solace was their kiss, filled with emotion, fused with sensual passion.

  That was real. It could be enough, couldn’t it?

  Only time would tell.

  As he straightened his cravat, Tristan took a deep, fortifying breath. His bride was determined to make today light and jovial. He would honor her wishes and perhaps remind her of how effortless their relationship had once been. It could be again, if she was open to it.

  He must convince her to take the leap of faith with him, starting today.

  Tristan MacAlistair would get the girl this time.

  He wouldn’t rest until he did.

  Chapter 13

  The wedding ceremony took place without a hitch. Luminous sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, accentuating the comfortable church in colorful brushstrokes as if it were a scene depicted on one of Victoria’s murals. The bride was beguiling, the groom charming. To any onlooker, theirs was a happy and respectable union.

  “Dare I ask how you accomplished our nuptials without lightning striking the hallowed cathedral?” Victoria asked, leaning against one of her husband’s four posters, the simple act revealing more of the creamy flesh above the bodice of her gown.

  “I wondered that very same thing,” Tristan quipped, as he poured two glasses of brandy into crystal snifters from a matching decanter.

  A wide grin swept across his features, because Victoria was his wife, at last. He couldn’t wait to undress her, make love to her again. This time, he would go slowly, heightening each sensation for her.

  He offered his bride one of the snifters, and Victoria lifted hers in a toast. “To our families forgiving us.”

  She clinked her glass against his before taking several hefty gulps. “Today has been exhausting. Little did I know how difficult a task it is to feign happiness. I think I shall need more of your delicious brandy. Perhaps we should stock a bride’s reserve for future necessity?”

  Shrugging as she handed her empty glass to Tristan, Victoria then leapt onto his fluffy mattress, lying on her back as she stared at the vaulted ceiling.

  He took a sip of the fruity liquid, surveying his bride’s sensual form. Her auburn waves fanned her face and what a divine face it was. Az
ure eyes sparkling, accentuated by her rosy cheeks and heart-shaped lips. She was the epitome of perfection, he thought as he placed the snifters on the dresser then joined his wife, his hand gently brushing hers as they lay side by side, eyes fixed upon the ceiling above.

  “I had a messenger deliver our good news to our families,” he said. “No doubt they are blissfully happy for us.”

  “Oh, I would have loved to have witnessed the readings of those missives,” she teased. “Need I remind you that Sebastian physically assaulted you? I dare say he isn’t blissful about any of this.”

  Tristan unbuttoned his jacket. “They will be in time. So will you, Victoria.”

  He no longer addressed her by her nickname. No, she was too sensual, intelligent, and seductive to ever be called Tori again – at least not by him.

  She was magnificent.

  What had taken him so long to act upon it?

  Victoria turned to face him. “What happens now?”

  “Whatever feels natural,” Tristan rolled onto his side then flattened his palm against her cheek.

  Sighing, Victoria leaned into his hand. “Today felt so strained. We presented a jovial performance for your grandfather and Meg, but that was for show. I miss you, the friend you have always been to me. And I mourn the loss of our former selves.”

  “Here’s an idea,” Tristan propped his head, leaning on his elbow. “Tonight will be a new beginning. No pressure, no expectations. We use this night to get to know one another. No pretenses. Just you and me. Here.”

  “A fresh start?” she arched her auburn brow. “You make it sound so simple.”

  He laced his fingers through hers. “We can make it work. I have faith in us.”

  “You and faith in the same statement, and lightning hasn’t struck your townhome? Imagine that,” she quipped.

  His hearty chuckle bolstered her desire to make the attempt, though she remained skeptical.

  Rising from the bed, Victoria headed towards the door. “There is no time like the present but, first, I need to locate my maid. I rang for her ages ago.”

  Victoria reached for the knob and tugged the door open. “Do you think she is lo—”

  Meg tumbled into the room, landing on the floor with an audible “ouch.” Clearly she had been leaning against the door, eavesdropping on the private conversation between husband and wife.

  “For heaven’s sake, are you all right?” Victoria asked, offering her hand to help the woman to her feet.

  Tristan hid his laughter behind a cough.

  “Y- yes, quite right, my Lady,” she stuttered. “I take it you’ll be residing here tonight?”

  Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you ever guess?”

  A bright scarlet crept over her maid’s cheeks. As if desperate to subvert her mistress’s scrutiny, Meg averted her eyes, instead intent on smoothing her skirts. “Shall I help you dress for bed, then?”

  Glancing from her maid to her husband, the sight of Tristan’s wide grin caused Victoria to roll her eyes before returning her attention to Meg, who was now studying the pleats in her apron. Waiting for Tristan to leave the room, Tori suspected, though it was evident that he was enjoying this comedy of errors far too much to make it easier on poor Meg by departing his own suite.

  “Let us head into the changing room, Meg,” Victoria instructed. Once she had the woman’s attention, Meg took her time causing her mistress to reach for her arm with an exasperated sigh before dragging her into the rather large room.

  “If you insist on spying, Meg, might I suggest you join military intelligence?” Victoria’s admonishment was laced with exasperation.

  Her maid bowed her head in compliance then dared to add, “Your husband appears to be behaving amiably under the circumstances, my Lady.”

  Tori placed her hair clip on the dresser, “Indeed, he does.”

  “But of course he is an absolute scoundrel,” Meg countered.

  Victoria offered her friend a reluctant grin. “Thank you for saying so, but I am married to the man and he does appear to be making an effort.”

  “Then why are you so pensive?”

  Rubbing her eyes, Tori spoke what was gnawing at her heart. “Can I trust him? He portrayed the doting groom to perfection today. What if this, too is an act?

  “If I may, he seems rather taken with you.”

  Tori opened the wardrobe, noting that only some of her gowns fit inside. She then knelt beside her two trunks, which were now propped up against a free wall, removing several items from one of them. The wide expanse of the room was rather cozy, with a dresser, wardrobe, and shaving stand. As she knew from this morning, a claw-foot tub and basin were behind another door, just past the changing screen.

  Tossing several items onto the chaise beside her trunks, Victoria continued her search until she found just what she was hoping to find, a cream colored silk peignoir with gold embroidery and a matching robe with more embroidery and four silk covered buttons at the waist. Both the peignoir and matching robe had v-necklines that would accentuate just the right amount of bare flesh. Since Victoria hadn’t made any wedding preparations, nor did she own anything even close to appropriate for a wedding night, this set was the closest she would be able to find.

  “This will do nicely,” she held it up for Meg to see.

  “Refresh my memory, my Lady. Why is that?”

  “The peignoir is for me to sleep in,” Tori found the notion quite obvious and quickly became concerned for her maid’s mental state.

  Meg grimaced. “No, why aren’t you trusting your heart? Look at the man’s actions. In spite of your elopement, he seems to have silenced any chance of rumors by having both me and his grandfather, a viscount, chaperone you both. You are under the viscount’s protection. He expressly told Tristan so last night. How could there be scandal when he and your brother, a duke, both support the union? Besides, Mr. MacAlistair doted on you throughout the ceremony. Not to mention the conversation that I didn’t overhear—”

  “He was quite convincing, was he not?” Tori gathered her tresses with her fingers so Meg could unbutton the back of her gown.

  A new beginning …

  The room began to spin at the thought. After Meg unlaced her corset, Victoria walked behind the changing screen, clutching the soft fabric against her chest in an attempt to calm her erratic heartbeat.

  God, how she wanted to believe her husband.

  “You have nothing to lose,” Meg called to her mistress.

  Tori craned her neck from behind the screen, “Other than more tears and heartache?”

  Once she had donned her night clothes, Victoria walked from behind the screen, her maid’s audible catch of breath causing Tori to halt mid-step. “What is it?”

  Turning towards the long mirror, she studied her reflection. The floor length, ivory colored silk peignoir and matching robe were beautiful, flawlessly showcasing her curvy silhouette. It was just the look Victoria had hoped to achieve.

  “I dare say, his honesty will become quite evident once he’s seen you in that,” Meg pointed to Tori.

  Victoria contemplated her friend’s statement as she surveyed her reflection Yes, Tristan was attracted to her but this evening wasn’t about artifice. Tori decided to take a risk as she scrubbed her face at the basin.

  Tonight Tristan would witness her true self. That would be enough to judge his sincerity.

  Meg brushed Tori’s long, wavy mane. “Loving your husband isn’t foolish.”

  “It is when one’s husband doesn’t love her in return,” Tori said with a tinge of regret. She turned to her maid. “Thank you for your help, Meg. You may retire now.”

  “Good luck,” Meg curtsied before shutting the door to the dressing room behind her.

  Victoria studied her reflection. The time for judgment had drawn near. Soon she would learn if Tristan truly wanted to get to know the woman he married.

  “No more artifice,” she winked at her reflection.

  * * *


  The door to the adjoining changing room closed with a loud thud and Tristan turned in time to catch Meg scurrying across the floor of his bedchamber.

  Once she reached the door, she bent as if to curtsey. Instead she paused, her hand stilled atop the knob.

  “Is there something you require?” he asked.

  For a fleeting second her eyes darted towards the door she had just closed. Meg then met his gaze once again. “Don’t you dare take her for granted.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No, but you will if you hurt Lady Victoria,” Meg warned in a menacing voice before curtsying then exiting from the room posthaste.

  Tristan walked to the hall and peered at the maid’s retreating figure. Had he just been properly trounced by a servant? And what was this feeling bubbling within him?

  Amusement?

  Tristan was becoming soft, he thought, a guffaw escaping his throat as he shut the door behind him.

  I’ll be damned.

  “What do you find so amusing?” Victoria asked, standing in the center of the room, the firelight illuminating her voluptuous form. Her beauty looked ethereal in this light and Tristan was afraid to speak, afraid to move, in case she vanished like vapor.

  “Well?” she prompted, placing her hand upon her hip. What a lovely hip it was, Tristan knew from experience, longing to become reacquainted with it.

  “Your maid,” he snapped himself back from his impure thoughts. “She just threatened me.”

  Victoria beamed a bright smile. “Bodily harm or was she speaking figuratively?”

  “It was indisputably bodily harm,” he replied, his tone teasing.

  “Ah, well, she gets a raise in the morning. Retroactive, I dare say,” Victoria removed one of her earrings, a simple, everyday gesture, yet one that caused a lump of emotion to lodge in Tristan’s throat at the mere sight.

  She is a goddess, he thought.

  One who robbed him of all reason.

  “Meg has left you speechless,” Victoria continued, now removing her other pearl drop earring. “I shall double her salary.”