The Skilled Seduction

by Tracy Goodwin

  For the first time, it dawned on Tristan that his wife had never mentioned her father’s death to him and it suddenly made sense … the late duke’s fall, his head injury leading to his subsequent death.

  Tristan buried his face in her hair. “Your mother was right to do so.”

  “I know,” Victoria nodded in agreement, her resonance clear and strong. “It is for that same reason that you and I will protect Sophie.”

  “I won’t allow anyone to hurt you or our children,” Tristan said, blinking back tears. “I promise you, I will protect all of you.”

  Holding his wife, Tristan swore to the God that he had long ago forsaken that he would protect his family at all costs.

  As God is his witness, Tristan wouldn’t hesitate. No matter what price he must pay. He would protect Victoria and his children until his dying breath.

  * * *

  Victoria’s eye lids fluttered open as she awakened on the gold velvet settee in her sitting room. The room was semi-dark, the only light being a fire ablaze in the grate. It was apparent that her nap had been a long one. She had been sleeping a great deal of late, aware that the pregnancy was already taking its toll.

  A loud bang reverberated from the first floor, followed by the sound of footsteps bounding up the stairs.

  She ran out of her suite, catching sight of a tall man storming down the hall, shoving open doors with force. He was Sophie’s father, she realized, as terror seized her heart in a vise grip.

  He must have gotten past the guard Tristan had privately hired, Tori thought, as she hurried to catch him before he reached Sophie’s room. Tristan was also too late, now bounding up the stairs.

  “No, you can’t take her,” Victoria pleaded with the stranger, his face a mask of rage. Sophie cried, her high pitched wailing fraying what was left of Victoria’s composure. “You’re frightening her – please stop!”

  Victoria reached for the little girl. It was then that the monster rounded on her, shoving Victoria out of the way with such might that she hit the wall with a loud thud.

  Tristan grabbed the man by the shoulder, turning him to face him. “Let her go,” Tristan said, his tone murderous. “Or so help me God I will kill you.”

  The child was sobbing, her lips trembling with fear.

  “You knew this would happen, MacAlistair. The moment you conspired to hide her from me, you knew I would come after you,” the man’s sinister tone grew more pronounced. “Now I have, by taking the child from you.”

  Tristan was less than a foot away from him. “You don’t want the girl.”

  The man was holding Sophie like a shield. “No, but you do. That is why I will take her.”

  He prowled down the hall, towards the main stairs, as if he was hunting his prey, and Victoria recognized that Sophie was indeed just that to him. Tristan followed him downstairs, as did Tori, where the man met two large, burley companions who stood by the exit.

  “If you take that child, I will hunt you down,” Tristan warned.

  “You should never have interfered,” the man shouted over his shoulder as he exited their townhouse followed by his men.

  “No!” Victoria shouted, running after them when spun her around to face him.

  Tristan wrapped his arms around her from behind as he whispered, “Chasing after them won’t solve anything, Victoria. Think.”

  “We are outnumbered and overpowered,” Victoria met his gaze, eyes wide. “How will we get her back, Tristan?”

  The murderous expression emanating from his handsome features conveyed that her husband was plotting just that.

  “I have someone following them as we speak.” His eyes, flashing like the hot spark of summer lightning, caught and held hers. “I will bring Sophie home.” It was his promise to her. He meant every word of it.

  “What if he hurts our little girl?”

  He wrapped his arms around her, a protective cocoon, noting that his wife was shaking. She was lost without the child she loved … their child. As was he, for Tristan loved the little girl just as much as his wife did.

  Tristan fought against the spindly clutches of fear that seized his heart, squeezing until he thought it would stop beating.

  “I will get her back,” he assured his wife, kissing the top of her head.

  Victoria shook her head. “He won’t willingly return her. He is punishing us.”

  “Not us. Me,” he murmured. “But I swear to you that I will get her back, darling,” he didn’t know when he had begun calling her darling. Was it simply one of those things that just happened when you found the woman that you love? You begin to use terms of endearment that are entirely out of character?

  “How?” Victoria asked as she pulled away from him, meeting his gaze. Her fearful expression and pale complexion clawed at his chest like a wild animal.

  This monster was destroying Tristan’s family and Tristan wouldn’t allow it. The power of his intense love for his wife and their child could cause a man to commit acts he knew to be both legally and morally reprehensible. Through the course of his career and connections, he’d been privy to many crimes and had learned how criminals had gotten away with such sinful acts.

  He welcomed the knowledge.

  Victoria grasped his hands, “He won’t let her go, Tristan.”

  “I won’t offer him a choice,” his gaze locked with hers. How well did she know him? “Do you understand?”

  Victoria stepped into his arms once again, clinging to him as if for dear life.

  She did indeed understand.

  “I love you,” she said in a clear, controlled tone.

  Tristan had heard Victoria profess her love before. Yet, even now, hearing the words caused his heart to swell.

  “I love you and our children,” he whispered. The thick silence that hung heavy in the air was a stark contrast to the chaos that had preceded it. It was interrupted only by the faint ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall. The persistent rhythm told him he was running out of time as he calculated his next move.

  First, he must admit the truth to his wife. She had championed him when most everyone else would have run in the opposite direction … she deserved the truth.

  The clock struck eight, the loud chimes reverberating through the marble hall and he released Victoria at last, cupping her face in his hands.

  “I have been such an unmitigated arse—”

  “No, you haven’t,” she shook her head.

  He smiled at her loyalty to him. “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever laid eyes upon,” he said, his voice rich with emotion. “You are kind, intelligent, fiercely loyal, and so very strong. You are everything I admire and much more than I deserve.”

  It sounded like goodbye, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t help it.

  “Tristan,” a single tear traced a path down her cheek and he bent forward, kissing it, the salt lingering on his lips.

  Victoria buried her face against his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his musky cologne, hoping it would comfort her the way it usually did. It failed to do so on this night because it sounded too much like Tristan was saying goodbye.

  “With you, is where I want to be,” he caressed her cheek. “Even if that means braving the darkest storm, I choose you and our children.”

  Victoria squeezed her eyes closed, still unable to believe the options that now lay before them. Either lose Sophie or allow Tristan to march out this evening hell bent on committing a crime that could potentially destroy them all. If he wasn’t ambushed, which she highly doubted.

  They had no choice but to search for her. But they would do so together. “I’m going with you,” she said, shoving her hair behind her ears.

  He shook his head, “That’s not an option, Victoria.”

  “We are in this together.”

  “No, not this,” his tone brooked no argument as he placed his hand gently upon her abdomen. “You and our child must stay safe.”

  He was right of course.

&nbs
p; Tristan tipped her chin up. “One of us must be home for Sophie, and you know it. Your brothers will protect you if—”

  “Don’t,” she said, embracing him tighter. “You will protect me, you’ll protect us.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Sit with Meg this evening – she must provide your alibi.”

  With that last, he was gone. Tori slumped against the wall.

  Dear God, please bring our little girl home safe and please protect Tristan.

  She couldn’t abide the alternative.

  * * *

  Victoria stood by the window, studying the empty street before her. It was late, the clock on the mantel having just struck one in the morning.

  “You should sit,” Meg advised as she wrapped a shawl around Victoria’s shoulders.

  Tori shook her head. “We should have heard something by now.”

  Someone should have come, even if it were the authorities. She then discerned two figures approaching within the shadows. Tori turned towards the study door.

  “No, Lady Victoria,” Meg grabbed her arm. “Wait for them to knock.”

  No knock followed.

  “He’s home,” she said to her dear friend.

  Meg released her arm and Tori darted down the hall, where she found Tristan walking through the hallway, carrying Sophie.

  “Thank God,” she quickened her pace, wrapping Tristan and the sleepy child in a tight hug before kissing the drowsy little girl on the cheek. “Is she all right?”

  “Sophie is fine,” Tristan assured her before asking Meg to bring the child to her bedchamber. “Please remain with her until we come upstairs.”

  Meg reached for the child and followed Tristan’s instructions.

  “What happened?” Victoria asked him, cupping his face in her hands. “Are you all right?”

  “We haven’t much time. We must hurry.” He took his wife’s hand and led her down the hall.

  Warning bells resounded in her ears. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Tristan escorted her into his office, where a woman stood near the mullioned windows, cloaked in the shadows cast from the last diminishing wall sconce. She must have snuck in through the servants’ entrance.

  “Dominique must get to safety before the authorities call upon us,” Tristan’s tone was authoritative as he reached into his safe, withdrawing a black pouch filled with currency, which he began to count with precision.

  Tori studied the woman before her. She wore a dark colored dress with ruffles and lace. Her long raven hair was pinned behind her neck with what looked like a ribbon.

  What does one say when she comes face to face with her husband’s former mistress? Unaware of the proper protocol, Victoria spoke the first thing she could think of.

  “Sophie is beautiful,” her tone was kind. “Like her mother.”

  Dominique offered a wry smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Which mother would that be?”

  Her heart breaking for the woman with the somber eyes standing before her, Victoria changed the subject. “What happened?”

  “I took care of Preston,” Dominique admitted, her voice devoid of emotion. “He will never again be a threat to our little girl.”

  Victoria turned to Tristan, who now approached them. “You—”

  “It was my battle, not Tristan’s,” Dominique shot Tristan a knowing glance. “You both have sacrificed enough for my benefit.”

  Tristan handed her the money. “You must go, now. It is a matter of time before the authorities arrive.”

  Dominique placed Tristan’s offering in her reticule. “Thank you for sacrificing so much to protect my daughter,” she said to Tristan, her voice cracking ever so slightly. She then turned to Victoria. “I knew when he married you that you were something special. That was well before you made that public spectacle. It was then that I knew that my daughter would be the most blessed little girl.”

  Victoria reached behind her neck, unclasping the gold locket her mother had given her so long ago. She then placed it in Dominique’s hand. “Take this. In it, you’ll find a sketch of Sophie.”

  Dominique studied the woman standing across from her. “You married one hell of a classy woman, Mr. MacAlistair.”

  “I know,” Tristan’s rich baritone was thick with emotion as he placed his hand on the small of his wife’s back.

  Their guest turned towards the door. It was then that Victoria hugged the woman who had given birth to Sophie.

  “Thank you for allowing me to love your daughter.”

  Dominique choked back a sob. “You have been more of a mother to her than I have ever been. But I have always loved her.”

  With that, Sophie’s mother walked out of the little girl’s life.

  Victoria turned to Tristan, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It shames me to admit this, but I am relieved that she killed him. I was terrified for you.”

  Tristan exhaled a deep breath. His wife would never learn what really transpired this evening.

  It would be the last secret he would ever keep from her.

  * * *

  Through the course of the next few days, the investigation of Lord Preston Newbury’s death proved to be futile. There were no witnesses, only a missing Madame who, by leaving a monogramed handkerchief on the floor of his townhome and fleeing from authorities, had wordlessly taken responsibility for the crime.

  It was on a crisp, cool Thursday afternoon the following week that Victoria lost their baby. Tristan sent for Dr. Danbury immediately once the bleeding began since the kind man was presently residing in London. However, Victoria knew it was already too late.

  Their little one was gone.

  Not only was the kind doctor loyal to the family, but he was especially fond of Victoria and did everything possible to help her through her loss.

  “It is my fault we lost our baby,” she sobbed, shortly before the he sedated her.

  Dr. Danbury voiced his concerns to Tristan. “Lady Victoria will be confined to bed rest for several days as blood poisoning is always a concern in such cases.” He clapped Tristan on the shoulder. “I think it is wise to keep her sedated, at least for now, in her present state. I will visit again every few hours or so. Call for me if her condition worsens between now and my next visit. I’m terribly sorry, Mr. MacAlistair.”

  Tristan swallowed hard against the lump of despair that lodged in his throat. “Is she in danger of ...?” he couldn’t even voice such a thing.

  “If she suffers from blood poisoning there is a risk. There is a future risk, as well,” the good doctor paused before continuing, “a risk of Lady Victoria miscarrying again. I won’t lie to you, Mr. MacAlistair, miscarriages are dangerous business.”

  Tristan threaded his hands behind his neck.

  “I am sorry. I wish my news were better,” Dr. Danbury said, his tone gentle, as Tristan walked towards his wife then placed her hand in his.

  He heard the faint click as the door closed behind him, leaving him alone with his wife. He then rested his head upon Victoria’s abdomen and wept. For the child they had lost and because once again the Lord threatened to take the life of a woman whom Tristan loved – first his sister, now his wife.

  Dear God, please don’t take Victoria.

  It was the second time in as many weeks that Tristan had spoken to the God whom he had renounced so many years ago.

  He heard a faint rap on the door, but it barely registered. When he didn’t respond, Meg poked her head in the room.

  “Mr. MacAlistair?” she said tentatively. “May I inquire as to Lady Victoria’s state?”

  Tristan’s shoulders began to wrack with sobs. “I’m afraid this is my fault,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  Meg patted him on the back. “Of course it isn’t. The good Lord has a plan, is all. We may not always understand it, but we must have faith in it.”

  Faith … once such a foreign concept but now Tristan knew what he must do. “Would you please stay with her until I return, Meg?” he ask
ed, wiping his eyes.

  “But surely your business can wait?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “No, He has waited long enough.” Tristan had rejected the good Lord for far too long and now understood that he must make amends … for his wife and for the child they lost.

  He kissed Victoria on the forehead. “I’ll be back shortly,” he whispered. “I’m going to pray for our miracle, darling.” She had once suggested they pray for Gwen’s miracle and Tristan had selfishly refused.

  Not this time.

  Once outside, he adjusted the collar of his great coat. Not even the blustery weather would deter him from his mission. He strode to the church where he and Victoria wed, pausing only when he had reached the heavy oak doors. Tristan remembered Victoria’s comment on their wedding night, about lightning failing to strike the hallowed cathedral.

  After tugging the massive door open, Tristan took one step inside noting with relief that no bolt of lightning struck him this time, either.

  God must be on his side.

  He walked down the aisle, his footfalls silent atop the crimson colored carpet. The church was empty, he noted with a tinge of relief as he dropped to his knees at a pew in the front of the church, his eyes affixed on the stained glass window high above him.

  What did one say to a Lord he had cast aside so long ago?

  “Dear God, forgive me my sins …” Tristan clasped his hands in prayer. “And please bless my wife.”

  His vision again blurred, from tears that flowed freely. He’d shed no tears for so long, not since his father’s beatings began. Now, it seemed like since Gwen’s illness, he couldn’t stop himself. So overwhelmed was he by his intense emotions for those he loved.

  It was Victoria’s influence.

  Now, when faced with the loss of the woman he loved beyond reason, Tristan couldn’t choke back his emotions. No, he wouldn’t because his love and devotion, his raw and uncensored sentiments, were the least that Victoria deserved.

  “I love her,” he said it aloud. “I love Victoria with everything I am, with my whole heart. She is the best of me. I can’t survive without her, Lord.”