“This is something I must do myself,” Tristan’s tone was low and dangerous.
Concern etched in deep-set lines around Colin’s eyes. “Tristan—”
“The earl will tell me where he’s hiding my wife.” Tristan twisted his gloves until he thought they would pull apart at the seams.
Heaven help anyone who hides Tristan’s family from him.
Chapter 20
London’s usual morning bustle was in full swing by the time Tristan’s coach pulled to a stop in front of Wainright’s London townhome. He stared out the carriage window, at the throngs of pedestrians walking past in a blur, yet he failed to focus on them.
What could be worse than confronting an archrival who is hiding your wife?
Not finding her.
Fear coiled within Tristan’s chest. He couldn’t accept that she may be gone for good.
He wouldn’t.
Wainright knew where Victoria was and Wainright would tell him. Tristan wouldn’t accept no for an answer.
He climbed the steps to the large mahogany front door two at a time, rapping the brass knocker with force.
When the footman answered, a thin looking man with gold wire rimmed glasses and a pursed mouth, Tristan was already prepared for an argument.
“I must see the earl,” he said, thrusting his card at the man.
The butler bowed. “I shall see if he is accepting visitors.”
Yes, you do that, Tristan thought, fully expecting Wainright’s footman to run interference. It was for that reason that he watched the man proceed down the hall then followed him in stealth until he reached a door at the far end of the first floor. By the time the dour man opened it and took two steps inside, Tristan was quick on his heels.
“Where is my wife?” he demanded, barging into the room.
“I beg your pardon!” the footman exclaimed, his mouth gaping open in a most undignified pose.
“It’s all right, Morrison,” Oliver stood behind his desk, dismissing his servant with a curt nod. “Though my uncouth visitor may appear barbaric, he is harmless.”
Once the man had closed the door, Wainright added. “Dear me, have you lost something or perhaps someone?”
“Ignorance doesn’t become you,” Tristan threw his gloves on the center table. “You know Victoria’s whereabouts.”
“Perhaps your wife doesn’t wish to be found?” Oliver suggested, grinning as if savouring the information he held over Tristan.
“Regardless, it is between me and my wife.” Tristan’s temples throbbed as he struggled to keep his anger in check.
Wainright leaned against his desk. “I do know where she is, though I won’t betray her trust. As much as I may or may not wish to.”
Damn this man to hell. Tristan exhaled a deep breath. He had no choice but to admit how he felt to this irritating, obnoxious fop. “I love her.”
“Pardon?” the earl cocked his head.
Tristan took a seat in the leather chair facing Oliver’s desk. The fact that there was no invitation to do so from his host mattered not. “Are you deaf?”
“To the contrary, my hearing is quite acute, however, I never expected I’d ever to hear such an admission from you.”
“Well, now you have,” Tristan leaned forward.
“So I heard. Your aggravation is quite amusing, by the way.”
“Purchase tickets to the theater for future amusement,” Tristan stood, flattening his hands atop Oliver’s desk. “I’m through entertaining you. Just tell me where my wife is.”
“What will you do when you find her?”
“Is it any of your business?” The fact that this man had so much power over him infuriated Tristan to the point where he felt like punching something. Well, not something. Punching Wainright was more like it.
“I’m going to bring Victoria home,” Tristan answered at last. “That is where she and Sophie belong.”
Oliver studied Tristan in silence for a few moments. “It took courage for you to come here. Please don’t misunderstand me, I still dislike you, but it is now muted by respect.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Tristan’s words were thick with sarcasm.
“According to your wife, you are also quite noble. Here’s the rub,” Oliver studied his meticulously manicured fingernails. “You won the girl, my girl. Why wouldn’t I do everything in my power to keep Victoria away from you?”
“Because Victoria married me and because she has always loved me. That’s why she has never been your girl. She will never feel the same about you, hence your abhorrence towards me.”
Wainright pursed his lips.
Tristan had hit a nerve.
“I will find her, even if I have to travel to hell and back,” Tristan said through gritted teeth. “I won’t rest until I have brought my family home.”
“There is a female residing here.” Oliver paused and Tristan gritted his teeth, striding towards the door to search the entire townhouse when Oliver added, “she is a collie of about nine years of age. I inherited her from my late father.”
Tristan longed to knock every tooth out of the brute’s mouth. Instead, he paused, reminding himself to hold off until after Wainright revealed Victoria’s whereabouts.
Oliver leaned forward. “Do you really love her, even if she can’t give birth, or was that simply an attempt to garner her location from me?”
“I love Victoria more than my own life.” The ease with which he was now able to make the admission amazed Tristan. He would repeat it until the end of time – tell her every minute of every day if she returned to him.
“You were much more amusing when you were afraid to commit. Besides, I’d love to take credit for being her first choice, but I won out by default. Proximity, it seems.” Oliver leaned back in his seat, clearly enjoying this verbal sparring. “My opinion of you has improved though you still don’t deserve her,” Oliver added, his words dripping with less disdain than before.
“I know,” Tristan agreed. “But I will never give up on her.”
“Which is why I shall tell you where she is.” Oliver revealed Victoria’s whereabouts with one final threat. “Don’t make me regret instructing you where to find her.”
“I won’t.” It was Tristan’s solemn vow as he set off to reclaim his wife and daughter.
* * *
Oliver allowed Victoria to remain at his country estate while he returned to London late last night in an effort to thwart gossip. Though she was well aware of the scandal that would ensue if the ton ever discovered that the wife of the heir to the Viscount of Cavendish’s title and fortune was residing under the roof of the Earl of Fairfax, Tori was too fatigued for it to bother her.
Instead, she watched as Sophie drifted further into a peaceful slumber, her chest rising and falling with deep confident breaths.
Sophie had adjusted to Oliver’s home relatively unscathed though Tori knew that she missed Tristan. When the post was delivered, the little girl’s eyes shone bright with a hope Victoria was all too familiar with for, in spite of the fact that Victoria knew Tristan had no idea where she was, she too hoped that he would arrive offering his love and undying devotion.
In spite of the late hour, and her severe exhaustion, Victoria was wide awake as she entered her room, placing her lamp upon the table next to her bed. She then strode to the window, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders as she admired the snowy landscape.
What had begun as a cold, cloudy day had ended in an early snowfall. The crisp, white powder blanketed the lawns and outlined the spindly branches of the trees reaching across the landscape.
Illuminated by the full moon, the grounds resembled a winter wonderland, bathed in a bluish tint. Victoria always loved the hush that came with the first snowfall, the sound of nothing but the soft snowflakes falling to earth. It felt magical. Like Mother Nature was placing her landscape under a wintry spell.
A faint light swaying back and forth in the distance drew Victoria’s attention. She was familiar e
nough with the grounds to discern that it emanated from the cobblestone drive, though no carriages had passed since the snow had begun falling. Victoria squinted, straining her eyes to see who was approaching. Even before she could make out whose form was approaching, her breath caught in her throat.
Tristan.
She leaned forward, her forehead resting against the cold pane of glass. Her quickened heartbeat foretold it was Tristan. Then there was the bark. Faint, but it was Molly nonetheless.
Tristan had come for them!
Tori raced into the hallway and ran downstairs, following the dim light of the sconces along the corridor. Since she’d forgotten her lamp and the servants who remained at the estate had already retired for the evening, Victoria fumbled with the bolt at the front door cloaked in shadows.
Stepping onto the frigid stone on the front steps sent shivers through her body. The dog barked again, that low bark she would recognize anywhere and Victoria cared not about the cold temperature, her bare feet planted firmly on the icy ground.
Molly bounded through the snow followed closely by Tristan, who began running faster at the sight of Victoria.
At some point, he must have dropped his lantern. He didn’t quite recall. All he knew was that he was running towards his love and following a dog. If he hadn’t been so desperate to see his wife, he would have found humor in the fact that he was chasing a large mutt through a foot of snow and the mangy mutt was beating him to the girl!
Molly reached Victoria well before he did. Careful to protect his ego, Tristan silently reminded himself that the animal did have four legs. The dog almost knocked Victoria over in her excitement as Victoria bent down and patted her canine’s head. Her laughter was lyrical as she ushered the dog in the house then closed the door.
A sharp pain stabbed Tristan’s rib cage but he refused to slow down, choosing instead to run faster towards his wife. She met him at the bottom of the steps and he crushed his weight against hers, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.
“God, I love you,” he said in a tremulous whisper, as he tried desperately to catch his breath. “Please, don’t ever leave me again.”
Victoria smiled and Tristan felt as if he had been graced by an angel.
“I love you,” he murmured, still gasping for air as his wife’s face rested in his palms, snowflakes gently clinging to her face and hair. “I always have and I always will. If you come home, I swear I won’t ever stop telling you how much.”
“Tristan, I—”
He silenced her with an impassioned kiss, one that she welcomed by parting her lips. When his tongue brushed against hers, it was as if a pulse, a life force, rocked him to his very core – that same jolt that always occurred when they kissed. It was something he had grown to expect and would never tire of. When their lips parted at last, she was almost as breathless as he had been after his long run.
“I can’t live without you, or without Sophie. Molly and I are wrecks without you.”
“Tristan, shush,” Victoria placed her arms around his neck. The mere touch sent shivers up and down his arms. “Please, stop.”
“I won’t,” he bent his head forward, resting his forehead against hers. Because he would never be able to voice it enough. Though Tristan was once terrified of love, now he couldn’t survive without it or without his wife.
“I love you,” he shivered, either from the cold or her nearness, he knew not. Victoria must have noticed, immediately suggesting they enter the house. She turned towards the front door but he grabbed her arm and wheeled her around. “Not until you tell me.”
“I love you, too,” Victoria placed her cool palm flat against his cheek.
“Truly?” he asked, his gaze locked with hers.
A serene grin swept across Victoria’s heart-shaped lips. “I love you with everything I am. It is second nature – like breathing. Loving you is essential to my very existence.”
He swallowed hard against a lump of emotion lodged in his throat. “Then why did you depart?”
It was a simple question, yet one that left him feeling humbled and vulnerable like no other.
“Oh, Tristan,” Victoria shivered as he shrugged out of his greatcoat, placing it over her shoulders.
“It can wait. Let’s get you inside,” he advised, concern overpowering his desperate need for answers.
Victoria escorted Tristan inside the manor. They stopped to see Sophie, who smiled in her sleep when Tristan kissed her on the forehead. They then headed to Victoria’s guest suite, where the fire was alight in the grate. Once inside, Tristan took his wet coat from her before grabbing a towel from the basin as Molly joined Victoria in front of the roaring fire.
“Let’s dry you off and get you into some warm clothes,” he said as he untied the sash at her waist.
“I’m fine, Tristan,” Tori took his hand. “You mustn’t worry.”
“Ah,” he said, expelling a deep breath, “that I cannot do.”
Tristan kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling?”
“So happy to see you,” her voice trembled.
“That’s not what I was referring to.” Kneeling before her, he rubbed her arms in an attempt to infuse warmth.
“Empty,” she answered honestly. “Hollow.”
Tristan caressed her cheek.
“You asked why I left,” her voice was no stronger than a ragged whisper. “I ran because I lost our child and am overwrought with the loss. I ran because I am broken and I’m afraid that I can’t be fixed. I left because a woman’s worth is tied to reproducing and I feel worthless.”
“You are not worthless. You are exceptional.” He cradled her face in his hands once again. “I love that child we lost and I will love him or her always. I will also love any child we have, be it naturally or not. Do you think I love Sophie any less because she’s not ours by blood?”
“I know how much you love her,” Victoria admitted tearfully, heartfelt adoration evident in her over-bright azure eyes.
Tristan caressed the elegant curve of her neck, studying her rosy cheeks, porcelain skin, and lustrous hair fanning her face in damp ringlets. She couldn’t have looked more magnificent.
It filled his heart with pride that she was his and he had God to thank for it.
“I didn’t abandon you. You must understand that,” he confided, his tone gentle.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Yes, it does. It matters to me,” Tristan leaned into her, placing his forehead against hers. “I prayed for you and our child. For the first time in years, I spoke with God, in His house, and I asked Him for a miracle.”
Tristan knew that Victoria would comprehend the significance of such an act. She confirmed his belief when she pressed her palm against his cheek.
A rugged sigh escaped his lips. “For whatever reason, He took our baby from us, but I still prayed to Him – for you and the child we lost. I begged Him not to take you away from me. Even after I knew you’d be all right, I went to His house, to church again, to thank Him. Had I known you’d awaken when I wasn’t there—”
“You don’t owe me any further explanation,” she laced her fingers through his. “I’m sorry, Tristan.”
“I’m sorry, too. That I ever gave you reason to doubt me.”
He meant it.
“No more doubts,” she assured him. “Never again. I promise.”
He placed her palm against his heart and she could feel the rhythmic tha-thump, strong and steady through the damp fabric of his shirt. “My heart belongs to you,” he whispered, “now and until the end of time.”
They were the most poignant words she had ever heard.
Tori kissed him gently, offering her soul to him in that kiss and he readily accepted. Long after, she had changed into a dry chemise and lay underneath the warm covers, nestled against her husband’s naked form, his hand caressing the nape of her neck.
“I love you,” he murmured into her hair.
Victoria smiled becaus
e she believed him and because she now knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her husband was more spectacular than she had ever imagined.
Within his warm embrace, a heavy weight having been lifted with his heartfelt declarations of love and devotion, Victoria spoke what had long been in her heart. “I love you more with each day that passes. You were worth the wait, Mr. MacAlistair.”
Tall praise, indeed.
Chapter 21
Tristan leaned against the cool balustrade, the sound of children’s laughter dancing amongst the soft autumn breezes. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Victoria, who was sitting in the gazebo with Emma and Nicholas, teaching them how to draw with charcoals, as Sophie rambled through the grass with her butterfly net, pealing with laughter.
Eve and Colin sat with Fiona, shaded by a large, leafy tree with their little girl and sleepy hound. Colin was attempting to teach his daughter how to say “Papa” but she was insistent on repeating the same word: pup. Eve and Fiona chuckled in amusement as Colin swept his daughter up into the air, causing her to squeal with laughter.
It no longer bothered Tristan to see them together. To the contrary, he was happy for his brother and his family, in part because Tristan had his own. His eyes scanned the scene, again searching for his one true north—
Victoria.
She was still drawing with Emma and Nicholas, though Sophie had joined them and now sat on Victoria’s lap, charcoal in hand, drawing what he assumed to be lines and circles. Tristan’s heart swelled with pride, overcome with just how much he loved them.
The feeling that had once eluded him for so long now made him so joyous, so grateful, that a wide grin swept across his face at the sight of his family.
“It fills me with joy to see you happy,” Sebastian’s smooth baritone reverberated through the bright afternoon sunshine.
Tristan was unable to suppress his smile. “Not as much as it does me.”
“My sister is glowing.”
Sure enough, Victoria was.
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