Winter's Bride
Page 17
Genevieve blinked. “Of course I know. How could I not? It would surprise me not at all to learn that many people know—or suspect, at the very least. Did you think that no one would see the resemblance? Looking at you is like looking into a mirror and seeing what Sabina will be like as a woman.”
Slowly Lily sank down on the end of the bed.
She put a hand up to cover her face. She and Tristan had been mad to think they could fool anyone, mad and selfish.
Raising her head, she faced Genevieve directly. All this time she had known and felt that others did, too. Yet she had held her head high, had been kind where another might have been cruel. Lily would give her no less than she had given.
“I am so very sorry,” she said. “I had no wish to harm you or anyone else.”
Genevieve answered, “I know that, have been certain of it from the beginning.” She laughed, albeit somewhat wryly.
Lily looked down at her hands, clasped tightly together in her lap. “In spite of that, another woman would have spoken of her suspicions, would have refused to have me in her home.”
“What think you—that I am some long-suffering saint? I assure you, Lily, I am no saint. I would not have gone on without protest did I think you meant any ill or that I had anything to gain in refuting you.”
“But Tristan is your fiancé.”
“And has treated me as well as he knew how in this. I knew he did not love me as anything but a sister when I asked him to marry me. I love this family, love these outspoken, loyal, maddening Ainsworth brothers as if they were my own. I asked Tristan to be my husband because I knew that his heart had been lost to Sabina’s mother, though I thought she had died. It was clear that he would never love another as he had her. The others still had their hearts to give. I knew that marriage was not something I could ask of them. When you arrived I knew you had not died and that Tristan still loved you, though he does not know it.”
Lily was struck dumb by the statement that Tristan still loved her. Desired her, yes, but that was not love. Tristan loved the girl she had been.
Not unknowing her thoughts, Genevieve moved closer to Lily, her eyes asking for understanding. “How could I take from Tristan anything that might make him happy? If the two of you could come to some terms, then that was meant to be. If you did not, then I would still wed him, knowing as I had before that his heart was not mine but that he would be a good man and treat me well.”
For a moment Lily still did not know how to reply. Never had she thought that she and Genevieve would say any of this to each other. It was just too unbelievable—too unreal. Perhaps that was why she finally spoke with such honesty and directness. “I appreciate your generosity more than I can say, but there is something you must know. Although there is a certain…attraction between Tristan and myself, he does not love me. On that you must be assured.”
Genevieve looked at her with sympathy, shaking her head. “I know not what goes on between you, but I do know what I know. Should you choose not to see, for some purpose of your own, then so be it. It is not my place to convince you.”
Lily had no words to say to that. She knew how it was between herself and Tristan. Perhaps only he would be able to convince Genevieve of the truth now.
The young woman took a deep, exhausted breath. “I must go, Lily. I find I have no more heart to speak of this now.”
Sorrow for her pain brought an ache to Lily’s chest. “I am so very sorry.” She had said the words before, but they were all she could give if Genevieve did not believe that Tristan loved her.
When she was gone, Lily stood there, not knowing what to do. Genevieve knew—possibly others knew—that she was Sabina’s mother and thus that she and Tristan had been…
Dear heaven, what would he say to all this?
Without giving herself time to think, Lily turned and left the room. She went immediately down the hall to Tristan’s chamber. She did not know if he was there, but it was the first place she could think of to look for him.
She must speak to him, and without delay.
All their hopes of secrecy had come to naught. How was she to face them all—the servants, Tristan’s brothers? And what must they think of her?
Lily met no one as she went, a fact for which she was grateful. As during the night, she paused outside the closed bedroom door, biting her lip in indecision.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the heavy portal open. Her eyes rounded in surprise at what met her gaze, and she halted there in the opening.
Not only was Tristan in his chamber, but he was just climbing, wet and gleaming, from a large copper tub—the same tub that was brought to Sabina’s room for bathing. Lily was aghast, wanting to turn away, but completely unable to drag her eyes from the sleek line of his golden flank as he stepped from the tub.
What was he doing taking a bath? Why would he ever do so in late morning, when others were up and about for the day?
Because you and the others have the use of it in the evening, her mind replied.
That did not explain why she was simply standing here staring at him this way. Because you can’t not stand here staring at him, that voice in her mind responded.
Tristan himself seemed shocked at seeing her there, his blue eyes, the color of sapphires, growing round. It was he who found his tongue first. “Lily?”
Only then did she spin around to leave.
He halted her with a word. “Wait.”
It was the fear in his tone that made her stop. Obviously he thought something was wrong with Sabina again. Lily could hardly blame him for that, considering her temerity in coming here without warning of any kind.
She stopped, but did not look around. “I must beg your pardon, sir. I had no idea that you would be—”
He interrupted, “Have no care for that, Lily. What has happened?”
Lily spoke up quickly. “Have no fear for Sabina. Naught has happened to her. She is still with Kendran, who came and took her down to the hall this morn.”
She heard the relief in his sigh. A moment later, he stated, “You may look around now, Lily. I have covered myself.”
Lily blushed even as she slowly turned to face him. Tristan had put on a long, dark blue robe, which covered all of that golden skin from neck to foot. She did her best to tell herself she was thankful, but her mind produced an image of golden skin over hard muscle as if to taunt her.
Lily folded her trembling hands over her stomach as Tristan moved toward the table and poured a cup of wine. “What then can I do for you, Lily? I would have thought that you wished to remain as far from me as possible until your father came for you.”
Lily blushed. “I…” She raised her head, then, using pride as her ally, said, “I…do think it best if we have as little contact as possible until I leave. You will likely agree when I tell you what has happened.” She had his undivided attention now, and Lily had to force herself to go on beneath his close scrutiny. “Genevieve has just told me that she knows I am Sabina’s mother. She is under the impression that others in the keep may be privy to our secret as well.”
Tristan came toward her swiftly, grabbing her arm. “What are you saying?”
Lily swallowed hard, barely aware of that grip in the force of her own scattered feelings. “Genevieve knows, Tristan. She believes that others do, too.”
He looked into her eyes, his own dark with a growing emotion that surprised her, an emotion she did not want to see, did not want to feel mirrored in herself. He spoke quickly. “If Genevieve knows, then we no longer have anything to hide, no more lies to tell. There is nothing to drive the guilt that accompanies nearly every thought both night and day.”
She was glad that Tristan was not angry as she had expected him to be, but she did not understand his near…elation, nor the embers of—dare she think it?—barely suppressed passion she saw in his gaze. She shook her head trying to clear it of the realization of her own inner stirrings. She reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Lily came back to an awareness of the present as she heard her name. “Lily.”
Her gaze focused on Tristan’s worried face, then on his hand. “You have done that before, haven’t you?” she asked.
He frowned. “Done what?”
“Taken my hair from behind my ear.”
Realization dawned in his eyes, accompanied by a gladness she could not fail to see. “Yes, Lily. I have done it before. You used to put your hair behind your ear when you got excited or engrossed in anything.” His expression grew whimsical and gently amused all at the same time as he went on. “Once I reached out and untucked it, and you tucked it back, and I untucked it and so on…You had been talking about our future and how you were going to make your parents understand that we loved each other…and had to be together. When you finally realized what I was doing, you leaped on me and…” His eyes darkened at the memory of an event she could not recall. “Well, we…” He stopped, his gaze going to hers.
The implication of what had followed was clear in the scorching heat of his eyes.
Her breathing quickened in spite of herself. She whispered, “I do not recall. I remember only that gesture.”
His eyes continued to burn into hers, and she could not look away no matter how she tried as he said, “But you know what happened. How we—”
She put her hand up to halt him. “Do not say it, Tristan, do not, please?”
“How can I do otherwise? You do not require the wholeness of your memory to want to be with me, as I do with you. In truth, is this not why you came here to my chamber? You knew as I do that we could now be together without the shadow of our own lies to keep us apart.” His breath felt hot on her face as his head came toward hers.
Was he right? Was that why she had come to him? It did seem almost preordained that she would come here and find him naked and clean from his bath, and so very beautiful that it had made her ache with longing just to look upon him.
She could not do other than raise her mouth for his kiss.
And when their lips met, she was lost, lost as she had been each and every time he touched her. She felt herself pulled close against his warm hard body. At the same time, she realized that it was smooth skin beneath her questing fingers rather than blue velvet. She knew that his robe had come open, and she reveled in the knowledge, letting her hands slide inside and down, to run over the same smooth, lean hips she had glimpsed earlier as she came into the room.
His skin felt every bit as good as she had known it would.
Tristan gasped, feeling his body harden at the touch of Lily’s fingers on his flesh. God, how he wanted her, would always want her.
His relief that Genevieve knew about Lily was palpable. Surely Lily’s coming here like this meant that she now wanted to be with him. The details they could work out later—much later—after the passion that had been building in both of them over the past days had been slaked.
Lily heard his reaction to her touch with a thrill that raced through her blood to settle in her lower belly. She tilted her head back as Tristan’s mouth left hers. He obliged her by pressing his hot lips to her throat, then sliding his tongue over that tender flesh. She shuddered in response, her knees buckling.
Laughing huskily, Tristan lifted her in his arms to carry her to the bed.
Once there he laid her down even as he ran a hand up under the hem of her skirt. His Lily was far too overdressed for his liking.
His Lily.
The words were like an aphrodisiac. For that was what she could be now that their secret was out. No more must he deny the desire that burned in him each time she was near. The knowledge gave his pleasure an even sharper edge as he drew her garments up and over her head. He caught his breath at the beauty of her, of her sweetly rounded breasts with their raspberry tips. He traced the slim line of her waist and gently curved hips, those long creamy legs and delicate, slender feet. Each and every curve was sheer perfection in his gaze.
Lily was aware of his eyes upon her, felt the heat of them scorching her flesh as she settled back on the bed. She shivered, experiencing her response in every tingling inch of her flesh.
Tristan watched as the tips of her breasts hardened beneath his gaze. He gave a soft groan of pleasure, reaching for her even as she raised her own arms to him. They cradled his head as he took the tip of one breast into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue circling it even as he reached to take the other between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently.
Lily gasped, throwing her head back. Her hips arched toward him, bringing the lower half of her body into direct contact with the lean muscled length of his thigh. Automatically her own thighs clasped him more closely to her.
Tristan slid one hand down her side, tracing the curve of her waist and hip, then pressed it between their clasped bodies to brush the tangle of curls he found. He was gratified when her belly fluttered under his fingers, and she shifted to allow him better access. As he dipped his hand lower, cupping the curve of that sweet mound, he pressed his mouth to hers.
Lily felt Tristan’s hand on her and sucked in a breath at the ache of longing that touch bought. Her body arched, seeming to beckon him on. He dipped his fingers lower and she caught her breath in a gasp of pleasure. “Tristan.” She did not recognize the sound of her own pleading voice.
He heard the need in her voice, knew that they could wait no longer. He raised up over her, and she opened to him. Her face was flushed and tight, and as he slipped inside her, she sighed, arching her head with a soft murmur of pleasure that drove his own passion to a sharp and piercing spike. She reached for him, ran her hands down his sides to hold his hips, her body setting a rhythm he was eager to follow.
Tristan bit his lip, trying to control the ecstasy building inside him. But the feel of her soft, cool hands gliding over his flesh made that nearly impossible. He closed his eyes, willing himself to wait. Above all things he wished to feel her reach her own fulfillment.
Lily held Tristan to her, her body acting out of need, driving her on. And so the deliciousness built and built, one wave of sensation upon another, until she lost all ability for coherent thought. Lily knew only herself and Tristan, seamlessly joined, riding together on a sea of indescribable delight. She held her breath, feeling that she would surely explode. And then the waves broke over her, crashing down in a bliss so intense that shudder upon shudder took her and she could do no more than cry out in wordless abandon, unable to give coherent voice to the rage of emotions and feelings inside her.
Only when he felt her body tighten around his in rapture did Tristan let go of the tight hold he had on his own desire, arching above her, calling out in a hoarse whisper of ecstasy, “Lily!” And then he was tumbling down into a well of sweet fulfillment, where there was nothing but rapture and the soft yielding warmth of the woman he held in his arms.
Chapter Eleven
Tristan knew not how much time had passed when he came more fully to himself and rolled to the side, pulling her into the circle of his arms. He did not care.
He held Lily close, reveling in the fact that they no longer had anything to hide. He stroked his hand over her silky, midnight hair. “How did it come about?”
Her voice was still tinged with a slight breathlessness and, though he did not wish to hear it, strain. “How did what come about?”
“Your learning that Genevieve knew? How did you explain to her about us?”
She pushed back, looking up into his face with a frown. “I did not explain anything, Tristan. I would never do so, knowing that I would jeopardize all our futures.”
Tristan felt himself stiffen, though he tried to stop it. Lily could not mean what she seemed to be sa
ying. Surely she was not still bent on leaving.
He looked at her very closely. “Surely I have misheard you just now. You cannot mean to go forward with your plans to send for your father?”
“But—but I must,” she sputtered. “Genevieve did not say that she knew of my true identity, only that she was aware that I am Sabina’s mother. Although there no longer seems any point in trying to pretend to her or your brothers as far as that is concerned, we need not expose all. We may still manage to see me away from Brackenmoore without Maxim ever learning the truth of where I have been these last weeks.” Lily pushed away from Tristan as she finished speaking, then stood, taking the coverlet with her.
Tristan viewed this renewed sense of modesty with grim irony as he rose to face her. On one level, he told himself, he was glad of her tenacity. It was a clear sign that she was gaining a clearer sense of herself.
Lily had ever been stubborn. She did her utmost to follow through with a course once she was set upon it. The problem was that being with him had once been the course she wished to follow. Being on the opposing end of her determination was not quite as gratifying.
He knew he must try to reason with her, though he was not sure why or what he hoped to gain. What could they be to one another if she did remain at Brackenmoore? There had been no words of love between them in spite of the ever-present passion. And though Genevieve knew about Sabina, she did not know about Lily and him being lovers now.
In spite of that he racked his mind for some coherent thought, some reason to keep her at Brackenmoore. “Did you not say that Genevieve believes others know? If so it will be near impossible to keep each person who has a suspicion about your being Sabina’s mother from ever speaking of it.” He paused, then added, “Did Genevieve say anyone had actually spoken to her of this?”
Lily scowled, shaking her head. “Nay. I believe she has simply surmised that they do. It is not so farfetched that she should think it when she herself has guessed the truth. I chose not to quibble with her on that count.”