Captive

by A. D. Robertson

  Tristan coughed, trying to clear the tightness in his throat. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but I was hoping we could talk.”

  “I don’t—” Sarah took another step back. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  Her eyes were downcast, unwilling to meet his gaze.

  With a sigh, Tristan raked his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have left like that. It was a damn fool thing to do. You have every right to be angry with me.”

  “But you were angry with me,” Sarah said quietly. “Because I—”

  Her voice died and Tristan realized with horror that Sarah wasn’t afraid; she was ashamed.

  What kind of a monster am I?

  “No,” Tristan said, clenching his fists to control the rising anger he felt at himself. “I was just . . . taken aback. But the way I behaved . . . Sarah, that wasn’t your fault.”

  Sarah finally looked up at him, but what he saw in her face wasn’t reassuring. She remained wary, confused, and worst of all, hurt. Tristan loathed himself for making her feel that way.

  “I didn’t mean to mislead you about . . . ” Sarah said quietly. “I just didn’t expect . . . I’m not . . . I don’t—”

  “Please don’t apologize.” Tristan tried to reach for her, but Sarah shrank from him again. He felt sick. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’ll leave you alone now, but I hope you’ll join me for dinner tomorrow.”

  Sarah remained silent for several beats in which a cold fist seemed to grasp Tristan’s lungs. Then she nodded and he could breathe again.

  “Good, I mean, thank you,” Tristan said. “Till dinner, then.”

  Sarah nodded again. “Till then.”

  She closed the door and Tristan turned away, acknowledging to himself that he’d become entangled with his prisoner in a way well beyond his intentions. More than that, he feared he’d already passed the point of being easily freed.

  20

  SARAH WAS AFRAID, but of what she could no longer be sure. Tristan didn’t frighten her—at least, not in the sense that she thought he might do her physical harm or treat her with malice. The way he’d held her, touched her—the look in his eyes when he came close—all of these things bespoke an attachment that ranged beyond simple lust.

  But that realization was frightening enough—more so because her own feelings reflected those she saw in Tristan.

  Amateur. Sarah cursed her naïveté. She sat before the mirrored vanity, lost in thought as Moira brushed Sarah’s hair and hummed dreamily.

  How could I ever have thought I could seduce a man without consequences when I’ve never done it before?

  Sighing, Sarah shook her head. And now I’m obsessed with Tristan—a man who I humiliated myself in front of and I’m sure doesn’t want me at all now. God, I’m an idiot. What was I thinking?

  “Did I pull too hard, miss?” Moira asked, frowning at Sarah in the mirror.

  “Oh, no, Moira.” Sarah waved her hand, bidding Moira to continue with her task. “It’s not you.”

  Moira pursed her lips. “If you don’t mind, miss, may I ask what’s wrong? You seem so troubled.”

  Sarah met the girl’s inquiring gaze. For a moment, Sarah was tempted to blurt out all her feelings. It would have been a relief to have someone to confide in. But just as quickly, she tamped down that notion. Not only was a young girl like Moira ill equipped to take on the burden of Sarah’s troubles, but Moira was also technically among her enemies. All the servants in Castle Tierney had loyalty to the Keepers and were terrified of angering their masters. One wrong word and Moira might be frightened enough to repeat everything Sarah said to one of the older servants—no matter how poorly they treated the girl.

  What a fucked-up place this is. Maybe that’s why I’m fitting in so well. Because what else could I be but a total head case, given that I’m falling for my jailor?

  And there it was. Sarah hadn’t let herself fully admit where her feelings had been leading. But there was no use denying it anymore. Whatever excuses she’d made to justify her actions, the past twenty-four hours had laid stark her desire for Tristan—a longing that had nothing to do with her mission and everything to do with him.

  “I’m just tired,” Sarah told Moira. “But I’ll be fine.”

  “Would you like some tea before you go downstairs?” Moira asked brightly.

  Sarah smiled despite her nerves. Moira was always so eager to help—the girl’s earnestness offered Sarah a nice dose of comfort.

  “Thank you, Moira,” Sarah replied. “But I’ll just wait for dinner.”

  Though Sarah hadn’t particularly expected Tristan to appear that evening and escort her to the dining hall, she nonetheless felt like she was walking to meet her doom as she descended the castle stairs alone. She entered the hall quietly and found Tristan already there. His back was turned to her as he paced before the fireplace. Sarah caught his expression in profile and saw her own anxieties captured on Tristan’s face. She drew a sharp breath and Tristan turned at the sound.

  “You came,” he said, surprised and clearly relieved.

  Sarah nodded, moving to her usual place at the table. “I said I would.”

  “I know, but—” Tristan sat beside her, still agitated. After a long sigh, he said, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

  Sarah didn’t reply. “Glad” wasn’t a word she would use to describe her feelings about being there. She couldn’t pick out a specific emotion from the turbulence that filled her mind. A part of her wanted to be near Tristan, hoping to sort through the confusion of thoughts with his help. But Sarah was hesitant to open up to him. His rejection of her the night before remained a fresh wound, perhaps too tender for close examination.

  The meal presented was light—broiled fish and wilted greens—which came as a relief. Sarah didn’t think her stomach could have taken heavy, rich foods. They both ate quietly until Tristan set his fork and knife down.

  “Sarah, I—” He paused and then reached for her hand. She watched as he turned her wrist over and rested his fingertips against her palm. “I’m so sorry.”

  A lump formed in Sarah’s throat so suddenly that she had to close her eyes. She refused to shed even a single tear in front of Tristan. The last thing Sarah wanted was for him to see any weakness on her part.

  “Last night I was just . . . surprised,” Tristan continued. “But that’s no excuse for how I acted.”

  When she’d reined in her emotions, Sarah looked at him. “Thank you for apologizing.” Sarah hesitated, her pulse quickening as she said, “I don’t blame you for not wanting—”

  I should have just slept with Jeremy. If I had, then I wouldn’t be sitting here, humiliated.

  Sarah ground her teeth, chastising herself for the hasty thought. You didn’t fuck Jeremy because it didn’t feel right. Because you didn’t know how much you could want to be with someone until . . .

  Watching the way the evening light softened the hard lines of Tristan’s face, Sarah’s chest cramped, making her wince. It didn’t matter how much she wanted him. Not anymore. He’d made that clear.

  “Not wanting?” Tristan frowned at her. “Sarah, if you think for a minute that I walked out last night because I didn’t want you, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “But when you found out that I haven’t . . .” Her voice trailed off as she watched Tristan’s jaw clench.

  “I was a complete ass,” Tristan said. “But that has nothing to do with how I—”

  He fell silent and pulled his gaze off of her.

  “How you what?” Sarah wrapped her fingers around his.

  When he looked at Sarah again, the intensity in his eyes stole her breath. “I still want you. There was never a moment when I didn’t want you.”

  “Then why did you leave?” Sarah whispered.

  “
Because I’d presumed things,” Tristan told her. “And that meant I approached you in a way that wasn’t . . . What I’m trying to say is that your first time should be handled with more finesse.”

  “I thought you had plenty of finesse,” Sarah replied, and was immediately mortified. What the hell did I just say?

  Startled, Tristan opened his mouth to reply, but then began to laugh. A momentary flare of anger lit Sarah’s veins, but then she giggled and soon she was laughing so hard that her sides ached.

  When she finally caught her breath again, all the tension gripping Sarah’s body had ebbed away and she offered Tristan a genuine smile.

  “I don’t know what to make of you,” Sarah said. “Aside from the wealth and the Guardians, you’re not at all what I’ve always been told Keepers are.”

  “Maybe that’s because I’ve been kept apart from the other Keepers.” Tristan threaded his fingers through hers.

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think that has anything to do with it. I think it’s simply a matter of who you are.”

  “Do you like who I am?” Tristan asked softly.

  “Yes,” Sarah replied. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  “Why shouldn’t you?”

  “You know why.” Sarah frowned. “I’m a Searcher. We’re enemies.”

  “You didn’t know anything about me when you came here,” Tristan said. “Now you do. Doesn’t that change things?”

  Sarah pulled her hand free of his. “It has changed how I feel about you. But it doesn’t change how I feel about the war.”

  Tristan sat back in his chair, regarding Sarah for several moments. “What if you weren’t fighting the war?”

  “Impossible scenarios aren’t helpful,” Sarah said.

  “It’s not impossible,” Tristan replied. “You’ve said yourself that your companions won’t come looking for you. That they’ll assume you’re dead. What if you simply let them believe that . . . and stay here with me.”

  “No.” Sarah didn’t even allow herself to consider that option. “That would be a lie. I couldn’t live with myself for turning away from people I love.”

  Tristan flinched at her words. “But you will turn away from me.”

  “That’s different,” Sarah told him. “This place, everything that’s happened between us—it’s a fantasy. The outside world is real.”

  “This is my world,” Tristan countered. “And now you’re part of it.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I want you to be.”

  “I can’t stay,” Sarah whispered. “I can’t willingly be your prisoner.”

  “And I can’t let you go,” Tristan said. His voice became so soft, Sarah had to lean toward him to hear what he said next. “Not yet.”

  Sarah could barely breathe. “Not yet?”

  Tristan moved so quickly, Sarah didn’t have time to register that he’d gone from sitting beside her to standing over her. His hands cupped her face and he bent to kiss her. His lips were gentle, as though he worried she’d push him away. Sarah grasped the collar of Tristan’s shirt. She opened her mouth to taste his tongue. Tristan slid one of his hands down her neck and Sarah sighed with disappointment when his palm barely skimmed her breast. His hand kept moving, tracing the curve of her waist and out again over her hip. When Tristan touched her thigh and his fingers slipped into the high slit of her gown, Sarah took his lower lip between her teeth, biting gently to urge him on.

  A low sound, nearly a growl, emerged from Tristan’s throat and Sarah bit harder, teasing the edge between pleasure and pain. She got the response she wanted when Tristan palmed her leg and his fingertips grazed her inner thigh. Sarah shuddered when his hand brushed against the silk of her panties. His fingers fluttered along her sex, the light touches sending flares of pleasure up to the crown of her head and down to the tips of her toes.

  Sarah kissed Tristan harder. Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, she ran her palm along his collarbone. She held him closer as she inched along the seat of her chair, wanting more pressure from his hand against her. But Tristan pulled back, taking his hand out from beneath her dress. Sarah almost swore at him; her bruised lips wanted his kiss again and it was all she could do not to writhe in the chair in an attempt to ease the ache between her thighs.

  Tugging on his shirt, Sarah said. “Don’t stop.”

  “I’m not planning to.” Tristan kissed her cheek, then whispered, “But we shouldn’t stay here.”

  He stood, offering Sarah his hand. She took it.

  Their fingers laced together. It was a simple act, but it was a way of clinging to each other as Tristan led Sarah out of the dining hall and up the staircase. The upper floor of the castle was quiet, for which Sarah was grateful. All she wanted to think of was Tristan. No doubt. No distractions. No fear of being watched.

  He paused in the middle of the hall, leaving it to Sarah to choose their destination. Sarah squeezed his hand, pleased, and tugged him toward her bedroom door. Tristan pulled her into the room, shutting and locking the door behind them. He turned to face her. They stood in silence for a moment, breathing hard, gazing at each other. Tristan moved first, stepping forward and sliding his arms around Sarah’s back. He pulled her against him, molding her curves to the hard lines of his body. Sarah could feel how taut he was, the power in his limbs. His hands moved to cup her ass and he lifted her up. She moaned when she felt the hard outline of his erection pressing into her.

  Holding Sarah tight, Tristan carried her across the room to the bed. Rather than laying her down, Tristan set Sarah on her feet. He reached around and found the zipper of her dress. He pulled it down slowly, then took a breath and stepped back.

  Sarah kept her eyes on Tristan’s face as she slid the straps of her dress from her shoulders and down her arms. The bodice dropped away, and Sarah pushed the dress down her hips and let it fall to the floor. She stayed still as Tristan’s gaze drank her in.

  Taking a step toward him, Sarah reached out and finished unbuttoning his shirt. She waited as he shrugged the crisp cotton from his shoulders and chest. Unable to resist touching him, Sarah laid her hands against his golden skin, feeling the warmth of his body and the rise and fall of his breath.

  In a tender gesture, Tristan lifted one of her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. When he released her hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He bent to kiss her and ran his hands up her spine, pausing to unclasp her bra. Sarah let the bra fall away and then arched up when Tristan lowered his head and took the peak of her breast in his mouth. She cradled his head as his lips and tongue caressed her skin. Her fingers slid through his hair and she gave a small cry of pleasure when his teeth gently closed on her nipple.

  Tristan lifted his head and kissed her on the mouth again. His lips trailed over her cheek and he murmured, “Lie on the bed.”

  He watched as Sarah stretched out. Then she watched as he unbuckled his belt and shed his pants and boxers. She drew a quick breath of anticipation when she saw how aroused he was. When he came to the bedside, Sarah reached for his cock, but Tristan caught her wrist.

  “Not yet.”

  Keeping Sarah’s wrist in his hand, Tristan took her other wrist as he knelt above her, then pinned both her arms above her head while he kissed her. She loved the taste of him, the way his tongue stroked over hers, and the teasing nips of his teeth on her lips. Heat was building low in Sarah’s body, her hips arched up toward Tristan’s, but he kept his body above hers.

  “I’m going to move,” Tristan said, releasing her arms, “but I want your hands to stay above your head.”

  Sarah nodded, closing her eyes as Tristan’s mouth and hands made their way down her body. He took his time enjoying her breasts. His palms cupped their weight, his fingers toyed with her hard nipples. He licked and sucked until Sarah was calling out his
name, begging for relief.

  She looked down at Tristan and met his eyes. He smiled and trailed kisses down her stomach. His forearms pressed her thighs apart. When Tristan’s mouth brushed over the hem of her panties and she felt his warm breath between her legs, Sarah’s heart jumped, making her wonder if she could handle what was about to happen.

  Tristan pressed his lips against her sex through the fabric and Sarah gasped and then shuddered. She felt his hands at her hips, pulling her panties down. Though her pulse was racing, she didn’t resist as he slipped her underwear off. She could barely breathe when his gaze fixed on her sex. Tristan glanced up at her and smiled again. Then he lowered his head.

  Tristan had known Sarah’s taste would be intoxicating. When his tongue flicked over her, the delicate skin already slick with desire, he was reminded of salt and honey. He glanced up at her and reveled in her expression of wonder and desire. It was still unbelievable to Tristan that he would be the man to teach her this pleasure. He moved his lips along her damp folds, building pressure, exploring her and gauging her reactions. When his tongue stroked her clit, Sarah bucked up with a startled cry.

  She looked down at him, her cheeks flushed with lust and a little embarrassment at her body’s instinctive reactions. Tristan smiled and kissed her inner thigh, then bent to suckle the most sensitive part of Sarah’s body. She shuddered and sighed, but finally let herself ease into the strokes of Tristan’s tongue.

  His body felt like a coiled spring. The scent of her, the taste, made Tristan want Sarah more than seemed bearable. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her sheath clenching around his cock. Instead he held his instinct in check and concentrated on Sarah. Her hips began to rock against his mouth and she moaned.

  While he continued to lick her clit, Tristan caressed Sarah’s opening and then slipped a finger inside her. She drew a sharp breath and arched up. Working her clit with his lips and tongue, Tristan slid a second finger into Sarah’s core and began to stroke her from within.