The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3)

by Antonia Aquilante

  Her lips slid into a mulish pout. “Just because Mother said it doesn’t mean she’s wrong. You need a wife, someone to raise your daughter.”

  “I can raise my daughter just fine.” And never mind that he had doubts about that himself sometimes. He paced away from her, keeping his voice even and calm more to keep from upsetting Bria than Selene. “I don’t need to marry again to do that.”

  “Daughters need mothers. Children need mothers.”

  “I think the princes would argue with that, since they’re raising their son perfectly well without a mother.”

  She sniffed. “Well, they have a son, and a whole lot of nursemaids, I’m sure.”

  “Not as many as you would think, but forget about that. So if I had a son, it might be different. Then I suppose I should go get our brothers from Mother and move them in with me, or insist that Mother marry again because boys need fathers?”

  “No, of course not! That isn’t what I said at all. You’re twisting my words all around.” She stood. “Tristan, you know exactly what I meant.”

  “Keep your voice down. I don’t want Bria crying if you upset her.” He felt a bit like crying himself, tears that would be born at least partly of frustration, partly of disappointment, that he was having this argument again and this time with his sister. “And no, I don’t. I know what Mother wants—she tells me every time she sees me, and it seems she has you telling me now.”

  “You need to marry again. You know you do. You need a mother for Bria. You need someone to run your household, since you insisted on leaving our family’s home. And you need sons. Who else is going to take over the business some day?”

  He’d thought that once too, not that long ago really, even if it felt like a hundred years. Or perhaps he just felt a hundred years older. Either way, he’d believed he had to take over for his father as the firstborn son. He didn’t believe it was quite so rigid a rule anymore. He had four brothers, all of them, though young, expressing interest in the business. At least one of them would certainly have children, sons who could continue the business even if Tristan never had another child.

  And really, why couldn’t Bria take over the business when she grew up if she wanted?

  “Any number of people. We have brothers who have just as much right to be a part of our family’s business as I do. Bria does as well.”

  “Bria? But she can’t.” Selene’s bewildered gaze dropped to the baby in his arms, now sleeping peacefully.

  “Why not? She’s going to be brilliant.”

  “You’re being silly. Girls don’t do things like that.”

  “I don’t see why they shouldn’t if they want to. I’ll teach her about it, as Father taught me.”

  “It’s not the way things are done,” Selene insisted, looking more dismayed if anything.

  “I don’t see why that matters.” He fixed his sister with a stern look, one he seldom used and didn’t care for, but he needed her to understand how serious he was. “I’m not looking for another wife, Selene, so stop bringing it up. Bria and I are going to be just fine on our own.”

  And he was finally beginning to believe it himself.

  ETAN WASN’T entirely sure what he was doing anymore, except that perhaps he was following Cathal’s advice and enjoying himself and what he and Tristan did together. There were times he dreaded what would come of it, because he knew at some point Tristan would be done with him again.

  He pushed the thought from his head. Philip’s birthday party was not the time to think of his potential troubles. He looked around the large room from his vantage point near the thrones, which were currently empty as Philip and Amory were dancing. The party was far larger than his own birthday party had been, and understandably so. But last night they’d had a birthday dinner for Philip with just close friends and family that Philip probably appreciated more. Still, Philip seemed to be enjoying his official party well enough, especially when he was dancing with Amory.

  “Etan,” Meriall said, almost singing out his name, as she stepped up to his side.

  “Enjoying yourself, Meriall?”

  “Very much, thank you, and you?”

  “Yes.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “Are you sure?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She shrugged. “Well, you’re standing here alone and not enjoying yourself. Tristan’s over there by himself too.”

  Etan glanced in the direction of her gesture. “I think he’s getting some wine.”

  “Still, you haven’t spent much time with him tonight. You used to be so close—friends, more than friends maybe?” She smiled at him a bit. “And lately, I thought maybe you were again.”

  “Maybe you should worry about your own friendships, or perhaps I’ll find out what boy you’re infatuated with and torture you a bit.” He said it teasingly, but he really would rather not have this conversation with Meriall.

  “No infatuations for me, not yet. I was thinking I could take some classes at the university first. Do you think Cathal would let me?”

  He blinked at the rapid and unexpected subject change. “I think so.”

  Her smile was almost blinding now. “I hope so. And I hope you can be happy with Tristan. I like him.”

  “What about me, Merrily?” Tristan asked as he appeared at Etan’s other side and handed him a glass of wine. Etan searched his face, but it didn’t seem as if Tristan had heard what Meriall said.

  “Oh, I just thought you and Etan should dance,” she said, her voice breezy and casual. “I’ll see you later.”

  Meriall melted away into the crowd leaving Etan and Tristan staring at each other. “Do you want to dance?” Tristan asked.

  “Not right now.” Maybe not later either. He didn’t know if he was ready to dance with Tristan in front of everyone and start gossip, or really gossip outside the family. It seemed that inside the family everyone had an opinion already. “Let’s just drink our wine.”

  “All right,” Tristan said, not looking disappointed at least, and clinked his glass to Etan’s.

  TRISTAN COULDN’T help thinking of another party for another birthday, and the differences between the nights. Not so much in the parties themselves, though there were certainly differences there, but in his own behavior and Etan’s. He felt he’d been scheming and pushing and persuading Etan to go to bed with him back then. Tonight somehow they just assumed they’d end up there without any discussion. As the party wound down, or at least after it became polite for them to leave a party in honor of the crown prince, they drifted away from the party and out into the corridors, walking close together as they left the sounds of music and laughter behind.

  As soon as the door to Etan’s suite closed behind them, Tristan snagged Etan’s hand and pulled him into a long kiss. Etan’s hands came up to hold Tristan’s hips, keeping them close together as he deepened the kiss. Tristan moaned, the sound swallowed into the kiss, and wrapped his arms around Etan, undone almost immediately by the hold Etan had on him, by the way Etan had pulled him close. The way Etan kissed him, passionate, yes, but sensual and soft. An unhurried exploration that Tristan could only relax into and enjoy, didn’t want to do anything except enjoy. They stood just inside the sitting room for what seemed like a long time but no time at all, exchanging kisses, as every thought except Etan floated out of Tristan’s head.

  “Bed?” Etan whispered finally.

  “Yes.” He slid his hand down over Etan’s shoulder and arm and linked their fingers together for the short walk to the bedchamber. Tristan lit a few candles with a thought as they walked into the room, giving them just enough light to see each other. He wanted to see Etan.

  They kissed as they undressed each other, meetings of lips separated only by soft kisses to bits of skin exposed inch by inch as they slowly stripped each other of their clothing. Once the last garment was discarded, Tristan took Etan’s hands and climbed onto the bed, pulling Etan after him. They knelt on the bed together exchanging more kisses, gho
sting fingertips across expanses of skin, and Tristan began to feel as if he were floating, drugged by the touch of Etan’s lips to his, the feel of Etan’s skin against his, the movement of Etan’s hands over his body, the scent of Etan in each breath.

  But he wasn’t so content to float there and savor that he didn’t want more after a while, and it seemed so did Etan. Their kisses became more urgent, their caresses more frantic as they tumbled down on the mattress. Tristan sprawled over Etan and dove back in for another kiss. He felt as if he might go up in flames at any moment, but he needed more, needed more of Etan.

  Etan pulled away from the kiss with a gasp. Tristan tried to kiss him again, but Etan held him back long enough to whisper roughly, “Inside me. I want you inside me.”

  Shock coursed through him, clearing his mind for an instant before a fresh wave of desire set him alight again. He kissed Etan fiercely. “I-yes.”

  And when he pushed inside Etan, moved inside him, was surrounded by Etan’s body, he moaned at the utter rightness of the moment. Right in a way that nothing else had ever felt. He stared into Etan’s eyes, gone dark and dazed with passion, and Etan stared back, his gaze holding Tristan’s, drawing him in in a way Tristan didn’t believe had happened before. But he couldn’t dwell on that, couldn’t think anything at all. Everywhere, everything was Etan, and he wanted to drown in Etan, to submerge himself in Etan and stay.

  Afterward, after pleasure swamped them both despite Tristan’s wishing it didn’t have to end, Tristan collapsed onto Etan’s chest, breath heaving. Etan’s was too, and Tristan knew he had to move, but he didn’t want to, not yet. And still, Etan was trying to catch his breath too, and Tristan’s weight couldn’t be helping. He moved with the utmost reluctance and settled against Etan’s side, resting his head on the pillow beside Etan’s, not wanting to go too far yet.

  “Don’t you have to leave?” Etan asked, his voice a whisper.

  He did, but he didn’t want to, not yet, not at all. “Yes, but not yet. I thought we could gather some energy and then have that drink we keep putting off.”

  Etan’s laughter was a beautiful sound.

  TRISTAN WAS far less happy and far more confused nearly two weeks later. On the one hand, he and Etan were spending much more time together than they had since before Tristan married. And it wasn’t all time spent in bed—they had meals together and conversations, even went for a ride once like they used to, and Etan seemed to enjoy time with Bria, delighting in her almost as much as Tristan did. But they hadn’t spent an entire night together since the one night at Alzata. Tristan couldn’t stay at the palace because of Bria, but Etan could stay with Tristan. He just never did. And sometimes Etan still seemed to pull away, to put distance between them, not physically but in every other way, despite Tristan’s thought that perhaps the distance was starting to melt away. Tristan couldn’t understand it.

  He was so frustrated he finally said something to Amory. He generally had a rule that he didn’t talk to Amory about Etan. It didn’t seem right, not when Amory and Etan were friends as well as family by marriage. But he made an exception. He didn’t expect Amory to look at him as if he’d grown a second head.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Amory shook his head. “Explain what happened.”

  Tristan wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore, not with Amory looking at him that way and regret pricking him for bringing Amory into the middle of something Tristan had with Etan, but Amory would only push at him until he did explain now that he’d said something. So he let the whole story pour out of him.

  Amory didn’t look less incredulous when Tristan finished, but sadness tinged his expression. “You really don’t know, do you? What you did.”

  “No.” His frustration and bafflement made his voice rise, but he forced himself to be quieter. “I don’t. What did I do?”

  “Oh, Tristan.” Amory put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “You hurt him.”

  “How? When?”

  “When you married.”

  Tristan just shook his head. Amory’s words were not clearing up his confusion.

  “Tristan, Etan loved you. It wasn’t just friendship for him, and I’m pretty sure he thought it wasn’t just friendship on your side either.” Amory’s gaze was serious, intent, or Tristan might have doubted him. “You hurt him when you married, whether you meant to or not, and he pulled away to protect himself. I assume he’s still trying to.”

  Tristan shook his head. “But… he never said anything. You never said anything. You told me I shouldn’t marry Dariela and still you didn’t say anything about Etan.”

  “It wasn’t my place to say anything about Etan’s feelings, and at the time, I only would have been guessing at them anyway.” Amory tilted his head. “Would it have made a difference then? Knowing that Etan loved you. Would you have still married her?”

  “I….” Would it? He’d felt at the time that he had to marry Dariela because his father wanted him to; it was only after she died that he began to question his conviction.

  Amory didn’t wait for Tristan to come up with an answer to his question. “Do you love Etan, Tristan? Did you love him then?”

  DID TRISTAN love Etan? Had he always loved him? The questions should be easy to answer. He’d known he was in love with Amory all those years ago, but what he felt for Etan was completely different from the giddy feelings he’d had for Amory. Well, maybe not completely different; there’d been an element of giddiness to what he felt for Etan, especially back at the beginning, but he’d put that down to attraction. Attraction he’d assumed wasn’t returned after a while of Etan not acting on it.

  But he knew Etan better now, didn’t he? Etan didn’t just jump in, despite how he might flirt. Etan waited. He was serious about his lovers, about knowing them. Tristan could see now, if he thought about it, the way Etan had been with him. Looking back, he could see Etan had been in love with him. Something inside him warmed at the thought.

  And Tristan’s own feelings? He’d cared about Etan, certainly. He’d wanted to be around him all the time, talking with him, spending time with him. He’d been devastated when Etan disappeared from his life. And now, Etan was a bright spot in his life again. The easy friendship, the effortless laughter, the support and encouragement. The connection he hadn’t felt with anyone else—friend or lover. The hurt when Etan put distance between them and he didn’t know why. The joy when Etan delighted in playing with Bria. The pain at just the thought of Etan walking away again.

  Was that love?

  Maybe it was. Maybe what he’d had with Amory hadn’t been love at all, or hadn’t been the kind of love that could last forever. He knew quite well he hadn’t come close to that level of emotion, to love, with anyone else. Except Etan, a voice whispered inside.

  “I’m in love with Etan.” There was no reply to his words, but he hadn’t expected one. Bria giggled where she lay on a blanket on the floor at his side. But she was giggling at the little balls of colored light he’d been creating and absently sending spinning into the room while he thought. She’d abandoned her toys and kept clapping and reaching for the little lights.

  He extinguished them with a thought and picked Bria up so she wouldn’t get upset at their loss. “What do you think, sweetheart? Hmm? You like Etan, don’t you? What would you think of him being a part of our family?”

  She smiled at him. He wanted to think it was a reaction to what he said, that she liked the idea of Etan being even more a part of their lives. Because if he loved Etan, he wasn’t going to be content with friendship and taking him to bed every so often. If he loved Etan, he needed something real, something permanent.

  He had to figure out how to tell Etan what he wanted.

  When he came back downstairs after bringing Bria up to her nursemaid to be put to bed, he found Etan in the parlor. Etan looked so handsome just standing there looking out the front window, his clothes well tailored to his frame, his dark hair tousled from the breeze outside, and he
was smart and strong too. Tristan’s handsome scholar. But the most important part was that he felt right to Tristan; being with Etan felt like home. He had no idea why it took him so long to figure that out.

  “Etan.”

  Etan turned from the window and smiled. His usual smile, but after Tristan’s revelations it was devastating to him. “Good evening, Tristan.”

  “I’m happy to see you.” The words popped out without Tristan’s permission, but they were nothing but the truth. It was always the truth.

  Etan’s smile turned teasing. “You saw me yesterday, but that’s always good to hear.”

  Tristan couldn’t quite manage a full laugh, not with his heart beating as if it would fly out of his chest and his mouth gone dry. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  Etan’s face went serious immediately, and just a bit more closed off. “What is it?”

  He groped for words for a moment, trying to figure out how best to say what he needed to, wondering if he should have waited until he’d had time to think about it, to plan what to say. But he didn’t want to wait. He blurted, “I love you.”

  Shock replaced everything else in Etan’s expression. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and just stared at Tristan.

  “I love you,” Tristan repeated, heart pounding so much he thought he might pass out at any moment. “I think Bria loves you too. She’s so happy to see you every time you visit.”

  “What are you saying, Tristan?” Etan asked, his voice hoarse.

  “I’m saying I don’t want to continue on as we have. I want something more with you. I want something real. I’m hoping you might want that too. I’m hoping you might love me back.”

  “I…. Tristan, you hurt me,” Etan said, looking away.

  “I know. I know now, and I’m sorry. I never meant to.” Part of him wanted to yell at Etan that if he’d only said something, Tristan wouldn’t have married. But Tristan could have said something too—he could have said to Etan that his father wanted him to marry Dariela, but he didn’t want to, and he didn’t know what to do. Etan would have helped him figure it out. Etan might even have said something of his own feelings then.