Avow (12 page)

She started walking through the trees.

Tristan paced behind her, dumbfounded at her reasoning. “You think ‘commitment’ magically happens upon wedding vows? I’m already bound to you—and have been for years.”

“Yes. And I am committed to you. Which is why I won’t marry you until I’m cured and no longer a burden.”

“You could never be a burden.”

“I’m already a burden.”

“How?”

She spun around. “You can feel my emotions. You can feel the most honest things inside me and it’s driving you mad!”

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I just don’t want to share your heart with Gabriel.”

“You’re not! My heart is completely yours.”

“
But y
ou care for him.”

“
And
I
love
you!” She looked incredulous. “Why are you so threatened by your brother?”

“Because he can touch you!” Tristan yelled, his heart going hollow in sadness. “He can hold your hand and kiss your lips and dance with you and keep you warm. He can do all the things I cannot.”

His chest tightened.

“Hunter.” Walking up to him, Scarlet stood a breath away and stared into his eyes. “There is no replacing you. Not ever. But I cannot keep fighting like this. Every day is a struggle between us. I want to kiss you and slap you at the same time. It’s exhausting and it’s breaking my heart.”

Tristan looked at the ground and nodded. “Then perhaps we should spend some time apart. Until you’re cured.”

Anger and hurt flared inside her, but her face remained expressionless. “Perhaps we should.”

***************

“Have you told Scarlet about your curse yet?” Nathaniel’s question caught Gabriel off guard as they waited for Tristan in the library.

They had been actively searching for more magic water since Scarlet’s return. Nathaniel had called upon friends and acquaintances, Tristan had bought countless potions, and Gabriel had ventured to the harbors to see if word from the New World brought any news of the Fountain of Youth or its water. But nothing.

“No.” Gabriel shifted. “And I don’t plan to. She is happy with Tristan. I do not wish to burden her with my loveless heart.”

A quiet pang of jealousy shot through Gabriel. Ever since Scarlet had come back to life, his soul had been…more. Scarlet eased the emptiness inside him and, while he understood and respected her love for Tristan, he couldn’t help but envy her affections.

But he was grateful for her friendship.

He enjoyed spending time with her; introducing her to the current world and informing her of the history she had missed. She seemed pleased to live in such an advanced time, but disappointed that hunting had gone out of fashion. Tristan seemed to sympathize with her and Gabriel figured that to be perfect.

Tristan and Scarlet spent nearly every afternoon in the forest, playing with weapons and returning in the late afternoon, usually arguing. The two fought as much as they swooned. It was obnoxious.

“If you do not wish to tell her, that is your prerogative.” Nathaniel looked around the library. “I wonder what it is Tristan wished to speak with us about. Where do you suppose he is?”

“He and Scarlet were arguing over how to make pancakes when I left them earlier, so who knows? They may very well be slaughtering each other with table knives as we speak.”

Scarlet and Tristan stuck fast to Nathaniel’s warning and carefully existed alongside one another without touching, though they occasionally exchanged looks more intimate than any touch could be.

Gabriel tugged at his collar.

Striding into the room, Tristan said, “I think we should schedule a passage to the New World as soon as possible.”

“And hello to you too,” Nathaniel smiled.

“From what I gather,” Tristan went on, “it will take us approximately three months to make arrangements. Once we reach the wild land, we can begin asking locals and natives about the Fountain of Youth and find the damned thing ourselves.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Right. We’ll pack up and travel to a land where everyone dies and there is no food. And then we’ll blindly hike our way to a fountain that may or may not be there. It’s a huge risk, Tristan.”

“So is letting Scarlet die,” he snapped.

Nathaniel held up his hands. “Perhaps a trip to the Americas would be helpful. I shall look into it and, if it seems beneficial, I will start making arrangements.”

“Soon,” Tristan demanded.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so eager?”

“We are all eager.”

“Yes. But Scarlet hasn’t shown any sign of illness so it is safe to assume she is still healthy.” Gabriel paused. “What has you so raggedly desperate?”

“Because we have nowhere else to look and I do not want to waste another day without the cure. And also,” Tristan paused, “I can feel her.”

Gabriel blinked. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “I can feel her emotions and it is becoming hard to keep myself from responding to them.”

The pang returned to Gabriel’s chest.

“You can
feel
her?” Nathaniel said. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since we found her.”

Gabriel stared at him. “And you’re telling us just now?”

“I did not think it was important before,” Tristan said impatiently. “We need to cure her and get her feelings out of me. Immediately.”

Nathaniel twitched his lips. “Does Scarlet experience your emotions as well?”

“No.” Tristan rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Thank God.”

Well, this was just awkward.

Nathaniel slowly nodded. “I will start making arrangements immediately.”

CHAPTER 11

Ten weeks later

Scarlet was tied into a God-awful corset that cinched beneath a God-awful dress that billowed out around her in far too many layers of God-awful skirts.

Gabriel had taken her to the tailor that morning.

She still had not forgiven him.

“Funny. You are dressed so pretty, but you look so furious.” Nathaniel smiled at her as she entered his house, Gabriel coming up behind her.

Everyone had been staying at Nathaniel’s house for the past month, planning the details of their trip overseas.

Scarlet frowned at her corset. “You try squeezing your bones into one of these contraptions and keeping a pleasant face.”

“No, thank you,” Nathaniel said. “I feel I’m already a hazard in my trousers and top hats. I do not need to add lace and ruffles to the madness.”

Gabriel shut the front door behind them and sighed at Nathaniel. “Fair warning, friend. Do not take this spitfire of a woman to a tailor. She will do nothing but complain and curse.”

“Then perhaps you should not try to dress her up as if she were a doll,” Tristan suggested from the back hallway.

Gabriel said, “We are heading overseas to a new land. I thought it would be prudent that Scarlet had something to wear aside from servant dresses and men’s clothing.” He shot her a pointed look.

Scarlet shrugged. “I enjoy my servant dresses. They are thin and practical and they do not threaten my life. And I find men’s shirts far more comfortable than anything I own.”

She’d developed a habit of stealing Tristan’s shirts from the clothesline and spending her days dressed as him. It was comfortable and she enjoyed smelling him on her skin. She stole a glance at Tristan, thinking about how she’d rather be in his arms than in his clothes, and found him flicking his eyes over her.

Heat rose between them, invisible and dangerous, and Tristan took a precautionary step away from her.

Ever a gentlemen, that one.

Scarlet managed not to curl her lip at his behavior. To say things had gotten worse between the two of them was an understatement. They had stopped spending time together in the forest, and the little time they spent together
outside
the forest was always tense. They drifted further apart from one another. Physically. Emotionally.

A few days of silence led to a few weeks of avoidance, and now here they were. In the same room, not speaking to one another.

Gabriel and Nathaniel did not seem to mind the contention between Scarlet and Tristan—probably because it was insurance that she would not be exploding into death anytime soon—but Scarlet’s heart could barely cope.

She missed Tristan. She wanted him. And she hated the curse that prevented her from satisfying either. But not speaking to him, not hearing his voice flutter over her skin and bring her soul to life, was almost easier than the constant fighting and near-touching.

Almost.

“We leave in two weeks. Are there any other preparations we must make?” Tristan changed the subject to business, per usual.

Lately, he was focused and determined. She missed his lighthearted demeanor. And his smile.

He glanced at her and she quickly looked away, feeling his eyes on the back of her bare neck where her hair was pulled up. Warmth spread across her shoulders and down her chest under his perusal and Scarlet stifled the shiver that wanted to sprint through her core. He may as well slip his hands into her dress for all the reaction her body was having.

Tristan cleared his throat.

“I believe we are all set,” Nathaniel said. “Our ship leaves from the south port, so I will ensure transportation for us and then we shall be off on a new adventure and on our way to a cure.” He grinned around the room, taking note of the tangible tension buzzing between Scarlet and Tristan. “And won’t that be pleasant? Or at least less uncomfortable?”

The only thing less uncomfortable than her tension with Tristan was her God-awful dress. She shifted and could almost hear her bones crack.

Corsets were the devil.

Tristan’s green eyes were on her again and Scarlet’s stomach fluttered. Yes. A cure would be marvelous.

***************

Later that night, Tristan sat in his guest room at Nathaniel’s house stretching his neck against the emotions he felt coming from the girl upstairs.

Scarlet was in a fit. He did not know what was responsible for the erratic feelings inside her, but they were not letting up and seemed to grow more intense by the second; blossoming inside her and darting into him.

Frustration.

Tristan could ignore that one. When was the woman not frustrated?

Helplessness.

That was a harder feeling to push aside. Scarlet was nothing if not independent. But he could not—no, he
would
not—check on her.

Sadness.

At this, Tristan rubbed his eyes, cursing the legs that pulled him up from his chair and walked him out of his room and up the stairs.

He stood outside Scarlet’s door, debating within himself. He and Scarlet had not spoken for weeks, which had greatly reduced the number of times he had to pull himself away from her company, but had left his heart starving. And he wasn’t sure, even now, if Scarlet would even want him to show concern for her.

Helplessness. Anger.

He should probably go back to his own room and try to sleep through her feelings—a task far more trying than it sounded.

Sadness.

With his resolve vanishing into thin air, he quietly knocked on her door.

He heard a huffing sound on the other side and then, “Who is it?”

“Me.”

A moment passed. Then two. Then the door peeked open to reveal a very frustrated pair of blue eyes.

“What is wrong?” He looked up and down the hallway for any sign of Nathaniel or Gabriel.

“What do you mean?”

He lifted a bored eyebrow.

Her face became stubborn for a moment, then turned to a look of surrender. “I need help.”

She bit her lip and Tristan knew he was already done for. It didn’t matter what she needed help with, he was completely at her mercy.

“With what?”

She glanced up and down the hallway before opening her door and pulling him inside. He stood by her bed as she closed the door and sealed them into her candlelit room.

Already, this was a poor idea.

With another huff, she said, “I need help taking my dress off.”

This was a
very
poor idea.

“What?”

Glaring at him, Scarlet made her way to the vanity. “Scoff all you want, but you are a man and your clothing makes sense.” She flailed her arms out helplessly. “There
are
so many ties and clasps and strings on this holy damned dress and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to take the nonsense off.”

He tried to cover his smile.

“I’m being serious, Tristan.” Her cheeks reddened at the crest and she wiggled in her top, trying to loosen its deadly grip around her ribcage. “The woman at the shop tied me into this ensemble today, but she failed to teach me how to find my way out of it and I have been trying to free my body for an hour. I simply cannot do it alone.”