Climax (11 page)

The Aston Martin was still parked out front from his morning drive to the groundkeeper's lodge, which was nestled in the woods at the other end of the estate. It was dark now since twilight had faded to the onward press of night, creating a lonely, quiet atmosphere.

Just beyond the gates, a swarm of media vehicles hummed their engines to life like a hive of angry bees. Several men and women were scrambling to load cameras into cars.

He ignored them as he got into his car and gunned it toward the front gate.

“Move!” Tristan gestured through his front windshield, trying to get the cars out of his way.

“Mr. Kingsley!” one man shouted, waving his press badge, but Tristan ignored him.

Blaring his horn, he nudged his car through a narrow gap on the road between the vehicles. A few minutes later he was cruising down the road, the lights of the vehicles racing behind him on the dark road. Nothing could dull his spirits, not tonight. He used his Bluetooth to dial Kat's number. She answered on the first ring.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded stuffy, as though she had a cold.

“Darling? It's me. Are you all right?” He glanced in his rearview mirror, noticing that a black SUV had gained ground on the road behind him. He pressed his foot on the gas, easing his car up in speed.

“Tristan?” The tremor of hope in the way she breathed his name sent his heart slamming against his ribs. How he'd missed the sound of her voice.

“I'm coming to you. Carter's father attempted to resign. The old man wouldn't hear of it. There's nothing stopping us, nothing. Everything is all right. We're going to be together.” And that realization filled him with joy.

A pause, and then she sniffled. “No more being apart?” Her excitement was an echo of his own.

Finally, his life was headed in a direction he wanted to go.

“No more being apart,” he promised, his eyes misting, forcing Tristan to blink.

“I saw the article,” Kat said, her tone soft. It was the way she'd sounded when they shared secrets in bed, opening their hearts.

“I meant every word.” A silly grin curved his lips.

“How soon will you be here? Should I go out and get dinner for us?” she asked hopefully.

He glanced at the dashboard clock. “I'll be there in two hours. I'd love dinner.” There was so much more he needed to say but couldn't. Not until he could do it in person.

“I'll see you soon.” She laughed, the light, wonderful sound making everything right in his world again.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

Tristan pressed the disconnect button and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, still smiling.

The SUV behind him sped up, passing him on the right. The SUV's window opened on the passenger side and a camera flashed.

Light blinded him, and he hit the brakes, trying to let the SUV past him. The paparazzi vehicle swerved closer, and he jerked the wheel to the left. The car ahead of him suddenly slammed on its brakes, and the safe distance between it and Tristan's car vanished. He clipped the bumper of the car, and the Aston Martin skidded on the ice.

His lungs seized in panic as he tried to keep the car on the road, but the ice was too slick and he slid off the pavement.

Too fast…

There was an explosion of sounds and a violent jarring just as the world turned upside down. Glass shattered and splintered, embedding in him like diamond daggers. Pain rippled through his body and he couldn't breathe. Tristan sucked at the air, helpless and hurting as numbness stole across his body. He blinked, coughed, and darkness started tunneling his vision.

Kat's face fanned out of the growing night. He was leaning over her, ready to kiss her lips. Snow fell around them, coating her lashes and cheeks. Lips petal soft beneath his…

Kat…

K
at checked the clock on her nightstand for the tenth time. The food she'd brought back to the dorm was cold and untouched on her desk.

Where was Tristan? He should have been here an hour ago. A creeping unease ate away at her. Why hadn't he called?

A knot formed in her stomach, and a chill stole across her skin. It was the same feeling she'd had back in London when she and Tristan had parted without a good-bye.

She dialed his cell. It rang eight times before going to voice mail. Swallowing thickly, Kat fought off the rising panic.

“Tristan, where are you? I'm worried. Please call me back when you get this.” She hung up and forced herself to sit down.

Her phone rang and she jumped. “Tristan! Where are you?”

“Kat, honey, it's Dad.” Her father spoke slowly, his voice strained.

“Dad, can I call you later? I'm waiting for Tristan—”

“That's why I'm calling. Honey…” An awful silence made a pit in her stomach.

“What is it, Dad?” Something bad…something
terrible
had happened, but she needed to hear him say it.

“There's been an accident.”

The world shrank around her, suffocating her.
No
…

“Tristan was leaving Pembroke, and one of the paparazzi cut him off. His car rolled into a ditch. Lizzy and I are headed to the hospital. We'll call the second we know anything. I promise.”

Can't breathe…Can't
…She was distantly aware of someone screaming, the sound ragged and full of horrible crushing pain.

“Kat!” her father shouted, and the scream died away.

Her
scream. She'd been yelling so hard her throat burned.

“Kat, breathe, honey, please. Calm down.”

Her hands were shaking and she tried to focus on her father's voice and what he was saying.

“Do you know Tristan's friend Carter Martin?”

Gasping, she got out a few words. “Yes…why?”

“He's going to meet you outside your college and bring you straight to the hospital.”

“Okay,” she managed.

“I promise to call as soon as I know anything.” Her father's voice was shaky, and that scared the hell out of her.

“Clayton, we need to leave,” Lizzy said in the background.

“Coming,” he said away from the cell phone, then spoke to Kat again. “I'm sure Tristan will be okay. He's a strong boy.”

Yes, Tristan was strong. But a car accident…Her stomach roiled, and she clutched it.

Her dad's voice softened even more. “I've got to go, honey, but we'll call you.”

“Okay.” Kat barely got the one word out, then hung up.

She grabbed her coat and purse before she left her room. The cold night air pierced her lungs as she ran down the icy sidewalk and through the front door of the college.

A black Porsche SUV was already waiting a few feet away. Celia glanced at her through the passenger window, pointing to the second row passenger side.

Kat understood and climbed in. Carter was already pulling the SUV away from the curb as she shut the door.

“We're headed to the hospital. They took him to one of the best in London.” Celia turned around in her seat, a strained smile not hiding the glistening trails of tears on her cheeks.

“Is he…?” A tight lump formed in her throat.

“We don't know anything yet. He's in surgery.”

Surgery. Pain lanced through Kat's entire body.
No…please no…

“I'm sure he'll be fine.” Celia's smile wilted and she turned to look at Carter. His jaw was clenched and one hand rested on the shift.

The narrow city streets became a blur as Kat tried to control her rushing thoughts. A hundred things she'd wanted to say to Tristan lingered at the edge of her mind like shadows.

Carter didn't take his eyes off the road, but he held out his left hand, palm up. Celia tucked her fingers in his. Watching them, Kat realized they loved each other, and that cut her deep all over again.

Celia and Carter didn't have any chance to be together, not like she and Tristan had.
They are more trapped than we are
.

How lucky she'd been to love Tristan for even a short while.

I want more time
.
I refuse to let go of him
.
Not till we're old and gray and lived a life together full of love.
She'd never been this sure of anything in her entire life.

The two hours it took to reach the hospital were agonizing. The only moment she remembered to breathe was when Carter's phone rang.

Celia answered it and listened intently to the caller. When she hung up, she set the phone in the cup holder and sighed.

“That was Aunt Elizabeth. She said Tristan is out of surgery, and he's in a medically induced coma. There was a lot of internal bleeding, but he's stable for now. She warned us we might have trouble getting inside the hospital. Paparazzi from all over the city are waiting outside,” Celia said.

“What? Why?” Kat glanced out the car windows at the London streets.

Celia's eyes widened. “You don't know? After Tristan's article in
Monarch Magazine
was published, all of London's media has been calling out Uncle Edward over the opposition to your relationship. The press are going wild with the whole love story. You two are a modern-day Romeo and Juliet. Everyone is rooting for you to get back together. Tristan is a hero and you the luckiest girl in England, at least that's what the
Daily Mail
said.” Celia checked her phone again for the tenth time since they'd left Cambridge.

Romeo and Juliet? We are just as star-crossed
, Kat thought. She'd noticed the building press in Cambridge but hadn't thought it had anything to do with her and Tristan until Carter had shown her the article in
Monarch
.

“Are you sure we'll be able to get into the hospital?” Kat asked.

Carter growled softly. “We'll find a way in.”

Yes, we will
, Kat vowed. No one would stop her.

When they reached the hospital, they saw hundreds of people lining the sidewalks. Everyone in the crowd held little candles. The night fell around the streets, but the hundreds of candles danced like fireflies on a summer's night. If her heart hadn't been breaking, Kat would have been mesmerized by the sight.

“Celia, take Kat inside, I'll see to the car and join you in a few minutes.”

Celia leaned over in the seat, her lashes lowering as she brushed a kiss to his cheek, and then she got out of the car. Kat followed her. Celia slipped one arm through hers, as though needing the strength.

We'll lean on each other.

“It's her!” someone called from in the crowd. Dozens of faces close to Kat turned her way. Cameras started appearing and bodies started to pack between her and the door. But she wasn't going to let them stop her. She had to find Tristan.

“Please!” she shouted. “Let me through!” For a long moment nothing happened, and she feared she'd have to start shoving people away.

Finally, after an agonizing pause, cameras slowly lowered and the reporters backed away, forming a clear path to the hospital door.

She and Celia hurried past the watchful crowd, the candlelight casting shadows against their faces and the hospital exterior.

“This way.” Celia guided Kat to a bay of elevators.

As they rode up the few floors to the ICU, Kat could barely think beyond that she was helpless to do anything for Tristan.

At the end of a long white-walled hall, she spotted her father and Lizzy huddled by an open doorway. A few feet apart from them stood Edward Kingsley.

“Dad!” Kat tore free of Celia's gentle hold and ran to her father.

He held one arm out, catching her as she threw herself at him.

Every pain fracturing inside her chest seemed to intensify.

“Shh…It's okay, honey. Everything will be okay.”

Kat almost believed him, but when she rubbed the tears from her eyes and turned to look through the open door, everything inside her stilled.

Tristan lay in the hospital bed, one leg in a cast. His face was a little bruised, with a few cuts on his cheekbones and chin. His head was fine except for a patch of white bandage by his right ear.

“They were able to reduce the swelling, and the internal bleeding has stopped. He's still in a medically induced coma, but they're hoping he'll wake soon.” Her father's voice seemed so distant, as though he spoke to her from another world just out of reach.

She took a step toward Tristan, but a hand jerked her to a halt. It was Edward Kingsley.

H
e's lying there because of you. Haven't you done enough?” Edward's eyes were wide, wild, and a range of emotions, from anger to pain, all sparked and churned as he stared at Kat. She dropped her gaze to where his hand was curled around her arm in a viselike grip. He released her with a soft growl. His face was etched with lines of pain, and his eyes were too bright, as though he was fighting off tears. This wasn't the monster she'd wanted to believe he was. This was a man hurting for his child. It didn't erase his mean-spirited treatment, but it made him human.

Her heart, beating, aching, opened wide inside her, and she reacted without thinking. She hugged Tristan's father.

He muttered something but didn't push her away. When she stepped back, he swallowed thickly and met her gaze.

“I love him. I'm not leaving. I don't know what I can do, but…” Her voice faltered, and more tears pooled in her eyes. What else could she say?

She went into Tristan's room and pulled up a chair by his bed. His right hand lay close to her, and she curled her fingers around his, squeezing. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, monitors beeping softly in the background, memorizing Tristan's features, the way his dark hair fell into his closed eyes.

Kat was flooded with too many emotions and a thousand thoughts that moved through her with tidal force, pulling her along to one steady burning realization. She couldn't live without him, and she would do everything in her power to help him survive this.

Come back to me. Find your way home
.

She parted her dry lips and spoke, hoping her words would reach Tristan in whatever twilight world he was trapped in. “From the moment I met you, I loved you.” She smiled through her tears. “Even then I recognized you as my other half. I never thought soul mates existed, but when we kissed…It was like something inside of me unlocked a secret place in my heart just for you. Do you hear me, Tristan? That's only for you. No one else.” She stroked her thumb on the side of his palm as she talked on.

I would do anything for you. You woke me up from a dream and taught me to live…to love.

“Please, Tristan. Find your way home to me.”

Hours passed, but Kat was aware only of Tristan and the monitors that showed no changes in his vital signs besides an indication he was still asleep. She continued to talk until her voice grew hoarse.

“Here.” A gruff voice interrupted her exhausted thoughts. Edward was standing beside her, a plastic cup in his hand.

She glanced up in surprise.

“You'll get hoarse if you keep on and don't have some water.” He pressed the cup into her free hand.

Kat drank it, the cool water a balm to her raw throat. She set it on the little table and glanced at the doorway.

“Where's—”

“Your father took Elizabeth to the empty room next door to rest. She's exhausted. I promised I would stay with Tristan and if he started to wake, I'd get them.” Edward walked around to the opposite side of the bed and seated himself in the other chair, then with a little exhale, reached out and touched Tristan's other hand.

Edward didn't speak for a long while. He sat in stony silence, his mouth forming a hard, angry line.

“Talk to him. It will help him to hear your voice. Please,” she begged softly. “We both love him.”

When Edward finally tore his gaze from Tristan to stare at her, there was less anger and more sadness in his eyes.

“It's not that I don't like you. I just believe my son should be marrying someone who…” He paused, and Kat finished his sentence.

“Someone you approve of? Or someone you can use for a political advantage? Oh, I understand, Mr. Kingsley.”

He laughed bitterly. “That is just it. You don't even know to call me Lord Pembroke.”

She fought off the need to bristle at his exasperated sigh. “I can learn to be what Tristan needs me to be. I'm not afraid,
Lord
Pembroke. Is that your only objection to me? That I'm not a British aristocrat?”

Tristan's father was studying her intently now, and she sat very still beneath his intense scrutiny.

“I have plenty of objections, but I have a feeling you'll argue against all of them. Typical American behavior.” He stayed silent for another minute and then shook his head. “At least the media likes you. I saw the article, of course. The two of you ice-skating, singing at church. I don't think Tristan's been inside a church in years…” As Edward opened up about Tristan, the anger in him seemed to be slightly diffused. “I had no idea he could skate. I don't know when he learned to do that. We never took him skating as a boy. He doesn't do things like that with other women, just you.” He was still staring at her.

Kat swallowed, unsure what to say to that. “Would you tell me about when you used to take him to the Kensington Gardens? He told me it was one of his happiest memories.”

“He said that?” Edward's brows raised.

She nodded.

A hint of a smile curved Edward's lips. “The boy always had so much energy. Best to get him up and running about.” He chuckled. “He was quite a scamp.”

Kat kissed Tristan's hand as she listened to his father talk.

“Did you know he had a wild imagination as a boy? Always playacting with Carter. The two of them never stayed out of trouble for long.” Edward shook his head, still smiling.

“Carter is like a brother to him,” Kat said. “I think, one day, they'll make Pembroke a wonderful place. He has so many ideas—” She halted, not wanting to anger Edward or get Tristan in more trouble with his father.

Edward stared at his son, but when he spoke the words were for her.

“Ideas? What sort of ideas?” Rather than sound upset, his tone was gentle, almost curious.

“He wants to make Pembroke a place where people will come from all over the world to visit. He thinks if you allow some film crews on the grounds to use it for period dramas, it'll make the estate famous,” Kat explained. She detailed Tristan's plans and watched Edward, expecting the building storm again, but it didn't come.

“Tristan told you his plan? I admit when he first told me I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but it has grown on me these last few weeks.” Surprise colored the earl's voice.

“Yes. He was so excited about it. He and Carter have it all mapped out…” She paused. “Did you fire Carter and his father?”

Edward finally looked at her. “No. I would never sack them, no matter what I said. John tried to resign, but he reminded me, well…that we were more than a team. Long ago, we were friends. I'd forgotten that somehow, in the last thirty years.” Lines of worry carved into his face and he scrubbed his jaw. “So…you love my son.” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her, but she replied anyway.

“Yes. I tried so many times not to love him. I promised to stay away from him, but it's like…”

“Like you're the sea and he's the shore? You always come crashing back to each other by forces greater than you can understand.” Edward glanced at Tristan. His lips quivered and a tear rolled down his cheek.

With a muttered apology, the man wiped away the evidence of his emotions.

“Who was it…?” Kat could barely get the words out. “Who did you love so completely like that?” She knew deep in her soul that this man understood them more than she'd ever imagined someone could.

Edward closed his eyes, exhaled, and then looked out the window at the dark, sleeping city. Their reflections on the glass from the hall lights made them appear to be frozen phantoms.

“Her name was Lydia. Her family lived on the estate and worked as part of the household staff. My father never knew she and I…how we felt about each other. I knew if he discovered us, he'd send her family away.”

Kat covered Tristan's hand with both of hers, holding on to him as she listened to his father open his heart and expose his painful past.

“What happened to Lydia?”

Edward's head lowered a few inches. “John Martin came to work for my father. He was my age. Twenty-four. He took over as steward and met Lydia. There was nothing standing between them. No grand house, no titles, no traditions. I stood next to John in the church the day of their wedding. A man's heart can break and not kill him, I found out as I watched them get married.” Edward didn't wipe the second tear away as it coursed down his cheek.

“What about Tristan's mother?” Kat asked, almost afraid of the pain the question might cause, but needing to know.

“She came into my life a few weeks after the wedding. She was like Lydia in so many ways, but she was never mine, not like Lydia had been. Every hurt I've suffered since I lost Lydia, I took out on Elizabeth…” He didn't finish, but it wasn't necessary.

“The world is different now,” Kat whispered. “Tristan and I can be together.” She held her breath, waiting to see what Edward would say.

“Much has changed in thirty years,” he agreed.

Several long moments passed while Kat and Edward kept a vigilant watch on Tristan's condition.

Then at last Edward spoke.

“Why don't you try to rest? I shall stay with him for a few hours.” Edward shifted in his chair as though settling in for a long watch.

“No,” Kat whispered. “I won't leave. I made a promise, one I've broken too many times. I was
always
the one who gave up on us because I was too afraid of what I felt for him. I'm never going to hurt him again.” Thick tears blurred her eyes enough that she had trouble seeing. She blinked rapidly, sending the tears trickling down her cheeks.

The hospital monitors beeped away, steady and unchanging, measuring the silence in the room by the slow beat of Tristan's heart.

“Then sleep here. I'll watch him if he wakes.” Edward's suggestion was the only option she could accept.

Every muscle in her body ached. Worry and fear had drained her to the point where she couldn't fight sleep. Scooting her chair closer, Kat rested her elbows on Tristan's bed and folded her arms so she could lay her head on them. She kept hold of his hand, unwilling to lose that connection to him.

She slipped into that twilight place between wakefulness and sleep. Dreams of him came to her, one at a time in shimmering incandescent waves that blinded her with their brilliance. His arms about her, his lips feathering over hers, the way his eyes sparkled as he laughed. She loved how he talked of his dreams for the future with such hope. The way he spoke of Celia and Carter with such affection. Tristan was so much more than the charming womanizer the press painted him as. He was a loyal friend, irresistible lover, a man with dreams to build a greater life for those in his world.

Lost in her own dreams, Kat didn't immediately feel the gentle pressure on her hand. She came awake slowly, convinced she'd imagined it. Bleary-eyed, she glanced at the clock above the bed. Two hours had passed. She peeked at Edward, who was still watching Tristan, weary but awake.

There it was again, that hint of pressure.

Kat squeezed back, staring hard at Tristan's face for any sign of him coming around.

A flicker of his lids, a tensing of his jaw. Surely I can't be imagining this.

His fingers tightened around hers, the sensation clearly recognizable now. Her heart leaped into her throat and she gasped breathlessly.

“Take his other hand. He's waking up. I have to get Lizzy and Dad!” She jumped up, waited impatiently for Edward to do as she ordered, and then she rushed out of the room to get Lizzy.

Tristan was waking up at last.

They say life flashes through a person's eyes when they're about to die. But no one says anything about the moments before you come back to life. This was the hazy thought that lay at the back of Tristan's mind as he watched the play of images and sensations roll through his mind.

The light glinting off the top of Peter Pan's flute in a garden, the feel of his father's arms catching him, both of them laughing. The bright colors from a stained-glass window of a knight and his lady. Chasing Carter through the woods, laughing as they followed the groundskeeper to collect grouse eggs. The bite of a winter's night and the hot kiss of a girl with silver eyes. The flutter of a butterfly against his cheek as he leaned in for one more kiss, one last taste. The glow of winter sunlight on an antique compass in his hand, the arrow pointing him toward his future…toward her
.

“Kat.” The name came out a rough, raspy whisper that scraped his ears.

“I'm here.” Her voice was so clear, so real. Was he still dreaming?

“Kat?” Tristan coughed, and suddenly pain flared inside every cell of his body. His eyelids scratched against his eyes like sandpaper as he forced them open. Everything was blurry, and he had to blink a few times.

A group of people were huddled around him. His father, his mother, Clayton, Celia, Carter…and Kat.
His Kat
.

“You're here,” he whispered. The other people in the room vanished, and he saw only her. A hundred emotions smashed into him and tears burned his eyes because he was too bloody weak to get up and take the woman he loved into his arms.

Kat bit her lip and nodded, tears streaming down her face. Her dark hair fell about her face in wild waves, as though she'd been running her hands through it in worried distraction.

She was still beautiful.

“Yes, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere,” she promised.

Hearing that made his entire body relax, and yet he still needed to hold her.

He struggled to sit up, but his father touched his shoulder gently. “Easy, boy. Plenty of time for that later.”

Tristan glanced at Edward, blinking slowly. His father's eyes were red-rimmed.
Why?

“Father, what—”

“Shhh…” His mother hushed him. “Don't speak. Just rest. We're all here and so glad you're all right.”