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“Tristan…” His name was a soft plea, but it wasn’t enough.

He stepped outside and closed the door, hating her, hating himself, yet he wanted to go back in there and kiss her until he destroyed her foolish idea of resisting him. If he had the chance to get her flat on her bed, he would kiss every inch of her, convince her he was loyal, and that he didn’t want anyone but her. He’d never wanted just one woman before, but Kat was different. What they had was different. And she’d ruined everything because she wouldn’t trust him.

It’s too late.
Too bloody late.

Kat wiped away her tears. Letting Tristan walk out the door and not running after him had cut her in two. He’d taken half of her with him, and she was terrified of what that meant. She couldn’t fall for him, and shouldn’t feel so devastated because she’d let him break through her carefully constructed walls. The moment he had shut the door between them it had shattered her, and yet she was the one who’d demanded he leave.

How can I feel this way about someone I’ve only known a few days?

It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t forget what he’d said. There was something connecting them, something she couldn’t explain but could feel. Was it just wild, insane lust or was it something deeper? Now that it was over, how was she going to get through this?

She was definitely not okay, but that was her own fault. She’d let Tristan walk away before she’d had time to figure out what she really wanted. And she’d never given him the chance to explain. Her pride had gotten in the way, and she’d just shut him out to protect herself. It hadn’t worked. She felt like she was bleeding inside.

She collapsed on the bed, and the tears came. Between fighting with Tristan and her father dating someone, it seemed her entire world was crumbling around her. Everything was changing too quickly.

Kat wasn’t sure how long she cried, but at some point she slipped into sleep.

She dreamed about a house on a hill, with snowcapped chimneys and ice lacing the edges of the windows. It was a place of dreams and fairy tales, with magic emanating from the snow-covered grounds. A sleek, red fox padded around softly in the gardens outside, sniffing the air before vanishing into the nearest hedge.

A solitary figure in the window paced back and forth. She recognized the man with dark hair and blue-green eyes that burned like stars in a clear night sky. For a brief time, this beautiful man had been hers, and for one night they’d shared passions, dreams, and whispered confessions of the heart.

Tristan
. The window around the Tristan of her dream shattered. Kat jerked awake with a gasp. Her heart beat so hard she could barely think. Blood roared in her ears, making her dizzy.

She was alone in her dorm room. Tristan and the beautiful snowy house on the hill were a dream. Nothing more.

She turned on the lamp and reached for her laptop on the nightstand. She pulled up an Internet search for Tristan Kingsley. She hadn’t wanted to see evidence of his past, not after the first time she and Lacy had Googled him. But now she
needed
to see it. Plenty of tabloid pictures, usually of Tristan and some woman dancing at a club, drinking at a bar, or dining at a restaurant. Most of the time he was with that girl, Brianna. Every time Kat came across an article, it never failed to mention Tristan’s father, the Earl of Pembroke, and the earl’s current political power plays.

Why would all of the articles attempt to use Tristan’s playboy character against his father’s public image? Unless…that was their intention. Use the son to discredit the father.

Kat remembered Tristan’s face, the way his eyes had hardened, the way his jaw had tensed when he’d spoken about his father. Their relationship must be strained, and it no doubt wasn’t helped by this type of article.

Kat perused the articles again, reading over everything, studying Tristan’s posture and attitude in the photos. Aside from the extremely risqué picture with his hand up Brianna’s skirt, there wasn’t much in the way of bad behavior. No assaults, no drugs, no drunkenness. Just scores of women and the scandal of his libertine lifestyle. A typical playboy. But not really a bad guy.

Tristan said he hadn’t been with anyone since he’d met her. They’d only known each other two days, and she’d known at the back of her mind that he couldn’t have been with anyone else that quickly. Yet she’d judged him anyway. He’d wanted to give whatever was between them a chance, and she’d shut him down so fast they’d failed to get anywhere.

Am I that afraid of a photograph of him and some other woman taken before he met me?

She was, and she hated that she was so scared of getting hurt. He’d been right. She was young and she should be living and having fun, not locking herself away from anything that might hurt her later. Wasn’t falling in love and dating part of that?

I had an adventure right there and I shoved him out the door. And now I can’t even contact him to…to what? Talk? Go out on a real date? Tell him I want him and that I’m ready to risk my heart to be with him?

She had no phone number or e-mail address—nothing. He was at a different college within the university. Their paths might never cross again. Not to mention, she’d burned her bridges when they’d fought, and he wouldn’t forgive her. She couldn’t forgive herself for stopping something before they’d had a chance to start.

I’ll never know what it would have been like to be with him
.

She closed the laptop and set it aside, a hollowness growing inside her chest until bleak despair covered her like a suffocating shroud.

What have I done?

T
he past two weeks had been hell.
Beyond hell
.

Tristan hadn’t bothered to shave for a week. He’d barely managed to shower and stumble into his classes. Carter had threatened to shove him out on his arse in the snow if he didn’t clean up for the party tonight.

But none of it mattered. Kat had shut him out of her life. The spark of something deep and hot between them had been buried by her closing the door that night. The finality of her decision had ripped through him so hard he’d been unable to drive for several minutes after leaving her dormitory. Instead, he’d wandered the snowy grounds, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his mind trying to sort through the pain and the anger over her rejection. When he’d finally come home that night, he’d poured every bit of his soul into the nearest glass of brandy and hadn’t come out of the bottle since.

“You look like bloody hell,” Carter mused from the doorway. His smug grin made Tristan growl and clench his fists around the soft towel as he wiped his face dry. He’d showered and dressed in a pair of jeans. Their house would be full of people tonight, but he was tempted to go downstairs as he was. That would certainly be scandalous. He felt reckless enough that he just might do it. What was one more scandal in the papers? His father would be furious, but what else was new?

“The razor is within reach, Carter. I’d watch your words,” he warned.

“As if you could do anything. I’ve watched you drink yourself into the bottom of your mother’s most expensive Scotch this week. I dare you to throw a decent punch.”

“You’re one to talk. Celia’s come around four times, and you duck and run.”

Carter’s mouth thinned into a scowl. “We both know why I avoid her.”

Tristan tossed the towel onto the counter, glowering at his friend in the mirror’s reflection.

“Don’t you have a party to host with Celia?”

“Only because you won’t come down and join us. We got this together for you, and you aren’t even attending.”

Well played
. Tristan scrubbed a hand over his chin. He’d gotten his friend and cousin into this party all because he’d hoped it would be one more way to woo Kat. If she loved Fox Hill he’d be that much closer to winning her over. And it had all been a wasted effort, because she would never want him again, would never trust him over things he’d done before he’d met her.

Life up until now had been a loving mistress to him. Now she was a cold-hearted creature digging her claws into his chest. The one thing he wanted most in the world…Kat…was something he couldn’t have.

“Are you really not going to come down to the party?” Carter asked.

Exhaling, Tristan rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throb of a building headache. “The whole point of tonight’s festivities no longer exists for me.”

Carter’s irritation changed to sympathy. “Are you certain? I handed out dozens of invitations to undergraduate students. How do you know she won’t come?”

“She’s not the party type. I was hoping to entice her to come before…”
Before she ripped me in two.

His friend pushed away from the door frame and sighed. “I’m sorry, Tristan. Wherever the girl is, she’s twisted you up in knots. I suggest you sort yourself out before we go on holiday. Your mother won’t want her time with you to be—” he waved a hand up and down at Tristan’s body “—like this. She deserves her son to be on his best behavior.”

Best behavior?
Had he
ever
behaved? No, and he had no intention of starting now.

“Get out of my room, Carter, and go downstairs to keep Celia company.”

His friend shrugged and then left.

Tristan could hear the low bass of music downstairs, that blend of chatter and laughter unique only to parties. Since Celia was in charge, it was more upscale than a typical university party. They were also past that wild stage of partying that came with the newly minted college students.

Drunken escapades had lost their appeal after he’d turned twenty-two. Now he preferred his parties on the quiet side, with drinks and entertainment of a more private nature, preferably in a bed. He would have none of that tonight. Kat should have been here. He’d planned to show her the house, tell her its history, seduce her with the things she loved most and prove to her that he cared about her. Because he
did
, he cared too bloody much, and all it had gotten him was pain.

Why the hell did it hurt so much not having her here? She was just a girl, wasn’t she? He’d had plenty of them over the years…so why did Kat matter? Why couldn’t he get the thought of her mercury gray eyes out of his head, or the sound of her laugh out of his ears? His hands trembled with longing for her, to touch her, thread his fingers through her silky hair. He missed everything about her.

Fuck
. This was going to be a long night.

He slipped out of the bathroom and moved through the darkened bedroom to his closet. The cold weather outside wasn’t going to matter, not with all the people flooding Fox Hill, so Tristan opted for a black T-shirt rather than a sweater.

Tugging the shirt over his head, he padded to the wide window and shoved one curtain back to peer through the frosted glass. Below him, the main driveway was full of cars. Headlights from some of the newer arrivals burned bright in the night, cutting through the heavily falling snow, creating gold beams that glowed with an ethereal luminescence.

He watched the snow fall for several minutes, his thoughts as scattered as the falling flakes outside, until his mobile rang. He had no intention of answering, but when he saw the caller ID he changed his mind.

“Mum?”

“Hello, Tristan, dear.”

He loved the sound of her voice, sweet and kind, full of affection for him. So different from his father’s.

“Am I still due to come stay with you in two days?” He hoped she hadn’t changed her plans. The last thing he wanted was to end up with his father on holiday. The arrogant man already thought Tristan was coming and would be furious when he discovered his son had lied.

“Yes.” Her breathless reply was quick. “But I want to talk to you.”

He continued to stare out the window as he waited for her to speak.

“I’ve met someone, Tristan. A wonderful man. We’ve been dating these last few months, and I want you to meet him.”

Everything inside him stilled. His mother had met a man? He was happy for her, of course. But he’d make sure that whoever this fellow was, he was good enough for her. His mother was often a target because of her property and her family money. Men without scruples saw her as a way to wealth and power.

The last time his mother had believed she was in love, the man had been a gentleman from a good family who’d gone deep into debt. He’d attempted to seduce her while still married. When his mother had discovered that the man hadn’t yet divorced his wife, it had crushed her. Tristan had vowed that wouldn’t happen again, not while he was there to watch out for her.

“That’s good to hear, Mum. Who is he?”

“He’s an investment banker.” His mother chuckled. “And no, he has no interest in my money. He has plenty on his own.”

Tristan smiled, shaking his head. It was like she’d heard his thoughts. “That’s good. How did you meet?” He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of a strange man in his mother’s life, but he’d attempt to sound happy for her. He would also have the man thoroughly checked out.

His mother launched into an amusing story of running into the man at a grocer.

“We want you to meet. We thought we could stay together over Christmas.”

Tristan digested this, pacing as he mulled it over. Given the situation with Kat, he desperately needed a distraction, even one that wouldn’t be necessarily positive. He would rather deal with his mother’s relationship than his own.

“Is this all right, Tristan? I don’t want to upset your holiday. We just thought it would be the best time for all of us to get together.”

“It’s fine, Mum. I’ll be delighted to meet him.”

“Wonderful. He has a daughter, a girl near your age. I haven’t met her yet, but he says she’s a sweet girl.”

That made him groan. The last thing he wanted to do was interact with the girl during the holidays.

“Mum, that sounds lovely. Do you mind if I call you tomorrow?”

She laughed. “Of course, darling.”

Tristan tossed his mobile on the bed and started toward the door. He needed to get drunk again.
Now
.