Forbidden (13 page)

L
acy was right. As usual. Not that Kat would ever admit it.

Mark parked the car at the end of the circular drive, and they stepped out into the snowstorm. Her ankle-high boots and little black dress weren’t the best clothes for tramping about in the snow, but at least she had on a thick, black woolen coat, which she clutched tightly around her as she followed her friends. They were teasing each other, knocking their shoulders together while they whispered and laughed.

A pang of pain rang through her, as sharp as a silver bell struck with a hammer. The hurt echoed inside her with little ripples that made her shake. Could she and Tristan have been like Lacy and Mark if she hadn’t shoved Tristan out of her life? Tonight was supposed to be a distraction, but seeing this house, like the one in her dream, made her think of him. The way he’d kissed her, the way his body had curled around hers in bed, and how they’d shared some of the most intimate parts of themselves with each other. He hadn’t been a future earl with a hundred notches on his bedpost, just a wonderful, sexy man.

And he’d been all mine for one night
.

Why had she thought the way she felt about him was something she could ignore? Sure it had hit fast and hard, like lightning in clear skies, but maybe that was how it was supposed to be? A sudden rush, a fall, and then a jarring landing back on real ground.

“Kat, catch up!” Mark called out.

“I’m coming!” She hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking until Mark had shouted at her. There she was, just standing there, lost in thought. As she started walking again, she looked at the house, and it stole her breath.

The house—Fox Hill—with its old cottage manor architecture highlighted by the golden illumination of light from within looked like a home from a fairy tale, a place of magic and dreams, shrouded by a lacy veil of snow.

Mark and Lacy moved more quickly than she did, and when she finally caught up with them at the front of door, a woman was there to meet them. A woman Kat recognized instantly.

Celia. Tristan’s stunning cousin.

“Welcome!” Celia beamed.

She wore a black sheath dress and a pair of knee-high black boots that gave her that perfect blend of sexy and classy, a 1960s British Mod look that Kat could never seem to achieve.

Shuffling nervously, Kat tugged her coat closer about her shoulders, feeling self-conscious about her own clothes. Like a child trying to play dress-up compared to Celia’s put-together perfection.

“I’m Celia,” their hostess said as she ushered them inside.

Fox Hill’s interior had red painted walls with dark wood paneling. Evergreen garlands wound around the banister leading upstairs. Music echoed against the walls and ceiling and mixed with the laughter of guests, filling the hall and rooms around them. Christmas cheer and the end of exams had put everyone in a good mood.

A lively band played covers of popular songs in the large room just to the right. With shelves of endless books, it had to be the library. The spines glinted with gold lettering that winked and shimmered beneath the decorative Christmas lights strung across the wooden ceiling beams. It was cozy and elegant at the same time.

A group of undergrads she vaguely recognized from her dorm walked past, clutching glasses of wine and laughing. Everyone was so relieved exams were over, as she was. But it had been a lot harder to focus on schoolwork when her mind seemed determined to distract her with thoughts of Tristan and how she’d screwed everything up.

“Drinks and other refreshments are in the kitchen straight ahead. Past that, there are plenty of rooms for talking and dancing,” Celia explained as she walked them through the lower level of the house.

Kat paused at the foot of stairs, her gaze traveling up the carpeted steps. A strange need to go up them was almost irresistible. She settled one foot on the bottom stair, but Lacy touched her shoulder.

“Kat, Celia’s going to show us the house.”

Without a word, she followed her friends on the tour, only half-listening to Celia describe the house in between the discussions about professors and holiday plans. After half an hour, she slipped away from the group and headed back to the stairs.

She needed a minute to think and catch her breath. Should she ask Celia about Tristan? Would his cousin give her his cell phone number?

No, that was stupid. She couldn’t ask Celia for that.
It’s over, whatever shot I had with him, I blew it.

With a little shake, she forced herself to focus on the party, and the fact that she should be celebrating, having
fun
. But as miserable as she felt right now, it was the last thing she wanted to do. She used to think she was above pity parties and moping, but ever since Tristan had walked out her door, everything in her world seemed…
dimmer
.

Maybe she could distract herself by exploring the house. Lacy had been right about that, getting to snoop around a house like this was the equivalent of catnip to a history major.

It was certainly an old house, at least a century. Kat started up the stairs, slipping her gloves off to stroke her fingers over the smooth, polished wood of the banister. As she climbed, the party sounds grew muted.

At the top of the stairs she glanced down the left and right halls before deciding to go to the right. It was nosy, she had to admit, to want to peek into every room as she walked by but there was no way she would miss out on the chance to do just that. Most were bedrooms, sumptuously decorated in that rich English country-house style she’d seen in movies and decorating magazines. Elegant homes with canopy beds and portraits of people hanging on the walls.

The last door she opened revealed a dark room, but she could see a fire lit in the hearth. And the silhouette of a man sitting in one of the chairs facing the fireplace, holding a glass of either Scotch or brandy. The light trapped in the glass seemed to make the drink burn like liquid fire.

The last thing she wanted was to get caught sneaking around. She retreated a step, hit her elbow on the doorjamb, and cursed. The man in the chair shifted, starting to turn her way.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled and took another step backward. Whoever this was probably wanted to be left alone.

“It’s fine—” The man leaned around the edge of the chair then shot to his feet and took a step in her direction. “Kat?” That rich, accented voice made her insides turn to honey. It also halted her dead in her tracks.

“Tristan?”
What was he doing here? Had Celia invited him? She must have, since this was her house.

He didn’t move closer, just stood there, the glass in his hand, watching her. A little bit of light from the hallway illuminated his face. He looked different from the last time she’d seen him. There was a dangerous edge to him, as though he’d gone through hell and come back…darker. What had happened to him?

“Katherine…it’s good to see you,” he said, as though carefully selecting his words.

Heat rushed to her face, and she was grateful for the dim lighting. Was he still furious with her? She’d understand if he was, but she wanted to talk, to explain…to beg him to give her another chance. It was her fault, this gaping void between them. She hadn’t wanted to believe he wasn’t seeing Brianna. But he’d called her “Katherine” just now, as though he were reminding himself that he wanted to keep his distance from her.

“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, but her mind and mouth apparently weren’t communicating.

“I live here.” Tristan set his glass down on a small table and took another step forward.

Lord, he moved so beautifully—graceful, sensual, controlled. Her heart raced wildly, and her mouth went dry at the sight of him.

“You live at Fox Hill?” Of course he lived in a fairy-tale house, just like in her dreams.

Was there
anything
about him she could resist? Maybe his sense of entitlement, but it was easy to overlook when everything else about the man was too perfect, too seductive. Kat stood still in the doorway, able to retreat but unwilling. Her heart fluttered, and she tried to control her breathing, but being so close to him filled her with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“It’s my mother’s. I live here while I’m at university.” He took one more step.

Dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked sexy as hell, his arm flexing as he raised one hand as though to reach for her, before he caught himself and dropped it back to his side.

“I saw your cousin at the door. I thought this was her home.”

Tristan shook his head. “She’s helping host tonight, but she lives in London.”

“Then who was the guy who handed me the invitation?” She thought of the good-looking man with the silver cards.

Tristan chuckled. “Tall as me and blond?”

When she nodded, he chuckled. “That would be Carter. My friend. He lives here at Fox Hill, as well.”

“How do you know him?” Kat leaned against the doorjamb. It was wonderful to be talking to him again, after she’d been facing the prospect of never seeing him again. Like sucking in a breath of air after being trapped underwater. The tight ache in her chest that had been suffocating her for the last two weeks seemed to have almost completely vanished.

“Carter’s father is the steward of my father’s estate. We grew up together. Despite my father’s best efforts—” a wry smile twisted his lips “—he couldn’t crush our friendship. We’ve been thick as thieves since we were boys.” His tone was so full of affection for Carter that Kat couldn’t resist smiling.

It was how she felt about Lacy. Sometimes a person was lucky enough to have a force of nature as a friend, and one couldn’t imagine life without them.

Tristan moved closer until he was leaning against the wall next to the door, towering over her. He’d given her plenty of time to escape, but the last thing she wanted was to leave. He’d caught her in his spell. His eyes alone spun black magic around her, and his voice, low and rough, combined with that flirty smile made him irresistible.

“Want to know a secret?” he asked in a silken whisper.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

Tristan reached up to cup her cheek, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Electric tingles shot from her cheek down to her toes, and she leaned in to the touch. How had she gone so many days without this? She was a fool for thinking she could stop herself from wanting him.

“He’s madly in love with Celia, and she with him.”

She could picture the two of them, Carter and Celia, a handsome couple, happy and in love. Like a fairy tale. Funny how everything in Tristan’s world seemed to make her think of that.

“Are they together?”

He shook his head. “No. Her parents would object. Her mother is my father’s younger sister, and unfortunately she’s a bit too much like him when it comes to her daughter’s relationships.”

“But that’s—”

“Ridiculous, medieval even. Yet completely normal for our sort.” He scowled, his eyes darkening, but she sensed it was out of anger at the truth.

He’d be an earl someday. He’d marry someone important in British society, like Lacy had said. Yet the thought of him with another woman made her stomach turn.

“Kat…” Tristan stared at her, his hungry gaze making her a dizzy. “You should leave.”

“Leave?” she echoed, his words stinging like a slap. She had really screwed things up between them.

“Yes.” He leaned down the last few inches until his lips feathered over hers. “Because if you don’t leave, I’ll lose control. I spent two goddamn weeks without you.” The low growl came out of the back of his throat, and it sent shivers down her spine. “Do you know what that’s like? Having the thing you want most ripped away from you? I want you, Kat. Bad enough that losing you nearly killed me.” He paused, his breath uneven as he stared at her. There was a feral glint in his eyes that sparked her body to life. He wouldn’t be gentle, he would be rough, wild, and yet it didn’t frighten her even though she knew it should have.

“I’m not leaving,” she promised him, her body trembling with her need for him.

“You’d better be damned sure darling, because if you stay, I’ll take you to bed and fuck you for the rest of the night. I’ve spent too much time fantasizing about it. I won’t be able to control myself if you stay.”

At this suggestion, all rationality fled. She barely knew him. Yet after spending a night in his arms, sharing their secrets, she did know some hidden part of him. A part she didn’t want to let go. Kat needed to be with him as much as she needed her next breath. She wasn’t going to miss this chance.

She curled her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his. “Then take me to bed.”

Tristan wrapped his arms around her body, one hand coming up to grip the back of her neck, the possessive hold sparking everything inside her to life. His taste, like the brandy he’d been drinking, was thick and rich upon her tongue as he kissed her.

Kissing him was addictive.

Can’t get enough. Never enough.

She dug her fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands, urging him to be rougher, to kiss her harder. Everything around them faded away, and she was locked inside her own private universe with Tristan.

He made her feel alive, sexy, like a woman in ways she’d never felt before. As though she was a seductress, a strong, beautiful woman who could have this handsome man in her bed. That silly feeling of being a naive college girl who didn’t know anything about love or life melted away beneath his kiss. Tristan had introduced her to both in a few short weeks. Even when he’d been out of her life, she hadn’t been able to escape thoughts of him. She hadn’t wanted to, either.

Take me
, she begged him with her kiss.

With a low animalistic sound, he gripped her by the waist and lifted her up against his body. Carrying her over to a desk in the study, he cleared the surface of its contents with a swipe of his hand. The items hit the floor with a crash, the papers fluttering.

He set her down and continued to kiss her ruthlessly. He was conquering every part of her body and soul with every wicked slant of his mouth, and she loved it. She tugged at his shirt, trying to lift it, needing to get closer.