Forbidden (6 page)

I hate good-byes
.

But coming here for school meant she was guaranteed three years in the same place. Mark and Lacy were her first real friends in a long time because Kat finally knew for sure that things in her life wouldn’t suddenly change.

“Okay, I told you about last night, so what about G. David?”

Leaning close, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes, Lacy spoke. “They apparently had someone call in this morning and ask to buy that first edition of
The Mysterious Island
you were staring at last week.”

Kat’s heart fluttered. She’d never be able to afford it, but she hadn’t been able to resist wanting it. “How’d you find out about it?”

“I overheard one of the store clerks confirming the order while I was buying some Terry Brooks novels.”

Kat almost smiled, but then something clicked. An image of Tristan holding on to the worn paperback from her shelf. The way he’d looked at the book, then at her, as though sorting out a puzzle.
No. It couldn’t be…
But it was the only conclusion that made sense. He’d seen her book last night and then today he’d gone to G. David and bought the first edition. Did he intend to give it to her? She couldn’t see any other reason for him to do that, since he hadn’t mentioned that he was a Jules Verne fan.

Kat glanced at her watch. She had about half an hour before her next class, which was just enough time for her to visit the bookshop. She grabbed her books and shoved them into her bag. “I want to see it again before the buyer picks it up.”

Lacy followed as they exited the library. The courtyard was covered with snow now, but in the warmer months, the white stone library was a rich contrast against the green grass. There was so much that she loved about Cambridge: the town, the university, the people. It felt more like home than anywhere she’d lived before. Like going to school in a fairy-tale village with castles on every corner.

“If you’re going all the way to G. David, I’ll catch you later for dinner. Text me, okay?” Lacy called out as they parted ways.

“Bye!” Kat waved but she was already walking, with one thing on her mind. Well, maybe two things, the book and one sexy-as-hell, off-limits, future earl.
Damn
.

G. David was every book lover’s dream. It was the epitome of the antiquarian book collector’s world, and was tucked away on 16 St. Edward’s Passage. The shop’s wood storefront was painted blue, making it stand out from the stores around it, like a welcoming little cottage. The name “G. David” had appeared in white, creating a sharp contrast against the blue wood and white brick of the storefront of the building.

Much of the shop was full of the standard sort of used books. Kat meandered through the aisles, her shoulders brushing against the thickly stacked shelves containing hundreds of musty- smelling paperbacks. Some of the pages were yellowed with age and their covers faded. Unable to resist, she trailed a fingertip over their sun-warmed spines, idly reading the titles. A thousand stories hummed from the pages, whispering to her of heroes long gone, and tales of love that spanned centuries.

I could spend my life wandering through this shop, glimpsing worlds through the windows of these books.

She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered telling Tristan about Jules Verne and why she liked his stories. The fantastical adventures were addictive, almost as much as kissing him.

She jerked to a halt and shook her head a little, trying to clear it.

Stop thinking about him.
The way he smelled of winter and spice, how his warm breath fanned over her face as he panted to regain his breath, and how that had sent shivers of excitement through her.

Glancing about, she looked for the sign pointing to the rare-book room. Once there, she paused in the doorway. Rows of gilded spines glinted beneath the soft lights overhead. Each one seemed to whisper secrets from the stories they held. Bookstores were holy to Kat. They offered adventure and the truth of the human soul, both dark and light.

Goose bumps covered her arms as she touched the spines nearest her, tracing the gilt letters of the titles. Some of the sturdier editions weren’t protected by glass casing. The musty scent that clung to the air brought back old memories of her father’s library. Her mother hadn’t been one for reading. It was her father’s lap she’d climbed onto for a story. As she’d gotten a little older, he’d perched on the edge of her bed and read her tales until her eyes had drifted shut and she’d slipped into dreams filled with dragons, warriors, and magic.

Homesickness swamped her, and her throat constricted. She hadn’t thought of those days in a long time. The days before she and her father had become nomads. He couldn’t bear to stay in one place too long, as the sense of missing something grew stronger over time. Her father used to come into the kitchen and pause, stare at the stove, then, with a sigh, reach for a pot to make dinner.

Cooking had been the one thing her mother had enjoyed. Before she’d left, the stove had always had something good-smelling on the cooktop. After the divorce, the house seemed to be gripped with a gaping void. An emptiness tempered by a quiet sense of grief was embedded in the very brick and wood of the house itself.

Her mother was still very much alive somewhere far away from them, and her leaving had felt like a death, in a way. It was hard to explain, but the pain Kat felt when she thought about her mother was still fresh.

“Hello, can I help you find anything in particular?” A female clerk’s voice jerked Kat out of her thoughts. The woman stood at the opposite end of the room, by a narrow wooden door labeled “storage.” In her late forties, she had a pair of glasses perched on her nose and a hint of gray in her hair.

She gently dusted the tops of books with a flat paintbrush as she slowly made her way down the nearest shelf toward Kat. It was a sight Kat was used to in old bookstores. Paintbrushes were an ideal dusting tool for books.

“Actually—” Kat shifted her backpack and took a step into the rare book room. “I heard you have a buyer for the first edition of
The Mysterious Island
by Jules Verne. I was wondering if I could look at it before the buyer picked it up. I’m a huge fan, but couldn’t afford the edition.”

The clerk’s eyes lit up. “A Verne fan! We don’t see too many of those these days. I’d be happy to let you take a peek at it.” The woman winked. “Come, let’s get it out.”

Each of the books inside the rare-edition glass cabinet had a strip of white paper with a name scrawled in black ink tucked inside its front cover. The lucky owners, Kat guessed.

“Here we are.” The woman crooked one index finger onto the top part of the spine and tugged gently so it slid free of its neighbors.

“This is part one.
Dropped from the Clouds
. At the buyer’s request we’re locating the second and third parts,
The Abandoned
and
The Secret of the Island
.” The clerk held out the red leather book.

Kat took it, holding it with reverence. Dark gold letters displayed the title on the cover. Beneath was a gold etching of a hot-air balloon drifting over a calm ocean as though ready to crash into the sea. Someone lucky was going to be taking this home. A pang of envy shot through her, making her feel guilty.

There was something magical about old books. The detail and artistry that went into their creation, with their gilded edges, engraved illustrations, and eye-catching covers, made each of them a treasure. In today’s world, there was so much less magic, less wonder in the small things, like the beauty of books. It made her old-fashioned, yet she couldn’t help but appreciate the book for what it was, an icon of an era lost forever.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

She nodded, carefully opening the book, studying the title page as she spoke. “How much is the buyer paying for it?” The number was going to make her cringe, but she couldn’t resist asking.

“About £1,000.00. He was most insistent we find the others, as well.”

Doing the math in her head, Kat winced. That was more than $1,500 dollars for one book. With great reluctance, she returned
Dropped from the Clouds
into the clerk’s hands.

“Anything else catch your fancy?” the clerk asked.

Kat shook her head. Her class, European History 1600 to 1800, started in half an hour, which left her no time to browse.

“Do you mind if I asked who bought
Dropped from the Clouds
?” she asked the clerk.

The woman nudged her glasses up her nose an inch, hesitating to speak, as though she was considering if she ought to respect the buyer’s privacy.

“I have a friend, a man named Tristan Kingsley. I thought perhaps he might be the one who bought it,” Kat clarified. Tristan had no reason to buy it. Still…his flashing blue-green eyes crossed her mind, teasing her with memories of the previous night. She knew it was him. It wasn’t a coincidence that the first edition, which had been at G. David’s for a year, was being bought the day after Tristan had stood in her bedroom and looked at her battered, well-loved copy.

“Er…well, I’m not permitted to disclose our client’s information, but I can say that if it was your friend, he has excellent taste.” The clerk gave her a small but knowing smile.

Oh, wow
. He’d really done it. The question now was, why? What would he do with a first edition of Jules Verne, other than give it to her? She couldn’t accept a gift like that, it was way too expensive. And she couldn’t help but wonder what his reason for buying it for her was. Did he always buy things for the women he claimed he was interested in? Did he expect her to sleep with him after getting a gift like that? It was all too confusing. She didn’t know what the protocol was for a girl to do when getting a gift like that. As she headed to class, she struggled to come up with a plan.

Nothing could take that sexy Brit out of her head. And that was a bad sign, since she knew she shouldn’t see him again. But what would she do when he gave her the Jules Verne book? Shove him out the door and tell him good-bye when she really just wanted to drag him into her dorm room again? Yeah…she knew without a doubt that if he showed up in her life again, they’d end up in trouble because he would kiss her and if he kissed her it would lead to so much more…

Y
ou have that funny look on your face again.” Celia laughed softly and nudged Tristan’s leg under the table with her high-heeled black boot.

For the last ten minutes, he’d been watching the door of a bookshop, waiting, holding his breath. Kat was inside. It had been sheer luck that he’d convinced Celia to meet him at the little café across the street, because he intended to pick up the book he’d ordered for Kat from G. David’s.

They’d only just taken their seats in front of the window when an all-too-familiar, tantalizing figure trudged through the snow to the store across the street.

His Kat. Well…she would be his soon enough.

“Tristan, what is the matter with you? Is everything all right? I’ve never seen you so distracted. First last night, now this morning. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying to placate me by agreeing to have lunch.” Celia frowned when he glanced her way. She always worried about him, but that was part of who she was. While she was beautiful, fashionable, and independent, she had a softer, more nurturing side to her that many daughters of the peerage lacked. Last night, when he’d called off their drinks, she’d let him go, but only if he agreed to meet up today so she could get to see him.

They were first cousins—her mother was Tristan’s father’s younger sister—but they had grown up together as close as siblings. Tristan had come to appreciate her friendship over the years, and how he could talk to her about everything—well, almost everything. Carter was the one exception. Celia was in love with Carter and couldn’t have him because her father would never allow it.

She’d always looked to Carter with those adoring hazel eyes, in a way that sometimes made Tristan jealous. Not because he wanted Celia, but because he longed for a woman of his own to look at him like that. As though he’d hung the moon and captured a string of stars for a necklace. He’d been with plenty of women, all of whom had looked at him like the social stepping-stone he was. Tristan loathed it. As much as he loved the things that his position in society provided, he wanted people to care about who he was as person, not his family’s lineage.

“Don’t ignore me, cousin,” Celia chided, her eyes narrowed. “Out with it. You’re distracted by something, and I want to know what it is.”

“Are you free next week?” Rather than answer her question, he changed the subject.

“Free for?” She’d make a good countess, or a duchess, if she ever married that high. Knowing her parents, he realized, she’d have to, because they would pressure her to pick a man of their choosing.

“Carter and I were thinking of having an end-of-semester-exams party next weekend. Would you like to help host?”

Celia’s face lit up. “I do so love a party.” Her excitement quickly morphed into curiosity. “Whenever you say ‘you and Carter’ it always ends up being only you who did the planning. Does poor Carter know you’ve roped him into this?”

Tristan shrugged. “Carter will be happy to be involved, especially if you’re there.” He let the teasing hint drop and took a sip of his hot tea, watching her over the rim of his cup, expecting her to react to his playful hint. But she didn’t take the bait, clever Celia, and she composed herself like a queen before replying.

“So, a party next weekend. At Fox Hill, I assume?”

“Yes.” His eyes drifted back on the bookshop door as it opened and Kat walked out. Her long hair was slightly curled at the ends, which gave the lustrous locks an enticing bounce. Tristan ached to wrap his fingers in the strands and tug lightly as he kissed her.

The fantasy of possessing her, owning her completely in his bed, was driving him mad. If he played his cards right, he wouldn’t have long to wait.

“And you want me to act as hostess for this party?” Celia scooted back in her chair to allow their waiter to set down two bowls of hot soup.

Steam curled up in thick tendrils as Tristan swirled his spoon in his bowl. He wanted nothing more than to eat a burger with brown sauce, but the café didn’t have anything like that on the menu. But this was the only place located near G. David’s bookshop where he could meet his cousin.

“I’d like you and Carter to help me extend some invitations. You still have connections at Magdalene College, don’t you?” It had been Celia’s college when she’d attended Cambridge as an undergraduate a few years before.

“Yes, why? You want me to invite the entire college?”

He knew she was joking. Shaking his head, he continued. “I want you to invite a woman named Katherine Roberts and anyone she’s friends with.”

His cousin’s eyes gleamed like topaz gemstones. “Ah…the truth comes out. So all of this is for a woman? I suspect you think she won’t come unless her friends do. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft, Tristan. Unable to seduce an undergraduate?”

His cousin’s teasing bruised his ego, and he winced.

“I’m taking care with this one. She’s not like the others.” It was no secret that his past relationships had been numerous and easy. Those girls hadn’t needed any convincing to climb into bed with him. But he didn’t just want to take Kat to bed, he wanted to spend time with her in whatever way he could manage.

“You taking care? What makes this one so special that you don’t just sleep with her and toss her to the side like the others?”

Her words dug deep like barbs, even more so because he knew what she said was true. It made him feel like a cad. “Feeling ruthless today, are we?” He turned one of his most charming grins on her.

She giggled against the rim of her teacup. “Perhaps a tad. So who is this Katherine Roberts?”

Tristan had no interest in sharing details on Kat, not with Celia. She was too nosy. The last thing he needed was his cousin inserting herself into his affairs.

“She is an interest of mine. You need know nothing else.”

Rather than grow cross with him as she often did when he didn’t tell her what she wanted to know, Celia clapped her hands. “Oh, this is famous! Whoever she is, she must be quite a woman to have you tied in knots.”

“She is quite a woman. One I can’t seem to figure out. Now, you’ll see to getting her invited? Drop on by Fox Hill in the next day or two for dinner so we can plan the party. I want it to be perfect.”

“Perfection. That I can do.” Celia was almost humming.

“Good. Finish your lunch. I need to collect something at G. David’s before my next class, and I should like your opinion.”

It was time to begin his seduction of Kat. He wouldn’t let up, not until she lowered those barriers and gave in to the passion he’d glimpsed the night before.

I will win her
.

He smiled, as his gaze drifted back to the cheery shop entrance of G. David’s bookstore.

Books were the key to Kat’s heart, and Tristan was going to find his way in. At any cost.

Kat lay across her bed, eyes half-closed as she tried to read her textbook. The same sentences kept blurring together over and over. Not a good sign. Exams were two weeks away and there was so much cramming to do. Except for classes, she’d spent the last seventy-two hours holed up in her room.

Lacy had stopped by twice, attempting to entice her out, but Kat couldn’t spare the time, not when a mountain of reading loomed on her desk. The books were stacked more than a foot high, teetering, mocking how she felt about her studying. Classes had proved to be quite a challenge, and although she liked that most days, around exams, she definitely didn’t.

Blinking, she turned a page, then gave in and rested her cheek against the cool, crisp paper of the book. Maybe just a little nap. It was only eight p.m. She could doze for half an hour and then study some more.

A sudden knock at her door made her jump. The world spun a little as she roused from that hazy place between sleep and wakefulness.

“Who is it?” Kat called and rubbed her eyes.

The knock sounded again.

Kat stumbled to the door and flung it open, expecting to see her friend.

“Lacy, what are you—” Her words died on her lips as she stared up into the blue-green eyes of Tristan Kingsley.

“Kat.” He said her nickname with such seductive decadence that she shivered.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted.

He held up a large paper bag and a box wrapped in baby blue paper with a black bow.

“Dinner and a little something for you. I didn’t want to take the chance of trusting the store to deliver this,” he said, indicating the box. The warmth in his smile was infectious.

Kat had made a promise to forget him, yet here he was, making her grin. Still…she had to study.

“Tristan, you can’t just—”

He ignored her. Using his body, Tristan gently shouldered open the door and walked past her. He eyed her desk, which was covered in an insane collection of papers and research books populated by occasional Post-it notes or pens. Then, with a shrug, he walked over to her kitchen area and set the bag of food and the gift down.

“Hey—” she said, trying to stop him from unpacking the bag.

He turned to look at her, his slow, raking gaze followed by a wicked smile that flushed her clear down to her toes. She wore jeans, a sweater, and fluffy warm socks. Not dressed to impress, but that didn’t stop him from staring with open appreciation. Suddenly aware of herself in a way she hadn’t been moments before, she crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip.

“Sit, I’ll prepare the food. You need to eat well in order to pass your exams, don’t you?” He moved to her cabinets and retrieved the silverware.

Stunned into silence, Kat plopped down on the edge of her bed and watched him.

Tristan removed his long black coat and dropped it over her desk chair.

How was it that he could own the room with such a simple action as flinging his coat over a chair?

He wore a black turtleneck and he pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing toned, muscled forearms.

Kat’s mouth watered as she pictured herself kissing that light-golden skin. Damn, the man was beautiful. Why did he have to be so sexy? It made it that much harder to focus.

The dark charcoal slacks he wore were snug on his ass, showing off his hips, butt, and thighs. It was quite a sight to watch as he searched for plates. Her body responded with a little clench inside and a flare of heat.

“I take it you’ve been busy studying for exams and haven’t done much else today?” he asked as he put pasta on the dishes. The little black logo emblazoned on the bag was a familiar one. It was one of those fancy, white tablecloth-type restaurants with an expensive wine list. She’d strolled by that Italian place with Lacy more than once, inhaling the scents and wishing they had time to go inside.

The food was still hot enough that steam wafted up from the plate he gave her. Tantalizing aromas of basil mixed with garlic and rosemary teased her nose, and she smiled at the heavenly scent. Tristan pulled a bottle of wine from one of the bags and poured two glasses. He handed her one before seating himself at her desk.

“Tristan,” she finally got his name out. “What are you doing here?”

He looked up from his meal. The man possessed an air of entitlement, as though sharing dinner with her was something he had expected would happen. It was irritating but also part of what made him fascinating. He exuded a sense of elegant refinement, too, which, given what she knew about him being the future Earl of Pembroke, made perfect sense.

“I should think that was obvious after last night.”

“
Why
are you here?” She still couldn’t quite believe that he had come to her room with dinner. With any other guy it might have seemed normal, but this was Tristan Kingsley, a well-known womanizer and a member of the British peerage.

He set his plate down, and walked toward her, holding his glass of wine. He took a long sip, watching her as he did so, and said, “I’m interested in you.”

A flutter of nerves filled her chest at his words, but she fought to stay calm. He couldn’t know how much he affected her, not if she wanted to stay in control of the situation.

“You mean you’re here to try and seduce me.” She crossed her arms, silently daring him to deny it.

“Exactly. Starting with the seduction of your mouth by feeding you some excellent local cuisine. And you won’t turn me down.” He swirled his wineglass as though it were full of warm brandy and looked down at her. His patient stare felt like a challenge, and she felt her body surging with energy, with excitement, to meet it. She rose from the bed, needing to be as close to eye level with him as she could to even the playing field of this new and thrilling game.

“I won’t?” She arched one brow. He seriously thought she’d go along with whatever he suggested? It had to be because no one in his life had ever said no to him. Kat was tempted to be the first.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a ghost of a near-smile. “No. You won’t. Because you’re curious. You can’t get me out of your head. Did you dream about me last night?”

How did he know? Those vivid, Technicolor dreams had left her sweaty, aching, and wet. Waking up without him had made her practically scream with frustration.

Raising her chin, she shook her head. “No.” She didn’t usually lie, but there was no way she was going to admit the truth to him.

With a little chuckle, he took a step toward her and whispered in her ear. “You
did
. I can’t help but wonder if they were as good as my dreams about you.” He was close enough that she felt his body heat. Then he reached out, one hand resting on her hip, the touch light but strangely possessive. “I had you beneath me for hours. I kissed every inch of you, all those little valleys and hollows of your curves. Lost myself between your thighs and tasted you as you exploded on my tongue…”

Holy fucking hell…

Kat couldn’t breathe. He was talking about going down on her? Blood rushed to her face, and she knew with dreaded certainty she was showing him just how much his words were affecting her.

“I—I’m not interested.” Another lie.

His lips twitched. “You are. You’re blushing, by the way. I’m sure you know that. And your thighs are clenching together. Is that because you’re wishing I was between them right now?” His fingertips on her hip stroked slowly upward to her waist, but that simple touch seemed to travel all the way to her clit by the way it suddenly throbbed. Tristan could talk about one part of her body, and she could almost feel him touching her there…