Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation (13 page)

Lily made a scoffing noise. ‘Not a very subtle conversation
change, My Lord. And not a very good one either. It’s a play about my parents.’

‘The one that slimeball reporter asked you about?’

She shifted uncomfortably and he wondered about that.

‘Yes.’

‘But you don’t want to do it?’

‘No.’

He watched the way the firelight warmed her angelic features and wondered what was behind her reticence to do the play. ‘Tell me about your life,’ he surprised them both by saying.

She shook her head. ‘
Quid pro quo
, you mean.’

‘Why do you call yourself Lily instead of Honey?’ he queried, warming to the new topic but sensing her cool at the same time.

For a minute he didn’t think she was going to answer and then she threw him one of those enigmatic smiles that told him she was avoiding something. ‘My stepfather thought it would be a good idea for me to change it. You know—reinvent myself. Make a fresh start.’ She laughed, as if it was funny, but the lightness in her tone was undermined by the sudden tautness of her shoulders.

‘How old were you?’

‘Seven.’

‘Seven!’

‘I was a bit traumatised at the time—wouldn’t speak to anyone for six months after my parents died. Plus my parents weren’t the most conventional creatures, so it was a good idea, really.’

‘Jordana said you were named after your mother?’

‘Sort of. She was Swedish and her name was Hanna—Hanny. When she moved to England her accent made it sound like she was saying honey—so everyone called her that. I guess my parents liked the name. Which was why it was such a good idea when Frank suggested I change it. It set me free to become
my own person.’ She stopped, more colour highlighting her cheeks.

Tristan didn’t agree. He knew of Frank Murphy. His office had handled a complaint against the man some years back, and he had a reputation for being an egotistical schmuck.

Tristan knew the story about how Hanny Forsberg had married him in a whirlwind romance and then returned to her one true love a week later. Only to die in said lover’s arms that very night. Tristan couldn’t imagine Frank Murphy taking her defection well, and wondered if he had taken his anger out on Lily.

‘I’m not sure that would have been his only motivation,’ he commented darkly, swilling the last of his Scotch and placing his empty glass behind him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean Frank Murphy is a self-interested swine who would have been looking out for his own interests before yours.’

‘Frank’s not like that,’ she defended.

‘Come on, Lily. Frank Murphy is a user. Everyone knows that. And the accolades he got from taking in Hanny’s orphan were huge.’

‘Maybe.’

Tristan hadn’t missed the flash of pain in her eyes before she shifted position and moved closer to the fire, her hands outstretched towards the leaping flames. He wondered what was going through her mind and then shook his head.

‘I’ve upset you.’

‘No.’

‘Yes. I didn’t mean to imply that Frank didn’t care for you. I’m sure he did.’

‘No. He didn’t. Not really.’

‘Lily, it’s a big responsibility to look after a child that’s not your own. I’m sure—’

‘There was no one else.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Nobody else wanted me.’ She shrugged as if they were discussing nothing more important than the weather. ‘When my
parents died I had nowhere to go. I would have become a ward of the state if he hadn’t stepped in.’

‘What about your grandparents?’

‘Johnny’s had died and my mother’s were old, and they’d disowned her after her first Page Three spread.’

‘But Johnny had a brother, I recall.’

‘Unfortunately he used to get more wasted than Johnny and looking after a seven-year-old was not high on his list of things to accomplish.’

‘Your mother—’

‘There was no one, okay? It’s no big deal. I think I’ll go to bed.’

‘Wait!’

‘For what?’

‘You’re upset,’ he said gently.

Lily shivered as if a draught of cold air had caught her unawares, and for a minute she seemed lost.

‘Did you know I found them?’ She held her hands out to the fire again, as if seeking comfort. ‘The police kept it quiet, to preserve my “delicate psychological state”, but I found my parents’ bodies. It was Sunday morning and they were supposed to make me blueberry pancakes and take me to the park. Johnny had promised it would be a family day. Instead I woke up and found my mother lying on the sofa with vomit pooled in her hair and my father slumped on the floor at her feet. It was like some sort of Greek tragedy. If my mother could have looked down on the scene she might have enjoyed the irony of finally having my father in such a supplicating pose.’

Lily gave a half laugh and for a minute he thought she had finished speaking, but then she continued.

‘At first I tried to wake them, but even then I knew.’ She shook her head at the pointlessness of such a gesture. ‘There’s something about the utter stillness of a dead body that even a small child can understand. I knew—I knew even though I didn’t know what was wrong—I knew I would never see them again.’

She stared into the fire for a long moment and Tristan thought it was lucky her parents weren’t here right now or he’d kill them all over again. Then Lily gave an exaggerated shiver and smiled brightly at him.

‘Gosh, I haven’t thought of that for years.’

Something of the anxiety he felt must have shown in his face because she turned back to the fire and sipped at the sherry she had barely touched. She was obviously upset and embarrassed, and Tristan felt heaviness lodge in his chest. He’d had no idea she’d suffered such a huge trauma at such a young age.

As if sensing his overwhelming need to comfort her she shot him a quelling look he’d seen before, but his mind couldn’t place.

‘I’m fine now,’ she dismissed, but Tristan could see it was an effort for her to force her wide, shining eyes to his. ‘Completely over it.’

No, she wasn’t. Any fool could see that, and he didn’t like that she was trying to make light of it with him. ‘No, you’re not. I think you hide behind your parents’ controversial personas—the controversial persona you’ve also cultivated with the press. Almost as if you use your past as a shield so people don’t get to see the real you.’

Lily stiffened, shock etched on her features, and then Tristan remembered where he’d seen that haughty look before. Right after they’d had sex that first time.

L
ILY
stared at Tristan and willed the ground to open up and devour one of them. She’d been having such a nice time and now he’d gone and ruined it.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she whispered, placing her glass carefully on the hearth and willing the lump in her throat to subside. She stared at the inlaid stonework around the fireplace and realised she was about to cry. Cry! She never cried, and she wasn’t about to start in Tristan’s presence.

‘Lily…’

Lily quickly scrambled to her feet, holding her hands out in front of her as Tristan made to do the same. ‘I’m…’

The words wouldn’t come and she turned to flee, making it only as far as the upholstered French settee before Tristan caught her.

‘I can’t let you leave like this.’ He spoke gruffly, swinging her around to face him and Lily promptly burst into tears.

She tried to push him away but he was like an immovable force and she pounded his chest instead. ‘Let me go. Let me—’ A sob cut off her distressed plea and Tristan gathered her closer.

‘Lily, I’m sorry. I really am an insensitive fool, and you were right the other day. I don’t know anything.’

Rather than making her feel better that only made it worse and she buried her face in her hands, unable to hold back her tears any more.

‘Shh, Lily, shh,’ Tristan urged, holding her tighter. ‘Let me soothe you,’ he husked, his voice thick with emotion.

Lily tried to resist, but somehow all the events of the week converged and rendered her a sobbing mess, unable to put up any resistance when Tristan sank down onto the settee and pulled her into his lap.

He continued to stroke her even after her tears had abated and Lily rested against him, her mind spinning.

Tristan was wrong when he said she hid behind her public image. It was just easier to let people think what they wanted. They would anyway, and really she didn’t care a jot what anyone thought.

But if that were true then why had she turned her back on the country she loved and set herself up in America, where people judged her more on her actions than on her past? Why had she always tried to do what Frank expected of her? And why had Tristan’s rejection of her hurt so much six years ago?

Lily drew in a long, shuddering breath and then released it, her body slowly relaxing in Tristan’s warm embrace. Try as she might she couldn’t find valid reasons for her actions. Valid reasons for why she let the press write what they wanted about her. It was easy to say that no one would believe her if she corrected them. But why not?

An image of her mother, wretched and crying, came to mind, and Lily squeezed her eyes against the devastating image.

But then other images crowded in. Happier ones. Her mother singing to her and towelling her off after a bath. Her father putting her on his shoulders as they strolled through Borough Market eating falafels and brownies. Visiting her mother’s photo shoots and putting on make-up with her in front of her dressing-table mirror. Curling up with her father while he played around with his guitar.

Lily gulped in air and her heart caught. More unprecedented memories of her parents stumbled through her mind and she felt breathless with surprise.

She felt Tristan’s arms tighten around her, one of his hands
stroking from the top of her head to the base of her spine as one might soothe an upset child. As her mother had once soothed her.

Her father’s mantra came to mind, trying to rescue her. But for once it didn’t work. Because Tristan was right. She
did
care what people thought about her.

Slowly she lifted her head and peered up at him. She knew she must look an absolute fright, and was shocked when Tristan pulled the sleeve of his expensive cashmere sweater over his hand and wiped her eyes and nose.

‘That’s gross,’ she grumbled, ducking her head self-consciously.

She felt him shrug. ‘That’s all I had.’

He chuckled, and Lily smiled into the curve of his neck. Being in his arms gave her a sense of security she hadn’t felt since before her parents had died, and although part of her, the self-preservation part, told her to pull away, that she had embarrassed herself enough, that she was better off handling this alone, she couldn’t get her limbs to obey. He was just so big and warm, and his rich scent was extraordinarily comforting.

But none of this is real
, she reminded herself glumly.

‘You can let me up now,’ she said quietly, pushing back from him as those disturbing thoughts stole through her mind.

When Tristan made no move to release her completely she looked up at him. ‘I said you can let me go now,’ she repeated, in case he hadn’t heard her.

‘I heard.’ He nodded, but didn’t move.

‘I think…I think I should go to my room and be alone with my misery.’

‘Now, I was always told that misery preferred company,’ Tristan jested.

‘Tristan, please…’ Embarrassment was overriding pain and Lily couldn’t smile at his teasing words. ‘I can’t do this. You were right. I
am
a coward. I…I need time alone to think.’

Tristan curled his arm around her shoulders, preventing her from pulling further away.

‘Thinking is probably the worst thing you can do right now. And I never said you were a coward.’ He feathered her ponytail
through his fingers as if learning its silky texture. ‘You’re one of the bravest people I know. And you’re loyal and warm and smart. You’ve faced false drug allegations with dignity and you have a generous spirit. It’s why people are so drawn to you.’

‘People are drawn to me because of the way I look and because of who my parents were,’ she argued.

He tapped her on the end of her shiny nose and she squirmed. ‘You’re too young to be cynical. And you’re more than the sum of your parts, Lily Wild.’

Lily felt more tears well up at his kind words and buried her face against his shoulder again. ‘You’re a nice person. How come you don’t show that side of yourself more often?’

He tensed momentarily. ‘I already told you I’m not nice,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘I’m just saying all this to make you feel better.’

‘Oh.’ Lily laughed as she was meant to. But he didn’t fool her. He
was
nice. Too nice.

She shifted off his lap so she was sitting beside him, wanting to tell him what was going through her mind even though she’d revealed more about herself tonight than she had to anyone else.

‘You were right before,’ she began haltingly. ‘I
have
used my past as a type of shield.’

‘That’s perfectly understandable, given your experiences.’

Lily paused. ‘Maybe. But it’s also helped me avoid recognising things like…like the fact that for years I’ve been so ashamed of who my parents were and how they died that I hated them. And I’ve let their destructive love for each other cloud the way I relate to people. You see, my mother kept diaries for years. Basically she and Johnny would binge on each other and then he’d go off with his groupies and my mother would cry and rail and swear off him—until he came back and the whole cycle would start over again.’

Tristan was quiet, and Lily’s fingers absently pleated the soft wool of his sweater as she leaned against him and soaked up his strength and sureness.

‘That sounds like the problem was less about how they felt about each other and more about how they felt about themselves.’

‘What do you mean?’ she queried, leaning back a little to look up at him, her eyes drinking in the patrician beauty of his face in the soft light.

He shrugged. ‘I’m guessing Johnny Wild loved himself a little too much and your mother didn’t love herself nearly enough.’

Lily digested his words and then blew out a noisy breath. ‘Of course. Why did I never see that?’

‘Too close to the trees, perhaps?’

She shook her head. ‘You’re really smart—you know that?’

No, if he was smart he’d get up and go to bed right now, instead of wondering what she would do if he reached up and released her silky mass of hair from the confines of her hair tie. If he was smart he’d be questioning this need to comfort her and touch her rather than just going along with it as if he had a right to do those things.

‘Not always,’ he acknowledged, feeling the air between them thicken as he tried to ignore her soft hands on his chest. ‘You need to stop doing that.’

He heard the hitch in her breathing at his growled words and the sound sent a jolt of lust to his already hardened groin.

Or…?’

He clenched his teeth against the invitation apparent in that one tiny word. ‘There is no “or”.’

‘Why not?’

‘Lily, your emotions are running high.’

She looked him square in the eye, her purple gaze luminous despite her reddened eyelids. ‘And yours aren’t running at all?’

He needed her to stop looking at him as if he was better than he was. ‘That’s not emotion, sweetheart—that’s sex. And the two should never be confused.’

‘Believe me, I know that.’ She expelled a shaky breath but didn’t remove her hand. Instead she slid it further up his chest
and ran the tip of her finger underneath the crew neck of his sweater, along his clavicle.

‘Lily—’

‘I want to make love with you.’

Tristan wanted that too—but could he risk it?

She’d noticed his hesitation and her eyes had clouded over.

‘Sorry. I—Look, if you don’t want to I’ll understand…’

‘Don’t want to!’ His hands felt unsteady as they automatically reached out to stop her from getting up. ‘Lily, you drive me crazy.’

She shot him a surprised look and he nearly laughed. Didn’t she know the effect she had on him? Didn’t she
know
why he had stayed away from her for four days? Why he should have stayed away tonight as well…?

‘I do?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ His hot gaze swept down over her tear-smudged face, baggy T-shirt and worn sweatpants. ‘Stir crazy…’ he whispered.

He felt her tentative hands creep into his hair, and groaned when she leaned in and placed her soft, full mouth against his own. Oh, God, this was heaven—and he couldn’t fight both of them.

He cupped her face briefly, deepening the kiss and sealing his mouth to hers. He flipped her over on the settee and shoved his hands under her T-shirt. She moaned and arched into his hands, and Tristan felt like a starving man being offered a king’s dinner. He yanked her T-shirt up and fastened his lips on one pert breast, tugging at her sweet flesh, licking, sucking, drowning in the aroused perfume of her body.

‘Tristan!’

Her loud gasp and uncontrolled writhing fed his urgent need, and he attacked her sweatpants and panties and drew them down her legs, frustrated when they became tangled.

He sat up and pulled them all the way off, and then knelt on the floor in front of her, not even caring that the floorboards were hard on his knees. He parted her thighs so that he could
feast on her in a way that had kept him hard for more nights than he cared to count, but he stopped when he felt her stiffen.

‘Tristan…’

Her voice was uncertain, and he remembered that she had been a virgin until a few nights ago and that maybe no one had ever done this for her before.

His hands instantly gentled on her inner thighs, and his fingers massaged her silken skin until he felt her muscles lose their rigidity.

‘Take down your hair,’ he whispered softly, gazing at her breasts rising beneath her T-shirt with her movement. A soft cloud of pure gold swirled around her shoulders and he inhaled deeply. ‘Now the T-shirt.’

His thumbs kept stroking her inner thighs, slowly drawing them further apart, and he could feel tiny shivers of anticipation running along the surface of her skin. His own skin felt hot and tight, and it got even worse when she swept the grey T-shirt up over her head. Her breasts were standing proudly for his inspection, her nipples hardening into tight pink buds. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of reaching up and capturing one, but he had other endeavours on his mind.

He glanced down at the soft nest of golden curls at the apex of her body, and then back up to her face.

‘Let me,’ he husked, desire beating like a fever in his blood. ‘I’ve wanted you like this for ever.’

She wet her lips and arched involuntarily as his sure fingers moved higher up her softened thighs, bringing her closer to the edge of the settee as he delved between her damp curls.

She was slick and ready, and Tristan lowered his head and devoured her with his lips, his tongue, his fingers. She made the sexiest noises he’d ever heard, and when she came he thought he might too, lapping at her until he had fully sated himself with her taste. Then he rose, and felt like an emperor as he looked down upon her pliant flushed nudity.

His heart lurched, and desperation and need grabbed him
by the throat as he quickly divested himself of his clothing and rolled a condom over his now painful erection.

She sat up and reached for him, but Tristan shook his head. He’d wanted to take things slowly this time, and already slow had gone the way of the birds. If she touched him he doubted he’d even make it inside her body.

‘Next time,’ he promised hoarsely, picking her up and carrying her back in front of the fire. ‘I need to be inside you now.’

‘Oh, yes.’ She held her hands out to him, and Tristan settled over her and drove deeply inside her body on one long, powerful thrust. Her body accepted him more easily this time, but still she was tight and he tried to give her a minute to adjust.

Only she didn’t want that and immediately wrapped her legs around his hips. ‘More,’ she pleaded, trying to move under him.

Tristan couldn’t resist the urgent request and drove into her over and over, while he brought them both to a shattering climax that took him to the stars and beyond.