Climax (4 page)

The fire in Clayton's eyes melted away and his frown faded. “I'm not upset with Lizzy. I'm just upset. I'd never do anything to hurt your mother.”

A tender touch brushed Tristan's thigh, and he glanced down to see Kat's hand there. When he looked her way, she was nibbling her lip in concern as she met his eyes. He took her hand and covered it with his own, squeezing gently.

“Let's just talk about this when we get home,” Kat said, her gaze darting between him and her father.

The occupants of the car settled into an uncomfortable silence for the rest of their journey. Paul, the driver, kept his gaze decidedly focused on the road ahead, as though he was determined to become invisible.

Tristan's blood pounded like distant war drums against his temples, and he failed miserably at convincing himself that this wouldn't end badly.

When Paul stopped in front of the house, Lizzy and Kat's father got out first. They moved up the icy walkway in a cold silence. When the butler opened the door for them, his pleasant expression faded as he saw their expressions. Tristan gave him a small, forced smile as he was the last to come inside.

“Katherine, I want a word with you
alone
.” Clayton gripped her arm firmly, escorting her to the library, where he closed the doors, leaving Tristan and his mother standing in the foyer.

Tristan dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe.

His mother reached for his hand. “Tristan, how long have you and Kat been…?”

Thrusting his hands into his pockets to avoid his mother's touch, Tristan paced the length of the foyer a few times before he slowed to a stop. The murmur of voices in the library was too soft and muffled by the thick wooden doors.

“We met at Cambridge. Before Christmas break. I've been seeing her on and off.” He scraped a hand over his jaw, unable to stop moving, stop pacing, as restlessness rolled through him. He knew it wouldn't go away until Kat was in his arms again.

His mother's lips parted and she exhaled before speaking, her voice low and soft. “On and off?”

He shrugged and finally faced her. “Yes. We had a few fits and starts at first. She didn't like seeing me in the rags with Brianna, and when we found out we were to be stepsiblings, she broke it off then, too. She was afraid of this. She warned me it would break you and Clayton up.”

At this, his mother laughed, a quiet, slightly strained sound. “Well, it's not how I imagined our wedding day, or our first Christmas Eve, but it certainly won't break us up.”

“I'm not sure if I believe that, Mum. Clayton seems furious.” His eyes fixed on the closed library door.
What is he saying to her?
Was he talking her into breaking up with him again? She promised she wouldn't, not as long as they both wanted this. And he still did. More than ever before.

His mother walked in between him and the library door, catching his attention again.

“He couldn't be more different from your father. He talks to me. We don't fight, not like your father and I did. It doesn't mean we don't get upset sometimes, but this won't end our relationship. When two people are in love, they make it work.”

“You'd do anything to be with them.” Tristan thought of how hard it had been to be without Kat for even a few days. He'd done everything he could to convince her they could make this work.

“Yes, exactly,” his mother agreed.

Again, Tristan's focus turned to the library.

“They need time to talk, Tristan. Go make yourself useful and hang stockings above the beds. I haven't done that yet. Then go ask Mrs. George how our pudding fairs this year.”

She was deliberately trying to keep him busy and distracted, but Mum was right. He couldn't wear a path into the carpets with his pacing.

With one last glance at the library door, he stalked off to do as his mother suggested. Kat would find him when they were done. He planned to hold her to her promise that she wouldn't walk away. Tristan had to, because he couldn't bear to lose her again.

K
at stood in front of the library windows beneath the stained-glass Saint George as he slayed the green dragon. These were the windows Tristan had seen as a child, the ones that had moved him to such strong emotions.

How far they'd both come since the night they'd met and kissed at the Pickerel Inn pub.

Kat longed for that moment so many days ago, when the snow was falling outside, along with the muted sounds of pubgoers chatting nearby, the warmth of Tristan's body close to hers as they whispered, teased, and flirted. She wanted to trap that moment in time, bottle it and save it.

She was ready to battle her father for the one thing in her life she didn't want to give up: Tristan.

She clutched her little black purse and shifted restlessly in the low heels she wore. Kat wanted to get out of the fancy dress and back into her warm jeans and sweater. She felt off-balance, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

“Kat, what were you
thinking
?” Her father stood ten feet away, leaning back against a reading table. The old weariness she'd grown used to over the last few years had returned.

It's my fault. Mine. Because I want Tristan.

“Dad…” Words failed her. What she and Tristan shared couldn't be easily described. It spread outward from her like a beacon from a lighthouse, through wind and rain, shining ever onward.

“You know what sort of man he is, don't you? He's wild, Kat. Reckless. He's not someone you would settle down with.”

Tristan was wild and reckless, but he was also sweet, compassionate, and so damn sexy when it came to her, she couldn't find fault with anything he'd done. He'd only ever been perfect.

“He's not like that. Well, part of him is, but he's so much
more
.” She stepped closer to her father, still holding tight to her purse.

“Honey, you can't date him. Pick
anyone
but him.” She recognized that tone. It was his business voice, calm, almost cold.

He wasn't going to budge on his opinion of Tristan.

But neither was she.

All along Tristan had been pushing her to see what lay between them. Not just the sparks in bed, but everything else. She wasn't going to let go of him, not until things were done. So far things were better than ever, hotter than ever. If her father was allowed his chance at happiness in life, then so was she.

Taking in a steadying breath, Kat met her father's fierce gaze.

“I care about him, Dad.
A lot
. What we have…it's amazing. It's like what you and Lizzy—”

“Don't compare yourself to me and Lizzy.” He waved a hand in the air, dismissing her defense. “We're both divorced, we've been through heartache, and we know what we're looking for in life. You're a child, Kat. You don't know the first thing about love or relationships. He'll still be here even after you stop dating. He'll be a part of this family, and you'll have to face him. Can you do that after he breaks your heart?”

It wasn't something she wanted to think about, the idea of Tristan breaking her heart, but it was a very real possibility he would do just that.

It was too late. She'd fallen for him, and walking away now would hurt just as much. What did it matter when something happened, if it was inevitable? She wanted to enjoy every minute of it until it was over.

“It's too late, Dad. I…I love him.” The word came out in a hushed whisper, but her lips curled into a smile. Saying it out loud filled her with a joy that made the world glow and her heart race. She was completely, totally in love with Tristan. She'd feared loving him because she knew she'd lose him. Right now she wanted to fight for him and there was no turning back. She couldn't stop loving him just to please her father and she didn't want to. She was jumping off a cliff and free-falling. It was scary and exhilarating.

Her dad's bitter laugh cut her deep. “Love? Honey, what you're feeling is infatuation. It rarely lasts. I learned that the hard way with your mother. Tristan's a handsome young man, and you're just swept up in the moment. What you feel for him isn't real. Someday, when you're older and not so wide-eyed and innocent, you'll meet the real love of your life.” There was a bite to his tone that stung, and Kat flinched.

How could he so casually dismiss feelings that went bone deep inside her? How could he possibly know what
she
felt wasn't real? Just because she was young didn't mean it was any less
real
. What she'd felt for Tristan that first night, that spark of lightning, a recognition of two souls connected, hadn't diminished in the following weeks, but had grown steadily stronger.

“Dad, if I fall for someone, that's my business, my life. I'm entitled to make my own decisions.”

“And your own mistakes? Kat, honey, I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt.” Clayton uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the table he'd been leaning against.

“Yes. My own mistakes. Why can't you just give Tristan a chance?”

“No.”

“But—”

“No. You will not date that boy while under this roof. Do you understand?”

She didn't recognize the man standing in front of her. He wasn't her father, at least not the one she knew.

Tears stung her eyes and fury battled with despair. This wasn't up to
him
. He didn't have a right to dictate her life. He'd drawn a line in the sand and given her an ultimatum. There was only one choice left.

“If you're going to be like that, I'm going back to Cambridge.” She spun and shoved the library door open.

“Kat, honey, wait—”

Slam!
She purposely let the door crash into the frame. She didn't want to see him again, not until he was being reasonable.

Lizzy appeared at the kitchen door, her brows knitted in consternation, but she didn't say anything as Kat raced upstairs. That was one of the many things she liked about Tristan's mother. She didn't try to pry or insert herself into Kat's business. When the library door opened and her father rushed out, Kat had just reached the top of the stairs.

“Kat, I'm not done talking to you. Get back down here.” He was scowling, one shoe tapping.

“I'm done talking, Dad.” She turned away and walked to her room.

When she flung the door open, she halted at the sight of Tristan leaning over her bed, a red and gold brocade stocking in one hand and a hammer in the other. A nail hung from his lips, as if he seemed to be debating where to put it.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her chest rising and falling heavily as she sought to regain her breath. Fighting with her dad had left her anxious and strung out. Her arms shook and her knees threatened to buckle. All she wanted to do was collapse on her bed and cry. But she wasn't a child. She had to hold herself together.

Tristan set the hammer, nail, and stocking down and walked over to her. “It's an English tradition…We hang the stockings over the bed, not the fireplace.”

She lifted her head, met his gaze, and the floodgates broke. Kat threw herself against him, hugging him tight and burying her face against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her back and waist, resting his chin on top of her head. The embrace, all-encompassing and warm, made the agony in her heart ease a little.

“I'm so sorry, darling. What can I do?” His deep voice rumbled against her ear.

“Just hold me,” she whispered. He grounded her, keeping her from drifting away on the vast flowing river of pain.

Dad and I have never fought like that. Never.

What if he didn't forgive her? What if it destroyed her father's relationship with Lizzy? What if—

“Hey…” Tristan threaded his fingers through her hair and gently massaged her scalp. “Don't think so hard. Just breathe.”

She forced deep, shaking breaths into her lungs, and like magic, that simple act of breathing made some of her panic dissipate, even though she couldn't stop trembling.

She pulled back so she could see Tristan's face. His dark hair fell across his eyes, reminding her of the way he'd looked when they'd made love back at Fox Hill.

A master of her pleasure, he'd made the world explode around them in invisible sparks. That night had lit a fire that had only grown in passing days. He'd held her in his arms and she'd known how much he cared for her. She didn't want to be around anyone but him right now. He was the only one who understood her and what she was feeling.

“Can you take me somewhere? I need to leave. My dad and I…”

“Where do you want to go?” He rubbed his palms up and down her back, and she leaned in again, resting her cheek against his chest above his heart.

“Could we go back to Cambridge? I don't really have anywhere else to go.”

“What about Fox Hill?” he suggested. “It would be just you and me. No one else…except for the servants.”

She gave a watery giggle. “Why is it that talking to you sometimes sounds so ridiculous? Just us and the servants, darling,” she teased in an attempt to imitate his accent.

“You truly want to leave?” He brushed a lock of hair back from her face so tenderly her heart turned over.

“Let's do it. Let's go right now.” Rolling up on her tiptoes, she kissed his chin, then his lips, and relished watching his lashes fan up and down as he gave in to her kiss.

His fingertips dug into her back as though he was on the verge of gripping her hard, but he pulled away, licked his lips, and breathed out slowly.

“Pack a bag and change. I'll be back soon. If I stay here right now, you won't leave your bed for a few hours. And your father might shoot me.” His wry chuckle didn't erase the sting of the truth to their situation.

Tristan was right. Space would do them both some good.

I just need some time to think, that's all. So does my dad. He'll come around. He has to.

With another brush of lips, Tristan left her alone to pack.

Fifteen minutes later she was changed and carrying her duffle bag down the stairs. Tristan was a few feet ahead of her, his own leather travel bag slung over his shoulder.

They were almost to the door when her father strode out to meet them. His lips were in a grim line and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Lizzy joined them, her hands clasped tensely together, as though she was unsure of what to do.

The foyer was thick with tension. Kat felt like the four of them were facing off.

“Don't leave,” her father said. He kept his eyes on her and ignored Tristan.

“Only if you change your mind.” Kat wasn't going to back down. Not on something this important.

“No. I've told you how I feel, and that hasn't changed.”

Her throat stung as she fought off a sob. “Ok-kay. Then we're leaving until you do.” Without looking at her dad again, she reached for Tristan's hand, and they walked past their parents to the entrance.

“Kat, please…” It was the last thing she heard before Tristan shut the door behind them.