The Sweetest Love (Sons of Worthington Series) (12 page)

Chapter Eight

Three years later, back at the unknown cottage

Tristan’s body ached terribly, and his skin chafed from the rope burns. When he wasn’t so mad, he’d have to compliment that maid for being so thorough with his bindings. But until then, he was content to be upset with her—and Diana—for forcing him to stay here.

The ladies had retired for bed hours ago and were probably sleeping just fine in their comfy beds while their prisoner was completely uncomfortable in this chair. He glanced over at the sofa only a few steps away from him. If only he could bounce somehow to those soft, inviting, cushions and lay his head on something soft…then he’d be able to sleep.

As well as he could using only his chin and shoulder, he tried to remove the gag. It moved a little, but didn’t come off. Still, it was enough that he could at least lick his lips if needs be.

Using all of his strength, he concentrated on jumping in the chair. It took him a few times, but soon, he was able to move the chair—if only an inch at a time. That would be good enough for now.

He huffed and groaned as he forced his body to move with the chair, commanding the chair to move in the direction he wanted to go. Finally, when he got close enough to the sofa, he lunged. The chair tipped, and thankfully, landed on the cushions. Half of him was on the sofa, while the other half was still on the floor. It didn’t matter, because at least his head had something soft to lay on now.

Exhaustion filled him and he took slow breaths, trying to relax. Too bad his mind wouldn’t relax. He still wondered why Diana felt that what had happened between them three years ago was
his
fault. Her words had not made a bit of sense. If anything, he should loathe her…which he did. He just couldn’t remember exactly why…

His memory hadn’t fully returned, and that irritated him more than anything. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to recall the past, the further away he was taken from the truth.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and listened to the rain pounding the roof in a steady rhythm. Soon, his mind drifted asleep. Diana’s wide green eyes—passionate eyes—were in this thoughts.

Three years ago, he’d been crushed to discover she hadn’t tried to stop the duel. Not that he wanted her to chase after him, but she didn’t even voice her opinion or pretend that she cared. Many of the events that occurred before the duel were foggy, but he remembered feelings of despondency.

What had really happened that morning? Why couldn’t he remember? When he’d finally started to remember his past, the deepening hatred for Diana stayed in his heart and wouldn’t leave. He remembered being in love with her, yet…was that feeling real at all? Could he have mistaken love for infatuation—or heaven help him—
lust
?

As Diana stayed on his mind, a comforting sensation spread over him. When they first met, she’d been so adorable blowing kissing at him even though it was really to blow away the bee. Her eyes twinkled when she looked upon him while they danced. And her laugh was like heavenly chimes in his ears. When she said his name, it was always followed with a sigh.

Then that dreadful day she’d learned of her betrothal to Lord Hollingsworth, her emerald green eyes had pleaded for help. His heart wrenched, and he’d wanted so badly to take away her pain—and his frustration. She’d made him feel like a man, more so than any other woman had made him feel.

Lord Hollingsworth was also in Tristan’s mind.
So forceful.
So cock-eyed sure of himself that Tristan wanted to pummel the man’s face. Hollingsworth knew he could make Tristan squirm, and that kind of feeling was
not
acceptable!

Slowly, the fog in his mind cleared.

The letter…
Diana’s letter.

Drowsily, Tristan shook his head, trying to remember more. The duel hadn’t happened in the morning, but…

That night!

While he and Trey stayed at the local inn waiting for sunset to arrive that evening, a letter had come from Diana. His heart had thumped wildly, hoping that she wanted to meet him and perhaps they could run away to Gretna Green. Her letter had stated she wanted to meet him, but at Henry’s Cliffs instead. She had exciting news to tell him.

“Tristan, this does not feel right,” Trey had repeated as they mounted their horses and rode toward the cliffs.

Dusk covered the sky in blue and purple colors with a slice of red mixed in. Tristan wanted to share this beautiful evening with the woman he loved. “Nonsense, Trey. I couldn’t very well meet her at her home. I believe she will be there waiting for me with her satchel packed and ready to leave for Gretna Green.”

“I pray you are correct, but I have an uneasy feeling about all of this.”

When they reached the cliffs, Tristan pulled his horse to a stop. Trey halted beside him. Shadows danced in the tall trees, most of the light from the sun had been removed.

“I’m telling you…something isn’t right,” Trey repeated in a low voice.

Tristan scanned the area and called out, “Diana? Where are you?” He dismounted and walked further.

The glade was peaceful and only the chirps were heard from crickets and an occasional hoot from an owl. The waterfall shooting down the cliffs crashed at the bottom as it hit the rocks.

“Tristan, don’t you feel it? The atmosphere is too…eerie.”

Apprehension washed over Tristan. “I agree, Brother. Something is not right. Diana would have been here by now.”

“I think we should leave. What if this was some kind of trap?”

Tristan glanced over his shoulder at arched his eyebrow at his brother. “Do you think Hollingsworth might have planned this and not Diana?”

“I do.
 
Hollingsworth has never been trustworthy.”

“He hasn’t, but I’m not leaving.” Tristan scanned the area again through a narrowed gaze. “If he is here, then I’ll stay. Killing that man is the only way Diana and I can ever be together.”

“Are you aware what kind of hero you’d be?” Trey dismounted. “I can count at least ten men who would be glad to see the bloke dead.”

Moving further into the glade, Tristan kept his ears alert. If Hollingsworth and his second were here at all, they must have hidden their horses. Tristan took calculated steps toward the trees.
“Hollingsworth?
If you’re here, come out and show yourself. Or are you a coward who hides behind the trees?”

Deafening silence filled the air.

“I don’t feel right about this.” Trey shook his head. “Tristan, get back on your horse—”

The blast of a pistol pierced the air. Immediately, the impact of the bullet hitting Tristan in the back above his left shoulder brought him to his knees.

Trey shouted a curse, terror laced his voice.

Pain like no other burned through Tristan’s back as he
fell
face-down on the ground. Quickly the area soaked with sticky, blood. Dizziness assailed him, but he struggled to stand.

“Tristan, you’ve been shot,” Trey said as he pressed his hands to the core of the pain.

“I’m fine.” Tristan grumbled and shoved his brother away. He stood—unsteady—and glanced toward the area the shot had come from. “Come out and fight me like a real man, Hollingsworth!”

Two dark shadows by the nearest tree finally materialized into forms. The descending light from the sun touched them, and indeed one of them was Hollingsworth. Tristan didn’t care who the other man was because he focused his hatred on the redhead holding the smoking pistol.

“Is this the way you have made it through life? Shooting people in the back?” Tristan shook his head slowly, the dizziness becoming worse. “You have no right to call yourself a
noble
man.”

Hollingsworth threw down his weapon and marched toward Tristan. “I loathe men like you. All of you think you’re better than the rest of us.”

“I
am
better. I don’t shoot people in the back. I face them like a real man.” The pain in Tristan’s back worsened, and numbness spread quickly through his arm. Still, if he had to fight this imbecile with his bare hands, he would. If only the dizziness wasn’t consuming his vision right now.

Hollingsworth tilted his head back and laughed harshly.
“My dear Lord Tristan.
If you knew your efforts were wasted, you would think differently.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Miss Baldwin.” He stopped mere feet away from Tristan and folded his arms. “Have you not asked yourself
why
her father was willing to marry her off so quickly?”

The pain was too great to think. He shook his head. “I can only assume you are blackmailing him in some way.”

“I paid off her father’s debts. Did she tell you that? Diana knew that I would send her father to prison if he tried to back out of our deal.”

Hollingsworth’s words were muffled in Tristan’s head, and slowly, he started piecing things together. “Diana knew I couldn’t stop you? She
knew
there wasn’t anything I could do to talk you out of marrying her?”

“Now you’re getting it, Worthington. And here all along, I thought you were the dim-witted brother.”

Tristan rubbed his forehead, the pain getting worse. In back of him, his brother was yelling at him to get back on the horse and leave, but all Tristan could do was stare in shock at Hollingsworth’s confession.

“And that’s not the best part,” Hollingsworth snickered.

At this point, Tristan didn’t really want to hear anymore, but the question came from his throat anyway, “What is the worst part?”

“Diana is now a ruined woman. Just this evening, I took my lusts out on her in her father’s barn and she was unwilling to stop me. I suspect she will be giving an heir in nine months.”

A loud curse rent the air mere seconds before Trey attacked Hollingsworth. Trey pounded his fists into Hollingsworth’s face, knocking the man to the ground.

Tristan wanted to join in, but as he took a step toward them, he swayed. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Hollingsworth’s second plowed into Tristan. He lost his footing and landed on the ground. The other man’s weak punches couldn’t harm a fly, but in Tristan’s deteriorating condition, he couldn’t fight them off. Finally, he kneed the man in the groin, giving Tristan the room to stand. The man screamed like a little girl as he knelt on the dewy grass, holding his crotch and rocking.

Glancing at Trey and Hollingsworth, Tristan realized they were closer to the edge of the cliffs than they had been a few moments ago. Tristan broke into a run—as well as he could with the world spinning around him—heading to help his brother.

Hollingsworth threw a punch, knocking Trey down. The redhead blackguard then searched the ground for his weapon. Tristan prayed for strength as he bent and planned to bump his head right into Hollingsworth’s chest.

Mere seconds before Tristan reached his target, Hollingsworth moved away. Suddenly, the ground beneath Tristan’s feet disappeared. Like a bullet, he sailed through the air, down…down toward the turbulent waves below.

Coldness surrounded Tristan. He couldn’t breathe. He whimpered and flayed his arms. They seemed weightless.

From out of nowhere a woman’s voice soothed him.
Diana.
She urged him to drink tea. Yet his mind still swam with darkness. Within minutes his body relaxed and his mind drifted to a closure.

* * * *

The next morning, Diana was up early and dressed quickly so she could check on Tristan. Late into the night she’d heard him whimpering, and rushed to see what had
ailed
him…then almost laughed to see him lying half on the couch.

Seeing him sitting…or lying there so helpless made her want to untie him, but instead she loosened his gag and gave him a sip of tea, urging him to drink. When he hadn’t awakened, she threw a blanket over him and left
him
tied to the chair. She could tell he was having a bad dream because of the way his forehead creased and the moans the came from his throat. Even his head moved back and forth. After watching him a few minutes and realizing that he had calmed down, she had returned to bed.

She glanced at her clock…and uttered a loud curse. It was nearly afternoon. Oh, why did she sleep so long? Quickly, she pulled a beige day dress over her head and tied a copper ribbon around her waist, pulled her hair back in a coil, and then hurried down the stairs. The scent of bread hung in the air and made her stomach grumble. Tabitha must be up and making something to eat.

Instead of going to the kitchen, she decided to check on Tristan first. Would he be awake? Then again, if he was, she was certain he’d be making a lot of noise right now. Fortunately, he was in the same spot where she’d left him.

Taking careful steps toward him, she didn’t want to disturb his slumber. His eyes were closed, and his chin rested on his chest. The gag lay limp around his neck from when she’d removed it last night. She doubted he had rested any better than she had, being in such a cramped position, but although she’d lain on a nice soft bed, sleep hadn’t come and she tossed and turned fitfully all night. Knowing that Tristan was back in her life kept her more alert than she wanted to be.