The Sweetest Love (Sons of Worthington Series) (2 page)

Once again, the men broke out with boisterous laughter so loud it nearly shook the walls. Tristan’s headache threatened to crack every bone in his head. He couldn’t take any more of this celebrating. He must return home and sleep off his drunken stupor, especially since he needed a clear head tomorrow when he walked into the church.

Glancing down at his wrinkled clothes, he tried to smooth out the material. He needed to change, as well. It wouldn’t be seemly to arrive at the church looking this unkempt. His mother would certainly not have her son acting—or looking—like a fool in public. And heaven knew Tristan had brought enough worry to the woman in the past few years. Her health couldn’t take any more. He
must
be clean and dressed appropriately for his wedding.

His mother had high hopes of Tristan marrying into a good family, especially after the turmoil he’d had the past three years… He’d nearly died and lost his memory for a good twenty-four months before his brother, Trey, found him. And because the one woman—the woman he thought he’d given his heart to—was not in his life any longer, he needed to do something to move on. Marrying the young widow, Lady Jane
Fairbourne
was exactly what he needed in order to put Diana in the past where she belonged.

“Milord?”
The toothless bugger next to him grinned. “Do ye need me to stand with
ye
for
yer
big day
t’morrow
?”

Tristan waved a hand through the air. “As much as the idea sounds
appealin
’, I must decline.” He lifted his drink to his mouth and finished every last drop before slamming it on the table. “My friends,” he called out, “I shall take my leave now. The next time I come
ta
this fine ‘
stablishment
, I’ll be a happily married man.” Well…he wasn’t too sure about the
happily
part, but he most certainly would be married.

The men inside the tavern cheered his name and lifted their cups in a salute as Tristan left the building staggering his way toward his coach.

Although his fiancée was beautiful and wealthy—thanks to her late husband—this was a marriage Tristan didn’t really want. Lady Jane
Fairbourne
had been paraded in front of him so many times in the past few years he’d grown tired of looking at her. But he was even more tired of trying to look for the woman he could give his heart to. Now he just wanted to marry and start a family, and it didn’t matter with whom. Most of the
ton’s
married couples didn’t love each other anyway, so why should he be any different?

He stopped and leaned against the building, blinking to clear his vision.
Where is my bloody coach?
He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of where his driver had parked. “Ah, there it is!”

Taking slow and careful steps, he headed toward his vehicle. Tristan released an agitated breath. Lady
Fairbourne
would look as good on his arm as his wife. She knew how to tease men to make them quake, but Tristan had never really envisioned her by his side making him truly happy for the rest of his life.

As quickly as that thought came, another one followed, and he pictured a lovely, young woman with auburn hair—perfect ringlets framing her heart-shaped face.

Diana.

Stars had danced in her green eyes, and when she’d turned her gaze upon him, her smile had melted his heart. When he’d met her three years ago, he’d had his share of women, yet in her presence he truly felt like a man. How could he not when he knew she stared at him with so much admiration in her astounding eyes?

Groaning, he pushed the torturous memory aside. He’d been foolish then, believing that love could conquer all. He’d fallen hard and fast for this woman, and his head had literally been in the clouds during that time. Thankfully, though, reality crashed around him and made him realize there was no such thing as a faithful woman…or love.

His memory hadn’t fully returned to allow him to actually remember what she’d done to make him think about love this way, but something in his subconscious told him that she’d hurt him.
Badly.

When he’d met Diana, he had sworn the sun rose and set on her.
Stolen kisses that quickly turned into more.
As hard as he tried, he couldn’t let go of that time in his carefree life. Just when he thought he had pushed her memory out of his head, her husband had been killed, and Tristan was suddenly suspected of killing the man.

Tristan shook his head. If he wanted to kill Lord Hollingsworth, he would have done it three years ago. Instead, the man almost succeeded in killing him!

Well...time to pay the piper.
Tomorrow he would marry Lady
Fairbourne
, and even if it killed him, he
would
put Diana’s memory behind him.

He stepped to his coach, opened the door and climbed in. Perhaps he should have waited for his driver to assist him inside, but Tristan was too impatient and if he waited for the driver to open the door, Tristan would have toppled over standing still for so long.

A few minutes later, there came a strange scratching sound—like metal rubbing together—from the other side of the door, but he didn’t care to think about it right now. Let his driver worry.
 
Soon, the vehicle lurched into action, nearly causing Tristan to fall off his seat. He adjusted himself, braced his feet on the floor, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back.

The rhythm of the coach swaying back and forth relaxed him more than he wanted. He couldn’t fall asleep now. Not until he reached home and crawled into bed. A good night’s sleep on a soft mattress would make him more alert for his wedding. But after fifteen minutes, the road became bumpier, which wasn’t familiar at all. Tristan bounced on the seat more so now than before. Had the driver taken a different route home?

Pulling back the curtains, Tristan peered out the window. Although darkness had settled over England, the full moon showed him that the storm from earlier this evening had passed quickly. The full moon also showed him that the driver was definitely not going the right direction. Confusion pounded in his head. Curse his alcohol-soaked mind. If he didn’t know any better, he would think they were leaving town altogether.

Doubting his foggy thoughts, he shook his head, blinked and looked again. Sure enough, they were heading the wrong way.

Grumbling in anger, he smacked his fist against the roof and yelled, “Dudley, where are we going?”

Instead of getting an answer, the speed of the vehicle increased. The rocking motion slid him to the floor this time. Angrily, he pulled himself on the seat. He yanked on the door, preparing to reprimand his driver, but the door wouldn’t budge. Tristan jiggled the handle several times, fighting with the blasted thing, and it sounded like chains held it closed.
Good grief!
What was happening?

“Dudley!” Tristan pounded on the wall. “I say! Stop this vehicle immediately.”

Once again, the driver ignored his request and the coach’s movements grew more erratic. Tristan pounded again. “Hear me now. If you do not stop this vehicle immediately, I will have you thrown in prison for kidnapping.”

He waited for Dudley to comply, but his wish was not granted.

This couldn’t be happening! Worry clenched his chest as fear sailed through him. Would tonight’s adventure have an impact on his wedding tomorrow? Part of him hoped for such, yet he didn’t need to add extra worry on his mother.

He had no other choice but to sit back and wait to see what would become of him. Was this a kidnapping or just an out of control coach without a driver? Then again, the door would be able to open if something had just happened to the driver, so obviously Tristan was being kidnapped.

A couple of hours had passed—he had guessed—before the coach jerked to a stop. Tristan looked out the window again. He had no clue where they were except embedded deep in the forest. And what appeared to be a small two-story cottage, stood nestled amongst some trees. The place wasn’t familiar to him, and neither were the surroundings. He pictured an elderly couple lived here in a private haven away from society.

Soon, the door rattled, the chink of chains confirming his suspicion. Then the carriage’s door opened. Before he had a chance to speak, the tip of a saber entered through the open space.

“Mark my words, my lord, one wrong move and I’ll slice this blade clean through you.”

A person with a hooded black cape stood in the doorway of the vehicle, their face hidden in the shadows. Tristan blinked with surprise. Whoever this was had such a young voice for being someone so threatening. Tristan had no doubt the man’s words were
true,
however, he had serious misgivings that his captor was a full grown man. The tone of voice was more like a lad just before reaching his maturity.

“I’ll cooperate,” Tristan replied.

“Come out of the vehicle slowly.”

As instructed, Tristan stepped down from the coach. His captor wore the attire of a driver, except the clothes didn’t fit him as well. Even the hat hung low on his forehead, and the brim cast shadows over the occupant’s thin face. Tristan was certain he could overpower this one—yet his captor held a saber in one hand and a pistol in the other.

A gust of wind blew from behind, pushing Tristan forward. Drops of rain fell on him. When had the storm moved in?

“I assure you, my lord, I’m well-schooled in the use of a saber and pistol. One wrong move and it will be your last,” his captor said loudly above the howling wind.

Tristan frowned. The odds of escaping were not in his favor. “I believe you.” And he did. The other man’s hands didn’t tremble like someone who had never done this before. There was confidence in the way the other spoke and in his movements.

The lad motioned toward the cottage as he tried to keep his hat from blowing off his head. “Enter.”

Tristan held his hands up in surrender as he walked. He wanted to make the other person aware that he was unarmed and was no threat. “Can you at least tell me why you have taken me? What have I done?”

“You shall know when I want you to know, and not a moment sooner.”

Tristan couldn’t possibly think of why anyone would want to kidnap him. He hadn’t made many enemies except for Lord Hollingsworth, and now that the man was dead Tristan couldn’t think of a single soul. He hadn’t broken many hearts, either. Never had he claimed the title of rake—like his younger brother, Trey. Lately, the only title Tristan could claim was that of a drunk.

Entering the small cottage, he took in his surroundings. A few lamps lightened the room. Somebody lived here, and the comforting welcome of the fire and the coziness of the furniture gave him hope that whoever this person was, they were not going to kill him. At least he hoped first impressions were correct.

A single wooden chair sat in the middle of the room. The tip of the saber at his back had Tristan holding his breath, yet he followed the prompt of the weapon as it pushed him to the chair.

“Sit.”

Once again, he did as instructed. The lad walked behind him, tied his hands and legs with a rope before standing again,
then
moved in front of Tristan.

He arched an eyebrow. “Will you now tell me why I’m here?” He struggled with the ties, impressed with how well his captor—as small in stature as the man was—could bind so tight. “As you can see, I’m not a threat any longer.”

The lad kept his head down, preventing Tristan from getting a good look at him. Of course his captor stood in the shadows, so Tristan wouldn’t be able to see his face that well anyway. He still felt the other’s gaze assessing him. Usually Tristan was a patient man, but he was ready to shout with frustration.

His captor folded his arms. “You,
my lord
, are in my control. I am going to ruin you completely! The same way you ruined a certain woman three years ago.”

Chapter Two

Tristan glared at his captor, not believing this
person
had the audacity to kidnap him before his wedding and threaten him.

“Did you not hear me?” the lad demanded. “You are in my control now! What have you to say to that?”

Nodding, Tristan cocked his head. “I heard you. Pray, tell me how you plan on ruining me as you have threatened? Because I can assure you, I did not ruin any woman three years ago.” There could only be one woman that could come close to being
ruined.
Diana. Yet he had never ruined her. Lord Hollingsworth had!

His captor straightened his shoulders and unbuttoned the driver’s jacket, letting it fall to the floor. A woman’s dress came into view, the bulk gathered around her middle with a hash. She released the tie and the fullness swished down around her legs. Lastly, the driver’s hat was removed. Brown hair fell around the woman’s shoulders as she adjusted her dress to cover the calves he’d glimpsed as she removed the boy’s trousers.

He’d never seen this woman before. Had she gotten the wrong brother? Perhaps it was Trey she was mad at instead—since Trey had had the reputation of a rake before he’d married. The girl would be quite pretty if her big blue eyes weren’t shooting invisible daggers his way. A victorious grin touched her full lips as she folded her arms over her chest.