War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (18 page)

They received several stares at their antics
and Tristan quickly attacked the growing puddle with a fine linen
napkin. He smiled at her as she hid her reddened face behind her
hands.

She was relieved when the waiter returned,
his arms laden with plates. Their food was served on fine porcelain
plates; they were hand painted with the King’s crest. Sarah’s eyes
were drawn to the lamb shanks and she delved into her meal.

Tristan watched her eat as if this meal
might be her last. His gut clenched in fear for her safety. An idea
formed in his head and a devious smile crept over his face as he
too ate with relish!

After their meal, Tristan took her arm and
guided her outside and down the boardwalk. She soon found herself
at the last place she wanted to be: the dress shop. Taking a deep
breath, she pulled herself to her full height and bravely marched
inside.

She was immediately set upon by the
proprietor. He clasped his hands in delight before grabbing her arm
and practically dragging her to the back of the store.

“I wasn’t sure at first but I do think this
is my best work yet!” he crooned happily, pulling out her dress
from amongst others.

Her mouth fell open forming a soft ‘o’ as
she stared at the gown. Light seeped in through the window and
gleamed off the silk. Bursts of lavender peeked out of the smoky
gray as the dress shifted in the sun. It was magnificent. The heavy
silk was embellished with decorative stitching and ruffles at the
sleeves and chest.

She reached out almost shyly to feel the
fabric. The full skirt was bustled in the back and was held up with
pantaloons.

“Do you want to try it on?” he asked.

“Oh no! I would never want to take it
off!”

“Very well, do you need undergarments as
well?” he asked hopefully.

She blushed a bit, thinking of all the
ruined bloomers and how they had become ruined. “Yes, I need
everything
,” she emphasized.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he replied, digging
through some wooden boxes. He returned with a gray pair of
pointy-toed shoes, the perfect color of the dress. They had been
embroidered to match the intricate pattern of the gown. A tiny
raised heel was the last aspect and Sarah looked at them in awe.
She had never seen shoes such as these.

“They are wondrous; however, I already have
shoes.”

“Humph! You cannot wear a dress such as this
with dusty boots. I insist. Besides, all the women will have
matching shoes.”

Sarah frowned again thinking of how wasteful
the British were. Imagine buying shoes you could only wear once.
“Fine,” she replied. It would do no good for further protest. She
didn’t need to arouse anyone’s suspicions. She turned and escaped
through the partition, only to find Tristan fingering an elaborate
wig.

“No.”

He turned to look at her, “It would complete
the look.”

“No, you have spent enough on me.”

“I insist,” he said, handing the large
bundle off to be packaged. Sarah frowned and swept from the store.
She didn’t like the idea of the ball in the first place, and to be
dressed up as a living doll was just too much. She glanced down the
road and found an apothecary shop. An idea popped into her head and
she walked over.

The small room was gloomy and had a heavy
feeling. Different odors competed against each other to make the
place even more repugnant. Looking around wearily, she spotting a
wizened woman in the back and headed over.

“Help you?” her voice quivered with age.

“Yes ma’am, do you carry powdered
rhubarb?”

“Of course, how much do you need?”

“All of it.”

She was rewarded with a blackened grin, and
she winked back. Grasping the brown package, she returned to the
carriage. There she found a frantic Tristan.

“Where have you been?” he asked, pulling her
into a rib-crushing hug. She held up her package and replied,
“Insurance.”

They arrived back at the manor and Tristan
carried the bulky packages inside. Sarah would have assisted him,
but it was too amusing watching him teeter with the load.

She followed him up the stairs, noticing for
the first time how his leg muscles tightened against his pants with
each step. Curiously, she reached out her hand and traced it down
his rigid thigh. He let out a muffled curse as he stumbled up the
last few steps.

Reaching her bedroom, he dropped the
packages in a heap and turned to her. “Were you trying to kill me?”
he asked, watching as she shut the door behind her and turned the
lock with a click.

Tristan’s mouth felt awfully dry as she took
a step toward him. “Do you want to see me in my gown?” she asked,
her hands falling to the buttons on her dress.

“Yes.”

“Well, too bad. You are just gonna have to
wait.” Sarah moved closer to him until they were almost
touching.

“I’m not a very patient man,” he
mumbled.

“I know,” she said, pushing him back onto
the bed.

She dropped to her knees and unbuckled his
boots, pulling them off. His socks were next and she slid her hands
up his calves, feeling the firm flesh. She sensed him relaxing and
climbed on the bed next to him. His hands reached for her and she
pushed them away. Fumbling with his buckle, she quickly released
the clasp and worked the buttons loose on his trousers.

Piece by piece she disrobed him so her
hungry eyes could soak in the view. They had two days left, and she
was not going to waste a minute. She placed her hands on his face
and leaned over him, tasting his lips. Her tongue slid between them
and he opened his mouth willingly. She heard a moan and wasn’t sure
if it was his or her own. She pulled her mouth away while she still
had the strength and continued her exploration of his body. She
slid her finger over his shoulders, tracing every dip and curve.
Moving to his chest she gently rubbed his nipples between her
fingers. She was intrigued how his buds hardened; kissing each one
she moved lower yet. Following the path down his breastbone, she
arrived at his taunt stomach. It was well defined with layers of
muscle and she felt robbed by his usual attire that hid him from
her.

Reaching his navel she gently traced it with
her fingertip and then moved lower. Her path was covered by a fine
trail of hair leading down to his pelvis. She felt her face
reddening as she pondered upon what to do next. The answer was
taken from her as strong hands grasped her and brought her down on
the bed. Deft hands quickly undid her remaining bindings and she
was barely aware that she was slipped out of the dress.

She had little time to think about her own
nakedness as she was soon covered with his hands and mouth. It was
her turn to cry out when his hot mouth closed upon her nipple. His
eyes met hers and she looked away in embarrassment. Finishing its
twin, he eagerly slid down past her flat stomach and parted her
knees. His fingers gently prodded into her red curls and delved
into her depths.

Tracing along her crease, he rubbed his
fingers together, feeling the slick moistness. Moving her legs
further apart his mouth replaced his hands and her back arched off
the bed when his tongue found her sweet core. Shocked, her hands
fisted in his hair; she had intended to pull him away. However, her
mind had shut down and she was reduced to pure essence. She felt a
tightening in her stomach and her toes curled. She gasped for
breath; her body tensed and then quivered under his expert
tutelage. She relaxed completely and was barely aware that he moved
above her.

His moist lips leaned down to capture hers
and she met them eagerly. Her eyes widened from the new scent and
she squirmed away with a blush. She wrinkled her nose at him as he
grasped her head between his hands and wiped his mouth on hers.
Kissing her deeply she soon relented and returned his kiss with
vigor. She felt him shift and opened her legs, offering him
entrance.

He filled her with one smooth push and she
cried out in relief. Wrapping her legs around him, she eagerly
tried to control the motion. Chuckling, he hooked her under her
knees with his arms and pulled them up to her waist. This gave him
more leverage and deeper access, which he took full advantage
of.

Sarah gasped for breath as he pistoned
inside of her and ground his pelvis against hers. She was
perspiring as her body shuddered again and he peppered kisses over
her salty neck, moving over her face and closed eyes. She felt him
tense above her and heard him cry out, releasing inside of her
warmth. With a groan, he turned to his side and pulled her with
him. Sated, they soon fell asleep.

Sarah woke at the knock on the door.
“Dinner,” Cecilia called out. She looked over at Tristan, who she
was using as a pillow. She kissed his chest trying to shake him
awake. He growled at her.

“Come on Tristan. Aren’t you hungry?” she
asked when his eyes finally opened.

A wicked grin spread across face.
“Famished.”

Sarah cried out as he grabbed her and tossed
her onto her back. She tried to push him away half-heartedly,
however her hands were gently clasped in his and held above her
head.

Moving over her again, he captured her mouth
and she stopped resisting. Food could wait.

Sarah sat by the window in her shift,
waiting for Cecilia to help her dress. For now the gown lay
lifeless on the bed. She could hear tendrils of music floating up
the stairway as the quartet began their warm up.

She clasped her hands together nervously;
this was it, it was too late now to back out. The plan was set into
motion.

The day before Tristan had packed their
trunks and had them delivered to the
Vixen
; preparing in
advance for their supposed trip to London. She had gone downstairs
earlier and had mixed the powdered rhubarb into the large batch of
tapioca pudding.

Hopefully, it would be enough to cause
distress to all that ate it. There would be many British elite at
the party and it would be difficult for them to bark orders if they
were in the loo.

A creak rent the air and she looked down,
spotting the first carriage to arrive. She watched as a woman
dressed in peach emerged and was helped down by a gaily dressed
footman. There was a knock at the door and Cecilia peeked her head
in.

“I am sorry for the delay, Miss. The hired
staff is not as adept as I would have hoped.”

Sarah let out her breath. “No worries, I am
in no hurry to appear.”

“Well, Mister Ryan is outside pacing the
hallway. He is sure to wear a hole straight through!” Cecilia said,
grasping the heavy blue drapes and pulling them closed.

Sarah smiled at the thought; Ryan always
seemed the nervous sort. However, she knew from experience, it was
mostly a ruse. Cecilia grabbed a hairbrush and expertly placed
Sarah’s hair into a tight bun to fit under the wig. Sarah’s skin
was already alabaster, so she only added some juice to her lips and
cheeks to brighten them.

“Well, I guess we should get started.” She
swept her hand over the mound on the bed. She then pulled Sarah to
her feet and appraised her a bit before digging to a pile and
pulling out her knee length socks. Sarah went about the task of
hopping from leg to leg as she pulled them on and tied them above
her knees. Next came her bloomers and her stay, to support her
bosom.

With Cecilia’s help she slipped into the
quilted petticoat made to match the gown. Next she slipped her arms
into the heavy gown and buttoned it into place.

Cecilia placed the wig properly on her head
and pinned it in place. She then took a step back. “You look
amazing. Master Tristan will be rendered speechless.”

“You mean Ryan?”

“Him too,” she replied with a wink. “Well no
more dawdling, off you go.”

Sarah was practically pushed out of the room
and stopped in the hallway at Ryan’s incredulous expression. “You
look like an angel,” he whispered.

“Thank you, are you ready for this?”

“No,” he grinned.

“Well too bad, cause if we don’t hurry
Cecilia will probably toss us down the stairs.”

“That I will!” Cecilia hollered over her
shoulder as she headed down to the kitchen.

He offered her his arm and she curtsied
before taking it. Her wig wobbled and she sighed, grabbing to
straighten it. Taking his arm, she leaned over and whispered in his
ear, “Don’t eat the tapioca.”

He raised an eyebrow but did not respond. It
was a risk mentioning it to him. However, he did save her life, she
owed him that.

She was thankful he was holding her arm as
he guided her down the main stairway. She was a bit wobbly in her
new shoes and she could just imagine herself tumbling down and
landing in a heap of petticoats and bloomers. She kept her eyes on
the steps and her other hand tightly clenched to the railing. She
was sure she would have been dismissed from debutante school;
however, she made it to the bottom safe and sound.

Raising her head for the first time, she was
surprised to see the bevy of men watching her. It was disconcerting
to say the least. To be surrounded by these men, these soldiers who
were responsible for the death of her family was too much. Them
with their fancy red waistcoats and polished shoes and buttons.
Perhaps she should have used belladonna instead of rhubarb. She
grasped Ryan’s arm tighter, pasting a smile on her face. Ryan
nodded to the men before guiding her to the ballroom.

Sarah looked around at the colorful
decorations and drapery. She had seen the room before but had
preferred the library to keep her company. She eyed the back doors
leading to the gardens and silently plotted her escape.

“Thirsty?” Ryan asked.

She turned her attention to him and was glad
to see he felt as out of place as she did. “Yes.”