Kat stared at her father, her own heart splintering inside her chest as she watched him bare his soul to her. They'd never talked about her mother. Never.
"I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her again.
"It's not your fault. It took me ten years to learn that it wasn't us she left. It was the concept of a family that troubled her. It meant she had to be a part of our team. And that's what families are. A team." He finally looked down at her again and smiled. "I want you to be open to adding Lizzy and Tristan to our team, our family. I know you don't know them yet, but I think you'll like them."
Kat winced. She couldn't confess just how well she did know Tristan.
She rubbed her palms on her jeans before looking at him. "How did you know you loved her?"
"Your mother?"
With a little shake of her head, she dropped her gaze again. "Lizzy. How did you know?"
Clayton grinned, and the expression lit up his entire face. When had he ever looked so happy? Not in a long time. The man had put the work in workaholic. He claimed he never had time for dating, yet Lizzy had changed that and him. Kat wanted to know what had pushed her father to act so out of character. She needed to understand why he'd want to take a risk with his heart again after what had happened when her mother had left.
"She makes me smile. When we first met, she saw me, just me. Not my money, not my job. It's so easy to talk to her, she listens, and I love to listen back. It's something I never had with your mother. An openness of the heart we were both missing in our first marriages. Neither of us expected or planned this, but it happened, and I can't imagine life without her now." Her father tilted her chin back and studied her face. "Someday you'll fall in love, and it will change you forever."
Kat thought of monarch butterflies and the way the caterpillars formed chrysalises and then, after a period of time, were reborn. They could never go back to being caterpillars. Falling in love was a type of metamorphosis. But it was a dangerous one, for her heart.
"She makes you happy?" Kat asked, even though she knew the answer.
"Yes, very happy."
Kat ducked her head. So Lizzy was here to stay because she made Dad happy. That meant Tristan wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and he was definitely going to be her stepbrother. How in the hell was she going to survive the holidays?
"Now, will you join us for our first family dinner in a couple of hours, after you settle in?"
"Yes." She could do that. Dinner would be easy. All she had to do was eat, right? Then why did the very thought of it make her stomach turn?
"Good." Her father rose from her bed and kissed her forehead again. "I'll see you in a bit."
"Uh-huh." She waited until he'd gone before she threw herself back upon the bed and stared up at the four-poster bed hangings over her head.
She had to admit, Lizzy had excellent taste in interior design. The town house was beautiful. Just like Fox Hill, Lizzy's house in Cambridge. Everything the woman touched was perfect. Just like Tristan. He had that same golden touch his mother had when it came to beautiful things and beautiful houses. Like his bedroom at Fox Hill. And his bed … That thought led to other thoughts of them in that bed, bodies entwined, sharing moans and breathless whispers.
Oh no, I can't go there.
I just need to survive dinner and lie low. If I avoid Tristan, he'll give up and leave me alone. I'll be able to forget about our mind-blowing perfect night together, and we won't break up our parents' marriage. And I won't let him carve his name in my heart.
That invisible pressure of his hands on her body was there again, haunting her, lingering in her mind and her senses. She shivered. "Damn it."
Chapter 3
Tristan." His mother's call halted him in his tracks on the way to his bedroom.
"Hello, Mum," he said as he spotted her at the end of the hall near the doorway to the small upstairs study.
"Might I have a quick word?" She rubbed her palms together nervously.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked over to her and followed her into the study.
She closed the door behind them and faced him. "I know we haven't talked much tonight, but now we have a chance." She waited, biting her lip and smoothing her hands over her white cashmere sweater.
"I'm happy to talk, Mum." He would humor her, but he wasn't going to start this conversation.
"Well, what do you think of them? Kat seems like a lovely girl. Clayton says she's shy, but a wonderful student. Did you know she's attending Cambridge, just like you? She's only a freshman, but maybe you will have a chance to see her when you both return after holiday."
He almost smiled. Tristan planned on doing just that, seeing lots of Kat in his bed. Preferably with her ankles thrown over his shoulders and her sweet cries of ecstasy filling his ears as she begged him to fuck her harder. He cleared his throat and attempted to put that delicious thought on hold.
"They seem very nice, Mum. I hope you've thought this through, though. Father won't be pleased … " He walked over to one of the couches and stretched out on it.
"Let me worry about your father. And yes, I have thought this through. I want you to like Clayton and Kat." Lizzy took a chair opposite him. "It's important to me that you do. We're going to be a family, Tristan. He and I want to spend the rest of our lives together."
Tristan folded his arms over his abdomen and met his mother's concerned gaze. "Does he make you happy?"
A warm, unguarded smile touched her lips. "He does. And he makes me laugh. I didn't know love could be like that. With your father … " A red blush stained her cheeks, and she turned her face toward the window. Weak winter light penetrated the thick panes of glass and illuminated her hair, bringing out the hints of red amid the darker brown.
"You don't need to talk about him, Mum." He drummed his fingers on his stomach.
"I know." She laughed softly, a mixture of chagrin and amusement in her tone that made him smile. It had been too long since he'd heard her sound so content. If Kat's dad made his mother laugh, that was a good thing.
With a sigh of resignation, she faced him. "We do need to talk about your father, though. He's demanded that you be at the estate for Christmas. We both know how he gets when you don't do what he wants."
Her words drew forth a quarter-century of dark memories. Cold holidays, icy dinners, frosty exchanges over afternoon tea. Never a kind word, never a single utterance of praise or affection. And always that knowledge that his father's word was law. Whatever the old boy wished, it had to be done, or else someone would pay dearly for defying his orders.
The Earl of Pembroke was an absolutely wretched human being and an even worse husband and father. It was no surprise that the local papers in London loved to drag out any negative news about him when they could. Usually they used Tristan to do it, smearing the papers with photos of affairs and lovers, trying to tie him to his father and his father's political agenda in the House of Lords.
"You'll talk to him, won't you?" his mother asked. "Smooth things over for Christmas?"
"I'll call him tomorrow. He won't get more than a few days from me, though."
His mother's smile wilted at the corners. "Be careful, Tristan." She cleared her throat and then changed the subject. "How's Carter doing?"
Tristan shrugged. "Carter is well. Still in love with Celia."
"He is such a delightful young man. If only her parents weren't so opposed to him."
Indeed. Parental opposition was the death of many relationships in a society like his. The peerage of Britain had standards, and they forced them to be met, albeit quite secretly. A relationship with Kat, for example, would be permitted as a temporary dalliance, but never a marriage.
Not that he intended to marry Kat-she was only nineteen and far too young to marry anyone-but when he did marry, his father was going to attempt to pick his bride as though they were stuck in the Victorian Age. Therefore, he had every intention of delaying marriage to anyone as along as possible. He wanted to enjoy his bachelor years while he could, which included being with Kat. He was going to have Kat in his bed again, and he wouldn't let something like his father's disapproval slice through what lay between them. If they had to build a world of secrets to keep their relationship hidden, he would do whatever was necessary to have her. He'd give her some time, some space … but he would get her back in his bed, right where she belonged.