"Here now, Tristan, don't be eating those!" Mrs. George turned away from the ovens where she was putting in a dish that smelled of heavenly spices.
With a wicked laugh, Tristan tugged the cookie plate closer and snatched up a few, handing them over to Kat.
"Quick, lick them before Mrs. George can take them back!"
Laughing, Kat shook her head. "I'm not licking them. We're not five years old." But she did raise one Christmas tree – shaped cookie coated in green frosting to her mouth and took a bite.
The plump cook smiled indulgently at them and rolled her eyes.
"Did you get all my presents for the staff wrapped, Mrs. George?" Tristan asked as he leaned back against the counter. With a subtle little move, he pulled Kat against his side so their bodies connected hip to hip. His scent tickled Kat's nose and heat rushed to her cheeks.
It was so easy to pretend that this was natural, that they were a couple, enjoying a Christmas in the kitchen, eating cookies, sharing smiles, excited about being alone together later. A fierce ache rose up inside her like a howling wind, filling her with despair. This wasn't to be; it was an impossible fantasy, and she shouldn't let herself even pretend that life could be this wonderful. The ghosts of their pain in the library were momentarily banished as she let herself pretend she could have this wonderful dream.
"I did get them wrapped! Thank you, Tristan. The maids will love their new fur-lined gloves." The cook grinned. "And of course, I had a peek at mine. You shouldn't have bought that knitting set."
"Nonsense, Mrs. George. How am I to get a new scarf every year if you don't have the tools to make one?" He winked at the cook, who just laughed.
"Off with you now, and don't let your mother see you eating my cookies."
Tristan curled his arm around Kat's hips as he led her out of the kitchen. Kat didn't protest or try to move his hand, even though she knew she shouldn't let him touch her like that. It was a risk. They could be seen … but she wanted that contact badly enough to risk it.
She and Tristan were almost behaving normally, not like two people who wanted desperately to sleep together but couldn't. It should've been a relief, but instead a hollowness was steadily growing inside her chest.
"Is it normal for someone like your mom to have servants?" Kat asked Tristan. "I mean, she isn't married to an earl anymore … "
Several gold frames covered the walls of the main hall, the art within depicting men and women from different eras, posing for the artists. Kat couldn't help but admire that-having one's ancestors captured in oil paintings. She and her father only had a few grainy snapshots of great-grandparents in front of log cabins.
"Mum needs them to help out, and most women of her status have a couple of servants. At my father's estate the staff is three times as large. He doesn't need them all, but he's rather traditional," Tristan explained.
"Oh." She followed him as they entered the dining hall.
Three tall windows let evening sun in, warming the walnut of the dining-room table. A glass chandelier above the table glittered, casting sparkles of light against the walls. Kat noticed the pale green walls, which had tree branches and vines with blooming flowers painted on them. If she ignored the snow outside, she could pretend she was in a forest.
"Oh, it's beautiful." She sighed.
Tristan's lips twitched, but the expression was fleeting. "I'm glad it meets with your approval."
"Tristan … "
Before she could say anything else, their parents strolled in, arm in arm, laughing and smiling. At the sight of their kids, they dropped their arms.
"Hey honey, did you get a chance to see the rest of the house?" Her dad grinned and walked over to her, trapping her in a strong hug.
Kat nodded and with a little nervous flutter she spoke to Lizzy. "Your house is beautiful."
A blush stained Lizzy's cheeks, and she smiled shyly. "Thank you. I want you to feel at home here."
Lizzy's genuine heartfelt response warmed Kat inside.
"I hope Tristan told you some of the history of the house?" Lizzy said as she gestured for everyone to sit. They picked the far end of the large table, making dining more intimate.
"Yes, he did." Kat tensed as Tristan placed a hand on her lower back and guided her to a chair across from his mother. That single touch, so intimate, so familiar, sent little shivers through her body and burned her skin with memories of the other times he'd touched her. She already knew with a sinking heart that she was going to miss being with Tristan. And not just physically. The way she felt around him, like anything was possible, and she could go out and take risks-all of that might vanish, too. And she didn't want it to.
Chapter 5
Kat glanced at Tristan as he pulled her chair out for her and then scooted it in when she sat down. Tristan's expression was contemplative, but his eyes betrayed nothing of his thoughts.
Her father sat down next to Lizzy, and Tristan chose the seat next to Kat. His chair was too close to hers, but neither of their parents seemed to notice. Their knees were almost touching, and she wanted that contact so badly; her whole body silently begged her, with little sparks and flashes of heat, to get even closer to him so he could set her ablaze.
Have to stay in control. Can't let him know how much I want to touch him, to rub my cheek on his shoulder and breathe in his scent. Tristan was addictive, but she couldn't let herself take another hit. Forcing her thoughts away from Tristan-not that she was entirely successful-she turned her attention back to their parents.
It was almost comical, the adults facing their kids across the table. But there was no way she could laugh right now. Not when Tristan's leg was pressing against hers from knee to hip. Heat emanated from her leg where it touched his, and yet she couldn't bear to move away.
It was impossible for her to deny herself these small touches.
Sometimes a girl can't help herself …
So she kept her leg where it was but didn't dare look his way.
"So … " her father said, breaking the awkward silence. "What's on the menu for tonight?" He caught Kat's eye and patted his stomach. "I've gotten spoiled by Mrs. George." Despite his words, Kat could tell he was still healthy and fit.
"Well." Lizzy clasped her hands together. "Mrs. George wanted an Indian theme night after Clayton said you both liked Indian food. Tikka masala and kedgeree are on the menu, as well as spiced beef tongue."
Beef tongue? Kat did love Indian food, but she drew the line at tongues of animals.
"Sounds … great," she said, swallowing down the urge to gag. Ugh. This was going to be a nightmare.
As the footman brought in plates of tikka masala and a basket of naan bread, Kat decided she'd fill up on these items first and see if she could avoid the tongue.
"Lizzy, I thought we might go to a concert on New Year's Eve. The London Symphony has a wonderful Chopin arrangement planned," her father suggested.
"What a wonderful idea," Lizzy replied, passing the naan basket toward her and Tristan
Kat lost track of what they were saying when Tristan put an arm around the back of her chair. Then he lazily leaned forward to hook a finger around the edge of the basket of naan, dragging it closer to them.
"You don't have to eat everything, you know," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
"What?" she muttered, hating that she had to lean closer to him to do it. That intoxicating Tristan scent enveloped her and made her a little dizzy.
"The tongue. You went white as ash when Mum mentioned it. You don't have to eat it." He nudged the naan in front of her and waited patiently for her to collect two pieces and set them on her plate. Then he took some for himself and pushed the basket toward their parents. As he did this, he removed his arm from her chair and brushed his hand against her arm, then her hip as he lowered it back beneath the table. It took everything inside her to keep from jerking as her body responded to the electric tingles from that contact.
"Kat." Lizzy caught her attention. "Your father tells me you love history?"
Kat scooted forward in her chair and nodded, relieved to have someone to talk to besides Tristan and a safe topic with which to distract herself. "Yes, I'm getting my degree in it."
"That's wonderful! What do you see yourself doing after you finish your program?" Lizzy sipped her wine and leaned toward the table.