“Like I care a fig about what people think,” he said.

  Lara blinked. What had gotten into him? He was the most proper person she knew, and here he was behaving in the most improper manner in public. She released a pent-up breath. He was a duke, and dukes could do whatever they wished and get away with it, apparently.

  “Arrogant as ever, your Grace.”

  “No, just taking a page from your book, sweetheart,” Wolf replied with a grin.

  And now he was smiling? That devastatingly, beautiful smile lit up his handsome face, and all she could do was gape at him. What was wrong with the man? He was behaving so thoroughly out of character.

  “Lara, you are staring.”

  “And you are holding me much closer than allowed by propriety, your Grace.”

  Wolf sighed. “Say my name.”

  “Pardon me, your Grace?”

  “Stop your gracing me and call me by name. Call me Tristan like you did that night.”

  Her breath stuck in her throat.

  He gazed down at her. “I’ve missed you, Lara, so much. I miss our morning rides. I miss being myself, not a duke, not Wolverton, just Tristan, with you. Will you please meet me at the balcony that leads down to the gardens after the waltz finishes?”

  The sincerity in his words shook her to her soul, and she found herself nodding.

  Wolf beamed. It struck her that he was behaving much like he had behaved that night at Mrs. Shelby’s and then during their subsequent morning rides. The wolf was changing colors, and she liked this version best.

  He finally released her enough to maintain the proper distance between them, and they finished the rest of the dance in silence. When the music stopped, he led her back to where Anne and Cammy were waiting for her.

  He chatted with the girls for a few moments and then, giving Lara a pointed look, Wolf disappeared in the direction of the card room.

  “Don’t look now, Lara,” Anne murmured. “But Amelia Pemberley looks like she may put a dagger through your back.”

  Lara casually scanned the crowd. She spotted Amelia standing with her mother, and their sullen faces gave Lara an even greater measure of satisfaction. By not dancing with Amelia, Wolf had laid to rest any rumor that may have started circulating about Amelia and him.

  She excused herself from Anne and Cammy with the pretext of visiting the retiring room and made her way across to the terrace. The musicians were playing a country dance, and barring a few couples strolling in the gardens below, most of the terrace was empty. She reached the balustrade and looked down into the open garden.

  A shadow shifted behind her, and her hand rushed to her heart.

  “God. You scared me,” Lara clucked.

  Wolf moved closer. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  Sniffing, Lara continued to look out into the garden, her hands resting against the balustrade.

  “What am I doing here?” she asked.

  When he didn’t reply, she glanced at him. Wolf offered her his hand, and Lara stared at it for several seconds.

  He extended his hand farther. “Please?”

  Lara marveled at the need and vulnerability in his eyes. Unable to deny him, she placed her hand in his. Heat exploded from the contact, enflaming her and sending a shiver through her body. His eyes locked with hers, and desire hummed and flowed between them.

  He swallowed thickly. “I want to show you something.”

  Wolf prayed to God above that she’d give him a chance, and so far, that prayer had been answered. Lara looked lovely, especially with her small hand in his much larger one. Her off-white silk and lace gown glowed like a star under the moonlight.

  Wolf led her down the terrace into the garden below and deeper into the lush foliage.

  “Where are we going?” she queried.

  He gave her a broad grin. “You’ll see.”

  When they reached a wall covered with vines, Wolf turned to her.

  “What now?” she asked, a wrinkle marring her forehead.

  “Now we go in.”

  He lifted his hand and reached through the vines. There was a slight click, and almost magically, a door opened in front of them.

  Wolf gestured her to proceed before he, too, stepped in and shut the door behind him.

  Lara gasped, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a rose garden. A hidden rose garden. How absolutely wonderful!”

  The air around them was thick with the perfume of thousands of roses in every shade. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, a look of pure serenity on her face when she opened her eyes.

  Wolf watched, mesmerized, as she glided from row to row, stopping to smell each of the different blooms, playing with the soft, velvety petals. He’d been here before and had never found this place as enchanting as he did right now with her beside him. He gazed at the tiny twinkling lanterns placed in small alcoves high in the walls that enclosed the garden and took in the cushioned benches scattered around and the gazebo right at the end, which housed a comfortable Cleopatra couch placed in the center like a throne. The setting was surreal.

  “You like it?” Wolf asked Lara as she stood at the end of the row, looking up into the moonlit sky.

  She looked at him. “I love it. It’s magical, like a fairytale. It’s so quiet in here, like you’re hidden away from the world.” Her lips curved. “How do you know of this place?”

  “Well, Lady Craigmore is a distant relative. Lord Craigmore loves his roses, and he has always been fond of me.”

  Lara rolled her eyes.

  Wolf shrugged. “There are some people who do like me.”

  “The list is quite small, I’m certain.”

  He laughed. “And you are nothing but biased.”

  He did so enjoy bantering with her. She was one of the few women who openly spoke her mind to him, uncaring what he would think of her. And while in the past he’d found that oddly disturbing, now, he waited for an occasion to cross words with her.

  “I love roses,” Lara said.

  “I know.”

  Her brows knitted.

  He angled his head to the side. “Roses are all over Castle Manor, in the gardens there, in the manor itself, and probably in all the vases in your home in London. And since you wear a rose and vanilla scent, I figured it was perhaps your favorite flower, so…” He spread his hand toward the garden.

  “You…you know I wear a rose and vanilla scent?” Lara stuttered.

  Wolf took a step toward her. “I also know you love the color blue. You’re either wearing it or there’s an element of blue in your attire, always.”

  He pointed to the blue flowers embroidered at the bottom of her skirt.

  Her mouth opened and closed. Turning away from him, she toured the garden for a few minutes more before returning to him. “I think we should go back to the ball.”

  “No.” Wolf shook his head. “Please first listen to what I have to say. I know I’ve apologized, but it’s not enough. It never will be enough, Lara. I’m still so sorry for how I behaved with you the night of Anne’s engagement.” He took a step closer to her and lightly caressed her cheek. “I shouldn’t have rejected you in the ballroom in front of everyone, and I shouldn’t have spoken the things I said later in private. I’m sorry for hurting you. I was wrong.”

  Lara looked anywhere but at him because forgiving him and moving on was not as simple as it sounded. She already knew deep in heart what she felt for him. She refused to name that emotion because it would only lead her to more heartbreak. Her anger at him was what had kept her sane the past few days.

  “Please look at me,” he murmured, palming her cheek.

  She did, and her breath caught at the emotion storming through his eyes.

  Wolf held her face in his hands. “At this moment, I stand before you not as a duke, but as a man asking the woman who is so special to him to allow him to rectify his mistake. And if she can find it in her heart…to forgive him?”

  Her entire being melted. He was a duke, one of the most powerful dukes in the country. And here he was, pleading with her to forgive him.

  She wanted to forgive him. But where would that lead them? Would they go back to how things were between them before the Delacour masquerade, or would they continue down the path they had started to walk upon after Mrs. Shelby’s soiree? Would their morning rides continue? Would this, whatever it was that was between them, become more? Or would it remain in private—a hidden liaison never meant to be brought to light? And would it in the end break her fragile heart?

  They had this whole gamut of unexplored feelings and emotions between them, and she was almost certain that forgiving him would lead them to crossing a bridge that would not be good for either of them.

  She pressed her lips together lest she give in to the temptation of forgiving him blindly, without proper thought to the future and thereon.

  She shrugged out of his hold and headed in the direction of where they entered. “I think we should return now. Surely Cammy and Anne will be worrying about me.”

  “Are you walking away from me because you are, dare I say, afraid?” he whispered.

  The barely there word brought her up short. She turned and stared him. “Excuse me?”

  Wolf sighed. “The only reason you would walk away from me instead of finishing this conversation would be because you are afraid.”

  She huffed in anger. “You’re mistaken if you think that I’m afraid of you. I simply don’t wish to converse any more with you.”

  A single sharp eyebrow rose. “Or you’re afraid to forgive me because then you’ll have nothing to hide behind. Because then you cannot deny that you are as drawn to me as I am to you. That this between us could be real and fabulous, if only you let go of your fears and give me another chance.”

  Lara took a shuddering breath, shaking her head. “There is nothing between us, and there never was, as you expressed quite clearly. And so I must agree with your opinion.” She prayed her voice did not quaver like the rest of her was after hearing his words.

  “Is that right? Then in that case, prove it,” he countered, echoing the same challenge that she had thrown at him a few weeks ago. “Prove that you don’t find my company disturbing to your peace of mind,” he provoked. “That when I am with you, you don’t want to be in my arms.”

  Lara blinked. “This is childish,” she chided and took a step forward. “There. See? I can be close to you.”

  Wolf looked into her eyes. “Come closer.”

  Huffing, she took another step closer to him.

  “Closer,” he whispered.

  She took an irate step forward. “There. Is that enough now? Are you satisfied?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not close enough.”

  Lara glared at him, an angry retort ready on her lips. But all thoughts fled when she saw the desire shimmering in his eyes.

  He looked like the wolf he was named after, waiting to pounce on his prey, and she, his prey, was helpless to resist. His storm-gray eyes were casting a spell on her, binding her to him, compelling her to do exactly as he bid. Unable to stop herself, she took another step forward. She was standing now all but a breath away from him.

  “Closer,” he said, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Trapped by the emotions that were flowing thickly between them, Lara took the final step forward, pressing into his body. Her hand moved of its own accord and traced the lines of his handsome face. Wolf gathered her close in his arms, and a sigh of pure pleasure escaped her lips. Standing in the circle of his arms felt so right, like she belonged here.

  Lara lifted her mouth to his, and in the next moment his lips captured hers. At that moment she forgot who she was, who he was, and where they were standing. She only wanted to feel this amazing sense of bliss that came when she was in his arms, when his mouth was making soft love to her own. This was what she wanted and exactly where she wanted to be.

  His mouth moved from hers to suck on her delicate earlobe and then down to the side of her neck.

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  Wolf rubbed his nose against her throat and nipped the base of her neck. “You are so beautiful. I can’t get enough of you.”

  She lifted his head and kissed his mouth, hungry for him. Wolf carried her in his arms all the way into the gazebo and laid her down on the Cleopatra couch. He fell on top of her, and Lara relished his heavy weight. He ravished her mouth, and she gave him all he sought, tangling her tongue with his. She pressed closer to him, needing more contact with his body. His solid erection pushed against her thigh, and Lara moved against him, urgently rubbing her body against his, seeking that delicious release only he could give her. She needed him to ease that ache that was spreading in her veins.

  “Tristan, please,” she begged him.

  He groaned. “Say my name again.”

  “Tristan.”

  The gray in his eyes turned darker, and his hand on her waist tightened.

  “Tristan,” she repeated, and he planted his mouth on hers. He kissed her like a man starved and she was his salvation.

  He planted small kisses along her throat and then over the tops of her breasts. Loosening her gown, he pulled her bodice down and untied the ribbons of her chemise. Her breasts spilled into his waiting hands. His mouth moved hungrily across her skin, kissing and licking the softness above and under her breasts, but deliberately denying the straining tips of her nipples.

  Lara whimpered.

  “Tristan, please,” she implored again, holding his head and looking into his eyes.

  In reply, he flicked a nail across the pebbled tip of her breast, and she quivered. Slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, he raked his tongue over the very aroused tip of first one breast and then the other before his mouth settled on one peak to give her exactly what she wanted. Heat spread across her skin, and her mind spun. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t speak, she could only feel the sheer pleasure of having his mouth and lips on her breasts, driving her over the edge.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, he shifted his attention to her other breast, and the sensations flooded her anew.

  Pleasure began to spiral to her secret feminine place, and she moved so that he was seated fully between her thighs. Desire rushed through her blood, making her core throb, and she moved, rubbing herself against his erection, wanting to assuage the need that was spiraling out of control within her.

  Lara tugged at his coat, needing to feel him, and he obliged her. His coat, cravat, waistcoat, and shirt fell on the ground, forgotten. She placed her hands upon his heated skin and explored his body. She ran her hands over his back, his chest. Under her soft caresses, his eyes shut on a low growl. She flicked her fingers over his nipples, and he rasped a breath.

  He caught her face and captured her mouth in a harsh kiss, taking the control back from her.

  Cool air whispered on her thighs as Wolf lifted her skirts to her waist. His hand touched her there, right where she throbbed, and all thought fled from her mind. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs, and her legs trembled. He entered her with one finger, stroking her center, and she pushed herself against him, needing more. Her arms wound tighter around his neck, seeking to find some hold in this rapidly spinning world. And then his second finger joined the first, and he stroked harder, deeper. Pleasure swirled and swirled, rising inside her like a tidal wave, and when his thumb pressed against a particularly sensitive spot, she threw her head back and gave herself up to the pleasure streaking through her.

  Before she could even return back to reality, a solid length pushed against her core.

  Wolf looked into her eyes.

  “If you want me to stop now, just say the word.”

  “Tristan…”

  A low groan escaped his mouth. “Lara.”

  His voice shook as he spoke her name, and she realized that even if it hurt him to stop, he’d do it for her.

  She pulled his mouth in for a soul-stealing kiss.

  “I want you,” she whispered against his lips. “Make me yours.”

  “It will hurt,” he said, his voice harsh and his breaths escaping erratically from his mouth.

  “I don’t care. Do it.”

  Lara wrapped her arms around him as he inched into her slowly. His mouth swooped down, and he grazed his tongue against hers until she was panting. Her mind blanked. Her body softened against his, and with a quick stroke, Wolf breached through her virginal wall. He captured her scream with his mouth.

  Lara winced in pain, and immediately Wolf stopped moving. Tears escaped her eyes, and Wolf kissed them away. She heaved out a few breaths as her body adjusted to his huge size. That’s when she realized how rigid he was in her arms. She searched his face and found his worried gaze latched on her, watching her.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “Yes, it hurt a bit, but it’s fine now.”

  She shifted under him, and Wolf let out a painful growl.

  Her wide eyes met his. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did.”

  “Shh.” Wolf pressed a finger to her lips. “You’re just perfect. But I have to move, sweetheart,” he breathed out, his jaw tight. “If you’re ready.”

  Her heart thundered. He was considering her feelings, her pain, and her wellbeing in this most intimate of acts, and that’s when Lara accepted to herself that she had fallen in love with him. Head over heels.

  She kissed his jaw and lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, and he slid deeper into her.

  “Take me, Tristan.”

  Wolf started to move, his thrusts penetrating her core, lighting a fire deep within her. With each thrust he pushed her toward a welcoming blaze, and that’s when she began to move with him, matching his thrusts with her own.

  Wolf took her mouth in a dizzying kiss, never breaking momentum of his pulsating thrusts. Pressure built and rose until it finally broke, pushing her over the edge. And then as she repeatedly tightened and pulsed around him, Wolf seemed to lose all control and thrust violently, once then twice, and emptied himself into her on a roar.

 

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