Page 39 of Love in Bloom

“The guards took pride in their work, as you can see.” He gestured to his body. “Torture came in many forms and at all hours of the day or night. Though they were careful never to leave marks on my face or actually break anything.”

“That’s why you’re afraid of loud noises and the dark.”

He nodded, his lips set in a grim line.

“Oh, Tristan. That’s awful. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.” Camille rose on to her knees and cupped his face with her hand, feeling a day’s worth of scruff under her fingers.

He took her hand in his. “I hope you never do. And please don’t try to imagine it. The ideas would only cause you pain, and wouldn’t even come close to living the experience.”

“What did you do after your release? Where did you go?”

He rubbed her hand between his. “I was dumped on the steps of the U.K. consulate three months later. Again, I didn’t know how long I’d been there until later. I spent a long time in psychiatric rehab. The nightmares … ” He shook his head, and a few stray water droplets landed on her face. “I spent hours talking to therapists, working through my experience. PTSD is all over my paperwork. When I was deemed ‘well’ I had to look for work. Jia’s family had made my crimes known. I had a record, a reputation. No one wants a scientist, no matter how hardworking or gifted, to work for them with that on their résumé. I left Singapore and drifted across land and sea until I arrived in India. There my story was as yet unknown. A lab opened up, and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Did you tell the lab what happened?” Camille needed to know Tristan was an honest man. That sticking point was nonnegotiable. She needed to be able to trust him if she was falling in love with him.

“The owner is well aware of my situation and sympathetic. They don’t test on animals there.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Please, don’t cry, Camille. I can’t bear it. Your tears hurt more than any damage the guards ever inflicted.” A tear slipped down his face.

“I can’t help it. The whole situation is cruel and unfair. You were unjustly punished for trying to do something heroic.” She traced the scars on his chest. “Each one of these is a symbol of their treachery and of your goodness.”

Under her hands she felt a tremor run through his body. He cupped her face with his hands. “Only you, dear Camille, could see past my mistake and find a good man, which proves my point. I don’t deserve you.”

“I’ll decide who’s worthy enough for me, and you, dear husband, certainly are.” She brushed her lips against his and felt his sharp intake of breath.

“Camille.” From his lips, her name was half protest, half desire.

She brushed his mouth again. “Let me show you, Tristan Penrose, how good of a man you are. A man who is worthy of love and happiness.” She pressed her lips firmly against his, tasting the warmth of him. With the salt of their tears mingling together between their lips, she felt him give in.

His hands slipped from her face and down her arms. He pulled her from the floor into his lap, pressing them together.

She let her fingers slide through the waves of his hair, pulling ever so slightly as the kiss built between them.

Tristan let out a soft moan. “Camille.”

And then fire coursed through her as Tristan ran his hands through her hair and along her back. He trailed kisses along her jaw and collarbone, leaving her breath ragged and desperate for his lips to find their way back to hers.

She hardly knew what her own hands were doing. They moved from his hair, down his chest, and wrapped around his back before running up his chest again to settle around his neck.

His lips were fervent against her own, driving her hunger for him.

But deeper within, she found something unexpected and more pleasurable than the touch of their lips. Connection. Understanding. The feeling that this was a man she could spend time with, doing anything or nothing. A man she could call her own, and he could call her his. The sensation shook her to her core, and she startled back.

Breath ragged, Tristan leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare.” She struggled to get her own breath. “Don’t you dare apologize for what we shared. Don’t tarnish it with an apology that will cheapen what happened between us in this moment.”

“But, Camille—”

She brushed her lips over his. “No buts. I’d like to do nothing more than spend the rest of my day kissing you senseless, showing you what I think of you, and let the world fade away. But given your half-clad state, I’m afraid the temptation to go beyond kissing would be more than either of us could handle. And I think too much of you to let that happen. You’re already carrying too much guilt. I won’t add to it.”

She hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Camille, you still don’t know everything.”

She sat back to look him in the eye. “I know enough for now. You’ll tell me the rest when you’re ready and it’s the right time. I trust you. I wouldn’t have come on this trip if I didn’t.”

He trailed his fingers down her cheek. “Even now you trust me, after knowing what I did.”

“Even now.” She sealed her lips to his once more. “But we do have one problem.”

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