Page 14 of The Throne Seeker
Tristan clenched his jaw and squeezed the hand holding hers. “Of course you didn’t. I should’ve known.”
It only took one guess as to whom might have told him that lie—his mother. Yet another confirmation of her suspicion that the queen disapproved of their relationship.
“I know your mother cares for me… but I’m beginning to think she isn’t fond of us together,” she said.
He shook is head in denial. “That’s not true. She adores you.”
She pushed down the rising doubt. “Perhaps in a way.” She stepped away as their hands rose above their heads with the choreography. “But in another way, maybe it’s more complicated.”
He spun her around and pulled her closer to his chest. “Even if that were true—which it’s not—it doesn’t matter. I’ll marry you whether they like it or not.”
She nearly flinched at the words. “Don’t say that.”
“No one will tell me who to marry. What they think doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t be daft. It means everything.”
“I’m serious.” Tristan’s grip on her waist tightened, redirecting her gaze back to his so she could see the ache harbored there. “For a year, I had nothing to hold on to. At times, you felt like a distant dream instead of a memory. Time paused and didn’t start again until the moment you walkedback through those doors. Life is too short, and I’ve already lost enough of it. I’ll tell you exactly what I told my mother—I won’t agree to stay away from you. Even if the world were on fire, I’d cling to you… with every ounce of strength, I’d cling to you.”
He’d always had the ability to express himself without fear of what was to come after. She couldn’t help but admire him for it. It was a wonder another girl hadn’t caught his eye.
“After all this time… there must have been someone else?” she asked hesitantly.
Tristan grimaced. “No. I’ll admit, I tried—more than once. But there is no one I’ve wanted more. I keep telling you, Rose, I wantyou. So much, I’m sure it can’t be healthy.”
Her heart skipped as her breaths grew shallow. “Can I ask what motivates you to be so loyal to me?”
The corner of Tristan’s mouth lifted into a smile, pulling her closer. “Because you’re one of the few people who wants me, not what I can give you. You wantme, Tristan. Not the prince of Cathan. What’s more, is you… You’re the only one I ache for, the only one who gets under my skin.” His eyes lowered to her lips, then returned to hers. “It scares the hell out of me how you can control me with a mere glance.” He dipped her backward, her blue dress skimming the floor. When he lifted her, he asked, “Was there someone else for you?”
She almost laughed. “So many,” she teased. Her smile was meant to ease his worry, but something hidden in his eyes made her uncertain.
“I’d believe it.”
She shook her head. “There’s been no one. My mother’s tried to persuade me, but… no one is you.”
Tristan pulled her closer in response, so close she could feel his breath on her face.
All too soon, the song ended, and the couples dancing separated. The crowd clapped, their applause spreading through the dance floor.
She didn’t want him to let go. She didn’t need to dance with anyone else. She’d found him—the person she wanted to marry was right here in front of her. Entertaining anyone else would be a waste of time.
He must have been thinking along the same lines because he whispered, “Meet me tonight at our spot after the celebration.”
His words played with fire. It had been different when they were children. Back then, no one batted an eye at kids playing on the beach. But now that she was of age…
“We have the whole summer, Tristan,” she pointed out.
“And I plan to take full advantage of every night,” he declared with a cocky grin.
Still keenly aware of the spectators on the sidelines, she caved with a content smile. “Alright.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned away, biting her lip to disguise her joy as she left.
She had taken all but ten steps before her mother joined her. “Rose! I want you to meet someone.” She tugged at her arm, her determined strides hinting at a secret agenda. The next thing she knew, Rose stood in front of a short, heavyset man with a scruffy black beard. “Rose, do you remember the Grand Duke of Sansburry?”
The duke peered through his bushy eyebrows as a smile creased his cheeks. His famous dimples were still noteworthy but accompanied by more wrinkles. If she recalled correctly, he was one of the major gold traders in Cathan—and the richest man aside from the royal family.
Rose lowered her head, throwing on her society smile. “How could I forget the man who owns my favorite vineyard in Cathan? I remember my visit quite well.”
He beamed as proud as a peacock, resting his hands on his protruding belly. “I’m impressed! You were no more than knee-high when you came to my humble home. Not too much younger than my son, if I remember correctly. You remember Dawnton. Dawnton!” he called over his shoulder.
