Page 76 of Lord of Temptation
“Sorry, Princess. I didn’t think to invite them to tea in order to determine their motives.”
The words stung but she knew his impatience had nothing to do with her. She wondered if she’d not been there if he might have finished them all off.
They reached his ship. Once aboard, they were met by a surprised Jenkins.
“Cap’n, wasn’t expectin’ you tonight.”
“Double the watch, then fetch us some warm water. We ran into some ruffians up to some mischief.” He leaned in and said something she couldn’t hear.
The sailor nodded perfunctorily. “Aye, Cap’n.”
Tristan led her down the stairs to his quarters. Once the door was closed behind them, she rounded on him. “What if they had killed you?”
He grinned. “That wasn’t likely to happen.”
“You’re not invincible.”
“No, but I’m quite good in a fight.” He strode over to the corner table where he housed his spirits and poured two generous glasses. He offered her one. “This’ll take the edge off.”
She downed a huge gulp, grateful for the burning in her eyes that covered the tears threatening to spill. “How can you be so calm?”
“I’ve been in my share of brawls, Anne. I can hold my own.”
She rolled her eyes at his arrogance. Did he not comprehend—
“You did quite well,” he added.
She glared at him. “I sat there like a ninny and offered no help whatsoever—”
“Most women would have been screaming, crying, distracting me from my purpose.” He tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear. “But not you. You were stoic and brave.”
“I was useless.”
“Never.” He stared into her eyes with admiration and she wondered how he could make her feel courageous when she’d been anything but.
The light rap on the door had them separating. He opened it and retrieved a large bowl from Jenkins before dismissing him. He set the bowl on the table and picked up a towel.
“Sit down,” she ordered. “I’ll see to your wound.”
She expected him to object. Instead, he sat. She angled a chair nearer to him and eased into it. After dipping the cloth into the warm water, she gently lifted the hair from his brow and began dabbing at the gash. He barely flinched.
“It doesn’t look deep, but there’s so much blood,” she said.
“There always is with a wound to the face.”
“Have you had many?”
He shrugged.
She pressed the cloth to the wound, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. “Do you often brawl?”
“Not as often as I did in my youth. I don’t start the fights any longer, but I don’t back down from them either.”
“You live a very dangerous life.”
He said nothing, and that was answer enough. Walter had as well. Before Tristan left England’s shores, she would have to end things permanently with him. It would be lonely enough waiting for his return, but it would be unbearable wondering if he wouldeverreturn. He could be dead for years before word reached her.
“Why would you choose it? This life you lead?”
