Page 24 of The Wolf Duke's Wife
Christine’s mouth dropped open beneath the blindfold. “What?”
He laughed, low and wicked. “A pity, some might say. Aim back toward the mannequin, my lioness. Unless you truly crave scandal.”
“Do not call me that,” she snapped.
“Why not?” His lips hovered close enough that she could feel the ghost of them, “It suits.”
Her chest rose and fell, each breath too shallow.
“Now,” he whispered, guiding her aim with subtle touches, “Let fly.”
She released. The string twanged, the arrow thudded home. Laughter erupted. Christine tore off the blindfold. Themannequin stood pierced in the groin. Tristan winced in theatrical agony, clutching himself.
“Merciless. You’ve unmanned me entirely.”
Christine blushed scarlet as titters and hoots spread through the crowd. But then, unexpectedly, Tristan caught her eye and grinned. Not mockery. Not disdain. Genuine amusement. She found herself grinning back.
Later, Christine was seated at a wrought iron table on the lawn. It was one of many scattered about so as to provide privacy to those who sat at them, allowing conversations to be had that would not be overheard. Tristan sat opposite, and Christine tried not to watch the sunlight glint in his eyes as he poured wine into her glass.
“Three new facts about one another,” he reminded, handing her the goblet, “the challenge we have been set for this afternoon. Do not think you may evade it.”
Christine arched her eyebrow. “You begin, then. Since you are so very eager.”
“How long until your sister gives birth?”
“That is not a question about me,” Christine countered.
“It concerns you peripherally, and you are not the arbiter of the rules.”
“Shall we call the dowager to adjudicate?” Christine chuckled, sipping her wine.
She felt more relaxed than she had. The unfortunate placement of her arrow had made them both smile. Tristan seemed easier in himself, and that made Christine relax.
“My sister’s child is due in two months.”
Tristan frowned. “Two? But the Duke Hunt lasts only a week. What will you do for the remaining seven if you do not wish to return to Gillray?”
“That is hardly your problem. I…in truth, I do not yet know.”
She blushed, knowing that she sounded churlish and hating the fact.
“I feel like we have suddenly taken two steps backward,” he said.
“We have taken no steps forward, so that cannot be. We are still at the start,” Christine replied.
Tristan shrugged. “Implying that we stand at the beginning of a journey. I am not sure that we are. Or, that you are.”
“My journey is clear, but it is a solo one,” Christine said.
“It needn’t be. In fact, I would say that will make it harder for you. A companion will help the time pass, don't you think?”
“A companion must be trusted.”
“Which is why we are playing these games, is it not? To build trust?”
And so, the dance goes on, and we come back to the same thing. Can I trust him? He wants to find Charles, but can I trust him when he says he means him no harm?
“It is. But I find trust a difficult thing to come by. I trusted my father, and he was taken from me. I trusted my brother…”
