Page 30 of Vengeance Becomes Her

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Just before six rolled around, there was a knock at Rhiannon’s door. Tristain greeted her with one of those dimpled smiles. His unique scent of rain-soaked wood and eucalyptus wafted over her as he walked past her. She stifled the urge to inhale deeply.

“Would you like a glass of wine? I just need another minute to put on my shoes, sorry.”

“I’ll wait here, we’re not in a hurry.” He gave a sincere smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes.

“Feel free to relax in the sitting room. I’ll just be a minute or two…five minutes at most, I promise.”

Rhiannon reemerged just over five minutes later fully dressed, strappy heeled shoes carefully wound around her ankles.

“Ready?”

He had been perusing the bookcase, his fingers running over the worn spines. He didn’t seem to hear her at first.

She hesitated, taking a moment to appreciate the way the black trousers and slate grey tunic fit just right. Feeling guilty for staring, she walked up behind him, emphasizing her steps in an effort not to startle him as she approached.

“Tristain, are you ready to go?” She asked again.

A wry smile passed his lips as he looked over her change of clothing appreciatively.

It was the reaction she had hoped for when she selected the black dress that fell slightly off her shoulders and had a corseted belt that emphasized her curves. The airy sleeves that flowed down her arms wouldn’t do much for warmth, but at least it was ankle-length.

Rhiannon was relieved to see that he had a carriage readied for them so that they didn’t have to walk the mile to the tavern in thebrisk evening air. Her legs probably wouldn’t have made it after the day they had.

They sat in silence on the way there, both looking out their respective windows. The two weren’t quite friends and they hadn’t tried their hand much at idle conversation. It was different during training, they had a common goal. But this, spending time together as friends,was different.

Being friends with the brother of the man who tried to kill her didn’t seem right, but she also enjoyed his company. She warred internally over her desire to keep him at an arm’s length and her growing desire for his companionship. She’d been so lost in thought that Tristain had to give her a nudge when they arrived.

Rhiannon hoped the alcohol would make the rest of the night less awkward than the ride over. Her nerves buzzed as they waited at the bar for service. She hadn’t been out since Silas arrived. It wasn’t busy thankfully.

She cleared her throat. “What are you having?”

Tristain shifted back and forth on his feet nervously. “I was thinking an ale.”

Rhiannon couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes as far as they’d go.“How typical.”

He huffed a laugh, surprised by her goading. “If you were ordering for me, what would you prefer I had?” His eyes lit upwith challenge.

She pursed her lips, feigning deep thought. “Something more adventurous. Doyou trust me?”

Tristain squinted his eyes in a look that told her just how much trust he had in her. But still, he conceded. “Do your worst. I’ll find us a place to sit.” He dropped several coins in her hand.

She watched him as he departed and noticed a few heads turn as he searched for a table. Something like jealousy flared within her.

When she finally got their drinks, she wasn’t surprised to find him at one of the wooden tables outside—that seemed to be his preferred environment. She sat down and slid his drink across the table.

He took a tentative sip, rolling the liquid over his tongue. His facial expression revealed nothing in the dim candlelight that flickered softly, casting shadows over his handsome features. She watched closely as he took another sip.

“It’s not poison. I still need you if I want to learn to wield a sword properly.” Nervous energy suddenly pooled at the pit in her stomach. “So . . . what do you think?” She wrung her hands together under the table. She didn’t know why she cared so much about what he thought of an insignificant drink choice, but it mattered to her.

“I like it. I’ve just never tasted anything like it. What is it?” He tilted his head to the side, awaiting her answer. A single wavy strand of his thick dark hair fell over his brow, adding a hint of innocence to his otherwise rugged face. Every instinct in her body urged her to reach over and gently brush it back—the better to see his warm brown eyes that she currently wanted to melt in. She resisted and cast her eyes down to the glass in his hand.

“It’s my favorite drink—gin, cucumber, mint, and a dash of sparkling wine. Something fresh for this hot weather and that hard work we just did.” The words tumbled from her mouth eagerly.

He took another tentative sip. After a few suspense-filled moments, he finally broke his silence. “I do like it. It’s not something I would have thought to order, but it does taste refreshing.” His genuine smile and words of praise caressed something deep inside her, and she leaned in toward him subconsciously in response. All she wanted in this moment was to be closer to him despite herself.

They both sipped their drinks in silence for what felt like an eternity. Rhiannon didn’t know what to talk about with him other than swords and drills, and that’s the last thing she wanted to think about right now as the alcohol finally numbed the throbbing in her limbs.

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