It seemed only minutes before Tristan loosened his grip and sat up. “We have to get you back home.”
He slid to the edge of the bed and pulled on his shirt and breeches, then retrieved her clothes from the floor. She pulled them on, grateful for the darkness that hid her sudden blush.
Why on earth was she embarrassed now, after everything they’d done? It made no sense.
He slanted her a look as he shrugged into his jacket. “How do you feel? Sore?”
She did a quick inventory, then sent him a shy smile. “No. A few parts of me ache, but not in a bad way.”
“It’s all those muscles you aren’t used to using on a daily basis.” He grinned. “The only remedy is to keep using them. To avoid any stiffness.”
She couldn’t hide her smirk. “I thought stiffness was to be encouraged? Perhaps I misunderstood?”
“Perhaps you need another demonstration.”
Her heart fluttered, but he shook his head. “No, not now, minx. You need to get back.”
“So practical,” she grumbled, even as her spirits soared. Not now left room for the possibility of maybe another time.
They finished dressing in companionable silence, and descended the staircase side by side.
“I’ll ride with you to the edge of your gardens.”
“You don’t need to act the gallant with me,” Carys said. “I rode here perfectly well on my own.”
He vaulted up onto his horse. “Yes, but that circus is in town, which means there could be all sorts of unsavory characters lurking about the countryside. I should have insisted on meeting you at Trellech to ride here together.”
Carys rolled her eyes. She’d be willing to wager that he was the only danger to her body in the vicinity. He seemed to be having quite a devastating effect on her heart too.
They set off, and she tried to enjoy the simple pleasure of riding beside him, but her brain refused to settle. As wonderful as their lovemaking had been, a sense of unease nibbled at her. What if it had only been that good because it had been with Tristan? What if he was the only one who could make her feel this way?
He’d said it was just bodies, that she might have an equally good experience with someone else who knew what he was doing, but she wasn’t so sure. What she felt for him was more than just a physical attraction. More than just lust. Those things were all well and good—and perhaps for a man they were the only things required for a satisfactory experience—but for a woman she rather thought there might be other factors that came into play. Factors like trust. And respect.
And love.
Her heart missed a beat. She gazed at the tuft of hair between Medusa’s twitching ears as the uncomfortable truth hit her in a blinding flash. This whole time she’d been telling herself it was “just Tristan.” A handsome man whose opinion didn’t matter. A worldly, sardonic acquaintance she could use for sexual experience and then forget.
What an idiot she’d been.
He’d never, ever been “just Tristan.” What she felt for him was more than desire, more than infatuation.
She loved him, heart and soul.
Ugh.
Tristan stared at his horse’s ears as a host of conflicting emotions swirled in his chest.
The bloody woman was tying him in knots.
On one hand, he was experiencing the purely masculine triumph of having finally made love to her; he wanted to crow like one of those ridiculous cockerels of hers. He felt elated, filled with a savage animal satisfaction.
The difference, though, was that animal rutting involved very little emotion. It was a mindless, pleasurable act of procreation, something basic and uncomplicated, whereas there was nothing uncomplicated about what he and Carys had just done.
His fingers tightened involuntarily on the reins.
He’d always suspected that the combination of the two of them would be incendiary, but the past hour had surpassed his every expectation. It had been perfect. Or, rather, perfectly imperfect.
He’d planned a cool and choreographed instruction, but it hadn’t been like that. It had been wild and honest, sweaty and desperate.
Unpredictable.
He hadn’t even been in control. He might have started out that way, but by the end he’d lost all sense of who he was. He hadn’t been Tristan Montgomery, architect, ex-soldier. He’d simply been hers. Lost to sensation, aching with need.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d teased and laughed so much in bed. Or wanted to linger after the glow of his climax faded and his heart rate returned to normal.
But he’d wanted to stay there with her. All night. Wrapped up in that glorious hair, feeling the sweet curve of her derrière nestled against his crotch, the warm silk of her skin beneath his palms.
It hadn’t just been good sex. It had been more.
More fun. More intense. More confusing. He’d veered between wanting to laugh at her, comfort her, and fuck her, all in the space of five minutes.
Had it been the same earth-shattering revelation for her?
He bloody well hoped so.
He sneaked a glance over at her riding quietly beside him. He should be congratulating himself. He’d done what he’d set out to do, which was to show her how good sex could be, with the right partner. But he’d also given her a reason to leave him. She could take a lover now, armed with the knowledge that she should walk away if she didn’t find it as satisfying as what they’d just shared.
Except … he didn’t think she would find it. For all his experience, he’d never encountered such astonishing synchronicity, such a soul-deep connection.
A perverse part of him rather hoped she’d never find it with anyone else. That she’d come to appreciate just how rare and extraordinary their joining had been.
No, that was a ridiculous thing to wish for. There was no reason to think that she wouldn’t find another man caring enough to ensure her pleasure. It was himself who’d spend the rest of his life trying to recapture the bliss he’d just found in her arms. He already had a horrible feeling he’d compare every woman in his future to her—and find them wanting.
Because he’d never feel for any other woman what he felt for her.
He let out a silent, frustrated exhale. God, he should never have agreed to this ridiculous arrangement. Ignorance would have been bliss. He could have gone his whole life without knowing the heaven of her taste, her touch.
And now it was too late.
He wanted more. Which was precisely why he should end this … whatever this was. Experiment? Education? Exorcism of her past? He should end it now, before he lost even more of himself. He should escort her home, gently inform her their liaison was over, and that would be that.
He stole another glance at her profile.
And yet.
There were still so many variations of pleasure he could show her. How to take him in her mouth, for example. In a flash he saw her kneeling between his legs, that glorious hair of hers fanning over his thighs like molten copper, those green eyes looking up at him with teasing intent. He imagined himself, twisting her hair into a long rope, looping it over his fist to tug her upward for a kiss—
His wicked thoughts had him repositioning himself in his saddle, but Carys, thankfully, seemed so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t even glance his way.
Tristan scowled into the darkness. Where should they go from here? The party was almost over; the grand ball was tomorrow evening, and the chances of more private moments together were slim.
Frustration and longing churned in his belly. Should he suggest extending their agreement after this week? A week wouldn’t be long enough for him to show her everything he dreamed of doing to her. Even a month would be too short.
He was beginning to think a lifetime might not be enough.
He shook his head, annoyed with himself. Impossible. Maddie’s marriage to Gryff might have broken the unwritten rule precluding a union between a Davies and Montgomery, but there was no chance of anything similarly permanent between himself and Carys. She couldn’t continue to be his lover once they got back to London. It would be impossible to keep it a secret, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin her reputation when she’d gone to such lengths to protect it and—by extension—her family. Besides, he was returning to London to choose a bride, not find a mistress.
Tristan let out a sigh. This madness with Carys would end as planned, at the end of this house party.
But the memories would last him forever.