The puny man’s face lost all color, leaving him pallid and waxen. He backed away. Julia didn’t turn or acknowledge Tristan’s gesture. At the moment, she seemed to be completely oblivious to him as a male, to the raw, masculine intent flooding his veins. He might as well have been a tree stump for all the attention she paid him. Every combative bone in his body demanded he act. Immediately!
By Elliea, he would make her want him.
To Peter, he barked, “You will leave us now.”
The puny man blanched further, inched another step backward and held up his hands in a peace offering. “I was just on my way inside.”
“Please stay,” Julia said with a shaky smile. “This will only take a second. My…brother and I just need to chat.”
“No, really.” Peter shook his head, adamant. “I should go.”
“Stay!” she commanded, unrelenting determination saturating the word. As he froze in place, she whipped around and pinned Tristan with a glare. “I don’t appreciate you messing this up for me.” She spoke softly but fiercely, ensuring no other ears picked up her words.
“I require my underwear,” Tristan barked, not even trying to be quiet.
“Shh,” she hissed. “That is not information the rest of the neighborhood needs.”
“Have you forgotten our bargain already?” His lips thinned, and his nostrils flared. “You will not see or otherwise engage in any type of activity with another man while I’m giving you lessons.”
“Well, yeah, but…but…Peter and I were just talking.”
“Is speaking an activity?”
“Yes,” she grated.
“Mayhap I should bend the parameters of our deal, as you have done, and carry my sword.” He leaned into her until their noses brushed, until their breaths intermingled. “Shall I retrieve the weapon now, little dragon?”
Ashen now, Julia shook her head. She blinked several times, watching him, gauging, as if she didn’t quite believe what was happening. “It would have been rude of me to walk away without saying anything to Peter.”
“That is why I will forgive you…the moment you inform him that I am not your brother.”
“What! Noooo. Don’t ask me to do that. Please.”
“I have already asked. Now the choice is yours. Will you comply or not?” The beast inside him had emerged, clawing and fighting and demanding immediate appeasement of some sort. He cared not at all that Puny Peter had already retreated inside his dwelling.
“I won’t tell him who you really are,” she said. “He might assume you’re my…”
“Lover?” he finished for her. Exactly! “If you will not tell him who I am, then explain to him that you cannot see him until your lessons are complete.”
“He’ll think that’s an excuse, that I don’t really like him. I mean, that’s what I would think if the situation were reversed. And I can’t damage his feelings that way. I just can’t. He’s a nice man, and he doesn’t deserve to be hurt. Besides, his grandmother just died.”
“Grow up. Everyone’s grandmother just died, Julia.” As her mouth floundered opened and closed, he added, “You refuse to hurt him, yet you are willing to hurt me instead. How is that acceptable?”
Her gaze darted guiltily. “I doubt a woman could ever hurt you,” she muttered after a long, defeated sigh. “Just…so back into the house, Tristan. Please. I need to visit Peter and apologize.”
He remained in place, glaring down at her. He couldn’t be hurt; she was right about that. Because he was already hurt, and horribly so. Inside, he feared he was a raw, festering wound with no hope for a cure.
His refusal must have crushed Julia’s patience. She stomped her foot and screeched, “I said go back into the house. Now! You’ve made a mess of this, and I’ve got to fix it.”
Another order. Another instance of Julia asserting her will over his, as heartless as all the others had been.
Isn’t that what you have been doing to her, as well?
He hissed. No, absolutely not. But…
Maybe.
He popped his jaw, not quite as furious as he’d been a moment ago. Unlike the others, Julia wasn’t ordering him around every second of every day, nor was she enjoying her power over him. So far, she’d issued only two demands, and she’d apologized the first time. No doubt she would apologize this time, too. Already guilt filled her incredible eyes. Besides, she had issued both orders only because other people were involved. First the crowd at the supercenter, and now Peter.
“I live with you,” he rasped, “and as of tonight, I will be sleeping in your bed—for your lessons.” By the time they were finished, she wouldn’t even remember his name.
Decided, Tristan spun on his heel and stomped inside the house as ordered, all the while willing the sun to go down.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Your Pleasure Rests In The
Pleasure Of Your Mistress
JULIA CURSED UNDER her breath. She didn’t march to Peter’s door to apologize. She was too jazzed up. NO, she stomped to the car for a moment alone. Men were sooo unbelievably stubborn.
By ordering Tristan back inside the house without knocking on Peter’s door to tell him some semblance of the truth, she’d damaged Tristan’s pride, treating him as a slave instead of a man. Yet her actions had been unavoidable. Allowing Peter to believe she had a live-in lover was not the best way to win his affections. Besides, she’d wanted to avoid any kind of confrontation, thereby avoiding Peter’s execution.
In Tristan’s black mood, anything Peter said would have set him off. Tristan would have unsheathed his dagger or fetched his sword, and Peter would have dropped into a fetal ball, crying for his mommy and sucking his thumb. Tristan would have killed him, and Julia would have screamed. Other neighbors would have called the cops, and they would have inundated her property to study the scene. Someone would have discovered Tristan’s genie-like tendencies,
