“Thank you,” she murmured as she accepted a menu from the maître d’.
Peter leaned over the table to discuss the weather with her—what was that weird scent her date was wearing?—and Tristan’s scowl grew darker and more pronounced with every tick of the clock.
Thankfully, their waiter arrived. One by one, they made their selections. Peter ordered exactly what she ordered, the lobster bisque with a side of stuffed mushrooms in red wine sauce. Faith opted for the prime rib and Tristan ordered lobster, prime rib, and lemon-garlic pasta.
Julia thought she spied white index cards balanced on Peter’s thigh, but she wasn’t sure. She gave him a tentative smile. “How did you enjoy gardening?”
“I found that I’m more like my grandmother than I realized. Being among my plants and flowers, knowing that I’m enriching nature’s beauty, is actually quite peaceful. What about you?” he asked. “Do you enjoy horticulture?”
“Oh, I love it,” Faith answered in Julia’s stead. She gave an airy laugh. “Julia has the Black Thumb of Death, though. Plants cannot survive in her care.”
Peter cast her a half smile. “I’m sure you have so many other wonderful talents, Julia.”
Before she could reply, Faith launched into a tale about an ancient civilization she dreamed of finding. Peter listened, rapt.
Julia propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hands. Unbidden, she glanced at her sinfully delicious pleasure slave. Candlelight flickered across the linen-draped table. Every time he moved, shadows and light danced over his features, giving his cheekbones a stark, almost harsh appearance, but she couldn’t look away.
She was in total lust with him, and at the moment she had no idea why she’d ever fought it. So what that they didn’t have a future. Maybe. Probably. No one’s future was guaranteed. But they had today. They had memories to make.
* * *
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?
From the moment Julia had stepped out of her chamber to reveal her new gowns, Tristan had been poised and ready to battle the male inhabitants of this world. Every garment she showcased had displayed her exquisite figure, hugging her luscious curves, revealing her perfection for all to see. Knowing she was now wearing a gown he himself had chosen… and that she wore it for another man…still held enough power to infuriate him.
In the dim atmosphere of the restaurant, he studied her anew, measuring her reactions to Peter. But Julia was no longer watching the male. Nay, she watched Tristan under the spiky veil of her lashes. Why? He wanted so badly to know her thoughts.
He cared for Julia, and he could not seem to make himself stop. Nay, he did not love her—he refused to love her, knowing he would only lose her—but she had managed to sink under his skin.
I need her in my arms. Soon.
In the garden, couples strolled by hand in hand, some swaying to the soft hum of music. He wanted that with Julia, wanted her all to himself, if only for a little while.
Unable to stop himself, he extended a hand. “Let us view the garden, draga.”
Silent for a moment, she chewed on her bottom lip. Then she stole a quick glance at Peter, who still conversed with Faith.
Faith brushed her fingertips over the man’s arm, telling him, “I’m thinking of adding a beehive to my garden. Any interest in hearing what I’ve learned about them in my studies?”
Slowly Peter melted under the loveliness of Faith’s pouty you-are-the-big-strong-man-and-I-am-the-weak-woman expression. “Tons of interest.”
Tristan waved his fingers. “Come, Julia,” he said, leaving doubt as to whether he meant “climax.”
Julia placed her palm in his. Gently he helped her to her feet and led her through a pair of French double doors. They stepped into a glass-encased atrium. Above, the moon and stars twinkled like diamonds in black velvet. Antique oil lamps and flourishing cacti wove interlacing paths, broken only by the occasional alabaster statue. The air was cool and sweetly fragrant.
He slung an arm around Julia’s waist, and they slowly meandered down the red carpet. Her body fit perfectly beside his.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, giving her hand a light squeeze.
With a sigh, she burrowed her cheek against his shoulder. “I realized something today.”
“And what is that?”
“Peter…he isn’t the man for me.”
* * *
PRIMAL VICTORY danced through Tristan, but he managed to temper his tone. “I think you knew it all along. You just didn’t want to admit it.” He paused to brush a tendril of hair from her cheek and hook the silky strands behind her ear. “You try so hard to hide your passion, Julia, but I recognize your generosity and your capacity for goodness. You enchant me.”
She peered up at him, vulnerability radiating from her. “I do?”
He cupped her chin in his hands, forcing her to face him once again. “You do. I want you, Julia. I want you so much I ache. My desire is not civilized, forced or contrived. You are more precious, more beautiful, than any other woman I have ever encountered.”
“But, but… How can you, a man who has known hundreds, maybe thousands of women, say that about me and mean it?”
How he hated when she spoke poorly about herself. “Mayhap when we return home, we will have ourselves a little chat to help you understand, hmm? Complete with a demonstration and charts. Believe me, Julia. There is something special about you.”
A long while passed in silence as she studied him. “I believe you mean it,” she whispered, her eyes softening with awe. “I do.”
“Good. Then I am going to give you a final lesson in dating. How to rid oneself of unwanted company.” Tristan tugged her to a window alcove, which offered a perfect view to the restaurant’s inhabitants.
“Wait,” she rushed out. “I don’t want to hurt Peter.”
“We won’t.” He leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers. Then his fingers tangled in her hair, and he tilted her
