‘It is growing late and I think we have both had too much wine.’ He gathered up the empty glasses. ‘I will return these to the kitchens. Perhaps I should ask Mrs Sturry to let the maid sleep here tonight and make up another bed for me elsewhere.’
‘No.’ Natalya struggled not to sound desperate. It was all going wrong. She reached out and touched his arm. ‘No, please, Tristan, do not leave me tonight.’
‘I think it might be best, my dear.’
His gentle words were like a rebuke and she flinched.
Tristan moved towards the door. ‘I will ask Mrs Sturry to send the maid up to help you undress.’
‘But you will come back?’ Her hands writhed together. ‘You will come back to say goodnight?’
‘I shall return.’ He looked back at her. ‘You have my word.’
Natalya collapsed on to the edge of the bed, shaking. From everything she had read, both in novels and her studies of history, she had thought it would be an easy matter to tempt him into her bed, but he had refused her. She closed her eyes. So much for her extensive education!
Frustration welled up and with it anger. What good was all her book learning now? Her uncle had said he expected it to yield a significant return. How could that be, except by marriage, or as mistress to a wealthy man?
In the dark reaches of the night, when her wildest flights of fancy seemed utterly plausible, she was convinced she would be sold to the highest bidder, or, indeed, that the deal was already done and she had been reared like some brood mare, pampered and groomed until she was claimed by her owner. Freddie had been warned off, she had been abducted. Whoever was behind this would not allow Tristan to thwart them for long.
This morning, with the daylight, her sensible, logical side had taken over. She had weighed up all the evidence and concluded that she was nothing more than someone’s natural daughter. If so, her logical side reasoned that she could not allow Tristan to marry her and cause an irrevocable rift with his family and his friends.
Whichever scenario proved to be correct, Tristan was out of her reach as a husband, but not as a lover. The future might be out of her control, but Natalya wanted to decide to whom she gave her virginity.
Tristan took the glasses downstairs and was on his way to the kitchens when he met Mrs Sturry, who took them from him, protesting that he should have left them for the servants to clear away.
‘Lord love you, Mr Quintrell, you should not be troubling yourself with such things.’
‘It was no trouble, Mrs Sturry. I was coming in search of you to say Mrs Quintrell is ready to retire, if you could send someone to attend her.’
At that point Tristan knew he should make his request for another bed to be made up, but he could not bring himself to do so. Natalya was clearly distraught from her ordeal and he could not bear the thought of her spending the night alone, of his not being near if she woke up in distress.
He therefore announced he was going out to enjoy a stroll in the moonlight. He took a turn about the lawns, but eventually he found himself among the roses. Their heady perfume was stronger at night. It reminded him of walking there with Natalya, of cutting a rose for her. Kissing her. He looked up at the moon, cursing softly.
‘Confound it, man, don’t dwell on that or you will never be able to keep away from her tonight!’
When he judged he had been out of the house for a good hour he made his way back to the bedchamber. He hoped that Natalya would be asleep with the curtains pulled closed around her bed. That way he would be able to avoid temptation. The night they had arrived at Farnell Hall he had kept a vigil, sitting at the bedside while she slept, smoothing the hair from her face, dropping a light, tender kiss upon her forehead and vowing to keep her from harm.
He knew now that he had loved her even then, but it was the kiss in the rose garden that had sealed his fate. When he had held her in his arms and she had responded so fervently, he had known without a doubt that he wanted her at his side for the rest of his life. He would marry her, but it must be done with propriety and not before she had had an opportunity to examine her own feelings. She had to be sure that it was what she wanted, too.
He entered the bedchamber to find the candles still alight. Natalya was sitting in bed, propped up against a bank of snowy pillows and wrapped in that ridiculously large nightgown the housekeeper had found for her. It buttoned high to the neck and her hair hung over one shoulder in a decorous plait. He breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing there to tempt a man.
His body contradicted the thought. He wanted her more than ever.
‘You must get some sleep, Natalya. We have an early start tomorrow.’
‘I know.’ She was very pale and her dark eyes were fixed upon him. ‘I wanted to say goodnight. And to thank you. For all you have done for me.’
‘It was my pleasure.’
She reached out her hand and when he took it, she drew him closer.
‘Will you kiss me goodnight?’
The words were low, her voice a little breathless, and the effect upon him was shattering, undermining his resolve to keep his distance. He leaned closer and brushed his mouth against hers. She responded immediately. He felt the tip of her tongue against his lips and it took every ounce of willpower to draw away.
‘Be careful, Natalya, or I shall forget that I am a gentleman.’ He kept his tone
