Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

O n a table in her guestroom, a candlelit dinner for two was set. Once again, Gwen touched the top of the covered dish in the center of the small table to ensure it was warm. Anxious after her discussion with Derrick, she’d sought the comfort of the kitchen. Cooking always allowed her time to think and relax.

Two glasses of wine and a tasty Italian braised-chicken dish later, she felt ready to face Tristan. If he ever showed up.

Anxiety reared its ugly little head once again as she glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was almost eleven o’clock at night. Perhaps he couldn’t get away. Meliot may have come up with another stall tactic so he couldn’t will himself to the estate.

A low grumble of her stomach made her reach for a piece of bread. She’d written down the many questions she had for him. Most importantly, finding out what happened to his betrothed. Was he the one that had hunted and killed the little girl? She poured a glass of wine and sat at the table. “Might as well eat,” she grumbled.

“An inviting picture. How did ye know I’d be hungry?” Tristan appeared just as she put a piece of chicken in her mouth. Butterflies fluttering in her chest, she motioned for him to sit.

He eyed the food and waited for her to fix his plate. She almost told him to serve himself, but then figured that in his time, as laird, he was used to being served. After she finished plating his chicken dish, he poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip. When his eyes met hers, he didn’t flirt like he usually did.

“You seem preoccupied,” Gwen told him. “Is something wrong?”

With a half-hearted shrug, he tasted the chicken, and his eyes widened. “This is delicious—the cook is very good.”

“Thank you,” Gwen smiled at his compliment, enjoying his realization that she had prepared the meal. “I enjoy cooking when I can. My mother owns a restaurant, er, an eating establishment.”

He nodded but didn’t speak while he ate, cleaning his plate. Then he eyed the serving dish. Gwen served him again.

“Tristan, I have written down some questions. Please continue to eat.” She picked up her tablet, deciding to tackle the hardest question first.

“It is said that at the time of your disappearance you were betrothed. Is that true?”

Tristan took a swallow of wine and nodded. “Yes, to the MacDougal lass. We were to be married that spring.”

He didn’t seem disturbed at her mention of his fiancée, so she continued. “Do you know what happened to her?”

He chewed while in thought. His green eyes connected with hers. The heat in them had returned and Gwen looked away. It was either that or throw herself on top of him.

“She married my brother. He took over as laird, so it made sense. Her clan was anxious for the joining with ours.”

Well, not that his words proved anything, but folklore usually came from facts. She believed him. She decided to move ahead and ask the next question.

“Did you have children? Sons or daughters?”

Tristan put down his fork, and this time he pondered his answer. Finally, when his eyes met hers, they were filled with sadness. “Yes, I did. I fathered two children out of wedlock. A boy and a girl. Both with the same woman. She was a villager whom I… visited frequently. Since my children had no rights to any of my holdings, I gifted their mother with a parcel of land and enough coin to provide for her until my children reached adulthood.”

It was common for a laird to have bastard-born children, but it wasn’t normal for them to take much interest in them. It seemed Tristan was very different.

“Did you love her?”

He didn’t pretend not to know whom she referred to. “Mairéad was a fine woman… she was a friend. But no, I don’t believe I loved her.”

“Were you able to know how your children fared?”

Tristan stood and walked to the fireplace, his back to her. “Can we talk about something else? I don’t believe my children’s fate matters at this point.”

Touchy subject .

Gwen cleared her throat and continued. “Did you ever see a young girl... lass in the forest, in distress?”

He turned, frowning, head cocked to the side. “How did ye know about that?”

Her stomach plummeted. “I had a vision of someone chasing a small girl in the woods.”

For a long moment, he was silent. “My sister Mairi. She was killed. We found her body in the woods near here. We never knew who did it. Did ye see who it was that chased her?” He looked at her with expectation.

Although his explanation settled her, she felt bad for bringing it up and not giving him any answers. “No. But I can try, perhaps later. I don’t think it’s important at this moment.

“Tristan, I believe my spell as it stands is a good start, but I need to fetch my spell book to do further research. I am going to leave Scotland for a few days.”

His eyes went wide, terrified. Gwen watched him fight to school his features into a neutral expression. “When are you leaving? Is it absolutely necessary?” He’d moved toward her, stopping only when she took his hand.

He needed to be reassured. Gwen stood and wrapped her arms around him. He allowed her to hold him, and bent to lay his cheek on top of her head.

“Don’t go.” The words were so soft, she wasn’t sure he’d uttered them.

“I must, Tristan. I am so close to finding the correct words, but I’m missing something, I have to get my book.”

“It’s becoming harder for me to come. But I will find a way to be here when you return.” He pulled back to allow her to look at his face. Any sign of vulnerability was gone. The self-assured man stood before her.

She reached around his neck and pulled him down to her. Their lips collided with force, passion that only two people who were meant to be together could evoke. His mouth feasted on hers, while his hands made haste in removing her garments.

Not able to stand the barrier of clothing between them, Gwen began to pull at his, as well. She pushed him back on the bed, startling him, but he quickly recovered and held his arms up to her, an enticing invitation to be sure.

Instead of lying down, she knelt and took his shoes off. After pulling his breeches off, she massaged his thighs enjoying the view of his parted legs. Tristan hissed when she began to lick his inner thighs. His cock twitched back and forth, begging for her touch, but she resisted, instead she cupped his sack and licked the soft flesh. His moan told her he enjoyed her attentions.

Finally, she gave him what he wanted and took him fully in her mouth. Using her hand to cover the base, she allowed her lips to slide up and down his long, swollen member. Tristan bucked into her mouth, and she let him pump, sliding in and out between her lips, until he began losing control. She squeezed his sack, and he lost total control. With a loud growl, he came.

She waited until he finished trembling, and she slowly slid him out of her mouth. Panting, she slid up his body, her aching center needing his touch.

Not a man to allow her to do all the work, he flipped her on her back and kissed her until she was breathless and begging for him to coax her over the edge. He slid two fingers inside her, while his thumb played havoc with her swollen center. Gwen pushed against his hand. He seemed to time it perfectly and just as she was about to come, he’d stop his movements smiling wickedly at her.

“Damn it Tristan, don’t stop,” Gwen cried, on the verge of actual tears.

When his revived shaft slipped into her, she kicked and screamed as thousands of stars exploded behind her eyelids. He waited for her to settle and then began to coax her into another climb, with him this time. The frantic sounds of their lovemaking reached fevered heights as both took turns slamming into each other, first him, then she flipped him and rode him until almost collapsing. At which point, he rolled her back over and pulling her legs up over his shoulders, he carried them over the crest, sending them both screaming into orgasm.

Fully sated seemed to barely describe how she felt as she studied the man lying next to her with his arm behind his head and his other hand holding hers. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was as good in bed before he’d had hundreds of years to practice. She sat up at the thought.

“Are there women in the alter-world?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “No, there are no other humans. Why?”

She blushed, but ignored her reaction to feeling jealous at the thought that he had lovers in the alter-world. “What do you guys do for sexual release?”

Tristan’s lips curved, amused. “We are forced to take care of ourselves for the most part. Until I met you, I couldn’t remain here long enough to do much more than perhaps steal a kiss.”

“Wow, and I thought I went a long time between lovers,” Gwen replied. Her comment was greeted by a low growl and dark expression.

“Ye will have no other lover than me.” It was a statement, an order, no room for discussion it seemed.

“Not that you need to hear this, but I can’t even think about anyone else, not after this.” She motioned to his private area. “You are amazing in bed.”

Tristan didn’t preen as she expected, instead, he frowned at her. “There is more to me than just… this.” He pointed to the same area.

He rolled over and faced her, his nose inches from hers. “I want to get to know you.” He kissed her.

They kissed for a long time. Gwen could feel him hardening again, but he didn’t move to make love to her. He pressed his lips to her ear. “Do you think you can grow to love me, fair Gwyneth?”

Gwen cupped his jaw and turned his face to hers, looking into his eyes. “If ever there was someone I could fall in love with, you are he.”

If only he wasn’t whatever he was.

His green gaze held hers for a few moments. When he spoke, Gwen felt like the luckiest woman to ever walk the earth.

“That is good, because I do not want to be the only one falling in love.”

This time their mouths and bodies met until once again they made love with a slower rhythm of lovemaking.