Read Online In Praise of Younger Men by Jaclyn Reding - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jaclyn Reding
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comparing her garnet earrings to the color of Harriet’s hair, found himself longing for a glance from that familiar pair of green eyes. Harriet, however, seemed to deliberately avoid looking his way. She was enticing her partner with shy glances and charming smiles, and more than once Tristan caught Harrington’s gaze slipping downward to the lush display of Harriet’s breasts.
By the time the music stopped, ending the dance, Tristan felt quite certain he might throttle the randy young buck. He bowed to his partner, asked for another dance later on, then crossed the room to the garden doors, knowing if he remained spectator to Harriet’s flirtations another moment, all sense would abandon him and his fist would end up in Harrington’s face.
He was only outside a few moments when he heard the door opening behind him. He already knew who it was and said without turning, “Have you given up on the dancing already, Harriet?”
The crispness in his voice cut sharper than evening’s chill.
“What are you doing, Tristan?”
“Enjoying a moment of solitude on a peaceful winter’s night.”
“You know what I mean, Tristan. I saw you. In there. With
her
.”
Tristan turned. “I really don’t believe I owe you any explanation, Harriet, especially after I’ve been made to watch you pushing your half-bare bosom under another man’s eyes all night.”
Her tone changed immediately, from one of anger to one of regret. “I was afraid you would not like the dress. I had no idea it would be this . . . this,
scant
. I knew I shouldn’t have worn it, but I had nothing else suitable.”
She thought he disapproved when instead the only thing he’d rather see her in other than that dress was nothing. Tristan looked at her. Standing as she was, sketched by moonlight, Harriet looked more beautiful than he could possibly imagine. “Why are you doing this?”
“Tristan, you know I have no choice—”
“You have every choice, Harriet. All you need do is say you will marry me and we can end this madness tonight.”
Tristan took a step toward her and Harriet could feel the warmth of his body standing now just inches from her own. She looked up at him in the moonlight, waiting, hoping . . . hoping he’d kiss her just one more time. If he would, she told herself, it would be enough to last her a lifetime without him.
Tristan didn’t keep her waiting long.
The kiss was soft and tender and achingly sweet, the sort of kiss that made one feel as if time virtually stood still. Harriet’s breath caught and she let go a blissful sigh, losing herself in the true magic of being held in the strength of his arms. When he deepened the kiss, drawing her farther into the garden shadows, she gave herself over to him yet more, never wanting the kiss to end.
It was Tristan who slowly, reluctantly pulled away from her a moment later.
“Harriet, stop this senselessness.” His voice was a rough whisper wrapping over her. “Do not deny what is between us.”
The pulse of her heart was drumming to her ears as she lost herself in the depths of his blue eyes. How? How could he not be the one for her when everything about him felt so right?
Harriet closed her eyes and leaned into him, whispering, “Kiss me, Tristan, kiss me again . . .”
And he did, this time without the softness, the tenderness of before, but with a desperate hunger that had him taking her by the arms and locking her against him, his mouth seizing hers, tasting, seeking, begging, and she gave, oh, she gave, dropping her head back and opening to him utterly and completely—
—until the sky above them split with an ear-shattering crack.
They parted, looking up at the darkness above them. A moment later, it began to pour as if the floodgates of heaven had burst.
Harriet squealed, covering her head with her shawl, and the two of them ran for the ballroom door. Blessedly, the attentions of everyone else inside were taken up with a musical trio who were in the midst
By the time the music stopped, ending the dance, Tristan felt quite certain he might throttle the randy young buck. He bowed to his partner, asked for another dance later on, then crossed the room to the garden doors, knowing if he remained spectator to Harriet’s flirtations another moment, all sense would abandon him and his fist would end up in Harrington’s face.
He was only outside a few moments when he heard the door opening behind him. He already knew who it was and said without turning, “Have you given up on the dancing already, Harriet?”
The crispness in his voice cut sharper than evening’s chill.
“What are you doing, Tristan?”
“Enjoying a moment of solitude on a peaceful winter’s night.”
“You know what I mean, Tristan. I saw you. In there. With
her
.”
Tristan turned. “I really don’t believe I owe you any explanation, Harriet, especially after I’ve been made to watch you pushing your half-bare bosom under another man’s eyes all night.”
Her tone changed immediately, from one of anger to one of regret. “I was afraid you would not like the dress. I had no idea it would be this . . . this,
scant
. I knew I shouldn’t have worn it, but I had nothing else suitable.”
She thought he disapproved when instead the only thing he’d rather see her in other than that dress was nothing. Tristan looked at her. Standing as she was, sketched by moonlight, Harriet looked more beautiful than he could possibly imagine. “Why are you doing this?”
“Tristan, you know I have no choice—”
“You have every choice, Harriet. All you need do is say you will marry me and we can end this madness tonight.”
Tristan took a step toward her and Harriet could feel the warmth of his body standing now just inches from her own. She looked up at him in the moonlight, waiting, hoping . . . hoping he’d kiss her just one more time. If he would, she told herself, it would be enough to last her a lifetime without him.
Tristan didn’t keep her waiting long.
The kiss was soft and tender and achingly sweet, the sort of kiss that made one feel as if time virtually stood still. Harriet’s breath caught and she let go a blissful sigh, losing herself in the true magic of being held in the strength of his arms. When he deepened the kiss, drawing her farther into the garden shadows, she gave herself over to him yet more, never wanting the kiss to end.
It was Tristan who slowly, reluctantly pulled away from her a moment later.
“Harriet, stop this senselessness.” His voice was a rough whisper wrapping over her. “Do not deny what is between us.”
The pulse of her heart was drumming to her ears as she lost herself in the depths of his blue eyes. How? How could he not be the one for her when everything about him felt so right?
Harriet closed her eyes and leaned into him, whispering, “Kiss me, Tristan, kiss me again . . .”
And he did, this time without the softness, the tenderness of before, but with a desperate hunger that had him taking her by the arms and locking her against him, his mouth seizing hers, tasting, seeking, begging, and she gave, oh, she gave, dropping her head back and opening to him utterly and completely—
—until the sky above them split with an ear-shattering crack.
They parted, looking up at the darkness above them. A moment later, it began to pour as if the floodgates of heaven had burst.
Harriet squealed, covering her head with her shawl, and the two of them ran for the ballroom door. Blessedly, the attentions of everyone else inside were taken up with a musical trio who were in the midst
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