My face burns, and I nod, trying to stem the rush of tears begging to escape. “You’re right,” I choke out. “So, let me finish the job now, and I’ll die happily. What are you making me wait for?”
“Quiet,” he snaps. “People can hear.”
“You’re the one speaking of it!” My voice grows louder, unable to temper the emotion pushing against the wounded walls of my chest.
“I believe you owe me a dance.”
Xander stumbles to a stop at the sound of the silky voice, and my heart spins on its axis as I meet Tristan’s gaze.
His eyes are tumultuous—wild—as he stares down at my cousin.
“You’re dismissed, Alexander.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, and even if there was, Xander couldn’t refuse. Not here, not in front of people.
As I glance around the room, it’s no surprise that people have stopped to stare.
They always do when Tristan is near. I don’t blame them. I can’t ever force myself to look away.
Clearing his throat, Xander gives a thin smile and releases me, waving his arm and tilting his head in a pathetic attempt of a bow. “Of course, Your Highness.”
The disrespect is clear.
But Tristan doesn’t even flinch, instead moving toward me.
My heart sputters, the butterflies in my stomach taking flight. Normally, I’d despise them for showing up, but compared to all the other emotions I’ve been having tonight, they’re a welcome distraction. His eyes meet mine as he swoops in, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close. My breath whooshes from my lungs when our hands tangle, and my heart dives into my stomach, wanting to rip off my black satin gloves, just to feel what its like to have his fingers pressed to mine. He lifts our palms out to the side, and then we’re waltzing.
He commands my body the same way he commands a room; effortlessly. I sink into his hold, allowing my mind to shut off for the first time all night.
For some reason, the way he’s holding me, the way he’s pulling me just a little too tight, and a little too close, makes tears crop up behind my eyes.
He makes me feel safe. Important. And I haven’t known that since my father.
If I dig a little deeper, it’s easy to see that Tristan and I, we’re cut from the same cloth, and that’s part of the reason I can’t stand the sight of him. Because looking at Tristan is like looking in a mirror and seeing the pieces of myself I try so hard to hide.
But he doesn’t hide them, and I’m not quite sure how to handle that.
My jaw stiffens as my vision blurs, and I try harder to hold back the sadness, not wanting to show weakness in a roomful of people.
Tristan’s face softens, his fingers tightening around my waist before he pushes me outward, spinning my body around and drawing me back in, closer than we were before. Too close to be appropriate. My stomach flutters like it has wings, and wetness seeps between my thighs.
His lips brush my ear. “No, little doe, not here. They don’t get your tears.”
I nod against him, my nostrils flaring as I breathe in deep to stem the angst that’s rolling around my insides like a wrecking ball.
I’m sure people are staring.
But I revel in his touch.
His fingers dig into me, like he never wants to let me go before he steps back, his hand slipping into his pocket as he bends at the waist and grips my fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.
Arousal pulses through my core when his lips touch my skin, my forehead scrunching when something crinkles between the pads of our fingers. I tighten my grip, so whatever it is doesn’t drop from my grasp.
“Thank you for the dance.” And then he spins around and storms away, his black tailcoat whipping behind him.
My fist closes around the piece of paper, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
I smile at the few lingering eyes, and as casually as possible, walk to the side of the room, nodding at people as I pass them by, anticipation winding tighter with every step I take.
It isn’t until I make it to the far wall that I turn away and unfold the note with trembling fingers.
Meet me where you kiss the stars.
CHAPTER 33
Tristan
Jealousy is quite the emotion.
I would be a liar if I said I’ve never had it sear against my insides and singe wicked thoughts into my brain. The first time was when my father missed our evening talk, choosing instead to meet with Michael and go over a Privy Council meeting that was happening the next day. For hours, I sat at the edge of the cliff, trying to convince myself that he would show, while knowing deep down he wouldn’t.