It was her turn to stare at him, now. Her gaze was intense. She was quite something, this one. Despite everything, or maybe because of it: he was aroused.
Thirty-Seven
SATURDAY NIGHT
Tristan handed Cat the bottle of water and she drained it in one go. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was – but, thinking about it, it had been a while since either of them had eaten or drunk anything. They seemed to have made it to the house on adrenaline alone. Despite the state of the place, she was glad to be under cover and out of those woods. She hadn’t told Tristan just how creeped out she’d been, and she certainly wasn’t going to make any further complaints about their room for the night. She’d seen his face earlier when she’d commented without thinking.
‘I’m sorry about before. I was tense and angry. But I’m OK now.’ He’d moved his hand from where it had started, on her knee, to halfway up her thigh. His fingers were beginning to press and probe on the soft flesh inside, edging their way up towards her shorts. She laid a hand on top of his, gently pulling it away.
Was he seriously trying to get frisky with her right now? In this place? After what they’d done? Sure, they’d kissed a little, earlier. But that had been a kiss of desperation between two people whose emotions were running high. He shuffled closer to her, tried to bat her hand away, but she held firm.
‘Now? Seriously?’
He pouted and snatched his hand back. ‘Jesus, Cat. No need to be so coy. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.’ His playful pout turned into a sneer. ‘I don’t remember you telling me to stop before. In Ascot. In Reading. In any of those hotels in Canary Wharf that you seemed to be happy enough to turn up at during the day . . .’
She kept her voice low. ‘What’s gotten into you?’
Tristan sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry. Again. I guess I’m feeling a bit strange right now. Everything’s a bit surreal.’
‘You can say that again.’ She took his hand in hers, stroked her thumb over the side of his. ‘I think we’re both still adjusting to what’s happened. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re both still in shock. Even though we planned it, I still can’t quite take it in.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘We got carried away with the plans. I don’t think I ever really properly considered how it would feel.’
He lifted her chin with his other hand, looked into her eyes. She could see the light of one of the candles reflected in his dark pupils. ‘Everything is going to be fine. Trust me. We’re both going to be different people after this, but that’s no bad thing. For me, at least. I wasn’t a good person when I was with Ginny. I didn’t respect her.’ He looked away. ‘She deserved better.’
The lump in Cat’s throat was growing so big, she felt like it might choke her. She had to swallow hard to make it go away. She wasn’t sure she believed what he was saying anymore. About how he’d treated Ginny. He was talking in clichés, and his tone was cold.
Cat took her hand away from Tristan’s, then pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, like she’d done on the side of the mountain. Maybe Ginny had deserved better. She hated her sister, that was an undisputed fact. But there was a big leap between hating and killing. And maybe Tristan wasn’t who she thought he was.
She felt like Tristan didn’t really care about what they’d done – while, despite everything, she did care. Yes, she had wanted them out of her life, but had she got it all wrong? It was never meant to be grisly. They weren’t meant to suffer. She and Tristan had found themselves in a situation that had spun out of control. As for Paul . . . he deserved punishment for what he had done. But was death too much? The death penalty was the ultimate punishment – but was it ever truly justified? An eye for an eye, the bible said. Except Paul hadn’t killed anyone.
What a mess.
Could she still trust Tristan?
She lifted her head just a bit, watching him. He was raking around in his rucksack pockets, pulling things out. He unwrapped a chocolate protein bar and handed it to her. ‘I know you probably don’t feel like eating but you need to keep your strength up.’ He stared at her. ‘For both of you.’
She uncurled herself and dropped her knees to the sides, crossing her legs. ‘We don’t know if there is a both of us yet, remember?’
He stared at her stomach. ‘Let’s assume, for safety’s sake, that there is. OK?’