Frustration.
Tristan could ignore that one. When was the woman not frustrated?
Helplessness.
That was a harder feeling to push aside. Scarlet was nothing if not independent. But he could not—no, he would not—check on her.
Sadness.
At this, Tristan rubbed his eyes, cursing the legs that pulled him up from his chair and walked him out of his room and up the stairs.
He stood outside Scarlet’s door, debating within himself. He and Scarlet had not spoken for weeks, which had greatly reduced the number of times he had to pull himself away from her company, but had left his heart starving. And he wasn’t sure, even now, if Scarlet would even want him to show concern for her.
Helplessness. Anger.
He should probably go back to his own room and try to sleep through her feelings—a task far more trying than it sounded.
Sadness.
With his resolve vanishing into thin air, he quietly knocked on her door.
He heard a huffing sound on the other side and then, “Who is it?”
“Me.”
A moment passed. Then two. Then the door peeked open to reveal a very frustrated pair of blue eyes.
“What is wrong?” He looked up and down the hallway for any sign of Nathaniel or Gabriel.
“What do you mean?”
He lifted a bored eyebrow.
Her face became stubborn for a moment, then turned to a look of surrender. “I need help.”
She bit her lip and Tristan knew he was already done for. It didn’t matter what she needed help with, he was completely at her mercy.
“With what?”
She glanced up and down the hallway before opening her door and pulling him inside. He stood by her bed as she closed the door and sealed them into her candlelit room.
Already, this was a poor idea.
With another huff, she said, “I need help taking my dress off.”
This was a very poor idea.
“What?”
Glaring at him, Scarlet made her way to the vanity. “Scoff all you want, but you are a man and your clothing makes sense.” She flailed her arms out helplessly. “There are so many ties and clasps and strings on this holy damned dress and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to take the nonsense off.”
He tried to cover his smile.
“I’m being serious, Tristan.” Her cheeks reddened at the crest and she wiggled in her top, trying to loosen its deadly grip around her ribcage. “The woman at the shop tied me into this ensemble today, but she failed to teach me how to find my way out of it and I have been trying to free my body for an hour. I simply cannot do it alone.”
Tristan smiled openly now.
“Do not laugh,” she warned.
He laughed.
“I need help.” Desperation. “I don’t how to live in this…time. The clothing is ridiculous and the shoes are horrendous and I don’t know what I’m doing! And this dress is just the end of it all!” She let out a frustrated cry.
Tristan wanted to wrap her in his arms and laugh at her tantrum at the same time. He nodded with mock seriousness. “Dresses are evil things indeed.”
Temper flared in her eyes. “Get out of my room, you insufferable man.”
He softened his voice as he walked up to her. “I’m truly sorry, Scar. First thing tomorrow, we will secure a handmaiden for you so you will have help dressing. And undressing.”
“That’s brilliant. But can you loosen me from the horrid dress tonight?” She looked down at her many skirts and wiggled again, her cleavage jiggling with the motion and derailing any sane thought Tristan hoped to have.
He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should ask Nathaniel or Gabriel for help.”
She futilely tugged at a loose tie at her back. “I hardly know Nathaniel. I felt it would be highly inappropriate and incredibly uncomfortable to ask the poor man to strip my dress from my skin.”
A very valid point.
“And I did not want to go to Gabriel.”
Tristan tilted his head, sinfully gleeful at that. “Why not?”
Dropping the tie, she crossed her arms. “Would you like me to ask Gabriel to take my dress of?”
Hot possessiveness shot down his spine, but Tristan tried to keep his face blank. “It would definitely be a safer option.”
“When have you ever known me to be safe?”
“Not once, actually.”
Scarlet started twisting around again, yanking on various strings. “Are you going to help me from this bloody contraption or not?”
She lifted her eyes to him. Desire burned through her body and traveled across the room into Tristan. Hot, thick and foreboding, the atmosphere crackled and suddenly it was hard to breathe.
He slowly said, “I think I need to say no.”
She sighed. “Fine, then.” She rummaged through the drawers of the vanity until coming up with a dagger.
One of Tristan’s daggers.
“Is there anything of mine that you do not steal?”
She wiggled the knife. “You left this on the downstairs table. It was fair game.”
“And what do you plan on doing with my dagger?”
“I am going to cut my way out of this maze of material.”
“You’re going to destroy the expensive dress Gabriel bought you just today? That seems rude.”
“Then perhaps you could help me before I tear this dress to shreds.” She held the dagger to the top of her ribcage and pulled at a piece of material until she had the blade positioned to cut into it.
Tristan debated for a moment then sighed. “Turn around.”
Relief flooded her body as she slowly turned around.
Maybe this would not be so bad after all. Maybe Tristan could pull at her ties and make his way out of her bedroom in a gentlemanly manner.
Another flash of desire rushed through Scarlet and into Tristan.
Or maybe not.
He stared down at her half-opened dress. “Try to hold still so I don’t touch you more than necessary.”
“Because Nathaniel says not to?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you,” he snapped. He began undoing the few unbroken clasps than ran down her back and watched her outer garment slowly come undone.
“I know Nathaniel thinks your touch can make my heart sick, but what if he’s wrong? I’ve been alive now for nearly a year and have shown no sign of illness. There is no reason to continue to believe that your blood is hurting me.”
This was true. Scarlet had not been ill at all and her heartbeat, while still forcefully beating in his presence, did not seem to threaten her life. Perhaps his touch was not as dangerous as Nathaniel had feared.