She tipped down the edge of his hat in a friendly gesture of camaraderie before climbing into the carriage.
Then into the night they rode away. Farther from Gabriel and Nathaniel. Closer to Tristan.
Scarlet watched a large mansion grow up from dark hills silhouetted by the full moon above. The house was vast and elaborate, but nearly hidden in the many vines and thick foliage around the property. It looked somewhat sad.
When Jensen pulled the carriage to a stop, Scarlet took a deep—well, as deep as she could manage with the blasted corset top she wore—breath and took Jensen’s hand as he helped her from the carriage.
At the front door, she did not knock. Knocking would have been polite and well-mannered, but so would have announcing her presence. Fiery Scarlet didn’t possess good manners.
Finding the front door already open, she stepped inside and found Tristan standing there, with his arms crossed, as if he’d been waiting for her.
The open front door made more sense now.
She braced for the yelling that was sure to pour from his throat, trying to memorize his features before things got ugly.
Although it was evening and rather cool outside, Tristan was shirtless.
Of course.
The tattoo of her drawing laid against his muscles and Scarlet’s heart squeezed. She had almost forgotten about the permanent design he’d put on his body and the sight of it did funny things to her stomach. Hopeful things. Warm things.
Sad things.
His dark hair was longer, almost to his shoulders, and hung about his head in disarray. Dark stubble marked his face, his eyes had dark circles around them, and his jaw was set hard and firm.
He was not a happy sight, but he was the best thing Scarlet had seen in years.
“What are you doing here?” he said.
Scarlet shut the door behind her, leaning against it as she responded. “I came because you have been in great pain.”
“Yes. And because of my great pain you still live. It seems my isolation is good for your wellbeing.”
“The strength of my pulse has little to do with the health of my heart.”
He continued to stare at her with a scolding silence, so Scarlet casually glanced around the rather-empty house. “So…this is the dark dungeon where the very angry Tristan sleeps?”
“No. This is the dark dungeon where the very dangerous Tristan keeps himself away from a very careless young woman.”
Clearly, he was in no mood for small talk.
Scarlet raised her chin. “I am not so young anymore.”
“I can see that.” His eyes darkened as they drifted along her face and body and Scarlet reveled in the hot look. He snapped his eyes back to hers, anger and desire in their green depths.
“You need to leave, Scar.”
Yes. She should probably leave.
She didn’t.
“Tristan, this is ridiculous. You are in too much pain and I miss you deeply. Come home.”
“I am home.”
“No, you’re not. You’re hiding.”
“Not very well, it seems.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “How did you find me?”
“I do not recall, but it had absolutely nothing to do with Jensen.”
A ghost of a smile flashed across his face, and Scarlet would have given her very heart to see the real thing.
She took a step forward. “You should not have allowed yourself to suffer for so long.”
He took a step back. “My pain is not your concern.”
“Everything about you is my concern. You cannot just keep yourself in pain,” she said, filling up with all the fear and love she felt for him as she stepped forward again. “You are a foolish man.”
He stood still. “And you are a reckless woman.”
She smiled. “We are quite the messy pair.”
“That we are.” He searched her face then softened his voice. “You know you cannot stay here.”
“Then tell me to leave.” She stepped closer.
“Leave.”
“No.”
“Curse you woman,” he said. “You are a terrible pain.”
Another step closer and she was standing right in front of him, looking up into green heat.
“Yes, I am.” She kissed his chest, letting her lips brush against his skin a moment longer than necessary, and felt his body sigh with the pleasure her touch brought him. “And you love me for it.”
She traced her fingertips over his tattoo, following the dark lines around his skin.
“I do,” he said, gently catching her hand in his. “And that is why this will never happen again.”
Scarlet looked up at him. “Do not make such threats, Hunter.”
“It is not a threat.” He looked sad. “You need to leave.”
Scarlet straightened her shoulders. “Not until you’re better. Not until you’ve had a decent night’s sleep in my nearness.”
He released her hand. “Leave before I carry you out.”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “No.”
They were in a standoff for a moment, staring at each other, pulses high for more than one reason. But then Scarlet’s feet were no longer on the floor as Tristan easily threw her over his shoulder, marched to the front door, and flung it open.
“Open the carriage, Jensen!” His voice was so angry Scarlet could feel it vibrate against her body.
Trying to wriggle free, she slapped his bare back, her waist and legs completely imprisoned by his arm.
“You,” she saw Tristan’s free arm point at Jensen, “I will speak to later.”
Then Scarlet was being wrestled into the carriage by Tristan’s rock solid arms until she was seated inside, his big body shadowing the carriage door in dark madness.
“Do not come back here.” His green eyes cut pieces of her soul to shreds. “Not ever.”
Despite his temper, or his fear, or whatever was putting that black look in his eyes, she had come for a reason and she didn’t want her trip to be in vain. Reaching her hands out, she held his face, desperate to relieve him of all pain one last time.
He grasped her wrists to pull her hands off, but froze as her touch sank into him.
She watched his eyes fall closed in peace and his chest exhale in comfort. She wanted to touch him forever and always bring him this much relief.
“Do not make me leave you,” she whispered.
His eyelids lifted in a heavy, sated way as he looked at her. For a moment, his resolve was gone and his hands, wrapped tightly around her wrists, loosened their grip and slowly eased up her forearms, his caress becoming more gentle the farther up her arms he felt.
Soon it was only his fingers trailing up the inside of her arms…across her shoulders…along her collarbone…and then barely stroking the sides of her neck.