“Tristan, please,” he corrected her. “Will you walk with me?” he offered his arm.
“I have just come from the lake.” She hesitated a moment before placing her slender hand on his elbow. “’Tis a place of great peace and beauty.”
“’Tis a marvellous place to swim on a hot day,” he countered, catching her flash of a smile before she hid it. “Do not tell me, Juliana, that you have ne’er known the pleasure of immersing yourself in cool water under the summer sun?”
She put her head to one side, her eyes glinting like a bird. “For myself, my lord, I prefer to bathe under the light of the stars.”
A laugh rumbled through him. God’s bones, it was good to be carefree. “That is a better plan by half.” He pretended to mull it over. “Will you join me there, after dark?”
Juliana laughed as well, quiet and low, before nudging him correctively with her elbow. “That would hardly be proper.”
“And are we to bother ourselves with such things as propriety?”
He was flirting, he knew it. Flirting came easily to him and he liked to see an answering smile on the face of a pretty girl. But usually, his flirtation was harmless—nothing more than talk with no intention on either side of following through. It occurred to him that with Juliana, he did not know where it might lead. And the fact of his not knowing was both exciting and somehow daunting.
“Do you question my integrity, Tristan?”
The question was lightly asked, but wounding nonetheless. He turned with an apology on his lips, only to meet Juliana’s laughing smile.
“Should I?” he countered.
“Only as I question yours. Ah, but you are a man. And heir to a mighty earl at that. Of course, you can do entirely as you please.”
He instantly sobered at the reminder of the difference between them. “Whereas you meet with suspicion wherever you go,” he guessed.
They had skirted the fountain and were walking through the rose garden. Juliana paused and lowered her head to the soft petals, inhaling their rich perfume—as Mirrie also loved to do. “’Tis the fate of my people.”
Tristan found he could not take his eyes from the slender young woman. The dark pink of the rose petals contrasted so becomingly with the sleek darkness of her hair.
“You still have not told me how I should repay you for coming here and helping my father.”
She turned her shrewd gaze to his. “It was a kindness I offered, not a service requiring coin. I still think of your sister as a friend.”
“And what about me? Am I not a friend?”
“You are Tristan de Neville,” she stated, rising up from the roses. “A man who has not yet come to realise the full extent of the power he wields.”
There was a challenge in her words. A smile flickered across his lips as he decided to meet it. “And what power might I hold over you, Juliana?”
He expected an answering smile or mayhap a toss of that silken hair. But Juliana closed the gap between them and answered seriously. “Only that which I choose to grant you.”
She was near enough for him to smell the sweetness of her breath, and to see the rise and fall of her chest beneath the bodice of her gown. If he lowered his lips, he would find hers. “Which is?” he breathed.
Juliana was a tall woman, but Tristan had inherited his father’s height and muscular breadth. She had to stand on her tiptoes to whisper her reply into his ear. “None whatsoever.”
After a moment of startled surprise, he laughed again and tucked her arm into his. “That is only because I have yet to dazzle you with the full extent of my charms.”
Juliana ran her free hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. Her lips, he saw, were struggling to restrain a smile. “I speak in jest, my lord. Forgive me. Your father wields power and influence over all my people and we are forever grateful for his protection.”
He shook his head. “Do not hide behind the façade of a dutiful subject, Juliana. I see beyond that. Iwantto see beyond that.” He paused and turned to face her, a copse of hollyshielding them from the open lawns. “I wish to repay you for your kindness, however freely it was given. And I wish for you to dine with me tonight.”
“Very well.” She ducked her head so her veil of hair swung forward. “I am honoured to accept.”
“In fact, I see no reason to tarry.” His stomach was aching with hunger and he realised he had not eaten all day. “Let us go now and see what refreshments might be found for us.”
They walked together into the keep. A lone musician strummed a lute in the far corner of the hall, but otherwise Tristan and Juliana were alone in the vast room. He looked about in some dissatisfaction. Usually the great hall at Wolvesley was alive with bustle and activity. Men-at-arms would wander in and out all day, servants would keep the fires stoked and conversation would flow as freely as the wine. Clearly the keep had not fully returned to life as usual since his father’s illness.
Tristan waved Juliana towards an elaborately carved high-backed dining chair, usually his mother’s. He, in turn, sank into the chair usually reserved for his father before beckoning to a pink-cheeked serving wench. “Bring us food and wine,” he ordered.
