An Unbreakable Bond (7 page)

Katie looked her directly in the eye. “Sorry, but I never disclose client information. It breaches confidentiality.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me I will just have to find out another way,” she retorted icily before moving on to the next wall of framed prints, leaving Tristan to sink down on the bench in front of the pictures.

There were three huge photographs. The first one was in a field with the round towered church of Edingthorpe as a backdrop. It was in black and white apart from the yellow daffodils in the field. The girl was in the foreground, sat in the midst of the daffodils with her black hair blowing in the wind, laughing. The second photograph was of the same girl, but the whole effect was in pastel shades. She was positioned from her shoulders up against a blue sky blowing daffodil seeds and it was just breath taking. The final photograph was of the girl in full colour sat on a sea wall eating an ice-cream. The collection was named, ‘childhood memoirs’.

Tristan sat there for what felt like an age. Not only was Katie a phenomenal photographer, but the girl in the photos had an immense presence of happiness and freedom. There was also something familiar about her. “Can you talk to the owner and get me a price?”

A nervous laugh escaped from her throat. Annabelle was going to kill her! “Seriously Tristan, they really are not for sale.” She plonked herself down next to him.

“If you ask and find out I’ll give you entry into commissioned work for the elite in Texas?” He turned to look into her widened eyes.

Just for a moment she was sorely tempted. “Nope, not even for that.”

Tristan raised a questioning eyebrow. “Your loyalty to this client is unwavering isn’t it?”

Self-consciously she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. She had always felt so guilty about that night and she should have talked Annabelle out of her stupid scheme. When Tristan left for the States she’d spent a whole year listening to not just Annabelle’s hurt, but also Wade’s frustration at Tristan’s silence. Here was a man who didn’t know that he had a nine year old daughter and the secret was tearing her apart. “Well, technically, I gave them to my client as a gift and in return she lets me show them.”

He whistled. “Phew, must be some client to give away your best work?”

“Yep, she sure is.”

They retreated into silence and Katie started to bite her nails again, wondering if she’d said too much. Tristan had always had a way with words and a knack of twisting things to find out what he wanted to know. He should have worked for the secret services! She spoke curtly, “Okay Tristan, do you want my talent as a photographer for the wedding or not?”

Standing up, he leisurely stretched. “Sure, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

****

After leaving Katie’s exhibition, Cara travelled back by limo and Tristan had taken a hire car into the city to look at the proposed suite of offices he had in mind for the new opening branch. He’d spent most of yesterday and today working out the details with the agent and now he was on his way back to Edingthorpe Hall.

He loved to drive. He found that these were his moments of precious peace and it gave him some personal time to play his favourite music and just ease away the pressures of the day. Today though, peace was taking a long time to come.

A dark shadow crossed over his face as he thought about Cara. They both knew that their impending marriage was a business deal. Their relationship worked because they understood the oil business and eventually she would also get the Lady Hemsley-Ford title.

After the marriage they’d agreed to produce a Boone & Hemsley-Ford heir to join both the companies by blood, making it the most formidable oil company in America. He knew the child would be raised with the focus on handling a huge corporation and it made him shiver. Memories of his own empty childhood surfaced and he asked himself if bringing a child into the world to follow in his footsteps was the action of a good parent. Would the child realise that there was no love between its parents? Would it grow up to be as cold and as selfish as Tristan's own father? These questions deeply troubled him.

Once the child had been born, they had agreed to live separate lives within the marriage without bringing media attention to themselves. This part of the agreement gave him the most aggravation. In all of his past relationships he’d never been unfaithful and the thought of having an extramarital affair made his stomach turn. How will he be able to stand by and watch his child being affected by people coming and going through extramarital relationships? He could feel the tension and resentment rising in him at the thoughts of living this cold and loveless existence.

Was there any way out of it or was it all just for power? In his world it happened every day, people marrying for wealth and prestige, but in a small part of his heart he’d hoped to have that all consuming passion with someone. The excitement of going home at night, the sharing of experiences, dreams and the intimacy that only comes from a deep sense of being a part of something good. It looked like a lonely life was waiting for him and the thought of what was ahead made that old restlessness, that emptiness come awake from within again.

There were benefits to the relationship though, the sex was good and Cara was an impeccable hostess, but she was a hard and brittle woman. Unexpected thoughts of Annabelle’s soft curves and sweet silky skin caused his groin to stir. Memories flooded onto the walls of his mind and he allowed himself to remember that night ten years ago. The sensations of holding her in his arms felt real and he could almost smell her scent and hear her gentle moans.

A blaze burst forth in Tristan as he relaxed his hold to unzip her dress. It fell to the floor and she stood before him in her scant panties, mesmerising him with her luminous beauty. The last rays of the sunset shone through the doors behind her, giving her auburn hair a russet radiance of deeply spun gold. Pulling her back into his body, he pressed her naked breasts against his hard chest.

He watched her intently as she shyly peeked at him through her lashes.

“I…I want to see you too.”

The words sliced through him and then he shuddered as she ran her hands up the front of his shirt and over his shoulders, throwing off his jacket. The tug on his bow tie came next as she slowly pulled it from around his neck and then let it fall to the ground. Their eyes locked and he felt her fumbling nervously with his shirt buttons. A puff of air hit his face as she struggled to undo them. In his haste to feel his skin against hers, he helped her to force the shirt open, sending buttons scattering across the room.

‘Oh,’ she stepped back and he saw her quiver slightly with appreciation as her eyes roamed over his tanned torso. A solid wall of muscle rippled in response and he felt her hands greedily stroke his chest, causing liquid fire to shoot to his groin. Dipping her head, he felt butterfly kisses land in the centre of his chest and then she moved to one of his nipples, tweaking it gently with her lips. Tristan groaned deeply and took her face in his hands and lifted it to collapse his mouth against hers and lead her gently down onto the silk rug.

Moving from her lips, he gently nipped her skin down her neck and into her deep cleavage before cupping her breast. Slowly, he brought his lips across the fullness to her aroused nipple, flicking it with his tongue and nibbling the pink peak before giving the same attention to her other breast.

For three years he’d watched her blossom into a woman and he’d secretly wanted her, keeping his acute awareness of her to himself and hiding his growing feelings. Never believing that this moment would happen and now it was here and he intended to savour it and imprint it upon his soul.

Sucking deeply on the hardened peaks, he heard her gasp and felt her arch her back. “More. I want more,” she whispered.

God, she was so soft and creamy. The heat of her skin against his fingertips as they roamed over her body sent a shiver down his spine. Skimming over her lower abdomen he cupped her between her legs and he could feel the wetness through the scrap of silk. Leisurely, he brushed a finger over the silk and across her most sensitive point.

A pulverising response swept through his body and he felt her grab hold of the rug on either side of her. Each time he repeated the movement he intensified it by gently teasing her nipple with his teeth and he was becoming lost in the rhythm and a slow torturous build of need seeped through his body as he felt her urge him on.

Moving aside the slip of silk, he ran his finger into her folds, stroking and playing with her swollen bud. Gradually, he eased his finger into the wet slickness and entered her.

Shivering in delight, she arched against him and pushed at his finger, lifting her hips off the floor. “Ma Belle,” he muttered breathlessly against her nipple. “You’re so beautiful."

A car honked its horn and he was startled back into the present. Swerving the car to miss the one honking, he hit the steering wheel.

Damn her!

The day he signed that wedding certificate would be the same day he closed the door on Annabelle Summers and the past. He needed order in his life, not a distraction.

****

Annabelle looked around furtively as she crossed the village road. After seeing Tristan in the shop yesterday the last thing she needed was for him to realise that she still lived in the village, and even more detrimental would be him finding out that she had a daughter and then doing the maths!

Panic at him discovering her big fat ten year old lie was causing her to be on edge. There was some guilt there too and ugly questions had been tapping her on the shoulder since she saw him again. Should she have kept them apart? Would he try to take April away if he found out about her? Would he be mad at her? That last question was a foregone conclusion. Tristan oozed power, so ‘mad’ was possibly very tame to what he would be.

It had been a long day knowing he was at Katie’s art exhibition and constantly thinking about what might be happening was driving her mad! Had Katie taken down April’s pictures? Had she said anything? Had Tristan said anything about her? On and on went the questions until she decided to close up the shop and go home early.

During her drive home she’d formulated a plan. Just in case he recognised her car from being parked outside the shop - and she wouldn’t put it past him not to notice - she would hide it in the garage, walk to her mother’s to pick up April and be on the look-out for the black limo. The advantage of being able to see far down the village road meant that if it did come into view she would just leap into the nearest garden until it passed.

Pleased with her scheming, the oncoming blue Saab went unnoticed until it was too late. It pulled up to the curb next to her and Tristan glared at her through the open window.

“Get in!” he commanded.

Anxiously, she turned to look at her mother’s house a few doors down. If she ran, she could make it.

“I said get in!”

Standing with her hands on her hips she looked boldly at him. “Actually, I’ll pass, but thanks anyway.”

Clicking off his seatbelt he went to open the door. “Annabelle, get in the car willingly, or I will pick you up and throw you in myself. Which would you prefer?”

“You’re so infuriating!” She knew without a doubt that Tristan would follow through on his words. Deliberately, she took her time to walk around the car whilst he impatiently pressed on the horn. “What is your problem?” she hissed at him through clenched teeth as she yanked open the door and clumsily got in.

Still hot and riled from re-living the past, Tristan held her gaze before roaming his eyes to feast over her curves. “You, you’re my problem.”

They silently drove a mile out of the village before he pulled over near a meadow and switched off the engine.

“What is this about Tristan? I thought we were clear about our roles in the shop yesterday morning. You’re the fiancé and I’m the wedding planner, capiche?” She smoothed back her hair with her hands and checked the collar on her white shirt before folding her hands in her lap, she was nervous. The air in the car hung with expectation and his sexual potency radiated in waves over her. Crossing her legs, she looked at him anxiously.

Silence filled the car as she waited for his response, but he didn’t turn to face her, giving her time to study the outline of his strong jaw, covered by a five o’clock shadow. Moving upwards, his long black eyelashes fanned out and she was almost salivating at his gorgeous profile. Slowly, he turned his head, causing her to squint into his eyes, and then she saw it.

Gasping in reaction, she knew that look in his eyes. It had been there that night ten years ago. Putting her hand to her chest she could feel the fast pulsing of her heart. Staring back at her was a wild ravenous hunger, smouldering behind the deep blue of his irises. It was a look of promise. A silent message of absolute sexual satisfaction that only a man who has a deep knowing of what a woman needs, can give. A tingle ran down her spine and she licked her lips in anticipation, then he blinked and it was gone, replaced with a steely determination.

“I think it’s time we talked about what happened ten years ago.”

Still in the emotional effect of that promise in his eyes, she was caught off guard. Shit! There would be no escape from this one. No Cara here to detour the conversation.