Climax (9 page)

It took him a moment to catch his breath, to find the words.

“My father took me to Kensington Gardens when I was five. Just the two of us. That was years before the divorce…” That day flooded back, his father chasing him around the base of the Peter Pan statue. There had been a single moment when the sun had caught the edge of Peter's flute and Tristan had cried out.

“Papa, a fairy, look!”

And his father had caught him in his arms, laughed, and ruffled a hand through Tristan's hair. “So London still has some magic, eh?”

That was the memory he held on to, the man who dared to believe life still held some magic and mystery, that not all of life was full of disappointments. But something had changed in his father when Tristan had turned thirteen. Carter's mother had died, and the house was so heavy with grief that even Edward was affected. His parents divorced not long after, and his father had lost that last bit of humanity that had made him likable. Tristan hadn't given this change much thought, but now it stirred at the back of his mind, worrying him a little. What had changed his father into the hard-hearted man?

Tristan sighed. “He was a better man back then, not so cold. Distant, yes, but not cruel,” he told Kat as he settled a hand on her hip and met her gaze. “What about you?”

She bit her lip, making him want to kiss her, but he needed his answer.

“It's when I was ten, two years before Mom left. She was out running errands, and I snuck up to the attic and found her old wedding dress.” An unguarded smile curved her lips. “I don't know how I got it on, but I did. She came home and found me wearing it. I thought she'd be mad, but instead she spent the next hour playing dress-up with me. We got out all her jewelry and we did our hair. It was a mess, but it was fun. We laughed so hard it made my stomach hurt.”

Seeing the flash of bittersweet pain in her eyes called out to every instinct inside him to protect her. Losing her mother had hurt Kat so much. He still had his father in his life, but she'd been abandoned.

Tristan lay beside her and pulled her flush to him. “Promise me you'll always remember you deserve to be loved.” He twined a lock of her hair around his finger, focusing on her lips, then her eyes. “We are not our parents. We don't carry those sins and burdens. We can choose to love. No matter what happens tomorrow, don't ever forget that.”

She nodded and pulled her head down to his.

There beside the warm fire, Tristan fully surrendered his heart to the only woman he would ever love. It would all shatter come the dawn.

But wasn't that how love was supposed to be? A wondrous risk that not all hearts survived? And Kat was worth it.

K
at couldn't breathe. The moment had come to say good-bye.

She and Tristan sat inside his car, parked in front of Lizzy's town house. The air between them was charged with tension thick enough to fog the windows.

They'd barely spoken since they'd left Cambridge earlier that morning. Part of her desperately wanted to believe this was all a dream and that they were still in bed, bodies entwined as they shared dreams.

The time for dreams was over.

“Tristan,” she whispered, his name scraping across her vocal chords.

He furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“I'll walk you to the door.” Tristan finally unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car.

She followed him as he carried her duffle bag up to the front door of the town house. He set the bag down and shoved his hands into the pockets of his knee-length black coat.

I hate good-byes
.

Tears were already forming in her eyes, burning and cutting like daggers straight to her heart. Kat was taking every memory of him with her, burying it safe within her. Someday soon they would cross paths again, but they both knew this thing between them could never be. Doomed from the start. She would always love him. Something this deep, this powerful, could never be undone.

Tristan pulled his hands from his pockets and reached for her cheek hesitantly, as though afraid to touch her. When he finally did, she tilted her head into his palm, closing her eyes for a few seconds.

“I won't say good-bye. I know you don't like them. But know that wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I'll love you with every breath, every heartbeat. Always. You can't say good-bye to the one who owns your heart.” He smiled, but it made her eyes flood with tears.

“No good-byes,” she vowed.
God, I'm not going to survive this
. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs squeezed every breath out of her.

“Every night I'm going to close my eyes and remember our last night at Fox Hill.” His eyes were dark and deep, like a northern sea in the coldest winter. Emotions churned in their depths and he blinked, swallowed hard, and continued, his voice rough, almost broken. “I'll tell myself I'll see you in the morning, because if I don't…” Tristan's throat worked as he struggled to swallow again.

Agonizing pain exploded through her, yet she didn't move,
couldn't
move. She understood what he was saying. He'd use that thought, that sweet little lie, to keep himself going. It was better than a good-bye, but only just.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she tried to tell him everything in her heart.

“I'll never love anyone the way I love you. You're my first…my last.”
And I have to be strong, because if I'm not, neither of us will get through this.
Kat stood on tiptoe and kissed him, curling her arms around his neck one last time.

Their mouths brushed gently before the fire lit between them and he was dragging her closer, crushing her to him. A sob choked her, but she didn't want to let go.

When they finally broke apart, Tristan's eyes were bright with tears.

“I can't bloody do this!” He shoved himself back a step with a curse, scraped his hand over his jaw, and then turned away, rushing down the steps to his car.

Tristan paused at the driver's side door, one hand braced on the roof of the Aston Martin as he looked over his shoulder at her. His beautiful face, those sharp, godlike features usually too perfect, were ravaged with the devastation of his breaking heart.

Something strange, almost eerie filled Kat as she gazed back him. It was as though someone had stepped over her grave…and her first thought was that she might never see him again.

“Tristan!” she cried out, but he was already climbing into the car and speeding away.

Kat didn't know how long she stood at the top of Lizzy's town house steps, the cold eating away at her bones. That terrible feeling of uneasiness wouldn't go away, like dark storm clouds were gathering thick upon the horizon.

I can survive this. I have to
. She just had to convince herself of that.

She lifted the duffle bag up over her shoulder and pressed the little bell by the door. It was still early in the day, and she hoped her dad and Lizzy wouldn't be upset that she was just showing up without calling.

The door flew open and her father, not the butler, stood there. Lines of worry and fear cut across his face, making him look years older than he should.

“Thank God!” he breathed, and opened his arms to her. That simple fatherly gesture of comfort and protection was the last thing she could handle.

The dam holding all of her pain and the raging emotions burst wide open.

“Dad!” The word came out of her in a hoarse cry. Kat dropped her bag and fell into his arms.

“Clayton? What's happened?” Lizzy's voice barely cut through the sound of Kat's sobbing as she burrowed into her dad's arms.

“I don't know, Lizzy. She's back. My baby's home.”

She felt her father's lips brush her forehead, and she sagged against him in exhaustion, gasping softly for air.

“Why didn't you return any of my calls? We were worried sick. Neither you nor Tristan were picking up.” Her father's question made her cringe with a new wave of pain. She had ignored his calls, and she knew Tristan had, too. They hadn't wanted their parents to destroy the last day they'd had together.

“I'm sorry we didn't answer you. We went to Cambridge.” She closed her eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath.

“Where's Tristan?” Lizzy asked

Kat lifted her head and finally looked her way. “Gone…His dad found us at Fox Hill. He threatened to…” She swallowed thickly. “To fire Carter and his dad and destroy their lives unless Tristan came home and never saw me again.” Lizzy had told her this would happen, but Kat had never believed Edward would actually do something so horrible.

Lizzy's head dropped and her eyes darkened to a defeated shade of blue.

“I'm so sorry, Kat.” Tristan's mother joined her and Clayton, embracing them both. “You have us, sweetheart,” she promised. “We're both here for you.”

Kat's heart shattered. She shut her eyes, fighting off fresh waves of pain. The emotions breaking apart inside her reminded her of when she'd accidentally knocked a glass vase off a table. The vase had splintered and fractured into hundreds of pieces on the floor, glittering in the late-afternoon light. Like the vase, Kat's dreams were shattered, too…

I'll never love anyone the way I love you
.

She shut her eyes and saw Tristan at Fox Hill.

There is only love between us, no matter the time or distance. There is only love.

“You're really not going back to class?” Carter leaned forward in his chair in Tristan's study at the Pembroke estate. “The new term starts in a few days.”

Tristan shuffled the stack of reports on the estate's financial standings before he looked at his friend. Had it really been two weeks since Christmas? Tristan had buried himself in work after he and Kat had said their good-byes, and he'd lost track of time.

“No. I need to be here.” His tone came out wooden because everything inside him was hollow. He'd been like this for days. A walking shell speaking only when necessary. It wasn't like before, when losing Kat had left him miserable. He'd felt sure then that he'd find a way to win her back.

That wasn't possible now. He'd won her and had been robbed of her. There was no going back. Life was over. It was that simple. His father had ripped apart his soul and left him to slowly die from the pain.

“Tristan, what's the matter? Talk to me.” Carter's earnest voice didn't move him. Nothing could. He stood and started to walk around his desk.

“I don't need a degree. It was a foolish idea. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to—”

Slam!

Tristan hissed in pain as Carter shoved him against the wall and got in his face.

“Bloody hell, man. What's the matter with you? Ever since you came back you've been like…” Carter paused, his dark brown eyes almost as black as onyx stones.

“Been like what?” Tristan demanded coldly.

“Like your father.”

Through the hollowness, anger exploded. Tristan shoved Carter back and swung a fist. The punch took them both by surprise.

Carter clutched his jaw, breathing hard as he fell back to lean against the desk. Tristan shook out his hand, ignoring the pain in his knuckles. He glanced away, unable to meet his friend's eyes for a moment. The anger had been replaced by a sweeping tide of guilt.

“Carter,” he rasped, unsure of what to say. He'd
never
hit his friend before. He'd never wanted to either.

Carter winced as he let go of his jaw, but he smiled. “It's about time the real you came out swinging. Whatever happened over Christmas, you've got to fight back. No more rolling over.”

Tristan shook his head. “It's not that simple. I lost her. Forever. My father found the one thing he can use to keep me away from her.”

“What?”

“I can't talk about it. What Kat and I had can never be. And I'll never be able to tell her how much I…” The words choked him, and he couldn't go on.

“She knows you love her.” Carter straightened his sweater, smoothing it out.

Tristan leaned back against the wall, new pain filling his chest.

“She does, but it isn't enough. What I feel goes beyond words. I want to be with her, prove to her I love her. But my father won't let me near her.” He didn't dare mention the real reason he and Kat had split up. To keep Carter's and his father's jobs safe. “I just want to tell her how much I care about her one more time, a grand public gesture or something.” He laughed bitterly. “Sounds bloody over-romantic I know, but not being with her is driving me mad.”

Carter stroked his jaw gently. “Everyone in London is talking about you two. Why not use the papers to your advantage for once?”

“How do you mean?”

With a shrug and a smile, his friend continued. “Your father hates negative press. Why not turn the tables on him? Bring a reporter inside Pembroke, tell them about you and Kat, how you fell for her. Show that soft side, and they'll eat it up. Your father won't be able to squash a love story. Hell, it might make him look better, too. You'll have the chance to make that grand public gesture for her. It might even make your father reconsider keeping you apart. If all of England is rooting for your relationship with Kat, it will be difficult for him to fight an entire country. You saw how everyone rooted for Kate Middleton when she and William dated. Brilliant, that was. Of course, she wasn't an American…but well…” Carter grinned. “You do like a challenge, don't you?”

The idea was a good one, but then again, Carter was always the man with a plan. The positive press of a love story with a happy ending would be far better for his father's political agenda than another story of Tristan clubbing and charming his way into the beds of more women he'd never marry. This could actually work. For the first time in days, hope surged through him, filling him with new energy.

“I trust you know who to call to arrange an interview?” Carter asked.

Nodding, Tristan strode over to his desk, sifting through the stacks of papers until he found the business card with Jillian Jacobs's contact info.

Carter paused in the study doorway, tapping the doorframe with a hand as he glanced back at Tristan.

“Good luck. I'll be at Fox Hill if you need me.”

And just like that, Carter left him alone. Tristan wanted to follow him. A thousand things had been left unsaid between them, but he needed to act fast. Kat would be headed back to Cambridge in a few days for the start of the new term, and he wanted her to see what he was about to do. A love letter, as best as he could manage, in front of the world, one he hoped would win over the country and convince his father to change his mind. He retrieved his phone and dialed.

“Jillian Jacobs,” the photographer said.

“Ms. Jacobs, it's Tristan Kingsley.”

“Mr. Kingsley! I'm so glad you called. I've been a bit afraid to speak to you after the photos went public. I honestly didn't know the campaign would be so big, and I didn't believe I'd win.”

He exhaled and rubbed his temples. “I would have appreciated a warning. Kat and I are in a bloody tight spot over this mess.”

“I'm so sorry—”

“You can make it up to me, Ms. Jacobs. I'd like for you to come to Pembroke today. Bring your camera.”

“What?” Jillian stuttered.

Tristan leaned back in his chair, finally feeling more in control of his life than he had in a long time. “I plan to do an exclusive interview, and I wish for you to take the photos. Do you know any writers for
Monarch Magazine
? I believe they would be very interested in what I have to say about my relationship with Kat Roberts.”

The photographer hesitated, but when she replied, her voice was breathless with excitement. “An exclusive with Tristan Kingsley? Given the current press about you and your stepsister? Yes, I'll have no trouble finding someone.”

“Excellent. I'll expect you in two hours. I'll let my father's security at the gate know you're coming.”

After he disconnected the call, he eased back into his desk chair and reached for the brass compass Kat had given him for Christmas. He opened the rosewood box and gazed down into the interior, watching the needle waver slightly but continue pointing north. Pointing toward Kat, toward his destiny.