“Court me.”
Chapter 2
“Court me.” The words clanged in his head, but they didn’t stop there. “Be my fake betrothed. Please, Tristan.”
Initially when she’d yanked on his arm, dragged him into the shadows, and he’d seen her face, he was concerned. He could feel her pain, her panic, her pressure, within his own body. He’d always felt that way with her. That’s what made them such good friends. That, and being born within an hour of each other and having mothers that were dear friends, which meant that he, Iris, Violet (Iris’s sister), and his cousin, Alexander, spent much of their childhood together.
But right now, with this particular request, his blood boiled like no other blood-boiling pot had boiled.
It was juvenile. Sure. But then, was it? Truly? Upon looking in, others might draw that conclusion, but that would only bebecause they didn’t know the secrets he was harbouring. So if they were privy to everything, they would know that he wasn’t being petulant. He was acting as any man would act who had had his pride pricked. And a pride-pricked man was not especially empathetic.
“I beg your pardon?” He even tried to step back from her, but there wasn’t much room between these buildings. Poor fire planning on the villages part. He would have to discuss this with his business partners. Right after they bought the manual fire engine they had planned. And that would be right after they rebuilt Mr. Duke’s jewelry shop that had just recently burnt down. He tsked.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” she was shaking her head. “Apologies—”
“Wait.” And even though he was irked that she had asked, he was more irritated about her secret. The one he knew she was still keeping from him.
Wide eyes peeked up at him through long dark lashes—God it was cliche to think that, but it was true. And even though he was vexed beyond belief with her, he still felt the same way toward her. And that, even knowing she would never return his affections. He knew because he had tried a couple of times over the years to tell her and show her what was in his heart, but every time he had tried she had rejected him. Twice she literally ran away from him. Took off like a rabbit escaping a predator. God, that had made him feel like quite the fox in the worst way. Once it was because he had tried to kiss her. Alright, so maybe he shouldn’t have tried to sneak it in, but it seemed like the perfect opening—
“Tristan?”
God, he’d been staring at her, hadn’t he? How many times had she caught him doing that over the years? Far too many beyond what was acceptable.
“I…erm…didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I just…well, why do you need me to do that?”
Dropping her gaze to her hands on his chest now, she bit her lip. He recognized her body language and knew she was about to tell him a lie. His stance stiffened. “I don’t want Lester to bother me. With your protection, he’ll leave me alone.”
That was as close to the truth as she’d come to telling him yet. And his heart squeezed. He was a love lost fool, and he knew it, but he could act no other way. Even a pride-prickled man would ignore the prickle long enough to protect the woman he lov—thought of as a very good friend and with which he had no amour-directed future but would always cherish all the same.
“I’ll do it on one condition.” Perfect. She needed him, and he could finally cache in on the one request he’d been harboring. “You finally paint me your self-portrait.”
Her spine stiffened and her shoulders coiled up to her ears. “I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. You just look in a mirror and paint.”
“It’s not that.”
“It’s my only condition.”
He watched scenarios play out through her eyes before she sighed and conceded to him. “Fine—”
And before she could change her mind or add any stipulations, he cut her off. “Wonderful. I’ll do it then.”
“You will?” Her voice sounded unexpectedly hopeful.
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
“I just…know that you’ve been upset with me.”
Of course she knew that. He wasn’t altogether elite at hiding his emotions. “I wouldn’t say upset. I’d say flummoxed. And I still care for you, Iris. I always will.” That was the closest he had ever got, and would ever allow himself, to sharing his true feelings.
Her spine softened and her lips parted ever so slightly. And he wanted to nip her bottom lip.
“Thank you, Tristan. It’ll only be for as long as Lester is in town. And the rumors need not spread back to London. So long as Lester is fooled, all will be well.”
“And how do you propose on fooling him?”
“You can be around and give me attention.”