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  Wedding is happening today. We’re coming straight home.

  Home. The word felt right now. Lizzy’s town house was becoming home, just as Tristan already was.

  Her phone vibrated seconds later, and she read the responding message.

  Today?

  Yes. She tapped her response. Was he going to be upset?

  Very well.

  Biting her lip, she typed again. Are you mad?

  Rather than text her back, her phone rang and she answered instantly. “Hello?”

  “Kat, as long as you stay with me, I don’t care what our parents do. You are what matters to me.”

  She sighed, every ounce of tension in her suddenly evaporating.

  “Now, come home so I can show you how much I’ve missed you.” His soft chuckle turned her knees to jelly. How he had the power to do that, she’d never know.

  “See you soon.” She hung up and saw Lizzy watching her. Those fine lines of worry on her brow were deeper.

  “Did you call Tristan?” Lizzy asked.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d let him know…” Was she giving their secret away?

  “Right,” Lizzy said, her eyes still dark with a shadow of concern

  She knows.

  Lizzy really knows about Tristan and me.

  Kat swallowed, faking a smile, and got into the car with Tristan’s mother. Her father couldn’t find out. Ever.

  Chapter 3

  Tristan straightened his silver tie and took his place beside Clayton. As he studied Kat’s father, Tristan had to admit the American cleaned up nicely. They both wore matching black tuxedoes with silver waistcoats.

  My stepfather. Tristan tried it out in his head. It didn’t sound…terrible. The man was a nice fellow after all, and his mother adored him, which was what mattered most. Kat’s father shifted restlessly and glanced at Tristan.

  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” Clayton laughed.

  “You’ll do fine,” Tristan assured him, but he too felt an odd stirring of nerves inside, as if he were the one getting married, not Clayton.

  Kat’s father nodded as though to steady his resolve. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  This marriage was going to be a good thing for both Clayton and Lizzy. Tristan wasn’t blind, and he had noticed the changes in his mother since she had met Clayton. The happy animation of her features, the sunny glow of her smile, and the full laughter whenever Clayton teased her. It reminded Tristan of Kat, her laughter, her smiles.

  Reaching out, he shook Clayton’s hand.

  “Thank you, Tristan. I can’t tell you how much it means that you’re supportive of our decision to marry. I know things are…rough with your father. I’m here for you, in whatever way you need me.”

  The genuine honesty in Clayton’s face and voice filled Tristan with a strange cottony warmth. He blinked, a little startled by the sensation.

  Before he and Clayton could say another word, the door to the Mayor’s Parlour opened. The registrar, a short gray-haired man, smiled at them.

  “The ladies are ready for you.” The man nudged the door open more, letting Tristan and Clayton enter the room behind him.

  The Mayor’s Parlour was a warm, oak-paneled room in Town Hall, a fashionable Upper Street building that was home to the Registry Office. Vases filled with English wildflowers covered the tables. The room had red leather armchairs, a couch, and burgundy carpets, along with the grand fireplace that was decorated with a coat of arms above the mantelpiece.

  Next to the fireplace, his mother stood in a red knee-length dress with long sleeves and a scalloped bodice. It was an edgy fashion choice, to be sure, but he knew she was done being prim and proper. Her hair was down in soft romantic waves that glinted in the firelight, and the smile on her lips showed only a hint of nerves.

  “Wow,” Clayton whispered, a boyish grin on his face.

  Tristan rolled his eyes. The man acted like a young lad with a schoolboy crush.

  “Dad, you look great.” Kat’s voice pulled his focus away from Clayton, and Tristan’s heart gave a little jolt, skipping a few beats.

  Kat stood a few feet away from the fireplace in a sapphire-colored cocktail dress. A thick white silk sash wound around her waist, and she wore white crystal-studded kitten-heeled shoes. Her skirts fluttered around the tops of her knees as she shifted on her feet. Her long brown hair had been pulled back from her face with a few jewel-studded butterfly pins.

  He wanted to sink his hands into her hair and kiss her. The urge was so strong that he’d crossed the room and his hands were reaching for her before he’d even realized what he was doing. Catching himself just in time, he dropped his hands to her shoulders in a friendly, brotherly pat before he let go.

  “You look wonderful, Kat,” he said, forcing the huskiness out of his voice, as their parents were standing only a few feet away.

  “Thank you. Your mother picked it out.” Kat ruffled her dress while a sweet blush rose to her cheeks.

  “Are we ready?” The registrar joined them by the fireplace.

  Tristan moved to stand behind his mother, while Kat positioned herself behind her father.

  She kept glancing his way, her gray eyes as soft as the down feathers of a mourning dove. When a little smile escaped onto her lips, it knocked him behind the knees.

  The woman was his kryptonite. He couldn’t resist her, had to have her.

  Tristan was only vaguely aware of the wedding vows and the exchange of wedding bands. His entire body and mind were focused on Kat.

  If he closed his eyes, he’d relive the moment he saw her in the glass coffin, the ruby gown so bright against her creamy skin. She’d been a fantasy, a lover ready to be awakened by his kiss.

  When she’d impulsively kissed him in the pub that snowy night in Cambridge, he’d come undone and been reborn. He was done living the way he had, moving from lover to lover. None of it meant anything, and he was tired of feeling that way.

  Kat’s kiss had swept him off his feet like a rip current off the shore, and he didn’t want to fight another second. Not when it meant they couldn’t be together.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The registrar’s declaration broke through Tristan’s thoughts, and he blinked, suddenly remembering he was in the middle of his mother’s wedding.

  Lizzy was kissing Clayton, her lips curving into a smile while he held tightly on to her waist. They looked blissfully happy.

  Tristan glanced back at Kat. Her eyes glinted with tears and she sniffed.

  “Congratulations, Dad, Lizzy.” Kat embraced them both when they broke apart.

  “Thank you, Kat.” Lizzy was teary-eyed, too, with happy tears.

  “Are we ready to go home and eat Christmas Eve dinner?” Clayton clapped his hands together, which made Kat giggle, and her eyes met Tristan’s.

  “I have quite an appetite.” Tristan smiled at her and then licked his lips. Another blush. She could obviously see he’d meant he was hungry for something else entirely.

  “Good,” Lizzy said. “Mrs. George will have baked up half the kitchen tonight.”

  Tristan caught Kat’s waist when they fell into step behind their now-married parents.

  “It’s official, little sister,” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her close. What he wouldn’t give to drag her into the nearest closet and get his hands up her skirt so he could—

  “Stepsister,” she corrected in a breathless hiss so their parents wouldn’t hear.

  “Who knew this would feel so bad?” He squeezed her lightly, feeling the soft fabric of her dress crush beneath his fingers.

  “Stop it, please. Not here,” Kat begged him, but when her eyes met his, they were blazing with heated desire. She was as twisted up as he was and desperate to get a minute alone with him.

  For a brief moment, as the four of them walked through Town Hall, the world seemed full of possibilities. Tristan thought his chest would burst with happiness.

  They exited t
he building, and chaos erupted around them.

  Cameras were everywhere, and a massive crowd of reporters were crushing in against them from all sides.

  “Elizabeth Harlow, is it true you’ve just remarried? What does the Earl of Pembroke think about your new husband?” a man with the Daily Mail logo on his shirt shouted.

  Clayton cursed and stumbled back, protecting Lizzy.

  “Mum, the car is straight ahead!” Tristan shouted over the erupting madness of the press, while he covered Kat with his arms. She pressed in to his side and ducked her head.

  “Out of the way!” Clayton bellowed, and started shoving men out of his path to the waiting car.

  “Mr. Kingsley, is this your new girlfriend? Is she your stepsister?”

  Another camera flash, then lights dotted his vision, and he clutched Kat to him, trying to half carry her to the car.

  “Tristan!” Kat cried out when someone grabbed her arm, attempting to tug her from Tristan’s hold.

  Before he could think it through, Tristan reacted and swung a fist, landing a blow on a man’s jaw.

  The reporter let go of Kat’s arm.

  “That bugger punched me!” the reporter screeched, but Tristan didn’t care as he got Kat and his mother into the car. Their parents climbed into the middle seat and he and Kat got into the backseat behind them.

  “Tristan, you didn’t hit him, did you?” Lizzy glanced out the car windows at the flock of reporters still taking photos.

  He wrapped an arm around Kat’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. His body was flooded with adrenaline and rage. Tristan was sick of the paps getting in his face, frightening the people he cared about. He would do anything to protect Kat, anything because she meant everything.

  “Lizzy.” Clayton’s voice pulled Tristan’s attention to the front. Kat’s father was half turned around in his seat, staring at them.

  “Yes, dear?” Lizzy’s nervous gaze darted between her husband and Tristan.

  “That reporter said something about Kat and Tristan…dating?”

  Lizzy swallowed, then laughed. “Oh—that’s ridiculous, dear.”

  Their car turned the corner, leaving the reporters behind, but Tristan cursed as a bus pulled up alongside them. A large ad was on its side. An ad he recognized with dread. Prince Charming kissing Snow White.

  “What in the hell?” Clayton’s eyes widened as he took in the ad, then narrowed to slits as he turned to stare at Lizzy.

  Tristan swallowed hard. This was it. They’d been outed before he was ready. A knot tightened in his stomach as he struggled to come up with a new plan. There was no way Kat’s father would buy the story they’d told his mother this morning.

  “Kat, why are you kissing Tristan on a bus ad?”

  “Dad—” Kat tried to pull away from Tristan, but he wouldn’t let her go. It was all going to come out and there was no stopping it.

  He rubbed the back of his neck as heat flooded his face. Anxiety spiraled inside him, but a secret part of him was relieved to have things out in the open.

  “Clayton, Kat and I are dating.”

  Kat sucked in a harsh breath and went rigid against his side. She was going to be furious with him.

  “What? You’re joking.” Clayton’s brows lowered and his lips pursed into an angry line.

  “Dad—” Kat’s lips quivered, and Tristan felt her entire body quake.

  “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks, since Cambridge. I have only honorable intentions toward her.” He almost couldn’t believe how strong his voice came out, when everything inside him was flipping on its head. But he meant it; he wanted to date Kat for as long as he could. He didn’t want to think about the future when things could change.

  The harsh laugh sounded more like a snarl when it escaped Clayton’s lips. “Honorable? Tristan, your mother told me all about you. Your womanizing, the affairs, the scandals. I know you’re young and reckless, but that doesn’t mean you can take my daughter for another notch in your bedpost.”

  “It isn’t like that,” Tristan argued, his frustration rolling through him hard enough that he had to clench his fists.

  “Dad, you have to let me explain.” Kat leaned forward in her seat, but Clayton glowered at her. Her shocked inhalation made Tristan’s heart clench.

  “I thought you had better sense than that, Katherine. Your studies are crucial. Now is not the time to jeopardize your future by getting distracted by someone like him. He’ll drop you and move on to someone else in a matter of days. He has a reputation, Kat. I warned you about him,” Clayton growled.

  Tristan tried to pull Kat back into the safety of his arms.

  “Clayton.” Lizzy’s voice was soft, wounded. “He’s my son…”

  Tristan was used to his reputation causing him some discomfort socially, the disapproving looks, the whispers, the articles, but none of that had hurt him like this. Clayton’s open anger cut deep.

  “If anything, it’s my fault, not hers,” Tristan said, meeting his mother’s eyes. “From the moment I met Kat, I wanted her. Don’t blame her for any of this.” He turned his gaze back to Clayton, ready for battle.

  “At least you have enough sense to accept responsibility. But it’s over. Do you understand?” Clayton’s imperious declaration was all too familiar.

  It was like fighting with his father all over again. He wasn’t going to let another man tell him what to do, especially one with no hold over him.

  Tristan’s lips parted, another protest ready, but Kat spoke up first.

  “Dad, you don’t get to dictate my life. I’m nineteen. I’m an adult, and my life is all my own. You can accept my choices or not, but you can’t control me.”

  “I can, Katherine. You’re still my daughter, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” The anger that had flared so hot in Clayton’s eyes lessened slightly, as though the man was seeing Kat differently for the first time in his life.

  “So it’s your way or the highway, is that it?” Kat asked.

  Tristan sensed she was on the verge of losing her nerve because her hands were trembling when he covered them with his.

  “Why don’t we wait until we return home to talk about this,” Tristan suggested. His heart thudded hard in his chest, and he was strangely nervous. He’d never cared about any woman like this before. Seeing her quarrel with her father because of him and his selfish need to have her…He felt…very guilty, because he had no intention of giving Kat up.

  “Tristan’s right.” His mother touched Clayton’s shoulder, and while he didn’t pull away, he frowned.

  “Did you know about this?” Accusation layered his tone, and the look of hurt in Lizzy’s eyes shot a bolt of pain through Tristan’s chest.

  Kat had been right. This would tear their parents apart.

  “I—”

  “She didn’t know.” Tristan cut his mother off. “If you have a problem with my relationship with your daughter, you will take it out on me, not Mum. Is that clear?” He met Clayton’s eyes with a cold stare. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d stood between a cruel bastard and his mother. As soon as he was old enough to argue, he’d put himself between his father and Lizzy time and again, trying his best to protect her.

  The fire in Clayton’s eyes melted away and his frown faded. “I’m not upset with Lizzy. I’m just upset. I’d never do anything to hurt your mother.”

  A tender touch brushed Tristan’s thigh, and he glanced down to see Kat’s hand there. When he looked her way, she was nibbling her lip in concern as she met his eyes. He took her hand and covered it with his own, squeezing gently.

  “Let’s just talk about this when we get home,” Kat said, her gaze darting between him and her father.

  The occupants of the car settled into an uncomfortable silence for the rest of their journey. Paul, the driver, kept his gaze decidedly focused on the road ahead, as though he was determined to become invisible.

  Tristan’s blood pounded like distant war drums against
his temples, and he failed miserably at convincing himself that this wouldn’t end badly.

  When Paul stopped in front of the house, Lizzy and Kat’s father got out first. They moved up the icy walkway in a cold silence. When the butler opened the door for them, his pleasant expression faded as he saw their expressions. Tristan gave him a small, forced smile as he was the last to come inside.

  “Katherine, I want a word with you alone.” Clayton gripped her arm firmly, escorting her to the library, where he closed the doors, leaving Tristan and his mother standing in the foyer.

  Tristan dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe.

  His mother reached for his hand. “Tristan, how long have you and Kat been…?”

  Thrusting his hands into his pockets to avoid his mother’s touch, Tristan paced the length of the foyer a few times before he slowed to a stop. The murmur of voices in the library was too soft and muffled by the thick wooden doors.

  “We met at Cambridge. Before Christmas break. I’ve been seeing her on and off.” He scraped a hand over his jaw, unable to stop moving, stop pacing, as restlessness rolled through him. He knew it wouldn’t go away until Kat was in his arms again.

  His mother’s lips parted and she exhaled before speaking, her voice low and soft. “On and off?”

  He shrugged and finally faced her. “Yes. We had a few fits and starts at first. She didn’t like seeing me in the rags with Brianna, and when we found out we were to be stepsiblings, she broke it off then, too. She was afraid of this. She warned me it would break you and Clayton up.”

  At this, his mother laughed, a quiet, slightly strained sound. “Well, it’s not how I imagined our wedding day, or our first Christmas Eve, but it certainly won’t break us up.”

  “I’m not sure if I believe that, Mum. Clayton seems furious.” His eyes fixed on the closed library door. What is he saying to her? Was he talking her into breaking up with him again? She promised she wouldn’t, not as long as they both wanted this. And he still did. More than ever before.

  His mother walked in between him and the library door, catching his attention again.