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She
wanted to give in to her desire to feel his hands on her body and
his lips against hers.
    She
wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head back in
invitation. He kissed her again, deeper this time and with so much
fire that her heart burst into flames. Her eyes closed and she
leaned into the kiss, her tongue tracing his lower lip and then
sliding into his mouth to meet his. He didn’t seem shocked by her
actions. She didn’t know how they’d kissed or made love two hundred
years ago, but he was about to find out how they did things in the
twenty first century. She didn’t know if he’d even made love. All
those tales of rakes meant some men must have had sex out of
wedlock. Tristan didn’t strike her as that type though.
    His hand
was shaking when she took hold of it and there was a look in his
eyes that spoke of nerves. His smile trembled at the corners, his
breathing heavy.
    She felt
a little naughty as she led him towards the house, intent on
getting him inside this time. He tugged on her hand when they
reached the door and she stopped to look back at him. The nerves in
his eyes were easily visible now as he glanced between her and the
house.
    “ Come in,” she whispered, sweet and coaxing. His pupils
widened, darkening his eyes, and for a moment passion and hunger
overruled fear. “It’s not wrong.”
    He
swallowed.
    He was
such a contrast to the man who had stood in this same spot the
night before and kissed her with such force and aggression. No one
had ever kissed her like that. That passion was in him somewhere,
restrained by nerves and propriety. She pulled gently on his hand
and he stumbled forwards a step.
    “ I... we...”
    “ We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she said,
hoping to calm him. His fingers tightened against hers. His eyes
darkened another notch. “We could just talk.”
    Now he
looked disappointed.
    She felt
it too.
    Neither
of them wanted to talk. She wanted him and he wanted her. They were
two people attracted to each other. It was as simple as that. It
didn’t matter what era he came from or the curse her distant
relative had placed on him. All that mattered was that she felt
something for him, and he returned those feelings.
    She took
a step back and was relieved when he followed again. His eyes went
wide when he stepped into the house. Had he never been in here
before? He’d said he couldn’t leave the garden. Perhaps he couldn’t
enter the house. Maybe this was another step towards breaking his
curse.
    Her
father had once said that her mother had bewitched him. Had he been
telling the truth? Did the power that the woman who had cursed
Tristan had live on to this day in her and her sisters? She liked
to think that it did. The idea of being different to everyone else
was exciting.
    She led
Tristan to the armchairs beside the fire. When she went to place
more logs onto it, he stopped her. He took two of the logs and
stacked them onto the fire and then stoked it with the poker. It
was nice to have a man to do that for her. It had been a long time
since she’d been with one. Decent single men were hard to come by.
She glanced at Tristan out of the corner of her eye. He sat down on
the armchair. She’d had to bring a statue to life in order to find
one.
    He looked
up at her as she approached and frowned when she pushed his jacket
off his shoulders.
    “ You look uncomfortable,” she whispered into his ear, letting
her cheek graze his.
    He
shuddered against her. She smiled when he leaned forwards and
helped her remove his black jacket. She placed it over the tall
back of his chair.
    “ Better,” she said and stood to look at him.
    The
nerves were coming back. She could see them surfacing in his
eyes.
    “ You want to talk?” she said and went to move away.
    He caught
her wrist and tugged her towards him. She lost her footing and
ended up crashing down onto his lap.
    “ Sorry,” he said and gave her an awkward smile.
    She
giggled and stared into