Trystan wasn’t sure if the fleeting pace of the next three weeks had been a relief or a punishment. He had managed, through sheer determination, to stay away from Bridget in situations that could have ended with her flat on her back and him inside her. Trystan rather suspected it was Kent’s blasted protective nature and watchful attitude that had truly kept him at bay.
That day of the rainstorm, when Trystan and Bridget had returned to the house disheveled and soaking wet, he had guiltily avoided his friend’s inquiring gaze. Graham had teased him as if he had seen nothing worrisome in the time alone the two had shared, but Kent had instead become ever more vigilant after that day.
Now it was all coming to an end. Now was the moment everyone had been waiting for, the night of Lady Tremain
