All Chapters of Sold to the coldhearted beast: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

*Tristan* In the library, I stand by the fireplace and drink my best Scotch, one glass after another, while she sits in a nearby chair, her posture perfect. In the end, she isn’t Reading me poetry but some story about windswept moors and haunting love. But I am not listening to the words as much as I am the lilt and smoky cadence of her voice. The raspiness of it has intrigued me from the beginning. She could recite the letters of the alphabet and hold me enthralled. Dangerous, so very dangerous. I want to sweep her up into my arms and carry her upstairs, even knowing the hell that holding her so close would bring. Watching her, I can almost forget my limitations, that there is so much I can not give her, and for the first time in my life, my inadequacies fill me with regret. I am vain enough to acknowledge that on the surface I am a handsome enough fellow. It is what lies beneath that would turn her away. The dark parts, the secrets, the things I have done. If she knew of those,

*Everly* Even if he hadn’t told me that he would be gone when I woke, I would have known. The residence takes on a different feel when he isn’t there. I can’t quite explain it, but it seems emptier, less vital, more plain. After Lila has helped me dress, I step into the hallway just as a rather short and podgy servant is opening the door to the bedchamber across the hall. Ironed shirts are draped across his left arm. I try not to stare at the clawlike gloved hand that seems to be frozen in a most uncomfortable position. He stops and gives a quick bow. “Good morning, miss. I’m Mr. Rafe’s valet. Bateman”. I force myself to smile so he will not read my mind. I am wondering how a one-handed valet can possibly see to his duties properly. He must have seen what I am thinking, however, because he explains. “My hand got smashed when I was younger. It never healed properly. Still aches a bit, especially when the weather is cold and damp”. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m certain you’re a marv

*Everly*I fear my wrists might be bruised in the morning. I know he hadn’t realized how tightly he was gripping me when he bucked against me with his final thrusts. Locked in my own web of passion, I hadn’t noticed it either until I got up to clean myself and fetch the silk robe that he had sewn for me.He has slipped into his trousers, and now sits with his back against the headboard, his ankles crossed, as he eats a meat-filled pastry. The tray of food rests between us on the bed. At least he hadn’t left immediately. Although based on the way he watched me, I suspect that we will have another rousing round before he does.“I like the necklace”. I say.“I will bring you another tomorrow”.He says it as though there is nothing special about it. It is simply a thing to be given. As I am just a woman to be taken.“You have given me so much already, you don’t have to give me jewelry”.He stops chewing, studying me as though seeing me for the first time. “Mistresses are supposed to want

*Everly* “That was remarkably rude”. I mutter. He shrugs. “We didn’t come here to talk. We came here to dance”. “Why didn’t you tell me whose affair we were attending ?” “What does it matter ? You wanted to attend a ball, and you have. One dance and we leave. Enjoy it, sweetheart”. Within the mad crush of dancing couples, he takes me into his arms and glides me over the polished wood. I want to remain irritated with him, but decide to lock it away until later. I do not understand his relationship with his brothers… except to think that he doesn’t truly have one. But for now, I am at a ball dancing with a handsome gentleman. I will not have it ruined. “Why didn’t you let him know that you lived beside him ?” All right. Perhaps it will be ruined. “It never came up in conversation”. I give a small huff. “You can be the most infuriating man … ”. “Who brought you to something he despises so you might find some enjoyment”. That knocks all the fight out of me. “Do you really desp

*Everly* I am in my nightdress by the time I hear him leave his bedchamber. I expect him to come to me, but instead his footsteps echo in the hallway, growing fainter as he retreats down the stairs. I consider crawling into bed, but I have decided this mistress business involves more than what happened between the sheets. He might not want it to be so, but it does. For whatever reason, he is estranged from his brothers, and while he might not admit it, it causes him considerable pain. Grabbing my wrap, I slip into it and belt it firmly at my waist before heading out of my room and following the path I am certain he has taken. He might have gone to his club for all I know, but I hope not. I know it is his place of solace, when I dearly want to play that role in his life. I am not certain when I had developed such a fondness for him. He is obstinate, moody, and doesn't possess a frivolous bone in his entire body, but for the moment at least, he is mine. Until he grows tired of me, I