Avow by Chelsea Fine Page B

for all the reaction her body was having.
    Tristan cleared his throat.
    “I believe we are all set,” Nathaniel said. “Our ship leaves from the south port, so I will ensure transportation for us and then we shall be off on a new adventure and on our way to a cure.” He grinned around the room, taking note of the tangible tension buzzing between Scarlet and Tristan. “And won’t that be pleasant? Or at least less uncomfortable?”
    The only thing less uncomfortable than her tension with Tristan was her God-awful dress. She shifted and could almost hear her bones crack.
    Corsets were the devil.
    Tristan’s green eyes were on her again and Scarlet’s stomach fluttered. Yes. A cure would be marvelous.
     
    ***************
     
    Later that night, Tristan sat in his guest room at Nathaniel’s house stretching his neck against the emotions he felt coming from the girl upstairs.
    Scarlet was in a fit. He did not know what was responsible for the erratic feelings inside her, but they were not letting up and seemed to grow more intense by the second; blossoming inside her and darting into him.
    Frustration.
    Tristan could ignore that one. When was the woman not frustrated?
    Helplessness.
    That was a harder feeling to push aside. Scarlet was nothing if not independent. But he could not—no, he would not—check on her.
    Sadness.
    At this, Tristan rubbed his eyes, cursing the legs that pulled him up from his chair and walked him out of his room and up the stairs.
    He stood outside Scarlet’s door, debating within himself. He and Scarlet had not spoken for weeks, which had greatly reduced the number of times he had to pull himself away from her company, but had left his heart starving. And he wasn’t sure, even now, if Scarlet would even want him to show concern for her.
    Helplessness. Anger.
    He should probably go back to his own room and try to sleep through her feelings—a task far more trying than it sounded.
    Sadness.
    With his resolve vanishing into thin air, he quietly knocked on her door.
    He heard a huffing sound on the other side and then, “Who is it?”
    “Me.”
    A moment passed. Then two. Then the door peeked open to reveal a very frustrated pair of blue eyes.
    “What is wrong?” He looked up and down the hallway for any sign of Nathaniel or Gabriel.
    “What do you mean?”
    He lifted a bored eyebrow.
    Her face became stubborn for a moment, then turned to a look of surrender. “I need help.”
    She bit her lip and Tristan knew he was already done for. It didn’t matter what she needed help with, he was completely at her mercy.
    “With what?”
    She glanced up and down the hallway before opening her door and pulling him inside. He stood by her bed as she closed the door and sealed them into her candlelit room.
    Already, this was a poor idea.
    With another huff, she said, “I need help taking my dress off.”
    This was a very poor idea.
    “What?”
    Glaring at him, Scarlet made her way to the vanity. “Scoff all you want, but you are a man and your clothing makes sense.” She flailed her arms out helplessly. “There are so many ties and clasps and strings on this holy damned dress and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to take the nonsense off.”
    He tried to cover his smile.
    “I’m being serious, Tristan.” Her cheeks reddened at the crest and she wiggled in her top, trying to loosen its deadly grip around her ribcage. “The woman at the shop tied me into this ensemble today, but she failed to teach me how to find my way out of it and I have been trying to free my body for an hour. I simply cannot do it alone.”
    Tristan smiled openly now.
    “Do not laugh,” she warned.
    He laughed.
    “I need help.” Desperation . “I don’t how to live in this…time. The clothing is ridiculous and the shoes are horrendous and I don’t know what I’m doing! And this dress is just the end of it all!” She let out a frustrated cry.
    Tristan wanted to wrap her in his arms and laugh at her tantrum