The Sweetest Love (Sons of Worthington Series) by Marie Higgins Page A
Authors: Marie Higgins
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known for duels, but deep inside her, she knew Tristan would come out the victor. He had not failed her yet, and her heart told her she could always count on him.
* * * *
Tears spilled from Diana’s eyes as she stood staring blindly out the window as her parents and Lord Hollingsworth discussed her quick wedding.
She’d waited to hear something about the duel this morning, but she wasn’t prepared for what her father had told her.
Tristan didn’t show up for the duel… Took the coward’s way out… He’s nowhere to be found.
Although the words continued to echo through her head, she dared not believe it. Yet…where was Tristan now? Hadn’t he wanted to marry her? But according to those people who had arrived at Harvey’s Cliffs this morning to witness the duel, they all confirmed that Tristan had not shown up.
He’d abandoned her and left her in the clutches of a vile, disgusting Viscount who didn’t care about her as much as he cared about winning—about possessing .
Piece by piece, her heart shattered slowly as realization sunk in. Tristan hadn’t loved her as much as she had loved him. And he certainly did not want to marry her. She was even prepared to elope with him if needs be.
In a way she wanted to feel relief that she hadn’t married a coward and deceiver such as Tristan Worthington. Yet, why couldn’t her heart stop loving him and wanting him back? Now she knew that would never happen…and her future looked bleak.
Chapter Eight
Three years later, back at the unknown cottage
Tristan’s body ached terribly, and his skin chafed from the rope burns. When he wasn’t so mad, he’d have to compliment that maid for being so thorough with his bindings. But until then, he was content to be upset with her—and Diana—for forcing him to stay here.
The ladies had retired for bed hours ago and were probably sleeping just fine in their comfy beds while their prisoner was completely uncomfortable in this chair. He glanced over at the sofa only a few steps away from him. If only he could bounce somehow to those soft, inviting, cushions and lay his head on something soft…then he’d be able to sleep.
As well as he could using only his chin and shoulder, he tried to remove the gag. It moved a little, but didn’t come off. Still, it was enough that he could at least lick his lips if needs be.
Using all of his strength, he concentrated on jumping in the chair. It took him a few times, but soon, he was able to move the chair—if only an inch at a time. That would be good enough for now.
He huffed and groaned as he forced his body to move with the chair, commanding the chair to move in the direction he wanted to go. Finally, when he got close enough to the sofa, he lunged. The chair tipped, and thankfully, landed on the cushions. Half of him was on the sofa, while the other half was still on the floor. It didn’t matter, because at least his head had something soft to lay on now.
Exhaustion filled him and he took slow breaths, trying to relax. Too bad his mind wouldn’t relax. He still wondered why Diana felt that what had happened between them three years ago was his fault. Her words had not made a bit of sense. If anything, he should loathe her…which he did. He just couldn’t remember exactly why…
His memory hadn’t fully returned, and that irritated him more than anything. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to recall the past, the further away he was taken from the truth.
Slowly, he closed his eyes and listened to the rain pounding the roof in a steady rhythm. Soon, his mind drifted asleep. Diana’s wide green eyes—passionate eyes—were in this thoughts.
Three years ago, he’d been crushed to discover she hadn’t tried to stop the duel. Not that he wanted her to chase after him, but she didn’t even voice her opinion or pretend that she cared. Many of the events that occurred before the duel were foggy, but he remembered feelings of despondency.
What had really
* * * *
Tears spilled from Diana’s eyes as she stood staring blindly out the window as her parents and Lord Hollingsworth discussed her quick wedding.
She’d waited to hear something about the duel this morning, but she wasn’t prepared for what her father had told her.
Tristan didn’t show up for the duel… Took the coward’s way out… He’s nowhere to be found.
Although the words continued to echo through her head, she dared not believe it. Yet…where was Tristan now? Hadn’t he wanted to marry her? But according to those people who had arrived at Harvey’s Cliffs this morning to witness the duel, they all confirmed that Tristan had not shown up.
He’d abandoned her and left her in the clutches of a vile, disgusting Viscount who didn’t care about her as much as he cared about winning—about possessing .
Piece by piece, her heart shattered slowly as realization sunk in. Tristan hadn’t loved her as much as she had loved him. And he certainly did not want to marry her. She was even prepared to elope with him if needs be.
In a way she wanted to feel relief that she hadn’t married a coward and deceiver such as Tristan Worthington. Yet, why couldn’t her heart stop loving him and wanting him back? Now she knew that would never happen…and her future looked bleak.
Chapter Eight
Three years later, back at the unknown cottage
Tristan’s body ached terribly, and his skin chafed from the rope burns. When he wasn’t so mad, he’d have to compliment that maid for being so thorough with his bindings. But until then, he was content to be upset with her—and Diana—for forcing him to stay here.
The ladies had retired for bed hours ago and were probably sleeping just fine in their comfy beds while their prisoner was completely uncomfortable in this chair. He glanced over at the sofa only a few steps away from him. If only he could bounce somehow to those soft, inviting, cushions and lay his head on something soft…then he’d be able to sleep.
As well as he could using only his chin and shoulder, he tried to remove the gag. It moved a little, but didn’t come off. Still, it was enough that he could at least lick his lips if needs be.
Using all of his strength, he concentrated on jumping in the chair. It took him a few times, but soon, he was able to move the chair—if only an inch at a time. That would be good enough for now.
He huffed and groaned as he forced his body to move with the chair, commanding the chair to move in the direction he wanted to go. Finally, when he got close enough to the sofa, he lunged. The chair tipped, and thankfully, landed on the cushions. Half of him was on the sofa, while the other half was still on the floor. It didn’t matter, because at least his head had something soft to lay on now.
Exhaustion filled him and he took slow breaths, trying to relax. Too bad his mind wouldn’t relax. He still wondered why Diana felt that what had happened between them three years ago was his fault. Her words had not made a bit of sense. If anything, he should loathe her…which he did. He just couldn’t remember exactly why…
His memory hadn’t fully returned, and that irritated him more than anything. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to recall the past, the further away he was taken from the truth.
Slowly, he closed his eyes and listened to the rain pounding the roof in a steady rhythm. Soon, his mind drifted asleep. Diana’s wide green eyes—passionate eyes—were in this thoughts.
Three years ago, he’d been crushed to discover she hadn’t tried to stop the duel. Not that he wanted her to chase after him, but she didn’t even voice her opinion or pretend that she cared. Many of the events that occurred before the duel were foggy, but he remembered feelings of despondency.
What had really
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