Free Starlight by Isadora Rose, Kate Monroe Page B

that you seem to have put your misgivings aside and come to know Tristan a little better, Esther. He is not the man he is portrayed to be.”
    “So I am coming to fear, Eleanor; he is far more dangerous.”
    Eleanor’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
    Esther had not realised she had spoken her thoughts out loud. Before she could attempt to stammer an excuse for what must seem to Eleanor to be an inexplicable reaction, though, the butler hastened towards them and bowed deeply. “My lady? The vicar is here to go over the arrangements for Lady Catherine’s baptism.”
    “Is that the time already?” Though a small frown still creased her pretty face, Eleanor leapt up and held her daughter out towards Esther. “Look after her for me whilst I am with the vicar, Esther.”
    She shook her head frantically and pushed her chair backwards. “Oh, I should not, Eleanor –“
    “Nonsense,” the other woman said briskly. Her eyes were full of sympathy, but she placed her daughter in Esther’s arms nonetheless before departing the parlour with the butler at her side to leave her alone with the infant.
    It had been two long years since Esther had held an infant in her arms – she had managed to evade being alone with Catherine in the week she had been at Fleetwood Hall. Now, though, she was trapped.
    Already feeling feverish and nauseous as she battled to suppress the memories that she could not bear to confront, she began to pace back and forth with Catherine cradled against her breasts, murmuring soothingly for fear the baby would wake up and only make it more difficult for her.
    To Esther’s dizzying relief, the door swung open again and she instantly turned towards it, hoping for some manner of rescue; but it was the Comte stood there. To her astonishment, though, his dark eyes softened the moment that his gaze settled upon Catherine before he lifted his head to look Esther directly in the eye.
    “Ah, my Esther, how very beautiful you look with a babe in your arms!”
    Tristan’s hoarse words were entirely sincere. He could not hold himself back from crossing the room as if in a dream to stand behind her and envelop her body in his possessive embrace, gently kissing the exposed nape of her neck as she tenderly rocked the sleeping child.
    Esther closed her eyes and relaxed into his hold. Merely being wrapped in his arms was enough to soothe her, as much as she wished it were not so. She shivered violently as he kissed her again before murmuring words of rapid French that she could not understand into her ear, the soft tickle of his warm breath against the side of her throat inflaming a tide of emotion that could no longer be restrained.
    Tristan could do nothing to silence the words of love that tumbled from his lips. To him, Esther had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment with the baby against her breast, her wide eyes filled with emotion and a deep flush to her skin. The ferocity of his love for her terrified him, for it seemed to only intensify with each moment they spent together; and he was coming to a startling realisation that he would do anything to keep her past the two nights they had left.
    He kissed her again. “ Vous êtes la lumière de ma vie, ma petite étoile; mon ange, mon amour !”
    Though Esther could not understand the Comte’s words, the fiery passion behind them was more than apparent – and it terrified her. She yearned to accept it and all that it promised, but how could she knowing what he had so coldly done to her cousin? She had gone through too much at the hands of her husband to ever put herself in such danger again.
    Hot, bitter tears began to roll unrestrained down her face.
    “You are crying, Esther.” Tristan reached up to cup her face in the palm of his trembling hand and wipe her tears away whilst resting his free hand against the soft curve of her stomach to hold her in place against him. “ Chérie , tell me - why you are crying?”
    She twisted away from