To Love To Lose

A Lover's Tiff

Tristan smiled up at Alice as she rode toward him atop her dark brown mare. She looked almost regal and he wondered if she knew just how much she looked like her brother atop a horse.

The union had been Alice's uncle's idea and Tristan had noted the King's skepticism about Tristan housing Alice in the midst of the unrest between Enfold and Maunsel. I did not blame him; not only were the woods plagued with members of Jeremy's clan but the decree placed on the town meant once Alice pledged, she could not leave.

He did not plan to tell her this, however.

"How was Maunsel, my Lady?" she looked down at him and accepted his help but seemed to keep her distance. Tristan frowned when she did not answer immediately. "Alice?"

"It was most... enlightening, Lord Maunsel" Tristan flinched at the ice of her words and handed Alice's mare's reigns to Robert who led the horses away, a sheepish look on his face.

Tristan turned to Alice. She was scowling down at the ground, her feet kicking softly at the grass.

"What is the matter?" Tristan had a horrible feeling she knew.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tristan sighed and narrowed his eyes in the direction of Robert. "Don't you dare look at him like that. He is delusional but not at all able to betray you. T'was not him."

Tristan looked to her in shock, "delusional?"

"Yes! Incredibly so! Your whole town is rife with the thought that there is unmasked danger outside of the walls and poor Martha has never even seen the lap of the tide! She sa..."

Alice stopped. Tristan's face had turned grave, a slightly crazed and angry look swirled across his irises.

"Martha Scully?" Alice frowned.

"I know not her second name but surely..."

"But surely nothing!" The sheer malice in his voice caused Alice to jump, a startled noise flew from her lips and she quickly raised a hand to stop it. "Martha Sully is a witch that does not know where her loyalties begin and her story telling ends. You are not to listen to her wild accusations. Do you hear me?"

Alice's blood boiled and seethed under her flushed skin.

"You shall not command me Tristan. I will do what I please as long as I am my own woman and even beyond that. I will be the Lady of this house and as my husband you do not get to berate and belittle me. I will see Martha when I please and I see already she does not lie." Tristan's brows raised in shock, his eyes wide with incredulous confusion.

"Get out of my sight." Alice floundered to reply but she found tears stinging her eyes. He was not listening to her, he was not being fair and he most certainly was not being polite.

"I..."

"GO!" Tristan snapped, his hand reached out and flung her behind him against the manor walls. The sleeve of her dress came away from it's seams and fell limply at her elbow. Alice gasped and stumbled away from Tristan clutching the stone walls of the manor for comfort.

He spun and glared at her, anger scoured into his features and a snarl on his lips. He looked like an animal; carnal, burning with rage and utterly terrifying. Alice found herself trembling against the icy feel of the manor's vast, stone walls but she doubted it was their temperature causing her prey-like tremble.

Tristan strode over to her, his hand slapped against the wall above her head and his head ducked slightly until it was level with her own.

"I forbid you to talk to Martha Scully ever again. Do you understand me?" Alice looked at the ground, her heart pounding rapidly against her chest.

He was so close.

She noted that now he was closer, he was less formidable. His chest was riding and falling close to her head and she could see it's bare skin just under his shirt. She found she was fighting against her hands to stop them from trailing under his shirt and over he back of his neck. She longed to tuck her face into his neck and inhale the morning mist that had settled against his tanned skin and run her fingers lightly down the stubble on his sharp chin.

She was not afraid of him anymore, she was afraid of herself and the longing in her loins.

Alice looked up, into his eyes, and found him staring down at her, his eyebrows knitted together and a muscle in his forehead twitching. She reached up with a trembling hand and placed her fingers on his temple. He flinched at the coolness of her hand but allowed her to touch him; he was afraid this was the last intimate moment she would allow him after his outburst.

He found his headache began to clear as he felt her other hand rise and both hands lay flat against the sides of his head. He closed his eyes and brought his forehead to touch hers.

"Please, never shout at me like that again." Tristan allowed her words to swim about his head and he knew he was wrong. His anger was not misplaced but she did not yet understand what she had just said.

He could apologise. But then, it was not in his nature.

"I will try. Do not annoy me and I shall not find a reason." He found a smile forming on his lips and felt Alice's shoulders rise and fall in a small, weak chuckle. It was not forgotten, but he could tell she had come something close to forgiving him.

He released her and without a word or a glance back, walked around to help Robert with the horses. He would have a stern word with Martha Scully, later.

~~

Alice remained cemented to the wall, a sheen of sweat had gathered on the back of her neck and she could feel more tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She felt exhausted and quite unsure of herself.

Tristan had both exhilarated and exhausted her in a few seconds and she was terrified that she would experience it again. She knew that for some reason, Martha was a delicate topic but she could not for the life of her understand why?

Was Martha one of the 'loves' he had turned from his bed? Had he mistreated her? Had he hurt her?

These thoughts circled Alice's head as she hurried back to her chambers.

What did Martha know about Tristan that was so secret, Robert prevented her from uttering it.

She rushed up the stairs pulling her skirts up high, taking no note if propriety.

Had Martha uncovered something about Tristan that was less than savoury and had been evicted because of it?

She flung the door of her chamber open and bolted the door, sliding down it as she dropped to the floor, tears littering her cheeks.

Did she even know the real Tristan? Who was he and did she really want to know?