Bewitching in Boots Read Free Page B

having a difficult time thinking clearly with him near, her thoughts dominated by the shameless fantasies he inspired.
    “Well, at least the inside of the château looks better than the outside,” Agathe remarked, glancing around. Standing in the vestibule, Elisabeth gazed up at the grand staircase, caring little about the condition of Tristan’s home at the moment. Not when she needed to steel her resolve so that she didn’t run back to Versailles like a coward. In a few moments, Tristan would enter the château and she had to be ready for another round of wits and wills.
    She was supposed to be seducing him. Have him mindless with hunger for her. She thought she’d seen heated interest in his eyes. Or was that simply wishful thinking? Her senses were so frenzied, she couldn’t say for certain if she was having a warming effect on him—beyond anger.
    Claire placed her hand on Elisabeth’s shoulder. “Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”
    Elisabeth forced a smile. “It’s this terrible heat. I’m fine.” Nothing could be further from the truth. She was in over her head and drowning fast.
    Tristan entered with the same two men who’d been with him outside, both men bearing a striking resemblance to him, though one gentleman was at least twenty-five years Tristan’s senior.
    The second Tristan spotted her in the grand entranceway, he marched to her, his cane aiding him along.
    Anytime he entered a room, his male beauty took her breath away. Now was no exception. Her breath stuck in her throat for a moment and her heart gave a flutter.
    Oh, Elisabeth, you are so under his spell . She was all but ready to throw herself at him and beg him to take her just so she’d have some relief from the yearning throbbing through her core. Anything that would put an end to this attraction and affinity.
    She dropped her gaze briefly and couldn’t help but notice the pronounced bulge in his breeches. Dear God, he . . . desired her! It was indisputable. It was incredible.
    A sudden surge of much-needed confidence welled inside her. Her insides danced.
    Frowning, he halted before her.
    Smiling, she looked up at him. Oh, yes  . . . This is going to happen. He was going to be her lover. Maybe even more  . . . her heart whispered.
    “I don’t know what game you are playing, Duchesse. Nor do I wish to know,” he said. “If you’re looking for new forms of amusement, I suggest you seek them out at court. Not here.”
    “Please excuse my brother. He has completely forgotten his manners, madame.” The younger man elbowed past his older sibling. He had the same dark hair, but his eyes were not as vibrant as Tristan’s blue eyes. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Gabriel de Tiersonnier.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “This is our uncle, Richard de Tiersonnier.”
    The older gentleman stepped forward and kissed her hand, too. “ Enchanté , madame.”
    “A pleasure to meet you both.” She introduced her sister. Her nerves were beginning to settle as she became surer of herself. If Tristan desired her, even a little, she had him.
    Tristan simply glowered silently at her, then reluctantly murmured an apology and a greeting to Claire.
    “Now then, about my lessons.” Elisabeth leaped back into the subject before Tristan could begin a new tirade. She stepped close to Tristan again, this time leaving less room between their bodies than she had outside. Something flared in his eyes, something she read as hunger.
    Her fever spiked.
    Praying he couldn’t tell just how undone she was by him, lest she lose ground, she managed to state firmly, “You’ll provide a lesson every day. First thing in the morning. You see, I’ve challenged someone. By week’s end, I expect, thanks to your instructions, to be able to best him.”
    He held her stare for a moment. “Whom have you challenged?” There was skepticism in his tone. He thought she was lying. Well, she was lying. Normally, she didn’t give a