Tristan's Loins

Tristan's Loins

By Karolyn Cairns

Copyright by Karolyn Cairns 2012

Smashwords Edition

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CHAPTER ONE

Her head thumped upon the computer desk twice, harder the last time for emphasis.

Ouch!

She lifted her head and glared at the blinking cursor in defeat. Hours spent looking at that pulsating object was making her cross-eyed. Sitting up in her chair with a determined look, she reached for the keyboard and then just stopped.

Ugh!

Her head went down again.

For the love of God! Can't we all just live happily ever after? Selene Weston cried out in despair and frustrated anger, feeling pathetic to have drawn a total blank. Just fall in love already! You’re making me crazy!

This was more difficult than she thought when she had set out to write a romance novel eighteen months prior. Now it was an obsession to find just the right time for blistering passion to unfold onto the page, leaving her breathless with dizzying...nausea.

Yes really sick, gut-wrenching nausea.

How do you write about something you never had?

Selene Weston lifted her head and stared at the computer screen resentfully. The beauty of blaming inanimate objects was they could hardly defend themselves. She wanted to smash her computer. It was her fault the main characters in her novel were idiots.

Her hero Tristan swaggered around waving his sword for no apparent reason. His engorged, enflamed, and laughably out-of-proportionate manhood took up five pages somewhere near the beginning of chapter three. That much-praised asset of his fluctuated in size depending upon her mood swings. He always seemed to be bulging or swelling down there. Poor guy. Either his prostate was diseased and enlarged or she really needed a man.

The book’s heroine Rhiannon was so stupid Selene wanted to kill her off after the first chapter. The spoiled snotty heiress whined through the first five chapters. Now she sat in icy silence for two more chapters. And suddenly she was all hot and bothered for the hero?

Yeah, okay, right. Can you say 'psycho bitch'? Get some antidepressants. Oh right, they didn’t have those back then. Bummer for you!

The plot did more to drive the pair apart than bring them together. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea making Tristan kill Rhiannon's dad back in chapter three. Having him force himself on Rhiannon in chapter five hardly helped matters between them.

Nice guy, when do we run away together?

If that was not enough to drive her bat-shit crazy, the villain, Lord Stephen de Montfort, Tristan's uncle and nemesis, was more interesting than the hero. Even if he was a lying, murderous bastard, at least he had depth and goals, something the others seriously lacked.

Selene reviewed her notebook on her desk going over the outline again. The bad thing about outlining a love scene it was just like faking an orgasm and twice as unsatisfying.

Just the thought of one of those wondrous things missing in her own life made her avoid the issue altogether in her book. Her own present lack of sex was evident in her writing. If she wasn’t getting any booty either was Rhiannon. Tristan was keeping his hot flaming man-sword in his breeches a while longer.

Her eyes grew tired and she put away her notes. A glance at the clock told her it was time to put it down for the night. She was getting nowhere fast and had to work in the morning.

Selene shut down the computer and gazed about her small one bedroom apartment in despair. Some of the unpacked boxes were stacked in the corner. Her pictures still leaned against the wall. Her knick-knacks remained boxed as well.

Unpacking would mean she accepted this. That would take time and less denial that she was staying here permanently. In all fairness, it had been six months since her and her husband separated. It was time to unpack. Jim was not open for reconciliation.

No, her marriage was pretty much over. She didn’t want to think about Jim right now or her ten-year marriage that went down the tubes. Dwelling upon failure was never conducive to successful writing. Right now that was all she had to cling too besides Tristan's pulsating man-rod. She giggled despite herself.

The hero in her book was a figment of her imagination. He was impossibly tall and gorgeous with long golden hair and dark, penetrating blue eyes. He was also so perfect that even she didn’t find him believable anymore.

No wonder Rhiannon hates you! You’re probably gay. I wrote you gay and she knows it, Selene thought with an evil chuckle as she entered her bedroom and slid out of her clothes.

She turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up as she berated every word she ever wrote about those two. The shower felt wonderful. She was slightly less miserable when she got out. She dressed in her pajamas and settled down to check her alarm.

Six in the morning came around early.

Selene felt like the alarm went off as soon as her head hit the pillow. Waiting for coffee at the bar separating the kitchen and living room, she checked her email.

Her eyes filled with hope to see a message there from Jim. She clicked it open. After reading the terse, impersonal message regarding the settlement meeting with his attorney that day she sighed, wishing she had forgotten it.

Today was the day they finalized the settlement for the divorce. Jim was being more than generous just to get her to sign and avoid another six months in court. He bought her out of the house, her half of the stock portfolio, kept the dog for her, and the previous bills they amassed together. She got a huge chunk of money, and nothing else, not even her dignity.

In truth, she should be glad to walk away from their marriage with a clean slate and a six-figure balance in her checking account. Most of her divorced friends said she was crazy to fight his offer. Maybe if she wasn’t still feeling the burn to know his reasons for such generosity. The gorgeous blonde secretary came to mind.

Yeah, Jim had a reason to rush matters. Ginny wouldn’t wait around forever.

His stunning secretary had quite effortlessly roped and tied her husband, making him all googly-eyed and sick over her like a fourteen year-old boy. Jim was hooked line and sinker from the minute the temporary service sent her over to work at his law firm.

Ginny couldn’t even type. She didn’t know a thing about secretarial work, but she won her husband over within a week of being on the job. Soon, he was working late or not coming home at all, claiming he fell asleep in his office.

Selene should have seen it coming, but like all women she was blindsided in her belief of her marriage and her husband. Maybe she could have forgiven Jim, but it was all very much water under the bridge now.

He was in love.

Jim wanted to marry Ginny when the divorce was final. That was the most devastating blow of all. He even moved the woman into their house not a week after she moved out. He promised his secretary everything he always denied Selene. For that, she was furious.

She worked her tail off putting Jim through law school. Was this the thanks she received?

Eyes filled with tears of anger and self-pity. The coffee maker's chugging ended, pulling her out of her misery.

Get over it!

She poured a cup and scowled down at the steaming dark brew. The best thing for her to do was to cut away from Jim cleanly and put it behind her. It was not as if they had anything but a stock portfolio between them now.

Just then, her computer beeped. She frowned. She knew she shut it off when she finished reading her email. She went over to her computer desk and hit the keyboard. The screen lit up.

A dim room popped up on the screen. It was a medieval room with a stone floor, a huge bed, a table and a single chair, and not much else. The hearth was crackling with a fire. The man paced upon the screen, dressed in medieval garb. He looked like one of the cover models from one of her books. His expression was grim.

Selene went to clear the screen to get rid of the interactive pop-up and nothing happened. The man was still there, pacing in agitation.

What now? Selene sat to tinker with the computer and clear the screen of the intrusive pop-up image.

The man stopped pacing. He drew his sword from his belt and held it aloft, looking upward his expression murderous now.

Reveal yourself, witch! He shouted in heavily accented English, making her jump as he brandished the sword and spun around looking for the voice in every corner of the room. I can hear you! Come out!

Selene stared at the man on the screen, thinking this was one very clever pop-up indeed.

You cannot hide from me, sorceress! The man raged as he waved his sword around. I can hear you breathing! I know you are here somewhere. Come out! Show yourself!

Selene stared in fascination at the man, noting his long blond hair and finely chiseled features. Even his piercing blue eyes reminded her of Tristan, the character in her book.

Whatever. I'm not buying anything, pal, so go away. She tried to clear the screen, thinking it some sort of an advertisement.

I’m not selling you anything, wench! He shouted and kicked the chair out of his way as he rounded the table, staring up at the virtual ceiling. Where are you?

Selene's hand fell away from the computer, eyes growing wide as his words registered.

No, he did not just answer her.

She really was losing it!

Keep your shorts on, pal. She fussed with her settings, trying to shut the computer down. And the name is Selene. Just Selene. Not wench!

Come out then, Just Selene, and we will talk, The man shouted upward. I’ll not slay you, Just Selene. I just wish to talk with you.

Selene froze at his words. You heard me?

Of course I heard you! The man snapped as he stared around the four corners of the room. But I cannot see you, Just Selene. Enough of your sorcery! Come out at once and I will forgive this transgression. I shall be lenient.

Oh my God! Selene covered her mouth, fear filling her eyes. Either she was insane, or the man on the screen heard her and talked to her.

This is no time to pray, Just Selene. The man sheathed his sword in his belt. You have toyed with me enough this night, and I’ll know why!

This is not happening! Selene backed her computer chair up, away from the desk.

Yes, this is very much happening! The man scowled upward. You have invaded my room! You will come out and speak with me, witch!

I'm losing my mind. Her eyes widened as the man sat at the table and leaned upon his elbows. You’re not real.

I’m very real, Just Selene, he argued in a clipped voice. It is you who remains in shadow.

My name is Selene! Only Selene!

Only Selene? That is a stupid name, the man commented and shrugged. Your parents should be horsewhipped for their ignorance.

Selene fumed at the man's arrogance. This had to be some sort of a live webcam. She looked around the desk, wondering if Darcy and Maggie played some sort of practical joke on her. Her two best girlfriends would do something like this.

It wasn’t even her birthday.

What was going on?

You have grown quiet, Only Selene. The man rubbed his stubbly jaw. Have you considered my offer of leniency?

Oh shut up! Selene looked around the desk. I'm going to kill Darcy and Maggie for this! I know this is all a joke.

You do not speak to me thusly, wench! The man shouted in rage. If there is any slaying to be done, it will be done by me! Who are these Darcy and Maggie creatures you speak of? I find nothing funny about this, Only Selene.

Oh, you’re good! Selene started looking around the floor. I'm going to find where you’re plugged in at and we will see about this.

Plugged in? His handsome face appeared confused. You do speak oddly, Only Selene.

Can it, buddy! She crawled around underneath her desk. We both know Darcy and Maggie hired you to annoy me!

The man made a frustrated sound, his face reddening at her words. I’m not this Buddy person you refer to! I am Tristan de Montfort! You go too far! First, you invade my room and refuse to come out, and now you imply I am some hireling of these foul creatures you speak of. Enough of your foolishness! I demand you come out!

Selene could find no unusual wires or cords and frowned as she sat once more in front of the computer. The man looked annoyed, his handsome face flushed. It was obvious he was not going anywhere anytime soon.

Okay, I'll play. She glared at the screensaver. Your name is Tristan de Montfort, right? How much are they paying you? This is unreal.

Tristan glared up at the voice. "I’m Lord de Montfort, you impertinent wench! No one has paid me a farthing! I can assure you this is all very real. I woke to your voice just now and can still hear you, if not see you!"

This is a joke! Selene’s eyes grew uneasy.

How could Darcy and Maggie know her character's name?

She hadn’t allowed anyone to read her work outside of her critique group since she started this project.

Do you see humor here, Only Selene? The man asked irately. You keep me from my sleep and my uncle is fast upon my heels. I must rise at dawn if I hope to reach Raven's Keep before his vassals overtake me.

Selene opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She quickly referred to her notes from the night before in her outline. She scanned the page to where she left off.

Tristan was indeed staying in the castle of one of his father's allies. His uncle, the cruel and calculating Stephen de Montfort was giving chase. He was determined to steal Rhiannon away from his nephew before he succeeded in marrying the wealthy heiress.

They were to be married promptly when Tristan arrived at Raven's Keep. Marrying Rhiannon and securing her dowry would allow Tristan to gain the funds to make war on his powerful uncle, the man who murdered his parents to steal his birthright.

This can't be real. She shook her head, looking around wildly. This isn’t real!

Tristan laughed. Yes, Only Selene, this is very real.

Oh my God!

You will not pray again, Only Selene, Tristan ordered in a clipped voice, his expression turning to one of annoyance. You will come out at once and be done with this nonsense.

Selene dazedly got up and went to the phone, never taking her eyes off the handsome blond man on the computer screen. The automated switchboard at the school answered. She spoke into the phone, calling in sick for the first time in eight years.

She taught fourth grade English. Her students could deal with a substitute today. She was in no condition to go to work. Obviously, she was losing her mind. The phone dropped from her hand to the floor.

Only Selene, where are you? Tristan called out, sounding disgusted. Come out!

Selene approached the desk and sat down. Eyes widened as she looked at the character of her book, really looked at him now. The same details she included in her book made her cringe, seeing the handsome, all too-perfect features, marred only by the scar on his forehead. Even his tunic was the same as she described it. It was a shade of pale blue wool that offset his eyes. Her anguished gaze widened to see the large de Montfort ruby ring on his left forefinger as he leaned upon his hands. The ring had been his father's, stolen by his Uncle Stephen.

Gideon, his father’s loyal servant, raised Tristan until he reached adulthood. The man found him in infancy after his parent's murders. Stephen de Montfort thought Tristan dead, and the earldom his. Gideon raised him to be a warrior and regain his birthright.

King John was sympathetic to the young lord's plight but stayed out of the matter. The king said if Tristan wanted his title and lands back he must fight for them. Tristan had begun to spy upon his uncle and discovered he had a very young and beautiful mistress named Christabel.

Tristan wormed his way into Christabel's bed to learn all he needed to know about his uncle. Stephen was very possessive of his young, desirable mistress. One night after Tristan left her house, his uncle's men accosted him and dragged him before the nobleman bound and beaten.

Stephen de Montfort didn’t know he was looking at his assumed-dead nephew, or Tristan wouldn’t have survived that night. His uncle was satisfied with having him beaten for trespassing upon his territory. He removed his knife to carve a crude ‘S’ into his forehead.

Tristan succeeded at working at his bonds. He freed himself and lunged for the knife. He came out the victor in the tussle and used the knife to cut off Stephen de Montfort's finger, stealing back his father's signet ring.

Tristan made sure his uncle knew who he was before he left his estate. He stopped to kidnap the lovely heiress along the way to Raven's Keep. Stephen was amassing an army now to fight his nephew, determined not to lose his power.

If you’re really Tristan de Montfort, what is your mother's name?

Isabelle, he obliged softly and looked upward. That was her name. Now will you come out?

Selene sat back in her chair, stunned. No one could have known that name. I haven't written it yet!

Tristan appeared satisfied the matter of his identity was realized. He gazed at the nothingness beyond him, eyes narrowed. Now, Only Selene, you will kindly come out and explain how you have entered my room. Lord de Vigny assured me I had safe asylum here this night! Is this some trickery on his part?

No, Lord de Vigny is your staunchest supporter, Selene argued in a placating tone.He is an old and trusted friend to your father. He would never betray you, even if he doesn't have the fortune to help you reclaim your birthright.

Tristan scowled at her words. How is it you know so much about my business, wench?

Easy on the wench bit, pal! Selene fumed at his blatant disrespect. I told you my name. Just let me think! This can’t be real, but I'm talking to you. I have to assume I'm losing my mind, if that’s the case.

This is all very real, Only Selene, Tristan concluded sharply. I’m up listening to you skulk about my room when I should be abed resting up for tomorrow.

Oh will you just zip it already? Selene drummed her fingers on the desk. Just to ease your mind, you make it back to Raven's Keep without a hitch. Your uncle doesn’t catch up to you.

And how do you know this, Only Selene? Tristan looked outraged, his face reddening.

Because I’m writing it that way!

Now you do sound insane, Only Selene, Tristan mused. It is not possible for you to know what I’ll do before I do it.

Actually, you’re not even real but a character in my book. I can do whatever I want. Be lucky I don't allow him to catch you! He's awfully mad you cut off his finger!

Tristan froze suddenly, eyes filled with suspicion. How did you know of that? I have told no one of my altercation with my uncle, not even Gideon. What enchantment is this?

Selene smiled tightly. Because I wrote it, that's why. I'm a writer. Well, I'm trying to be. This is my first book. You’re a character in it. None of this is real at all.

You lie, wench! Tristan scowled as he sat back in the chair. That is not possible.

It’s true! Selene pulled out her notebook. I’ll prove it to you.

How can you offer such proof?

I know of your deepest secrets. Selene looked smug as she saw his obvious doubt. I know everything about you.

Such as?

I know you pray each night before bed to honor your father's memory.

Tristan looked ill. What treachery is this? You lie! My prayers are my own!

No, I wrote them. You do it every night, swearing to avenge him and your mother.

This is an outrage! Tristan appeared positively livid.

I’m afraid it's true. You’re a character in my book, and all of this is not real. Selene went on to explain the whole plot of her book to