She fingered the gown in the closet. It was a masterpiece, made of shimmering white clothe with green embroidery with gold tulle draped perfectly over the skirt.

"Do you like it, milady?"

Opal looked over her shoulder at the maid. "I'm only a miss…um—"

"Mary, miss," she said, her eyelashes fluttered as she simpered.

She released the gown, and started towards the bath with her hand at the lacing on her bodice. "Thank you. That'll be all."

"But your bath!" The maid frantically fussed over the scented oils and petals. "Who will help you wash?"

"I've been washing myself for years," she told the girl. "In about an hour I will need your assistance with the gown, but until then I should be fine."

When the maid was gone, Opal looked at the oils and dumped some of one in the bath tub. She placed it back in the basket. She trailed her fingers in the water. She sat on the edge of the tub, her eyes unseeing as the steam rose. After a moment, she stepped back and removed her gown. She removed her bloomers next, and shimmied out of her chemise.

When she stood in her stockings, she picked up her clothes and laid them out on the bed. As she smoothed the wrinkles from her gown, the door swung open. "I told you I could wash myself," she said, straightening.

A small sound made her turn.

Tristan stood there, his expression that of a trapped man, his eyes trailing slowly over her body.

Opal screeched, grabbing the gown to the front of her. "What are you doing here?!" she demanded.

He gave a nervous laugh. "I wanted to talk…apparently this isn't the best time."

He was still staring. "No, no it's not. In fact, never is the right time. Get out." She slapped her hand against his chest and shoved. The door shut behind him as he leaned back.

She reached with her other hand for a door knob. Silk tickled down her legs as her dress fell. Tristan froze as he felt her body press against his.

He hadn't intended to do any thing more than ask her forgiveness. He had certainly not thought he'd see her…He swallowed.

She was beautiful—and too desirable for her own good. He reached back unwittingly for the doorknob at the same moment she did, colliding over the doorknob. Her wide amber eyes looked up at him, and her lips parted slightly.

He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his.

The world went up in flames. His hand slid across her wrist and up to her forearm. His thumb made tiny circles on the inside of her arm as he deepened the kiss. She wound her arms around his neck, her leg hooked behind his leg. He moaned softly into her mouth, pressing her closer. She was barely aware of him leaning her back into the bed.

His hand stroked her shoulder, her collarbone, then lower. She arched into his hand as it reached her breasts. The other hand was at her lower back, holding her close. As if he were afraid she would leave him.

She smiled against his lips at the thought. She raked her nails gently across his back until she reached his buttocks. In a swift movement, she tugged his shirt out of his pants and up his torso. Reluctantly he released her until she could tug it over his head. The moment it was gone his hands were on her again. She sighed as he kissed her neck. "I love you," she whispered.

He stopped, pulling back to look at her. His mouth opened, words poised on the tip of his tongue.

"Opal?"

In seconds he was on his feet cursing inwardly. Taking deep breaths he lifted himself off her. If he didn't think that the woman would stab him in the heart if he dared reveal what had happened, he would thank Serenity. He pulled his shirt back on and rolled under the bed.

Opal was also in a state of distress, she reached for her dress but her image in the mirror stopped her. A small red mark sat over her heart. "Tristan," she groaned, releasing the dress and instead stepping into the tub. She was barely laying down when her mother opened the door.

"That's rather childish, don't you think?" Serenity said behind her. She rounded the tub to look down at her daughter.

Opal shimmied lower so that the water rose to her neck. "I'm sorry, your voice woke me."

"That's not what I meant." She picked up the oils, glaring at the bottles.

Opal wanted to look at her, to see what her mother was thinking. She tilted her head back, but she was too far out of her vision.

Serenity, placed the bottle back in its place, a faint tinkle following the movement. "Opal, I was trying to get rid of your father because he was part of the massacre that killed my father, mother, your aunts and uncle. I was not ready to trust him with our safety. With your safety."

"Shouldn't I have been the one to decide that?"

Serenity cupped her forehead, her hand covering her eyes. "I don't know, Opal. You're so young. I felt the need to protect you. It's a mother's right…that's what I told myself." She took a deep breath approaching the tub. "I was wrong, and I know it. You're almost an adult, and I should have respected that. Please forgive me, sweetheart."

Neither woman moved an inch. "I'm sorry Opal."

The soft click of the door signaled Serenity's exit.

Tristan rolled out from under the bed, his eyes fixed on Opal's back. "Opal?"

When she didn't say anything, he got up and approached her. He gently placed an arm around her shoulders. Seconds after, she splashed him. "You! If it weren't for you I could have gone after her! Look at this!" She pointed at the bruise mark on her breast. He blushed.

"I'm sorry. I got…carried away." She began to stand, but he pushed her back down with one hand. "Stay, continue your bath. I need to go anyways. He leaned in towards her then stopped. "I really need to go." He stood, backing out the door. "I'll see you tonight."

"Wait! Tristan!" she called as the door slammed shut. Her gaze was glued to the door. His reply couldn't have been more blatant if he'd said it. Why, why, why had she told him? She raised her fist and brought it down hard into the water. It splashed into her eyes and up her nose. She sneezed, and sneezed again.

When the moments had passed, she rubbed her eyes, telling herself that the burning there was merely from sneezing.

Ryan stopped outside the door, nonplussed. Shifting from foot to foot, he couldn't seem to find the will to...

It hurt, too. It hurt that he couldn't speak to her without Opal or anyone someone else around. Even then, it was so far from what they used to have.

Maybe, he could try again. Tristan was back. He was back, and Ryan could try again.

And if Tristan disappeared again, he wouldn't give up.

Resolutely, he knocked.

No one answered.

Feeling deflated, he started to leave. He stopped before he'd even taken a step. "How long…were you standing there?"

Viola smiled. "You never could hide what you were thinking." She stepped forward. "Did you really watch me sleep?"

Biting his lip, he nodded.

"If it were any other guy, I'd banish him to the dungeon," she said, her eyes sparkling.

He stepped back, warily.

"Since it's you..." She hesitated. "We have another chance, what are you going to do?"

He gazed her smile filled with promise that was slowly fading…

He didn't answer with words.

The ball room sparkled with opulently dressed gentry and uniformed servants. Each person who was not waiting for the dancing to begin were sipping from goblets filled with champagne and rich wines.

Only Opal indulged in warm club soda. Opal grimaced at the bitter taste. She almost preferred the champagne, but she still remembered the first time she'd tried it. Her mother had laughed about it for weeks.

She set it down on one of the footmen's platters as it passed by. To think that she had wanted to go to the ball only a couple days ago, and now it was merely a nuisance. If only she could find Viola. She gazed around the room, looking for a hint of lavender and white that she knew Viola would be wearing tonight.

Instead, her eyes met with a brick wall of a chest. Slowly, she looked up. A hulk of a man offered his hand to her. "Good evening," he rumbled. She nodded hesitantly to him. He seemed to wait for something. "I'm Samuel of Sutland," he prompted.

"Oh!" she cried, offering her own hand to him. "Opal Stanton. Pleasure to meet you."

He took it, raising it to his lips. She didn't miss the flash of heat that came from him as he straightened. She smiled at him, making sure her fangs didn't show. Who knew how the poor human would act if he knew about those.

"May I have this dance?" He extended a hand to her. She gently took it.

"I'd be glad to." He lead her out onto the dance floor with a flair that spoke of great experience.

The other dancers seemed to be staring at her oddly. She felt a prickle of awareness, but ignored it for the music. She looked at her partner. He was a large man, muscular. A too big, and his hair too curly. She grimaced to herself, knowing that she was making excuses. The only man she wanted was Tristan.

The flute of champagne creaked in protest as Tristan's hold on it tightened. The white gown twirled past, and he could see the hulk of a man that went with it. He dearly wanted to rip him apart.

He would never do something so rash.

So why was he on the dance floor?

With his hand....

Almost in hers?

The music stopped, but he didn't notice. Already, he held her hand. She turned, her posture stiffening.

"Tristan. I've never seen you dressed formally."

He winced at the chilled tone in his voice. "May I have this dance?"

Her dance partner began to protest. "Of course," Opal consented.

The waltz began, giving him the perfect excuse to hold her close. She stood stiffly, not giving in to his gentle urging to come closer.

"Have you been taking lessons from Viola?" They twirled along the edge of the dance floor, ignoring the curious looks from those standing on the edge of the floor.

"Lessons on what?"

He leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. "Being a princess." She shivered at the husky tone in his voice.

"Why would I need those? I'll never be one. I merely asked her advice on what to do during unwelcome advances."

The spark in her green eyes warned him of her ire. He should back off then and there. "You seemed to welcome them fine earlier today...in your bedroom." He bit his tongue, cursing his impulsiveness. She gasped, and tried to push away.

He held tight though, and whirled her off the dance floor and into the empty balcony.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Back from the dead =P

This chapter was fun--I got to exercise my ability to write a sex scene, and learn how commitment phobic Tristan is! I hope you enjoyed it =)