Gasps rose around me. Heads turned, eyes wide with fear, and I could feel the grip around my waist loosen. The crowd’s shock rippled in the air like a storm threatening to break.
I spun quickly, ready to face whoever dared to touch me in public. My chest tightened at the thought of Tristan’s wrath if another man had laid hands on me. But the sight that greeted me sent shivers rushing down my spine.
It was Tristan himself.
For a moment, I could only stare. His expression was unreadable, neither anger nor warmth—just a steady look that made me feel naked before him. My pulse raced. Then, in the blink of an eye, I slipped into the mask I knew best.
“I’m sorry, my love,” I said softly, eyes wide, lips curved into a coy pout. “I thought it was some stranger trying to touch me.”
His lips pa
