You insufferable swine! I cannot believe what I just heard!” Tristan froze. “You conniving, despicable scoundrels!” She marched toward the bed and grabbed the water pitcher from the nightstand. Tristan hadn’t a chance. She hurled the liquid across the bed, hitting Tristan’s face dead center, then crashed the beautiful crimson and white flowered container to the ground. Tristan shook his soaked head, whipping strands of black hair out of his stunned face. Like a naughty puppy, all that could be seen of Matthew, were two blue eyes peeking out from beneath the bed covers. Kate took another moment and glared at the dazed men. Then, as if a gigantic wind blew in, she swirled around and stomped back to her room, slamming the door behind her. The men heard the key click in the lock and looked at one another with questioning eyes as what to do next. Tristan peered over the bed at the pitcher scattered about the floor. He pushed away from the chair, tugged at his clothes and stripped to the waist.
