Somewhere I'll Find You (18 page)

William arched a black brow as he stared at Arlyss, his blue eyes gleaming with wicked invitation. “Would you like to accompany me on an evening's revels, my pretty maid?”

Arlyss needed no further encouragement. With a regretful glance at Michael Fiske, she approached William. A saucy smile curved her lips, and she placed her hand on his arm. “Where shall we go first?” she asked, and William laughed. He murmured a farewell to Damon and took Julia's stiff hand in his, bending over it in a show of gallantry. “My deepest regards, Mrs.…Wentworth.” He said the name in a way that let Julia know he was well aware of her real identity. Annoyed by his impudence, she did not return his smile.

Michael Fiske was expressionless, his gaze fixed on Arlyss as she walked away with William in search of a hackney to hire.

“I'm sorry,” Julia said quietly.

Fiske nodded and summoned a brief, hopeless smile. A frown creased Julia's forehead as she watched him head back inside the building. She glanced up at Damon accusingly. “You could have said something to your brother. He should have left Arlyss in the company of a decent man who obviously cares for her!”

“The girl was free to make her choice.”

“Well, she made the wrong one. I strongly doubt your brother has honorable intentions toward her!”

“I would say that's a safe assumption,” Damon said dryly. “There's only one thing on William's mind—and your little friend made it clear that she was ready and willing to accommodate him.” Catching sight of his carriage approaching, he nodded toward it in a decisive motion. “The driver's here. Come with me.”

Automatically she shook her head. “I must go back inside and see—”

“There's nothing you can do here tonight. Come—I'm not leaving without you.”

“If you're planning on having a repeat performance of the other night—”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Damon said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “But I wasn't going to insist on it. If you prefer, we'll merely have a drink and talk. I'll open a bottle of twenty-five-year-old French Armagnac—the best brandy you've ever tasted.”

The offer was appealing, to say the least. It wasn't the brandy that tempted her, but rather the alarming need for his company, and the comfort he offered. She wasn't certain she could trust herself around him, especially not in her present mood. “I shouldn't.”

“Are you afraid of being alone with me?” he asked softly.

Now it was more than an offer; it was a challenge. Julia held his direct stare and felt the pull of recklessness inside. The night was in shambles, and she would face tomorrow when it came. For now, a bracing drink and the company of Lord Savage were exactly what she wanted.

Slowly she went to him. “I'm sure I'll regret this later.”

He smiled and took her to the carriage, helping her inside. After a brief murmur to the driver, he climbed into the vehicle, occupying the space next to her. The carriage rolled away with a gentle sway, and Julia relaxed against the velvet seat cushions with a sigh.

She closed her eyes momentarily, but her lashes soon lifted as she sensed Damon's intent gaze on her. He was staring at the wrinkled, charred remains of her costume, a pale green dress that laced up the front with gold cords. Noting the way he lingered over her snugly fitted bodice, she frowned in reproval. “Must you stare at me that way?”

Reluctantly he dragged his gaze to her face. “What way?”

“As if you'd just sat down to supper and I was the entree.” As he laughed, Julia crossed her arms defensively over her breasts. “One would think you'd be satisfied after the other night!”

“That only whetted my appetite for more.” As Damon studied her, reading her discomfort, the hint of playfulness disappeared. He relaxed against the seat with deceptive casualness. “I know I hurt you that night,” he said quietly. “It's always that way the first time.”

A hot blush spread over her face. In a flash, she remembered their naked bodies twisting together, the pain of their joining, the burning pleasure of being possessed by him. She had known what to expect, more or less, but she had never realized how closely such intimacy would bind them. It was unfathomable that some people could regard such an experience as casual…an experience that seemed to have changed her in a hundred indefinable ways. “It's all right,” she murmured, unable to look at him.

“It will be better the next time.”

The blush seemed to cover her entire body now. She knew he could see the warm color traveling over the soft skin of her throat and breasts. “There won't be a next time,” she said breathlessly. “It would be wrong.”

“Wrong?” he repeated, perplexed.

“Yes! Or have you forgotten all about Lady Ashton and her unborn child?”

His expression became closed. Even so, Julia sensed the frustration that welled up inside him. “I'm still not convinced there is a child,” he said. “I'm trying to find out the truth. But even if Pauline
is
pregnant, I can't marry her. If I did, I would end up killing her.”

For the first time Julia experienced a pang of sympathy for him. He was a proud man—he wouldn't take well to being manipulated by anyone, especially not a woman like Lady Ashton. Resisting the urge to touch him in consolation, she remained where she was, wedged in the corner of the carriage seat. “It must be difficult, dealing with such a situation—”

“I don't want to talk about Pauline tonight,” he said abruptly. In a moment the hard look left his face, and there was a self-mocking twitch at the corner of his mouth. He fished inside his coat for something, and withdrew a small velvet pouch. “Here—I have something for you.”

Julia stared at the gift, but she didn't move to take it. “Thank you, no,” she said uncomfortably. “I don't want a present—”

“It's yours by right. You should have had it long ago.”

Hesitantly she took the pouch and loosened the drawstring. Reaching in with two fingers, she withdrew a hard, cool lump from inside. Her breath caught as she beheld a magnificent ring, a rose-cut diamond set in a heavy gold band. The stone was at least four carats, almost blue in color, its facets flashing with unearthly fire.

“You never had a wedding ring,” Damon said.

“I couldn't—”

“Try it on.”

Julia longed to see how the diamond looked on her finger, but she didn't dare. The ring—and all it signified—was forbidden to her. Their marriage would not last. Their vows had been meaningless, the obedient mouthings of two children who had no idea what they were saying. She looked at Damon helplessly, both touched and appalled by his gesture. “Take it back,” she said in soft pleading.

His mouth twisted wryly, and he reached for the ring. Before she could stop him, he caught her wrist and slid the diamond on the fourth finger of her left hand. It was only a little too loose.

Julia stared down at the glittering jewel in hypnotic fascination.

“It belonged to my mother,” Damon said. “She would have wanted you to have it.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?” Julia asked, lifting her hand to examine the huge stone.

“I'm trying to tempt you.”

“And what will you demand in return?”

He was suddenly all innocence as he returned her gaze. “Consider it compensation for all you've had to endure because of our ‘marriage.’”

“I'm not
that
naive,” she said, sliding the heavy band from her finger. “You're not the kind of man to give something for nothing. Thank you, but I can't accept the ring.”

“If you give it back to me, I'll toss it out the window.”

She gave him a frankly disbelieving glance. “You wouldn't.”

Damon's eyes were filled with a diabolical gleam, making her realize that he was indeed willing to cast the priceless stone into the street. “It's yours now. Do with it what you wish.” He extended a hand, palm up, to receive the ring. “Will you throw it, or shall I?”

Alarmed, she closed her fingers around the priceless jewel. “I won't let you throw something this beautiful away!”

Satisfied, he lowered his hand. “Then keep the damned thing. Just don't give it to your mother.” He laughed at the guilt in her expression, and watched as she slid the ring back onto her finger.

Julia was annoyed by the suspicion that her newfound husband was becoming adept at managing her. “You'll want something in return,” she said pertly. “I know you well enough to be certain of that.”

“I only want what you're willing to give.” He drew closer, his gaze flickering over her. “Now…tell me what kind of relationship you envision for us, Mrs. Wentworth.”

She damned the sudden awakening of her senses, the way her body jolted into acute awareness of him. He was so purposeful and confident, qualities she had always admired in a man. The fact that he wasn't part of the theater world made him all the more intriguing. There was nothing permanent in the life of a theater person. Like the Gypsies, they shared a superficial existence in which one production was always ending and another beginning. Until now she'd had little to do with a man like Damon.

“I suppose…we could try a sort of…friendship,” Julia said tentatively. “There's no need for us to be at odds. After all, we both want the same thing.”

“And what is that?”

“To be free of each other. Then I'll be able to continue my life in the theater, and you can fulfill your obligations to Lady Ashton.”

“You keep mentioning her name…why is that?”

“I'm concerned, of course—”

“I don't think so. I think you're doing everything you can to put a wall between us.”

“What if I am?” Julia parried, her voice unsteady. He was much too close, his hard thigh settled next to her own, his forearm braced on the upholstery above her head. It would be so easy to crawl into his lap and pull his head down to hers, to surrender to the pleasure of his hands and mouth. She took a deep breath and tried to still the nervous quivering inside. “Is it wrong to want to protect myself?”

“You don't need to be protected from me. Have I ever forced you to do something you didn't want?”

She laughed shakily. “Since we've met, I've been coerced into having dinner with you, given you my virginity, even accepted this ring in spite of my wishes not to—”

“I can't help it if you have a weakness for jewelry.” He smiled as he saw the frustration in her face, and his voice lowered. “As for taking your innocence—that was a gift I never expected. I value it more than you know.”

Julia closed her eyes as she felt his lips travel across her forehead, lingering on the fragile bridge of her nose. There were feather-soft touches on her eyelids and cheeks, and the brush of his mouth at the corner of her lips. Her own mouth tingled, and it took all her strength not to turn fully toward the light pressure, inviting the full, deep kiss she craved. “You were so sweet that night,” Damon whispered. “And so beautiful. I've never experienced anything like it before. I can't stop remembering, and wanting you again.”

Julia moistened her dry lips before she replied. “Just because you want it doesn't mean it's right.”

“The last I heard, it wasn't a sin for a man to sleep with his own wife.” He drew his fingertips across the exposed skin of her chest, causing goosebumps to rise across the fine surface. Julia's breathing turned rapid and shallow. It seemed that all she could do was wait in suspended silence, her body taut with anticipation of what he might do. “So,” Damon remarked softly, “you'd like to try a friendship with me. I have no objections to that.” He pulled at the gold cord that held her bodice together until it gave way, the garment parting several inches in front. “In fact, I think we could become very close…friends.” His warm mouth descended to her throat, while his hand slipped past her bodice and beneath the thin white chemise that covered her naked flesh.

Julia closed her eyes and gasped as she felt his long fingers curve over her breast, stroking, teasing until her nipple ached and hardened. Her body was flushed with heat, nerveless and weak with yearning. She murmured in protest as she felt herself being lifted, pulled into his lap, but any feeble objections were quickly silenced by his mouth. Hungrily she opened herself to his kiss, abandoning all shame, wanting more of the pleasure he offered.

The sway of the carriage broke their lips apart, and Julia sought another kiss, but he resisted. His mouth wandered in a new quest along the tender surface of her neck, down to the madly pulsing hollow of her throat. He found the exposed valley between her breasts and nuzzled deeply, while his fingers tugged at the fabric that covered them. A faint cry escaped Julia's lips as she felt him bite softly at the peak of her breast. Her hands came to his head, holding him there, her fingers curling into his thick black hair. His tongue stroked and swirled over the sensitive point of her nipple, again and again, until she arched up to him with a moan. Moving to her other breast, he toyed with her leisurely, seeming to relish the small, helpless sounds she made.

When they were both breathing fast and hard, desire pounding through their bodies, Damon pulled her upright, his mouth at her ear. “Tell me you don't want this,” he whispered fiercely. “Tell me you can see me, talk to me, without thinking about this…without needing me as much as I need you. And then tell me you want nothing more than friendship.”

Trembling, Julia leaned against him, her naked breasts pressing into the fine linen and wool of his clothes. Her mind was strangely slow to form thoughts. “I do want you,” she said with a small sob, afraid of her own needs, and the heartbreak that awaited her if she gave in to them. She must not let herself love him, or depend on him. That would give him the power to strip away all her strength and self-reliance. It would be worse than all the years of living with her dictatorial father. This man would own her very soul.

Damon pushed her long hair aside, kissed her bare shoulder, and clasped her close enough that she could feel the stiff shape of his arousal beneath her. Shivering, she pressed herself down on the hard length, fitting her softness against him until he groaned against her hair.

“Don't…or I'll take you right here.” He kissed her roughly, exploring her mouth in a storm of passion, and she answered his demand with one of her own.