Page 58 of Somewhere I'll Find You
Rising from her chair, Julia stared at him face to face, while he remained half-seated on the table. “If I were your wife, would you let me go wherever I chose, do whatever I pleased, with no questions or recriminations? Would you make no protest while I continued with my profession, attending rehearsals in the mornings, coming back from performances at midnight or later? And what of your friends and peers?—the sneers and nasty comments they would make about me, their assumptions that I was little more than a prostitute. Would you find a way to accept all that?”
His face turned a few shades darker, confirming her suspicions. “Why does the theater mean so much to you?” he asked curtly. “Is it such a damned sacrifice to give up the life of a Gypsy?”
“I've never been able to depend on anything else. It's the only thing I'm certain of. I don't want a title and an endless round of social events, and a quiet estate in the country—that's the life my father would have chosen for me.”
Damon caught her hips in his hands, imprisoning her between his thighs. “Part of you wants that life.”
Twisting, pushing at his hard chest, Julia tried to free herself, but his grip only tightened. He pulled her closer until her struggles created an intimate friction between them. Abruptly she froze, realizing the effect her movements were having on him. The rigid proof of his arousal pressed against her abdomen, eliciting an immediate response from her body. “I want to leave now,” she said breathlessly.
Damon released her, but with his intent gaze fastened on hers, she couldn't seem to move away. “I won't make it easy for you. You're not going to avoid me—or get rid of me—without a fight.”
Julia stared at him with a mixture of fury and longing. It was difficult enough, denying herself what she wanted so badly. There were dreams she still harbored deep inside, of having her own family and home, falling asleep each night in the arms of her husband, spending leisurely hours playing with her children. Now those faceless images had taken clear shape in her mind…she wanted to be Damon's wife, and bear his dark-haired offspring. The dreams were now a possibility, and giving them up would be the hardest thing she had ever done.
Suddenly she remembered Logan Scott's cool, mocking voice as he said,You may decide that you love Savage enough to surrender your body and soul to his keeping…but I wouldn't advise it.
Stumbling back, Julia turned away and held her hands to her pounding chest. She took several deep breaths, willing the emotions inside her to uncoil. Damon came up behind her, close but not touching. His voice was flat as he spoke somewhere above her head. “I'll accompany you to the inn.”
“You don't have to…” she began, but he ignored her and went to ring for a carriage.
They were silent as they traveled to the inn, the atmosphere strained between them. Their thighs rested close together, brushing occasionally as the wheels of the vehicle bounced over uneven places in the street. Julia tried to move away, but it seemed that she kept sliding against him. She would die before moving to the opposite seat, especially under the focus of his cool, jeering gaze. Finally the miserable ride was over, and he helped her from the carriage.
“I'll go up to my room by myself,” Julia said, sensing that he intended to accompany her.
Damon shook his head briefly. “It's dangerous. I'll see you to the door.”
“I've stayed here alone for more than a week, and I've been perfectly fine without your protection,” Julia pointed out.
“For God's sake, I'm not going to touch you. If I had seduction in mind for tonight, you'd be in bed with me right now. All I want is to see you safely to your room.”
“I don't need—”
“Indulge me,” he said through his teeth, looking as though he were going to strangle her.
Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Julia preceded him into the building, past the proprietor's table and the vacant dining room, toward the stairs that led to the second floor. Damon followed at a slower pace, his black brows drawn together in displeasure. They progressed down a long, poorly lit hallway until they reached her room. Extracting a slender key from the reticule slung around her wrist, Julia turned her attention to the lock. The key turned far too easily.
Realizing that she must have forgotten to lock her room when she had left that morning, Julia made a show of rattling the key against the metal catch. She'd had enough to deal with tonight, without being accused of carelessness and incompetence. Turning the knob, she paused and looked back at Damon. “You've done your gentlemanly duty,” she informed him. “I've been delivered safely to my door. Good night.”
Taking the unsubtle cue to leave, Damon stared at her with sullen gray eyes before turning his back on her and striding away.
With a sigh, Julia entered her room and fumbled for a box of matches. Carefully she struck a match and applied the tiny yellow flare to the oil lamp on the dresser. She replaced the glass globe and adjusted the wick until a gentle glow filled the room. Her mind was consumed with thoughts that made her head ache. She was oblivious to her surroundings, lost in worry… but as she glanced in the cheval glass, she saw a flicker of movement in the corner of the reflective surface. At the same time there was an odd scraping noise on the floor.
She was not alone. A bolt of fright went through her. Whirling, Julia managed a half-scream before the sound was extinguished by a man's hand crushing hard over her mouth. She was hauled back against a skinny but inexorably strong frame. Nostrils flaring, eyes wide, she stared at the heavyset form of Lord Langate as he approached her. She was being held by his companion, Strathearn. They were the two men who had pestered her at the New Theatre earlier in the day. It appeared that they had bolstered their courage with a great deal of liquor, both of them stinking and sour-breathed, and insufferably smug.
“You didn't expect to see us again, did you?” Langate purred, smoothing his chubby hand over the greasy strands of hair combed across his balding head. His gaze slid appreciatively over her writhing form. “What a prize wench you are—the smartest bit of goods we've ever seen. Isn't that right, Strathearn?”
The tall man nodded and chortled in agreement.
Langate's small mouth opened in a grin as he spoke to Julia. “There's no need to be frightened. We'll take our ease with you, and we'll pay you nicely for it afterward. You'll be able to purchase any bauble you like. Don't look so outraged, my dear. I'll wager you've entertained many eager gentlemen of our sort between your pretty thighs.” He came closer and caught one of Julia's flailing hands, forcing it to his swollen crotch. A leer of anticipation creased his round face. “There,” he crooned. “That isn't so bad, is it? I think you'll enjoy—”
But his sentence was never finished. Julia heard the sound of the door bursting open, and she was abruptly released. Unable to find her balance, she fell forward, her hands and knees striking the hard floor. Crawling to the corner, she pressed her back hard against the wall. A lock of hair fell over her face, obscuring her view of the action before her. She heard the dull, meaty sound of fists impacting flesh in repetitive blows, and the howls of pain that filled the room.
Scraping back her wayward hair, Julia realized that Damon had come back, and he seemed intent on killing her attackers. After sending Strathearn crumpling to the floor in a heap, he turned his attention to Langate, beating the older man until he was whimpering for mercy. Through her shock and fear, Julia realized that Damon was indeed ready to commit murder. “Please stop,” she gasped. “I'm all right. If you don't stop, you'll kill him…Damon…”
At the sound of his name, he paused to glance at her with eyes as dark as coal. Whatever he saw in her face seemed to recall him from the murderous rage that had overtaken him. He stared down at the quivering man beneath him, and shook his head to clear away the haze of bloodlust. After wiping his bloodied fists on Langate's coat, he stood and crossed the room to Julia. Langate and Strathearn took the opportunity to leave immediately, groaning and cursing as they made their escape.
Knowing she couldn't stand on her own, Julia reached up to her husband, her hands shaking visibly. Damon bent and scooped her up as if she were a child, lifting her high against his chest. She clung to him tightly, trying to comprehend what had happened. “Thank you,” she gasped, her throat working hard. “Thank you…”
Damon sat on the bed and held her in his lap, smoothing back her tumbled hair. She felt him brush away the wetness on her cheeks with his fingers. Through the thunder in her ears she could hear the sound of his voice as he soothed her with quiet assurances that she was safe, that no one would hurt her.
