Damsel in Disguise (9 page)

She really wasn’t sure what he was talking about and didn’t know if she wanted to. Something about the whiskey-fueled gleam in his eye and the smile on his face as he scanned her blanket bothered her. Why was he here? Had he figured out her ruse? She was not at all comfortable right now.

“Sir, I must tell you my friend is hoping to get an early start on our journey tomorrow, so . . .”

“Shush, don’t worry, my boy. I’ll leave you long before your traveling partner rouses himself for the day. He’s snug in his room by now, and he’ll likely sleep late tomorrow, guessing by how much he tossed back tonight. So smile, my fine young colt, we have the whole night ahead of us.”

“The whole night for . . . ?” Oh God, she thought she began to understand. “Sir, I’m afraid you might be mistaken.”

He grinned and came toward her, shutting the door behind him. “No mistake, lad. I may not be in my prime, but I assure you I don’t exaggerate when I say ‘the whole night.’ Indeed, I’m a bit above average in that area, if I do say so myself.”

She staggered back, tripping on a corner of the blanket. Drat but now she tumbled back onto the bed. Lord, this was not the position she needed to be in just now!

“There’s a good lad, getting right down to business,” the man said, still advancing on her.

She tried to roll out of his way, but he was remarkably quick for a large drunk person. Her escape was further hindered by the blasted blanket. She’d been clinging to it like a lifeline, but now it only served to bind her and keep her from getting away.

The man seemed to mistake her squirming for enthusiasm, and he began reciting all the marvelous things he would do to her tonight. Dear saints above, but she did not want to hear it, let alone experience any of it! Why, oh why, had she been nice to the man in the first place?

“So very clever of you to let me know which room was yours, dear boy,” he said, looming near. “I wasn’t sure until then that you would welcome me. But come now; let’s see what we’ve got under this silly blanket.”

“Not what you’re expecting, I’m afraid,” Julia mumbled, groping to retain her blanket.

“My, what a feisty little fellow you are! I like that.”

“Stop it! You misunderstood, sir!”

Bother, in her nervous thrashing she’d only become more tangled. The man was removing his coat now, humming to himself! Oh, but this was dreadful. How could he not recognize she wasn’t an eager participant in this marvelous plan of his? It must be the drink. Heavens, but he was advancing on her! What would he do when he finally got the blanket off and realized his mistake? It would be just her luck the man played on both sides of the fence.

He sat beside her, his thighs spilling onto her blanket and pinning her securely. Dear heavens, she was trapped face-down. Her breasts were smashed into the sparse mattress, and the only parts of her she could move were her feet and her head. She felt him shift as he reached for the blanket, slowly uncovering her legs.

“I say, you are a young thing then, aren’t you? Pink and smooth like a little girl. How enticing.”

She supposed he’d meant that as flattery, but it merely served to make her want to retch again. She forced herself to be calm and draw in as much breath as she could in this stifling position.

“Sir, you’ve got to stop. I insist that you stop!”

“Ah, affecting you so much already, is it? Affecting me, too, laddie boy.”

“No, it’s—no!” she cried as his hand slid up her leg, approaching her buttocks.

“Ah, yes, yes!”

Bother, this man was hopelessly obtuse. Somehow she had to make him stop. She gathered her strength and was just about to call out at the top of her lungs when suddenly the man jolted.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed.

No, wait. That hadn’t been his voice. It was another voice, a voice she recognized. Oh, thank God. She was saved. Rastmoor was here!

She could just barely twist her head enough to see him standing there, his sturdy and glorious form dominating the room. She was so happy she could have danced, except of course that she was still wrapped in a blanket and pinned face-down to her bed by a mountain of rutting pervert.

“I say, you could have knocked first, my good fellow,” the man said.

“When I heard the commotion, I thought it unnecessary,” Rastmoor replied, dryly. “What the devil is going on here?”

“Anthony, he’s—” she began, but the man propped his elbow on her while he struggled to climb off the bed, and all the air left her lungs.

“What does it look like, man?” the mountain said. “We’re two grown men engaging in love play, and I’ll thank you to wait your turn, if you don’t mind.”

To her amazement, Rastmoor simply shrugged. “Fine with me, although I think there’s something you ought to know.”

Rastmoor marched himself to the side of the bed and pushed the man aside. Julia was ready to fling herself into his arms, but he simply took her by the shoulder and rolled her over. Before she could struggle up into a less vulnerable position, Rastmoor grasped the top edge of the blanket and yanked it down. Good God, but now her breasts were exposed!

“Anthony!” she cried, pulling the blanket back up and clutching it around her. Damn him! How dare he humiliate her this way!

“By God, he’s a female!” the man stammered, hopping up from the bed as if she’d been a scorpion. His gaze shifted from her to Rastmoor then back again. “What sort of game is this, madam? If I’d have wanted a ruddy woman, I’d have bought one downstairs!”

With a great huff he readjusted his clothing and stomped to the door. “At least I found out the truth before I did something regrettable! Honestly, parading yourself around like a man when all this time you were . . . I declare, you people are just not natural.”

At that, he flung the door open and left. It slammed loudly behind him. Julia was too stunned by all of this to have anything coherent to say. She blinked at the door, then slowly shifted her gaze up to Rastmoor and blinked at him. True, he’d just saved her from the most wretched thing imaginable, but somehow gratitude wasn’t exactly what she felt right now. Blinding rage, perhaps, but not so much gratitude.

“So, Julia,” he said, and his voice was far too light and casual, given the situation, “I see you’ve not changed a bit since last we saw one another. Still convincing gentlemen you’re something you’re not.”

“And you’re just the same, too,” she replied, matching his tone. “As eager to get me naked as ever.”

He stared at her, his eyes shifting their gaze from her face down to the blanket and her abysmally suggestive pose, tangled there in the bed with her shoulders and legs all exposed.

“Yes,” he said calmly, bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. “I suppose I am.”

 

BY GOD, SHE WAS RIGHT. HE
DID
WANT TO RIP THAT damn blanket off her and take up where their overheated friend had left off.

He wouldn’t, of course. That would be the height of stupidity. But, damn, even with her luxurious chestnut hair cropped and gone and that shabby blanket wrapped around her, Julia was a stunning woman. Her nut brown eyes were large and round, with just the hint of an exotic angle at the corners. Her original expression of terror was now being replaced by a defiant calmness.

She clearly recognized the desire he still felt, and she knew she held control. As it had always been between them. Damn and damn again. When would he ever be free from her?

“So what do I owe you for the rescue, my lord?” she asked, wriggling into a more upright position, her knees pulled tightly toward her chest.

“You can’t even approach what you owe me, Julia.”

“Very well, then. I’ll simply say thank you and leave it at that.”

Leave it at that?
Indeed, he supposed he should. But he wouldn’t.

“Not on your life,” he said and was foolish enough to touch her.

He stroked her shoulder where the skin was exposed. A bolt of unexpected lightning coursed through his veins and his fingers flexed. She was warm, soft. Somehow he hadn’t expected that. It seemed after becoming Mrs. Fitzgelder she should have turned as cold and serpentlike as her damned husband. But she hadn’t. Her skin was as perfect as he remembered it.

His hand ached for more of her, so he slid his fingers down to hook the blanket. Slowly, he dragged it lower until it hung off her shoulder, and she had to clutch it against herself to remain covered. She glared at him, her dangerous eyes tempting and warning at the same time. He’d be an absolute fool to continue.

Then again, he’d always been her fool, hadn’t he? He’d believed her lies; he’d fallen for her deception. He’d promised to make her his wife, for God’s sake. And even after three years, the woman still occupied his mind and tortured his dreams.

He’d bedded every whore he could afford, and yet none of them had been able to drive her away or soothe the burning he felt inside. By God, Julia was alive, and he’d just spared her a most unpleasant night. She owed him, just as he’d said. Damn it, he’d make her pay, too.

He jerked the blanket out of her fingers. She gasped. He did, too. Age and experience had only added to her appeal—her skin, her form, her every feminine curve was more tempting than ever. Apparently life with Fitzgelder agreed with her.

Damn the man to hellfire.

“Anthony, no . . .” she whimpered.

She lowered her eyes. He did, too, and gazed in awe at her perfect breasts, rising and falling with each nervous breath. Beautiful. How Fitzgelder must have enjoyed her over the years. The thought nearly made him sick.

“No?” he asked her. “Don’t tell me you wish to remain faithful to my cousin.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s . . .”

“I didn’t think so. Faithfulness isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“Give me my blanket.” She shot her eyes back up to glare hatefully at him. He was still too busy staring at the creamy mounds heaving before his eyes to care.

“I’m cold,” she informed him needlessly.

He smiled. “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps you’d like me to warm you, then?”

“I’d like you to give me my blanket and leave.”

“But why, my dear? Are you afraid a night with me will ruin you for the likes of your husband?”

“He’s not my husband!” she said in defiance.

Now he was finally able to look away from her chest and meet her glare. “Oh?”

“It’s a long story. Now, give me my blanket and go away.”

“I want to hear the long story, Julia.”

“No. Go away.”

“Why? Are you running out of lies already? What a shame.”

She lunged for the blanket. He dropped to sit on the bed and caught her, holding her shoulders so she was forced to meet him eye to eye. His eyes would have rather focused elsewhere, however. God, he had to get control of himself. What was it about her that could still do this to him?

Damn, but he wished he could be clearheaded about this. The only thing he felt clear about right now was that his body didn’t really care if she’d lied to him and left him for Fitzgelder. She was here with him now, and that seemed just fine.

It
was
just fine. His hand followed his eyes, tracing a tentative line from her shoulder to her breast. She drew in a sharp breath, and he felt the energy surge through her and rush into his own being. His thumb made a slow circle around her delicate nipple.

“No more lies, Julia,” he said. “I know about the child.”

“The child?” She shuddered under his touch.

“My cousin told me. He took great pleasure in it, as a matter of fact.”

God, his tongue splintered on the words, but he needed to speak them. She had to know he’d always been aware of the full measure of her treachery. The gentle movement of his hand on her breast kept her a captive audience.

“He came to me and gloated,” he went on. “Fitzgelder thought it was some sort of grand triumph when he lured you away from me. When he found you were carrying a child, well, that just added to his sick pleasure. He bragged how easily you’d gone to him, how happy you’d been to trade in my proposal for his. The bastard was actually looking forward to raising my child as his own.”

“
Your
child?”

She shrank back from him. Cold air filled the space between them, and he felt his head clearing. By God, what was he doing? This was insanity; he didn’t dare extract his due from this woman. Nothing he could do to her tonight would make up for these past three years. He really was a fool, wasn’t he? He had to get control of himself. For two minutes he’d say what needed to be said tonight then be gone, leaving Julia St. Clement behind him forever.

“I know all about it, Julia,” he said. “That was
my
child. You may have chosen not to inform me of your condition, but Fitzgelder was glad to divulge it. You knew you carried my child when you abandoned me for him.”

Obviously she couldn’t deny his accusations. Her eyes were round with surprise, but she didn’t utter a sound. So, she’d thought he hadn’t known. Well, he had.

“Where is that child, Julia?” he asked. “I heard it died. But since I also heard you died, forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical.”

“It’s true. That child is dead.”

“Yet here you are, no worse for the experience, apparently.”

He’d meant his remark to cut her. It did, to judge from her expression. Her lips thinned as she struggled to keep from lashing out. A dark part of him enjoyed seeing her discomfort.

“What are you trying not to say, Julia?” he asked, glad to see he was rubbing salt in a tender wound. “That you never wanted my child? That you were glad when it was gone? Well, I suppose in a way I am, too. The poor thing is better off dead than being raised as Fitzgelder’s offspring . . . with you for a mother.”

Her color was gone, and her voice was hoarse. “You have no idea what would have been best,” she said. “Fitzgelder would have given the child a name and a home, at least.”