Somewhere I'll Find You (21 page)

Julia yelped in triumph and retreated to the opposite side of the bath. She couldn't help sputtering with laughter as Damon emerged with his black hair plastered to his head. Through the water-spiked frames of his lashes, his gray eyes promised retribution. “You little devil,” he muttered, and lunged for her.

Laughing with a mixture of enjoyment and alarm, Julia fought to evade him. Damon caught her around the waist and pulled her against his body, the soaked layers of his clothes crushed between them.

“You needed a medicinal dunking,” she informed him, still shaking with giggles. “The water will cure all your ills.”

“There's one problem it won't cure,” he said meaningfully, and cupped his hands over her naked buttocks, pressing her hard against him.

Julia's laughter dissolved as she felt the swelling shape of him wedged intimately high between her thighs. Her body drifted in the hot water until she anchored herself to him, holding on to his shoulders, allowing her legs to wrap around his hips. Their breath mingled in irregular bursts as they stared at each other. Although they were both perfectly still, Julia had the sensation of being tumbled over and over in the onslaught of an incoming tide, caught helplessly in the pull of the churning waves.

Gently she pushed the locks of water-soaked hair from his forehead, her fingers passing from his temple to his ear. Her thumb brushed his jaw, and then she touched the soft place just beneath the bone of his chin. She was enthralled by the scratchy-slick feel of his skin, the movement of muscle as he swallowed.

Suddenly Damon hoisted her higher against him, his movements effortless in the buoyant water. His large hands hooked underneath her arms, holding her steady as he bent his head to her breast. Julia squirmed in protest until she felt his mouth slide across the tender curve of her breast and fasten onto a flushed nipple. The flicker of his tongue caused an achingly sweet response, the soft peak contracting in his mouth. He tugged and stroked her with his mouth, making her gasp and arch in his arms. Greedily her hands clawed at the thin linen film of his shirt, craving the feel of his bare skin.

Lowering her back into the water, Damon slid his hand over her hip and across the taut skin of her belly. His touch glided between her thighs, reaching into the velvet patch of hair until he found the most sensitive part of her. Julia shuddered in growing desire, wanting more of the pleasure he offered. But an awareness of where they were, a public place, kept her from abandoning herself completely.

“We can't,” she gasped against his mouth. “Not here.”

“Do you want me?” he whispered, and kissed her deeply, tasting the sweet warmth of her mouth.

Julia trembled against him, her body slick and weightless in his arms. Through the blur of her wet lashes, she saw his face next to hers, his skin gleaming like bronze, his gaze promising erotic fantasies.

At her silence, Damon lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive path that led up to her ear. “All you have to do is tell me,” he murmured. “Just one word, Julia…yes or no.”

A small moan escaped her. She was drowning in sensation, wanting what she had forbidden herself, knowing how wrong it was…but that didn't matter. It seemed that nothing and no one existed outside this small room. Her hand came to the water-soaked hair at the back of his neck, gripping feverishly. “Yes,” she whispered.

Damon pried at the buttons on his shirt, smiling as Julia tried to help him, their fingers slipping and tangling beneath the surface of the pool. When his chest was bared, Julia drew her hands down the smooth expanse, as hard as wet marble. The tips of her breasts brushed against his skin, and she breathed faster in excitement. “Hurry,” she urged, spreading kisses over his face and neck.

Damon paused in the difficult act of unfastening his wet trousers, one brow raised sardonically. “I've never disrobed under water before. It's not as easy as you might think.”

“Try harder,” Julia whispered, kissing him. Her tongue entered his mouth, tempting and teasing, until he gave a laughing groan and yanked more roughly at his trousers. The fastenings finally gave way, allowing his rampant erection to spring free. Julia's hand closed around the hard silken length, gently gripping and sliding.

He said her name, his voice ragged in her ear, his fingers digging into her hips as he guided her body over his. He held her steady and pushed inside her slowly. She whimpered and clung to Him, shivering in delight. Damon nudged deeper, wanting to thrust rapidly but restrained by the sloshing water to a torturously slow rhythm. Their bodies flexed together in a teasing, sliding friction that promised to last an eternity.

Quivering, Julia wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his wet throat. She felt the powerful force of his breath expanding in his chest. It seemed that they had become one being, sharing the same rhythms of pulse and nerves. The pleasure climbed sharply, shocking her with its intensity. She lost all awareness except the driving movements inside her, the sensations that overflowed until she could bear them no longer.

Damon smothered her cry with his mouth feeling the convulsive shudders of her body as she climaxed. Her inner muscles rippled tightly around him, sending him to his own forceful release. He closed his eyes, while his senses shattered and his blood was set on fire. “Julia,” he gasped against her tautly arched throat. “I'll never let you go…never…”

Somehow Julia heard him above the chaotic rushing of her own blood. While part of her rebelled against the ownership in his voice, another part of her gloried in it. She owned him too; she took the same deep pleasure in their joining…and despite her inexperience she Knew that she would never find this with anyone else. Weak and fulfilled and despairing, she sagged against him in the water. His hands slipped over her body, traveling softly from the nape of her neck to her hips.

“Let me stay the night with you,” he murmured.

Julia saw no point in objecting. It would be hypocritical after what had just happened. She gave him a small nod and wriggled away, feeling him slip from her body.

Glancing back at Damon, she choked on a sudden giggle as she saw him fishing at the bottom of the pool for his shoes. When he resurfaced und held up the ruined leather articles in triumph, Julia shook her head slowly. “Do you intend to walk to the inn dressed in wet clothes? You'll catch a chill, or worse.”

Damon drew her out of the bath, his gray eyes caressing as he glanced over her flushed, naked body. “You can warm me when we reach your room.”

F
illed with vitality and a sense of lightness, Julia stood on the stage of Bath's New Theatre and surveyed the activity around her with satisfaction. The fire in London didn't seem to have daunted the spirits of the cast and crew. Busily they assembled new scenery, rehearsed bits of dialogue and stage blocking, and exchanged jokes about the hardships of touring.

“Bloody boring little city,” Arlyss murmured, resting her hands on her hips. She made a comical face at Julia. “Not a healthy young man in sight. Nothing but desperate old maids and invalids.”

Julia smiled wryly. “I thought we were here to perform
My Lady Deception
, not to look for men.”

“The day I stop looking…” Arlyss began, and suddenly stopped with an odd expression on her face.

Following her friend's gaze, Julia saw that Mary Woods, one of the company's minor actresses, was flirting openly with Michael Fiske. The scene painter seemed more than a little interested in the pretty young woman and her ebullient smile.

“What is she doing, taking up Fiske's time when she should be rehearsing her part?” Arlyss demanded, a scowl pulling at the bridge of her slim nose.

Julia repressed a smile as she heard the distinct note of jealousy in Arlyss's voice. “Mary has only a few lines. I'm sure she knows them to perfection by now.”

Arlyss's scowl remained. “Mr. Fiske has enough to do without entertaining the likes of her.”

“You could have had Fiske, had you wanted him,” Julia said matter-of-factly. “But as I recall, you were more taken with Lord William Savage.”

“Well, he was no better than any of the others,” Arlyss retorted. “Although William is divine in bed, he apparently has no interest in me outside of it. I'm finished with him. With
all
men, at the moment.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she pointedly turned her back on the sight of Michael Fiske and Mary Woods. Just then Julia saw Fiske take a surreptitious glance at Arlyss. So he was trying to make her jealous, Julia thought, and her lips twitched with sympathetic amusement.

“Let's talk about
your
paramour,” Arlyss suggested, turning impish. “Lord Savage came to see me in London—he was trying to find you. All I said to him was that the company was going to begin touring in Bath. Did he come here? Have you seen him?”

Julia hesitated and nodded, while warm color burnished her cheeks.

“Well?” Arlyss prompted. “What happened?”

Shaking her head, Julia gave a self-conscious laugh. Even if she were inclined to tell her, no words could describe last night. After leaving the bath house, they had walked to the inn. The brisk night air had felt refreshing to Julia, but she had been aware of the shivers that ran up and down Damon's frame as his wet, chilly garments clung to his body. When they reached her room, Julia had stirred a fire in the grate, and they had hung his garments to dry.

After climbing into the small but cozy bed, they had pressed their naked bodies together until Damon's skin had turned as warm as her own. He had made love to her wordlessly, using the tender brush of his fingertips, the heat of his mouth, and the movements of his body to communicate his feelings. Remembering the ecstasy she had found in the fire-touched darkness, Julia felt her blush deepen. This morning Damon had been slow to awaken, yawning and stretching and grumbling…pulling her against him when she tried to leave the bed. He had taken her once more, plunging into her body with slow thrusts that had driven her senseless.

Somehow Julia pulled her mind away from the lurid thoughts. “It's nothing I would feel comfortable discussing,” she murmured.

Arlyss leaned closer in conspiratorial delight. “I'm so happy for you, Jessica! I've never seen you look this way before. You must be in love. It's been a long time coming for you, hasn't it?”

“Don't tell anyone, please.”

“Oh, I won't…but they'll guess anyway. You know how gossip is. Besides, you can't hide when you're in love—it comes out in a hundred different ways.”

Julia was spared from replying by the arrival of Logan Scott, who had been detained by a bevy of local politicians, clergy, and townspeople, all of them eager to make his acquaintance and welcome him to Bath. His vivid blue eyes took in the activity onstage, and he gave a short nod of approval. As people gathered around him with questions, he held them off with a murmur and strode toward Julia.

“Mrs. Wentworth,” he said briskly, “how are you?”

She held his gaze and smiled slightly. “Perfectly well after a week's rest, Mr. Scott.”

“Good.”

Sensing that her presence was
de trop
, Arlyss promptly headed toward Michael Fiske, who was still occupied with Mary Woods.

Logan didn't remove his penetrating gaze from Julia's face. “I've heard that Savage is here in Bath,” he remarked. Though the words were toneless, Julia felt as if she had been accused of something.

“Yes,” she said in a way that could have been taken either as confirmation or as question.

“Have you seen him yet?”

Julia couldn't bring herself to answer, but he read her expression easily. “Gorging on sweets again?” he asked.

Julia flushed at his reference to their conversation at his London home. Her shoulders inched upward defensively. “It's not my fault if he chooses to follow me.”

One russet brow curled in derision. “Isn't it?”

“If you're implying that I've offered him encouragement—”

“I don't give a damn what you've offered him. Just make certain your work isn't affected. The first morning you arrive late to rehearsal because you've been lolling in bed with—”

“I wasn't late this morning,” Julia interrupted, her voice touched with frost. “
You
were, Mr. Scott.”

Giving her a chilling glance, Logan turned and walked away, snapping out commands right and left.

Julia felt disturbed and slightly puzzled. It was the closest they had ever come to an outright argument, and she wasn't certain why. If they had been any other two people, she might have speculated that Logan Scott had been motivated by jealousy. But that was ridiculous. He certainly had no romantic feelings for her—and even if he did, he would rather die than break his strict rule about never having a relationship with any of the actresses in the company.

Was Logan worried that she might abandon her career in favor of marriage?
You would be difficult to replace at the Capital
, he had told her last week. Perhaps that was true, but it wouldn't be impossible. There were always new and talented young actresses on the rise, and Julia had no illusions that she was irreplaceable.

As they conducted a full run-through of the play, the company was relieved to discover that aside from a few minor pacing problems, the production was nearly flawless. Logan, however, seemed far from satisfied, stopping the rehearsal several times to deliver terse lectures to the cast and crew. As the afternoon lengthened, Julia wondered how hard he intended to push the actors. Rebellious murmurs ran through the group until the rehearsal was finally concluded in early evening. “I want everyone to be here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning,” Logan said. Grumbling beneath their breaths, the assemblage dispersed quickly.

“You should be pleased at how well it went,” Julia dared to say to Logan as he stood in the middle of the stage. The lines of his face were set in harsh angles. “Instead you're behaving as if the rehearsal were a disaster.”

He gave her a threatening glance. “When someone appoints you as manager of the company, you can decide how to run things. In the meantime, kindly leave that responsibility to me.”

Julia was surprised and stung by his foul temper. “I wish we could all be as perfect as you, Mr. Scott,” she said sarcastically, and strode away. After snatching up her cloak and hat from one of the theater seats, she made her way to the entrance, forgetting in her haste that there would undoubtedly be a crowd outside. Now that the townspeople in Bath were aware of the acting company's presence, they would gather to catch a glimpse of Logan Scott or the other Capital players.

As she opened the door and began to step outside, she was immediately pushed back by a horde of people trying to enter the locked theater. “It's her!” someone cried. “Mrs. Went-worth!” There were eager cries from both men and women, and frantic hands reaching for her. Startled, Julia wedged all her weight against the door and managed to close it, but not before two men had forced their way inside.

Gasping with effort, Julia stepped back and regarded the pair. One was heavyset and middle-aged, and the other tall, scrawny, and much younger. The portly one removed his hat and regarded her with an obvious leer. The tip of his red tongue edged over small, puffy lips. When he spoke, the scents of tobacco and liquor wafted heavily from his mouth.

He introduced himself as if he expected her to be impressed by his title. “Lord Langate, my dear, and this is my companion, Lord Strathearn.” He removed his hat, revealing a sparse patch of pomaded and cologned hair. “Let me say you are even more delectable at close range than at a distance.”

“Thank you,” Julia said warily. She positioned her small hat on her head and pinned it to the neatly coiled hair at her crown. “If you'll excuse me, gentlemen—”

They crowded closer to her, backing her against the door. Langate's pebblelike eyes gleamed greedily as he glanced over her slender figure. “Being familiar with the city and all its delights, Strathearn and I decided to offer our services to you for the evening.”

“That's not necessary,” Julia said in a clipped voice.

“We'll take you for an excellent meal, madam, and then a tour in my carriage. You'll find it quite enjoyable, I assure you.”

“I have other plans for tonight.”

“No doubt you do.” Langate licked his thick lips and smiled, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “But surely you could be persuaded to change them for a pair of gentlemen who admire you so greatly.”

“I'm afraid not.” Julia tried to push past them, only to be crowded against the door once more.

Langate's hand came to her shoulder, then spread over her chest. “Perhaps you need a little inducement.”

To her shock, she felt him fumble at her bodice, his short, pudgy fingers depositing a small wad of bills into her cleavage. Shuddering in revulsion, she jerked back and fished the money out of her dress. Her face turned scarlet as she opened her mouth to call for help.

Before she could make a sound, however, a dark whirlwind descended on them. Julia blinked and froze while swift movement took place around her. The two men who had crushed her against the door were suddenly gone, plucked away as if by some gigantic Olympian hand. The wad of money dropped from Julia's fingers and scattered over the floor. Dazedly she stared at her rescuer. It was Damon, his face a cold mask, his eyes lit with murderous fury. He had pinned the hapless lords against the wall like a pair of yapping terriers. It didn't seem that he heard their babbling apologies and explanations. They both fell silent as he spoke to them, words hissing between his teeth.

“If you approach her again, I'll rip you to pieces…and I won't stop until you're scattered from one side of Bath to the other.”

Langate's blubbery face turned purple. “We weren't aware she was spoken for,” he managed to say.

Damon released Strathearn and focused all his attention on Langate. His fingers tightened on the man's throat. “Touch her, speak to her, even look at her…and I'll kill you.”

“No need…” the man gasped, choking for air. “Please…I'll go…”

Abruptly Damon let go, and Langate collapsed against the door. Strathearn went to him immediately, looking cowed and pale as he lent a supporting arm to his companion. Together the pair made their way through the door, back into the eager throng that waited outside.

Damon turned to Julia, his eyes still glittering with rage.

“How…?” she asked breathlessly.

“I came through the back entrance of the theater. There's a crowd waiting for you there as well.”

“And for the other actors,” she said with a flicker of returning spirit.

“Mostly for you.” He gave her a hard smile. “You seem to be considered public property, Mrs. Wentworth.”

“I'm no one's property.”

“I can produce a certificate of marriage that states otherwise.”

“Your certificate is worth
this
,” she retorted with a snap of her fingers. “Our marriage is of questionable legality, as you're well aware. Any court would set it aside with no hesitation, considering the fact that neither of us was of an appropriate age.”

After a long moment Julia's gaze fell, and she wondered why they were suddenly so angry with each other. She softened her voice considerably. “Thank you for getting rid of those buffoons.”

Damon didn't reply, his features still tense.

“I'll have to wait here until the crowd begins to disperse,” Julia commented.

“That won't be necessary,” he said grimly. “I'll escort you to my carriage.”

She shook her head and drew back. “No, thank you. I don't think it would be wise to spend another evening with you.”

“Not even to share supper? As far as I know, you haven't eaten today.”

“I don't object to sharing a meal with you, it's just…afterward…”

As Damon saw how flustered she had become, he turned strangely gentle. He reached up to her hat and adjusted it a half-inch, his fingers smoothing back a few soft wisps of blond hair. “I didn't come to Bath merely to chase you around the bedroom—though the idea does have merit.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I want to spend some time with you. I want to know more about the life you lead, and why it holds such attraction for you. And I want you to know more about me. The fact is, we're still strangers. Before we discuss how to end our marriage, it wouldn't hurt to become more familiar with each other.”

“I suppose not,” Julia said cautiously, looking up at him. She made a move to unroll the black veil from the crown of her hat. He did it for her, carefully arranging the netting over her face.

“Then have supper with me tonight at my terrace. I'll deliver you to the inn afterward, completely untouched. You have my word.”