“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 pa
ssion, and she answered his demand with one of her own.
The carriage stopped, and Julia realized that they had arrived at his estate. Tearing herself away, she retreated to the opposite seat and fumbled with her bodice. Her fingers were clumsy as she pulled the fabric together and tugged at the gold cord to tighten the lacing. When she had managed to restore a semblance of modesty, she looked up to find Damon's steady gaze on her.
“Come inside with me,” he said. There was a tautness about his face and a banked glow in his eyes that made it clear what would happen if she accompanied him.
No, she cried inwardly, but somehow the word wouldn't come out. She wanted to be with him, wanted him to soothe the physical ache of her body, and give her the same peace and fulfillment she had experienced before. One more night with him…would it cause any more harm than had already been done? Ashamed of her weakness, overcome with temptation, she struggled with her feelings.
Damon made the decision for her, opening the carriage door and reaching inside. Her hand was caught in his, and she let him tug her from the vehicle. The footman rushed ahead of them to open the front door of the mansion, and they crossed the threshold into the quiet entrance hall. It must have been the servants' night off—there was no one in sight, and the place was dimly lit.
As soon as the door closed, Damon turned her in his arms and kissed her, his mouth urgent as it descended over hers. Julia shuddered in pleasure and stood on her toes to fit herself against him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. Damon moved his lips to whisper at her ear, something tender and erotic…but Julia stiffened as she saw a movement beyond him. Startled, she pushed at his chest and stared wide-eyed at the intruder. Turning his head, Damon looked as well.
A woman was coming down the stairs in a slow, deliberate saunter, her hips swaying gracefully. The folds of her thin gown, fashioned in transparent layers of peach, moved about her thighs and ankles like liquid. It was a seductive garment intended to ensnare a man's attention. She was barefoot, as if she had just arisen from bed and come to welcome unexpected guests.
“Pauline,” Damon muttered, sounding stunned.
Julia eased away from him, unconsciously smoothing her skirts. Even with the hard look in her eyes, Pauline was extraordinarily beautiful, her hair dark and silky as it tumbled down her back, her eyes slanted like a cat's.
“I thought to surprise you, darling,” Pauline said softly, seeming to be in utter command of the situation. “Little did I know that I would be the one surprised. I didn't expect that with everything so unresolved between us, you would be entertaining another woman tonight.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and folded her arms, causing her cleavage to swell enticingly. Her cool, amused gaze fell on Julia. “What has happened to you, my dear? You look terribly bedraggled…and the two of you reek of smoke.”
“A mishap at the theater,” Julia replied shortly.
“Ah.” Pauline looked back at Damon, arching her fine brows. “You've become quite a devotee of the theater lately, haven't you?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked in a hard voice.
She looked wounded at his tone. One slim hand came to her stomach, reminding him of her delicate condition. “I thought we needed to talk…and since you wouldn't come to me, this seemed to be my only choice.” She looked once more at Julia. “Do run along, won't you? Damon and I require some privacy. I'm certain you can find some other man to satisfy your needs tonight.”
Julia's blood turned cold with fury and humiliation. She kept her face blank. “Certainly,” she replied in a controlled voice. “I'd like to get as far away from both of you as possible.”
“Wait,” Damon said, reaching for her arm, but she jerked away.
A satisfied smile crept across Pauline's face. It appeared that she couldn't resist one parting shot. “Mrs. Wentworth…perhaps you think you're becoming quite close to Lord Savage, but there's much about him you don't know. I suspect that among the things he has omitted to tell you is one very relevant fact—he is already married.”
Julia paused at the front door. “Yes, I know that,” she said calmly.
Pauline seemed surprised, and then her face wrinkled with disdain. “My God, you have the morals of a cat in heat. To throw yourself at a man who is married to one woman and has made another pregnant…you're the most shameless creature I've ever encountered.”
“Pauline—” Damon said in a murderous tone, but Julia interrupted evenly.
“Shameless? You're the one parading around a married man's home dressed in nothing but a peignoir.” She burned to tell the other woman the truth, that she was the wife in question, and that Pauline certainly had no right to pass judgment on anyone.
Somehow managing to hold her tongue, Julia strode to the front door and tugged it open. She paused to give Damon a backward glance, but he appeared to be ignoring her, all his attention focused on Pauline. Jealousy shot through her. She couldn't decide if she was more angry with him or with herself.
Hurrying outside, Julia called to the footman. “Tell the driver to bring back the carriage immediately. I wish to leave now.” As he hurried to obey, she rubbed her bare arms and began to shiver from the cool breeze. She thought of going home, but rejected the idea at once. There was someone she needed to see right now, the only person in the world who could restore her sanity and anchor her in reality.
Damon was silent for a long time, staring hard at Pauline until her victorious smile dimmed and she began to look uncomfortable. She spoke smoothly, making an effort to seem at ease. “I suppose I can't blame you for your dalliance with her, darling. She is rather attractive, albeit in a cheap, obvious way—”
“You shouldn't have come here.” Until this moment he had never actively disliked Pauline. He had been suspicious, exasperated, angry with her, but he had never felt anything that bordered on hatred before. She seemed like a millstone around his neck, clinging with ruthless determination, dragging him down to a very dark, cold place. She brought out the absolute worst in him. He stiffened as she came to him, pressing her perfumed body against his.
“I couldn't stay away from you,” Pauline murmured. “I've missed you so.”
“Have you spoken to Dr. Chambers yet?”
Her elusive gaze darted from his. “Not yet, I but I plan to very soon.” Her silky arms began to wind around his shoulders. “In the meanwhile—”
“Then I'll make the arrangements.” He pushed her back a step or two, breaking her hold on him. His handling of her was not rough, but neither was it gentle.
Pauline looked annoyed and alarmed. “You can't do that!”
“Why not?”
“Dr. Chambers is a very busy man—you can't order him about like a servant. And he won't discuss my condition with you unless I give my consent.”
“You're playing games with me,” he said with dangerous quietness. “I won't tolerate it.”
She drew back, looking offended. “There's no need to be so threatening. I've never seen this side of you before, and I find it quite disagreeable.”
“Disagreeable?” he repeated thickly. “There aren't words to describe the side of me you're going to see if I discover you've been lying.”
She met his gaze directly. “I've told you the truth.”
“Then produce a doctor for me soon, Pauline—one who'll stake his reputation on the fact that you're breeding. That's the only chance you have of keeping me from wringing your neck.”
“You're in an ugly mood because I've thwarted your plans to bed that little theater whore tonight—”
“Not one word against her.” A bolt of fury caused his voice to shake.
Although enraged, Pauline recognized the sincerity of his unspoken threat. For several moments she struggled to control her emotions.
“I understand that you want her,” she finally said. “Perhaps as much as you once wanted me. But I will not step aside to make things easy for you. I will have what I want, what I am owed.” She stared into his gran
ite-hard face and softened her voice, her expression changing from sullen to cajoling. “It's not exactly a torment to be with me, is it? You've enjoyed my company in the past—that doesn't have to change. If our games in bed have begun to bore you, I'll invent new ones. I'll satisfy you in ways that most women would never dare—”
“It's over,” he said coldly.
Her dark eyes widened. “Exactly what is over?”
“Our relationship—at least the way it has been.”
“What about the child?”
“If you produce a baby within the next nine months, I'll decide what my responsibility is. If not, there will be no doubt that I'm not the father—because I'm not going to bed you, I'm not going to touch you, and God willing, I won't even have to see you.”
“There is a baby,” she said, each word snapped out like a whiplash. “You'll eat your words, Damon. You'll regret that you treated me this way.”
“Perhaps.” He took her by the arm in a painful grip and began to usher her upstairs. “In the meanwhile you're going to dress yourself and get the hell out of my house.”
Chapter 8
“Tell the butler that I wish to see Mr. Scott,” Julia said to the footman, stepping down from the carriage. “Tell him I regret that the hour is late, but this is an urgent matter.”
“Yes, Mrs. Wentworth.” The footman strode rapidly to the front door and alerted the butler inside to their arrival.
Julia followed slowly, her courage evaporating with each step she took toward Logan Scott's luxurious house in the quiet court suburb of St. James Square. The house was three bays wide and fronted with massive fluted columns that seemed designed to intimidate curious visitors such as herself. She had never been here before—Logan had all but forbidden the actors and crew of the Capital to set foot on the property.
As far as Julia knew, Logan rarely entertained at home. The few who had been privileged to visit hadn't breathed a word about the house or its occupant, respecting his wishes for privacy. It was his exclusive domain, this small estate, and it seemed to be covered by an invisible shroud of mystery. But she wanted to see him, and it didn't seem possible to wait until morning.