His mouth didn’t stop at her lips, but trailed down her neck to the edge of her night rail. His hands roamed up and down her back, then around to cup her breasts, and she gasped at the sharp bolt of pleasure that traveled through her. Julia’s hands came up to hold his hands in, keeping them pressed tightly to her body while she gloried in Tristan’s answering groan.
He buried his face against the nape of her neck—kissing, sucking lightly at the tender flesh. “Tell me to stop, Julia... Help me to stop.”
Julia arched her neck to give him better access while letting go of his hands to slide hers up and around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop.”
He lifted his head and claimed her mouth again. Deeply. Wetly. Desperately. He tugged her gown low and swirled his tongue around her nipple before sucking the tip. Sharp desire arrowed deeply and Julia pressed her hips against his in instinctual response. He groaned, and his hand shifted lower to caress her thighs and that sensitive place between them.
She gasped at the pleasure of his touch. She wanted to plead for him to touch her again, to take her to that something she yearned for, but could not name. He curled his hand tightly against her and she whimpered for more.
At the sound, he pulled back, released his hold on her and rolled away, panting. Julia reached for him again but he vaulted up and strode to the far side of the room. “I’ll not ruin you, Julia. Much as I want you—much as you want to know what happens between men and women.”
“I am already ruined.” She protested. “If I must bear the censure of society I should at least know of what I have been accused.”
The moonlight revealed his rigid stance and the taut line of his frown. “You are not ruined, Julia. You are a lady. The legitimate daughter of a nobleman. I have enough sins on my conscience as it is.” He clasped his hands behind his neck and took a deep breath, then another. Finally, his breathing slowed and he said, “You have had too much taken from you, I’ll not take your innocence... nor will I take a chance of bringing another bastard into the world.”
Julia fought to control her own breathing, but her pulse hammered wildly and she wondered if she would ever take a calm breath again. Her lips felt tender and her breasts ached to feel his hands caress them once more. She wanted him to hold her, to make her gasp, to do whatever it was that made the woman in the next room wail with such abandon. Yet his reminder of the consequences of that act shocked her out of the haze of passion.
A bastard. A child. She’d given up the idea of children after her disastrous season. Her lack of marriage prospects had sealed that fact in her mind. The idea of a child without marriage had never been a question. It was scandalous. But it was possible.
Caring for Alice had given her a glimpse of how much she had buried her desire for family... but a bastard child? Tristan knew better than anyone what that meant. Julia could only guess at the taunts and humiliations he had borne, but she had seen enough in the way the townsfolk treated children of unwed parentage to know how cruel people could be. It made her wonder how many mothers who arrived in a new village named themselves widows when they were not?
But to take that chance would destroy his sense of honor. He would know the truth and hate it. And if Julia had learned anything about Tristan, it was that his sense of honor was what gave him a sense of worth.
“I beg your pardon, Tristan.” She hated the tremble in her voice. She rose from the floor and moved to the bed. “I did not think beyond... beyond—I understand.” She lay back down and pulled the blankets high before turning to her side. “Good night.”
TRISTAN STAYED AT THE far side of the room long after Julia apologized and returned to bed. His breathing slowed, but his body had not yet subsided and he still ached for release.
He should have told her she had nothing to be sorry for but he’d been unable to say more. She couldn’t know how much he wanted her or how much he would despise himself if he gave in to his desire.
He had promised himself he would never be responsible for causing another child to endure the subtle snub or outright insults he had born from his earliest years. Had his father been less than a duke Tristan would not have been tolerated at any ton function, or most lower classes in society.
Even now, he resented his assigned place in the world. He accepted that he could do nothing more than to prove wrong those people who thought bastards had some bone deep stamp of their parents’ guilt and that they were destined to be cursed and dishonorable. Respect and acceptance were little more than pipe dreams when one was illegitimate. He could do nothing but behave as a gentleman was supposed to behave... and see that he was not guilty of his father’s sin of bringing another bastard into an unforgiving world.
He found the chair and sat heavily. He couldn’t settle on the floor again. He rubbed his palms over his face, then flexed his fingers along his temple.
Dear, God, she tasted like heaven on earth.
SUNLIGHT FROM THE WINDOW woke Tristan where he’d finally fallen asleep slumped over the table. He stretched in a vain attempt to ease his awkward posture, then stood and checked to see if Julia still slept. Satisfied that she did, he quickly washed in the cold water from the night before then slipped out of the room and down to the public room below.
He ordered breakfast and was half-finished when she approached the table.
“I hope you were able to get some sleep.”
As always, her husky voice triggered his desire and he cleared his throat before speaking. “I did.”
She sat across from him. She did not meet his eyes before she poured tea into the second cup Tristan had arranged for when he ordered the pot. Her face pinked slightly when her gaze finally lifted to his then darted to the side. “I apologize for putting you into a compromising situation last night. I fear,” her color deepened, “I did not think beyond... I did not think.” She finally muttered. She looked at him fully then. “I shall not bother you in such a manner again.”
She took his breath away. It had to be harder for her to face him than it had been for him—and he had slipped out of the room to delay this particular moment.
“No, Julia you are wrong,” His lips firmed. “You will bother me every moment we are together.” He took a frustrated breath and met her gaze. “I shall have to be as blunt about this as I have tried to be about the chance of finding your sister. I desire you and you desire me.” Her face paled and she put down her cup but did not deny his words.
“There is nothing wrong with desire, Julia.” A wry smile lifted his lips. “It is the way God insures the continuation of his creation. After all, if procreation were not pleasurable, mankind might have died out long ago.” He held up a finger. “But,” he said, “It is possible to experience desire and resist its pull. It is what we shall do.”
Julia refreshed the tea in her cup. “Yes. That is probably best.”
“It is more than best,” he growled. “It is necessary.”
CHAPTER 23
When Portsmouth came into view late the next afternoon, Julia asked, “Shall we go to the tavern tonight?”
They had spoken of polite matters along the way. None of the shared stories had been more than anecdotes that touched the surface of their memories. They did not delve into the events that molded them. Those were the secrets of darkness. Again, Julia felt every brush and bump that touched her as they made their way along the road. She now knew that Tristan felt them just as acutely.
“Perhaps. Once we take rooms I shall make a few inquiries around the docks.” He glanced sideways at her before turning his attention back to the road. “I shall gain more information if I am alone. Rough as many of the men are, they will not speak of certain matters in the presence of a lady of quality.”
“I can wear the dress I wore to the Gray Whale and pretend to be your mistress, again.”
“A man may take his mistress many places he would not take his wife,” He shook his head and chuckled. “But he does not take her with him when he asks about the local brothel
s.
She smiled. “I suppose not.”
Her thoughts, when not interrupted by surges of physical awareness, centered on their conversation the night before. How blatant she had been to ask about women servicing men. She found it difficult to believe she’d been so bold. But curiosity—and the odd restlessness that had plagued her since their kiss—had driven her to speak.
Asking Tristan if his mother had worked in a brothel had gone beyond the pale... but led to an unexpected facet of the man who alternately presented blunt reality and gentle understanding.
Oddly, the darkness seemed to free Tristan of the hard-edged manner he maintained most of the time. That he had loved and revered his mother showed in the way his voice altered when he spoke of her. He’d shared a part of himself in the dark, but it was too new and private to discuss in daylight.
TRISTAN SURVEYED THE Mermaid’s Tail tavern and wished he had a better idea of what Ned looked like. As things were, he needed Julia to identify the former footman, but the Portsmouth docks were every bit as rough as those in London. Seven Dials and the London docks held no secrets for him and he’d known how to keep Julia safe when they played their charade. He did not know Portsmouth and disliked exposing Julia to more night adventures, but he had no choice. They had little time to locate Alice.
His only consolation was that he’d not picked up whispers of new merchandise arriving in any of the brothels. That didn’t mean Ned was not in town or that he would keep the child in his control any longer than necessary, but if offered the hope that they still had a chance of rescuing her before Ned followed through with Summerfield’s plan. If he could find them.
He ascended the stairs and knocked on Julia’s door. She opened it quickly, and Tristan could only stare at the sight she made. Obviously, she thought to be ready to spend another night at a tavern with him and had donned the dress she’d worn to the London tavern. She had even managed to procure face paint to darken her eyes and redden her lips. She had arranged her hair up in a loose arrangement, and the rich dark strands made him want to pull it down and run his hands through it.
“Don’t ever open your door without asking who is there.” The words came out harshly and she blinked at him in surprise. “In fact, do not ever open it unless I give the correct answer.”
“The correct answer?”
“If I am alone I shall answer, ‘All is well’. If I reply in any other manner, keep the door locked and do not venture beyond it under any circumstance.” He surveyed the delectable, and decidedly wanton picture she presented and told her, “Change into a respectable walking dress. I have arranged for a private room and ordered dinner. I shall freshen myself and take you downstairs in half an hour.”
When the serving girl left them after delivering their supper of haddock and roasted turnips, Julia asked, “Why are we not going to the tavern tonight?”
“To be frank, I doubt we will find Ned in a tavern tonight. If he is found anywhere tonight, it is most likely at a brothel. You cannot go there and I cannot recognize him until you point him out.” He took a bite of his fish. He pointed to her plate, encouraging her to eat. “It has been a long day on the road and it is best to know the layout of one’s location before venturing into possible danger. We shall have an early night, walk about the town in the morning, and try the tavern midday. You need not dress the part of a lightskirt. ”
The next morning, before they left the inn, Julia assured Tristan her knowledge of Portsmouth was limited to the cobbler, the draper and the bank as she had never stayed in town longer than necessary. Nonetheless, when Tristan escorted Julia along High Street he kept a wary eye out for trouble. He wore the clothes of a moderately prosperous merchant and walked with a distinct limp. Julia had been alarmed for him until he explained that he needed the ruse in a town where able-bodied men were often pressed into service without warning.
Regardless of whether or not anyone recognized Julia, Tristan no longer sported the beard he’d grown during his earlier visit. That, and the fact that he was a fit man of fighting age, meant he needed to be aware of everything around them. The last thing he needed was for a press gang to sweep him along with them and leave Julia to fend for herself without protection.
When they came in sight of the tavern, Tristan warned her, “Watch for Ned, but also be aware of any strangers who take unusual interest in us.” She turned questioning eyes on him and he explained, “Press gangs are known to take advantage of any lapse. I have identification papers with me, but that is no guarantee that a desperate captain would not deny their validity.”
“But your limp...”
“Is not all that original as a protective deception.” He grinned. “Still, it should serve as I am escorting a lady as well.”
“They would act so publically?”
“They more often take men who’ve drunk too much and who are alone,” he said. “But they have been known to slip the King’s coin into a pocket or tankard of ale, then claim desertion when they find it in a man’s possession.”
“How horrible.” Julia said. “What of their families?”
“If they are lucky, they may receive a letter from a foreign port in time. If not, and he dies at sea, the family may never know what happened to him.”
The day was far enough advanced to find late-night carousers returning to their favorite haunts to begin their revelries again. It didn’t surprise Tristan that the interior of the Mermaid’s Tail resembled the Gray Whale in all but the number of tables crammed into the space and the prominence of military customers. This was, after all a tavern.
London’s wharf-side businesses served more merchants and cargo ships while Portsmouth primarily served the military. The patrons here were less jovial than those in London, and the few the men drinking alone stared at nothing while they drained their tankards. War made men grim, trade made men jovially rich.
Tristan guided Julia to a table near the window so they could watch the street as well as the tavern’s customers. Julia studied the men in the room, then turned her gaze on him with a slight shake of her head. “He is not here.”
“It is still early. We shall wait here for an hour or so, then try some of the other taverns before dark.” He signaled the barmaid and then watched the subtle undercurrents that flowed through the room.
When the barmaid deposited their tankards a few minutes later, she set Tristan’s in front of him with a broad smile. “Here you are, the specialty of the house.” She set Julia’s tankard in front of her, then winked at Tristan before turning back to the bar.
Tristan switched tankards with Julia with a grin. “No point taking chances.”
“Was she warning you, or taunting you?”
“That is hard to say until the tankard is empty.” Tristan took a sip of his drink. “It is an excellent ale, though.” He studied the room, but no one payed any particular attention to them.
A half-hour later Julia’s hand clutched his forearm and she whispered. “He is crossing the street. He is coming to the tavern.”
The man heading toward the Mermaid’s Tail had the tall, well-built stature expected of footmen throughout England. Black-haired and square-jawed, Ned Smith looked like he could take care of himself in any situation. His clothes were not those of a footman, however, but of a prosperous merchant. When he entered the tavern, several of the men greeted him with deference and two men sitting at the table in the far corner of the room moved to another table. In the time it took Ned to take his seat at what was clearly known to be his favored table, the barmaid placed a tankard in front of him. The people Tristan had asked might not admit they knew Ned’s name, but it was clear they knew him by reputation.
“Keep your face averted,” Tristan instructed Julia. “We don’t want to alert him of our presence.” He shifted his chair so that he blocked Ned’s view of Julia, then raised his tankard and took a drink. “I don’t want to attract his attention by leaving so soon after his arrival, either. We will finish our ale, then leave.”
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“Leave? But—How can we...?”
“I shall return and follow him once you are safe and out of sight. We can’t chance his recognizing you.”
Her mouth tightened but she did not argue.
When the serving girl placed a plate of stew in front of Ned a few minutes later, Tristan stood and took Julia’s arm. “Time to go.”
TRISTAN RETURNED TO the Mermaid’s Tail and took a seat near Ned’s table. Ned was in a deep discussion with a man whose lean features had the furtive look of someone who had more to hide than to share, and Tristan noted the way his eyes scanned the room with vigilance. Tristan met his dark gaze briefly, crooked a slight smile of acknowledgement and let his eyes go blank as he looked beyond the pair to the room in general, then lifted his tankard to drink deeply. The man looked back to Ned and continued his conversation.
They kept their voices low and though he strove to listen, Tristan was unable to hear more than a few words, but they were enough. The child broker would arrange an auction before the end of the week. After a few minutes, the broker rose and left. Tristan glanced sideways and saw that Ned watched his departure with a satisfied smile. Ned soon paid his shot and wove his way through the tables and out the door. Tristan waited a few seconds, then followed.
The late afternoon sun lit the exterior walls of the shops that lined High Street and the chilled sea air whipped the riggings of the ships along the quay. Tristan shaded his eyes against the sudden brightness and spotted Ned just before he turned the corner and set off along a narrow alleyway. Walking swiftly, he trailed his quarry through several turnings until Ned entered a gaming hell nestled between a brothel and a tobacconist shop.
Tristan followed him in. The interior was not yet crowded, though a few dedicated gamesters played with quiet intensity at several tables. Lackeys circulated the room delivering wine and brandy while attractive women dealt cards and encouraged their customers to continue playing. Ned was nowhere in sight, though Tristan caught sight of a door closing at the far end of the room.
Chasing Scandal Page 17