A Kiss In The Dark (19 page)

The very thought of Deirdre as a little girl, small and helpless and left alone by an uncaring father, made Tristan’s heart catch. His own father had been no prize, by any means, but at least Tristan had had a roof over his head and food in his belly. He couldn’t imagine living the sort of existence Deirdre described.

He watched as she pushed the hood of her cloak back and wandered over to stare out through the cracks of one of the boarded windows, her expression far away.

“If it weren’t for my mother’s friends, people like Harry and Lilah and Dan, I most likely wouldn’t be here right now,” she continued. “They took me in hand after she died, did their best to make sure I was looked after. Especially Dan.”

“Looked after?” Tristan was incredulous. “You make him sound noble. The man taught you to steal.”

One corner of her mouth curved in a slight smile. “Oh, I know his intentions weren’t entirely altruistic. He hoped to use me, and that’s a fact. But he cared about me in his own way. He grew up with Mama, and I think he may have been a little bit in love with her. In any case, he took me under his wing and showed me the ‘art of the lift,’ as he liked to call it.”

She reached up with a gloved hand to absently trace the edge of the window frame. “At first, it was all a game to me, a challenge. I used to mix in with the crowd at Dan’s boxing matches and try to lift things from people’s pockets without them feeling it. Little things, like a handkerchief or a glove. It was only later that I realized being quick of hand and choosing the right mark could mean the difference between eating that night or starving.”

“And your father?”

She shrugged. “Things got worse as I got older. Sometimes I wouldn’t see him for days. I never knew where he was or who he was with. And when he was home, he was moody and temperamental, like as not to cuff me as look at me. And he would bring men home.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms about herself. “Horrible men who would leer at me and try to touch me when Da wasn’t looking.”

Her eyes met his, and the pain in them was enough to bring a lump to Tristan’s throat. “Those men in Dan’s tonight weren’t the first to attempt to handle me roughly.”

Remembering the way he’d felt when he had come upon Deirdre struggling with that drunken bastard in the club, the anger and sudden fierce need to protect that had overwhelmed him, Tristan took a step toward her. “They didn’t—”

“No. I was always too quick. But I’m certain it would have only been a matter of time.”

She moved away from the window and returned to the center of the room. “One morning, when I was about nine, I woke up to find out Da had never come home the night before. That wasn’t unusual in and of itself, so I didn’t think too much about it. But when a week passed, then another, and there was still no sign of him, I realized he was never coming back, that I was on my own.”

Righteous indignation burned in Tristan’s breast. “He abandoned you.”

“Let’s just say I was suddenly very glad for the skills Dan had taught me. They were the only thing that stood between me and starvation.” She shook her head. “Oh, Lilah and Harry did what they could, but they were struggling to survive themselves.”

“And Dan?”

At his question, she cast her eyes down at the floor. “I went to him right after I realized that Da was gone for good. I was certain he would take me in. He was always telling me that I was like a daughter to him. But …”

Her words trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish. The obvious hurt in her voice was enough to tell Tristan the whole story. “The bastard turned you away.”

“He had just retired from boxing and had opened the club. He said it was no place for a little girl, and perhaps he was right. I just know that I felt dead inside for a long time after that.”

“What did you do?”

Her cheeks flooded with color, and she quickly looked away. “I picked pockets. Did what I had to do to get by.”

Something furtive in her manner told him he wasn’t getting the whole story, but he wasn’t about to push. Not when she was finally being so forthcoming. “And?”

“And that’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to understand the kind of desperation that I lived with every day, the poverty and the despair.” She came to stand before him, her expression earnest. “There was no one to help me, Tristan. No one who cared. And I was far from the only one in those circumstances. Children like Jenna and Gracie McLean go to bed every night, cold and hungry, their only crime being born in the wrong place.”

Insight slammed into Tristan like a lightning bolt. “This is why you spend your time helping these people, why it’s so important to you.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “I know all too well what it’s like to feel alone and afraid. And I know how much it can mean to have one person reach out to you, one person who cares.”

“The viscount?”

“Yes. Nigel.”

Her tone was warm and full of affection as she spoke her late husband’s name, and Tristan felt a sharp pang that left him oddly disturbed. Surely he wasn’t … he couldn’t be …

No. He refused to even think the word
jealous
.

“How did you meet him?” he asked, doing his best to ignore the savage emotions that twisted his insides.

“Believe it or not, I picked his pocket.” She smiled, and it was rare and genuine, a look of such love that Tristan found himself wishing that he’d been responsible for putting it on her face. “He caught me, and instead of having me arrested, he gave me a home, a place to call my own. He was the kindest, most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”

“And is that why you married him? Because you were grateful?”

She stiffened. “I married him because I cared for him a great deal. But that is neither here nor there. I am trying to make a point. And the point is that people will do almost anything to survive. Stealing is far from the worst thing you can be reduced to. I was fortunate Nigel found me in time.”

Images of Deirdre and the viscount together once again taunted Tristan. All too easily, he could picture the man’s wrinkled hands stripping her of her gown, touching and caressing her in the very way he was just coming to realize he longed to do. The visions roused his ire, and he once again found himself speaking before he thought.

“Fortunate? He took you in and wound up with a wife young enough to be his granddaughter. If you ask me, the man took advantage of the situation.”

Deirdre’s eyes blazed, and the next thing he knew, she had raised her hand and slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

Through the material of her glove, the blow was muffled, more startling than painful, but it was enough to break the thread on his already frayed temper and tempt him into doing what he’d been wanting to do from the moment he first met her.

Taking her by the elbows, he yanked her to him, and his mouth crushed down on hers as the darkness closed in around them.

At the contact, every rational thought seemed to fly right out of his head. He was completely and utterly consumed with the taste, the feel of her. Her willowy curves fit against him as if she were made for him, and her lips were as sweet as he’d imagined. Soft and hesitant, they opened under his, allowing his tongue to plunge inside.

Dimly, through the blood pounding in his ears, he heard a soft moan, and it took a moment for him to realize that she wasn’t fighting him. In fact, her hands had twined themselves in the material of his shirt, and she was pressing herself against him with an innocent yielding that took his breath away.

It fired his desire to even greater heights. As his tongue continued to explore the honeyed cavern of her mouth, he let one hand rest briefly on her waist before trailing it down to cup her derriere and pull her even closer to him. The soft juncture of her thighs rested against the bold jut of his arousal, and he couldn’t suppress a low groan at the titillation.

It was this, however, that brought Deirdre to her senses. Abruptly, she tore her mouth from his and jerked away from his hold, stumbling back a few paces to stare up at him with wide, apprehensive eyes.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and started to reach out to her in supplication. But she shook her head, one hand fluttering up to touch her kiss-swollen lips as if in disbelief.

“Please,” she whispered, sounding stricken. “Please, don’t.”

And with those words, she ran from the cottage.

D
eirdre couldn’t restrain a sigh of relief when the carriage finally rolled to a halt in front of her town house.

The ride from her childhood home had been awkward and fraught with tension, with her doing everything possible to avoid meeting Tristan’s eyes. After what had happened between them, she couldn’t even look at him without thinking about the thrill of his big, hard body pressed against her own, his mouth devouring hers. How could she have behaved like such a wanton?

She wasn’t even certain how it had happened. One moment she’d been blazingly angry with him for his derisive comments about Nigel. The next she had been in his arms, kissing him.

She clenched her hands in her lap. Thank heavens he had allowed her several minutes after she had rushed from the cottage to compose herself before he had returned to the coach. She had needed every bit of that time to rein in her confusing emotions. Lord knew what Cullen had thought of her strange behavior. She must have looked a fright, with her tousled hair, flushed face, and passion-bruised lips, but her coachman had remained stoic, as always.

Dear Lord, this couldn’t be happening, she thought anxiously. She couldn’t afford to let herself get too close to Tristan, no matter how attracted she was. If she should lose her heart to him only to have him discover the part she’d played in his mother’s death … well, she didn’t think she could survive it.

Gathering up her reticule, she stole a quick glance over at her companion before clearing her throat. “I have a few more places in mind to stop tomorrow and ask about Emily. We will need to get as early a start as possible in the morning.”

Without waiting for his response or his assistance, she pushed open the carriage door and alighted. As she heard him climb down behind her, she started up the steps to the front entrance, eager to put the barrier of solid oak between herself and the disturbing longings he aroused in her.

“If you would like,” she spoke over her shoulder, “I can have Cullen take you home.” She withdrew her key and inserted it into the lock, struggling to keep her hand from shaking. As the portal swung open, she stepped over the threshold without looking back. “If you’ll tell me what time you’d like for me to arrive tomorrow, I can—”

A hand shot out, keeping her from closing the door. With a gasp of alarm, she whirled to find him on her heels.

“I have no intention of going anywhere,” he said in a voice like steel overlaid with velvet. It was a husky rasp that sent shivers of awareness racing down her spine.

Swallowing, it took her a moment to force the words out past the lump in her throat. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I am staying right here. If Dodger Dan should send a messenger during the night, I have every intention of being on the premises in order to act on the information immediately.” He pushed past her and strode into the foyer.

He wanted to stay here? In her house? With her? “B-but that’s quite impossible.”

He turned to face her, crossing his arms before him in a negligent pose. “Of course it isn’t. You do have a guest room, do you not?”

“Certainly. But it won’t do my reputation any good should any of the neighbors find out—”

“Nonsense. You were the one who pointed out that you didn’t have much of a reputation to begin with, remember?” He gave a careless shrug. “I promise I’ll be discreet, and I won’t take up much room. In fact, I can curl up on the rug in front of the fire in the parlor if you wish.”

He paused, and a sudden hint of pain laced his voice. “It’s not as if I shall sleep tonight, anyway. Not without knowing where Emily is.”

Damnation! Did the man have to seem so very vulnerable when it came to his sister? It made her heart squeeze with sympathy every time.

Though every instinct she possessed screamed that it was a mistake, she relented and closed the door. “Very well. I shall have Mrs. Godfrey make up the guest bedroom for you.”