A Kiss In The Dark (20 page)

His smile was enough to make her pulse race in response. “I appreciate your hospitality. And I promise I shall endeavor to keep my hands to myself.”

The knowing look in his eyes had her face heating, and she fisted her hands in the folds of her skirt. “Yes, well … er …”

At that moment, Mrs. Godfrey appeared in the parlor doorway, and Deirdre gave a grateful sigh before hurrying toward her. “There you are, Mrs. Godfrey. Could you be a dear and have one of the maids ready the guest chambers for Lord Ellington? He shall be staying the night.”

The housekeeper gaped first at her, then at Tristan, unable to disguise her astonishment. “He’s staying
here
, my lady?”

“Yes, I believe that is what I said.”

“But—”

“Mrs. Godfrey, please?”

The servant gave a soft huff. “Yes, my lady.” Glaring at Tristan, she marched off, her short gray curls practically bristling with displeasure.

Feeling the need to escape from the suffocating sensation that was starting to overwhelm her, Deirdre busied herself with hanging up her cloak. “Please feel free to make yourself comfortable in the parlor, my lord. I have a few things I need to attend to before I retire, but as soon as your chamber is readied, Mrs. Godfrey will show you to your room.”

“Of course. And if you wouldn’t mind lending me the use of one of your footmen, I should like to send a message to my butler to inform him of my whereabouts in case I am needed.”

“Of course. I shall send someone to you at once. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Grateful for the reprieve, Deirdre started up the stairs, but Tristan’s next words halted her in her tracks.

“One moment, my lady?”

Taking a deep breath, she turned on the bottom step to face him, her hand tightening around the newel post. “Yes, my lord?”

He came toward her across the foyer, his strides long and even, with a fluid grace unusual in a man so large. He didn’t stop until he stood directly before her, his gaze holding hers with a disturbing intensity.

“It appears that I owe you another apology,” he murmured, his breath wafting against her cheek in a gentle caress. “My behavior was deplorable, and I must beg your forgiveness.”

He was apologizing for kissing her? To her dismay, she felt incensed at the realization.

She mentally shook it off. “That is quite all right, my lord. But it is not as if I’ve never been kissed before.”

“You misunderstand, Deirdre.” The sound of her name on his lips was a smooth purr, and one corner of his mouth curved upward in a devilish grin. “I was apologizing for my crude comments regarding your late husband. I had no right to criticize the man when I didn’t even know him.”

He leaned toward her until only a breath of space existed between them, and he continued in a conspiratorial manner. “Why would I apologize for a kiss I enjoyed so very much?”

For a long moment, Deirdre stood frozen, trapped by the passion she could see in his eyes. Then, with a low sound of distress, she broke free and hurried the rest of the way up the stairs.

Over an hour later, Deirdre still paced the confines of her room, restless and unable to sleep.

How did I manage to get myself into such a dreadful tangle?
she wondered, stopping before the mirror to stare woefully at her reflection. All she had wanted to do was make Tristan understand the circumstances that had once led her down the road to a life of crime. And she had believed that she was getting through to him, that her words had been making a difference, for she could have sworn she’d seen compassion in the depths of his eyes.

And then he’d kissed her.

The gall of the man! She marched over to fling herself down on the side of her bed, her temper seething. Inviting himself to stay the night in her house, then flirting with her in such a shameful fashion. He was insisting that he would remain here until Dan got in touch with them, but that could very well be days, if ever.

The mere thought of Tristan living in the same house with her, sleeping here night after night, was enough to make her heart skip a beat. She tried to tell herself it was the inherent danger of the situation. After all, the more time he spent with her, the more likely he was to discover the secret she kept from him. But she couldn’t deny the simmering desire that seemed to permeate the air between them. It was growing stronger every minute, and it made her distinctly uncomfortable. Especially when she knew it would be a mistake to ever act upon it.

Unfortunately, Tristan didn’t seem to feel the same way. She had run into him once more before turning in for the evening, as Mrs. Godfrey had been showing him to his room. The heated look he’d sent her way had had her ducking her head before wishing him a good night and scurrying off as if the devil himself had been in pursuit.

I never should have given in to him
, she thought crossly. But what was done was done, and if the man was going to stay in this house, there would be rules to follow. Firstly, there would be no more smoldering glances, no more kisses that made her whole body throb with wanting and kept her roaming her room at night. He would comport himself as a gentleman at all times, and she would make sure he realized that just because she came from the rookeries did not mean he could treat her like a common wench available for the bedding.

And she would do it right now.

She glanced at the wall that separated her room from the guest chamber. From the other side came the faint sound of footsteps and the occasional scrape of furniture. Obviously, he was still as wide awake as she, so now was as good a time as any to make her position clear.

Her anger well roused after an hour of working herself into a lather, she rose and pulled on her dressing gown, making sure it was belted securely before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

All was quiet, the rest of the house having settled down for the night long ago. Making her stealthy way over to the guest room door, she gave the panel one short, peremptory knock before opening it and stepping inside without waiting for a response.

The chamber was shadowed, the only light coming from the flames burning low in the hearth. At first, she could make out nothing in the dimness. Then, a darkened form in one of the wingback chairs before the fireplace shifted and rose, stepping into the faint glow cast by the fire.

Every bit of breath left Deirdre’s body in a rush, and her thoughts became a jumbled mass as Tristan moved toward her, magnificently, gloriously naked but for a pair of fawn-colored breeches that rode low on his hips.

Dear God, he was beautiful! The firelight gilded the muscular planes of his broad chest, giving his velvety skin a golden sheen, and the tight breeches left very little to the imagination. They outlined every inch of his taut thighs, cupping the bold ridge of his manhood almost lovingly.

Tearing her gaze away from that telltale bulge with difficulty, she looked up to meet his violet eyes. They were dark and troubled, nearly black in the gloom of the chamber, and his ebony hair looked rumpled, as if he had raked his hands through it several times.

“What is it, Deirdre?” he asked, his tone edged with apprehension. “Is it Emily?”

She couldn’t speak. All of the righteous indignation that had carried her in here in the first place had flown away and deserted her, and her tongue seemed to have cleaved to the roof of her mouth.

“Deirdre?”

Wrapping her arms about herself, she forced the words out through her paralyzed throat. “No. It’s nothing like that.”

Some of the tension seemed to seep out of his body and he relaxed, his wide shoulders rising and falling with his relieved exhalation. He reached up to rub at his eyes in a weary manner, then glanced at her, his expression inquiring. “Then what is it? Has something else happened?”

She shook her head and licked suddenly dry lips. “No. No, nothing’s happened. I just—I—” Her words stumbled to a halt and she stared up at him, at a loss as to what to say.

He watched her for a long moment, then a slow smile started to spread across his face. Planting his hands on his hips, he strolled forward until he stood just inches away from her, the distracting expanse of his chest on a level with her eyes.

“Did you … need me for anything, Deirdre?”

Her fingernails dug almost convulsively into her arms at the seductive quality of his voice. The spicy smell of his cologne was enough to rob her of her senses, and the power of his hypnotic gaze held her immobile.

“N-no,” she managed to squeak, her words barely above a whisper.

“Surely you must have wanted something rather urgently to be visiting me in my room so late.” In an unexpected move, he lifted a hand to twine the tip of her shoulder-length braid around one finger, gazing down at her from under lowered lashes. “You can tell me.”

What
had
she wanted? It was becoming more and more difficult to remember with every second that passed. Especially with him touching her. “I-I just wanted to make sure that you were comfortable.”

“Oh, yes. Quite comfortable.” He let go of her braid and let his finger trail over her collarbone just above the lacy edge of her wrapper. “Of course, I wouldn’t object if you should offer to stay and tuck me in.”

Straightening her spine, she ignored the goose bumps his caress instigated and took a deliberate step back, away from his disconcerting nearness. “Come now, my lord. Surely you’re perfectly capable of tucking yourself in.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t do it myself. I just happen to believe having you do it would be more enjoyable.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I have no intention of tucking you in. I merely wanted to check and make sure you had everything you needed before I went to bed myself.”

“Hmmm.” Circling her, he halted next to the door and leaned with casual grace against the frame, blocking her exit. “That’s a very interesting question. Do you really want me to answer it?”

That was it. This had gone far enough. It had been a mistake to come in here in the first place, and she had no intention of standing here bandying words back and forth.

Taking a deep breath, she swung about to face him. “If you wouldn’t mind moving aside, my lord, I should like to return to my own room now.”

“It’s ‘my lord’ now, is it?” Leaning forward, he reached out to cup her chin in his palm, tilting her head up until their gazes met. She couldn’t restrain a slight shiver at the tingling contact. “Whatever happened to Tristan?”

“Whatever happened to your promise to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Are you quite certain that’s what you want?”

With him standing this close and their lips only inches apart, Deirdre wasn’t certain of anything. Part of her longed to throw her arms around his neck and lose herself in the passion of another kiss, but her saner half battled against that feeling for all she was worth.

Trying desperately to clear her mind of the sensual fog that seemed to have stolen her senses, she looked up at him with beseeching eyes. “Tristan, please?”

The simple words seemed to hit him hard. He froze, his face becoming a blank, unreadable mask as he scrutinized her with eyes that reflected none of his inner thoughts. After a long, drawn-out moment, he dropped his hand and stepped aside, clearing her path to the door.

Deirdre didn’t hesitate. She took to her heels and escaped the room, leaving behind Tristan and the powerful feelings he seemed to stir in her.

As soon as the door slammed shut in Deirdre’s wake, Tristan made his way back to the chair by the fire and slumped into it, bowing his head in his hands.

What in the bloody hell had gotten into him? Just this morning he’d been telling himself how impossible it would be to pursue any sort of liaison with her. Nothing had changed. But ever since he’d kissed her, he’d been unable to forget the passion of it, the way her soft lips had opened under his, like a flower offering up its sweet nectar. Her response had been so innocent, so untutored that he found it hard to believe she was an experienced widow.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shifted restlessly in his seat. He was tired, that was all. Lack of sleep and worry over Emily had finally caught up to him, tearing at his defenses and making him weak where his feelings for Deirdre were concerned.

When the door to his bedchamber had first opened and he’d looked up to see her hovering in the doorway, he’d thought he was dreaming, that he’d dozed off in his chair and was in the middle of some erotic fantasy. Clad in a white silk dressing gown that clung to every curve, her hair in a single braid down her back with several loose tendrils curling at her temples, she’d been the picture of temptation.

And he had most definitely been tempted. All he’d wanted to do was scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the big, canopied bed against the far wall. Thank God he’d managed to regain his wits before it had been too late.

I must have been mad to insist upon staying here in her home with her
, he thought, looking up to stare into the dancing flames before him. True, it would be advantageous to already be here in case Dan should send a messenger with news of Emily, but it hadn’t been strictly necessary. He truly had no idea why he’d been so insistent. He’d only known that he hadn’t wanted to part from her yet.

After everything she’d shared with him tonight, he was starting to gain a true understanding of the kind of person Deirdre was. Gentle, yet determined, caring and unselfish, she gave of herself unstintingly, never expecting anything in return. She’d climbed her way out of the gutter to become an admirable and courageous lady, and even though their acquaintance was of such a short duration, he found that he was beginning to trust and respect her more than anyone else he’d ever known.