Chapter 12 #2
She clamped her trembling lips together and stared at him with glittering eyes.
His breath caught as he looked at her. “By God, I'll make you admit it before the night is through.”
“What good would that do?” she asked, while a tear dropped from one of her eyes and slid down her cheek.
Damon traced the wet path with his thumb.
“I have to hear the words. I need to know that you understand what you're doing.” His face was very close to hers, his disheveled black hair falling over his forehead, his eyes bloodshot.
His arms slid around her and she felt his fingers working at the bonds around her wrists.
When her arms were free, she pushed hard against his chest, but he continued to crush her close, his mouth at her ear.
“I know what you want,” he said roughly.
“The very thing you're most afraid of…to be loved by a man, to give yourself to him without holding anything back.
But you're too damned afraid to trust me.
You think I'll use your feelings against you, just as your father did to your mother.”
“And what about you?” she demanded, writhing against him. “You must have everything your way, at your convenience, regardless of what I must sacrifice in order to please you!”
“It doesn't have to be like that.”
They were both still, locked together like two warriors in battle.
The carriage stopped, and Damon dragged Julia from the vehicle despite her protests.
They were at the Savage house at Laura Place.
A pair of perplexed footmen tried to perform their duties as their employer hauled an obviously unwilling woman into the residence.
Julia thought of screaming at the house servants for assistance, but Damon cut her short with a curt statement. “Don't bother. They won't help you.”
Julia continued to struggle as he hauled her toward the staircase, until he stopped and slung her over his shoulder.
After a shriek of surprise, she had a dizzying glimpse of the stairs passing beneath Damon's feet.
Finally they reached his bedroom, furnished with a massive bed covered by a royal blue canopy.
After depositing Julia on the mattress, Damon went to the door and locked it.
He turned to face her and tossed the key to the carpeted floor.
Julia scrambled off the bed, her muscles stiff with outrage. “Is this approach effective with Lady Ashton? Because I assure you, it's not going to work with me.”
“I've broken off my relationship with Pauline. She's not pregnant. She has no claim on me.”
Julia refused to show any reaction to the news, although her heart gave an unwanted skip of gladness. “How ironic. You're bereft of a wife and a mistress all at once.”
“I'm glad we're not married.”
“Why is that?” she asked, managing to stand her ground as he approached her.
Damon stopped a few feet away and removed his coat. He dropped it to the floor and began unfastening his shirt buttons. “Now it's just you and me. The past is no longer between us, and everything our parents did is over.”
“Have you told your father about the letter?” Julia asked, not yet having brought herself to tell her own family about what she had done.
A strange, stiff expression crossed his face. “No,” he said curtly. “He died before I found out about it.”
“What?” Julia asked in bewilderment, staring at him blankly until the meaning of his words sank in. “Oh,” she said faintly. “That's why you didn't come back to Bath. I…I'm sorry—”
Damon cut her off with an impatient shrug, clearly unwilling to discuss it. “He was ill for a long time.”
Pity and regret crept through the tumult of emotions inside her. If she had been aware of the situation, she certainly wouldn't have chosen to send the letter at the same time the duke had died. “I suppose my timing wasn't very considerate—” she began contritely.
“I don't want your consideration.” He pulled his shirt free of his trousers. The white linen gaped open to reveal the ridged muscles of his abdomen. “I want you to take your clothes off and get into bed.”
Julia's mouth went dry, and she could feel the frantic rush of blood in her veins. “You can't really mean that.”
“Would you like me to assist you?”
“Have you gone mad?” she asked, her voice controlled except for the slight gasp that punctuated her question.
“I'm very close to it.” Although there was a sardonic twist to his mouth, Julia realized with a chill of fear that he was in earnest. “I have been since the moment I met you,” he continued.
“I wondered why I couldn't have fallen in love with someone else…
a woman who wanted the life I could offer.
But there has never been a choice for me.
“I loved you long before I realized you were my wife.
Finding out that you were Julia Hargate was a stroke of luck I never expected.
I hoped it would bind you to me…but as you once pointed out, the marriage was never a real one.
I couldn't hold you to the vows you were forced to make as a child.
And you were hell-bent on having your way, just as I was.
I'm afraid neither of us is very proficient at the art of compromise.
And neither of us can force the other to change.
So…I'm left with just one desire. For once in my life I want to make love to you and hear you admit that you love me.”
They stared at each other, aware of the leap of tension in the air, the flicker of unwarranted hope. In the taut silence came the disruption of a man's voice echoing up the stairs, making threats and demands as the servants tried to dissuade him.
“Savage! I want to know where the hell Jessica is! You damned coward…I want to see her now!”
Julia was more than a little startled. It was clearly Logan's voice, but she had never heard him shout in such a manner except on stage.
He must have worked himself into a rage upon discovering her abrupt disappearance from the New Theatre.
With her gaze still locked on Damon, she called out in a strained but steady voice.
“I'm all right, Logan.”
His voice was louder as he ventured up the stairs. “Where are you?”
Julia shot a wary glance at Damon, who didn't move.
Evidently the prospect of facing an enraged Logan Scott did not bother him in the least. “I'm in the suite to the right of the stairs,” she answered.
Tentatively she moved toward the key that lay gleaming on the carpet, wondering if Damon would prevent her from unlocking the door.
Before she reached it, the door vibrated with an explosive thump, and then another, its hinges squeaking in alarm.
Two more devastating blows, and the door burst open.
Logan stood there with a grim expression, his mahogany hair in wild disarray.
Rapidly his gaze moved over the scene; Julia's bedraggled condition, the discarded coat and key on the floor, Damon's open shirt.
A contemptuous snarl distorted Logan's wide mouth.
“You'll learn to stay away from her after I'm finished with you.”
Dark pleasure cast a frightening shadow over Damon's face. “She's not yours yet.”
“I'm perfectly all right,” Julia said to Logan, breathless from the aura of hatred that filled the room. “Please take me away from here, and we'll settle this later like adults—”
“The only place you're going is to my bed,” Damon said thickly. “Right after I throw your fiance out of my home.”
That was clearly the last straw for Logan. He launched himself forward with lightning speed, his broad fist swinging in a wide arc, impacting with a sickening thud against Damon's face.
“No,” Julia gasped, darting toward them, then stopping short as Damon hurled himself on his rival.
The two men fought violently, pummeling each other in spite of Julia's shrieks for them to stop.
With a grunt of effort, Damon shoved Logan back several steps, and they faced each other with murderous gazes.
Immediately Julia took the opportunity to rush between the two men. After one glance at the unreasoning fury on Damon's face, she went instead to Logan and placed a restraining hand on the center of his chest. He looked down at her with hot blue eyes, his nostrils flaring with each breath he took.
“Please,” she said quietly, “this isn't necessary.”
“Leave with me now,” Logan muttered.
Julia thought of complying, but something inside her resisted the idea. She could only manage a stammer. “I…c-can't.”
“After what he's done?” Logan asked sharply.
“One of the scene movers saw you being abducted from backstage.
I knew at once that it was Savage. God knows I wasn't surprised by his behavior.” He took hold of her shoulders, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.
“He believes he owns you, Julia. Walk away from him now, and finish this damned mess.”
Her gaze dropped. She couldn't look into his face any longer. “Not yet,” she said under her breath. “Things aren't settled. Please try to understand.”
“Oh, I understand,” Logan replied coolly. Julia felt his fingers loosen, and then his hands fell away. “Shall I wait downstairs for you?”
“No, but…thank you for coming here. It means a great deal that you would want to protect me.”
“If only I could protect you from yourself,” he said with an ironic edge to his voice. Exchanging a glance of loathing with Damon, Logan turned and left the room, making a mocking show of closing the ruined door behind him.
Julia turned to face Damon, only to find that he had apparently lost all desire for her company. “Get out,” he said, using his shirt sleeve to blot his bloodied nose, ruining the exquisite white linen.
Her mouth tightened with exasperation. Going to the washstand, she found a linen towel and moistened it with water from the porcelain pitcher. Damon sat on the edge of the bed and jerked his head back as she tried to dab at his face.