Chapter 11
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Tamsin knew she wasn’t dreaming. She never had dreams this wonderful.
She’d dreamed of Garret Kildare plenty of times, even touched herself while she imagined him beside her on occasion, but she had never dared to even wish that he would kiss her like he had, look at her like he did, touch her until she forgot everything but him.
Now she understood why women risked their lives and their futures to lie with the man they loved.
She hadn’t understood she could feel this way.
She hadn’t known being with a man could be like this.
But of course it was. Nothing with Garret was ordinary.
She’d always believed he was different from other men.
That’s why she’d felt she was in love with him.
But now she knew he was different from other men, and she risked truly falling in love with him.
Her body still hummed with pleasure, but she opened her eyes and turned her head toward him.
He was still sprawled between her legs, holding her.
His bare chest felt solid and warm against her breasts.
She kissed his neck and wondered if she should tell him that she’d loved him since that night outside the theater.
Would it scare him? He’d told her about his life in the navy, and now she felt closer to him.
She was beginning to feel as though she really knew him, and he wasn’t just a figment she conjured when she was lonely or bored of scrubbing floors.
“You’re a good man,” she said.
He lifted his head and looked down at her. “You mean I’m good at cunnus lingere?”
“You are good at that, though I have nothing to compare you to, but I wasn’t thinking about that.
I was thinking about what you told me about the navy.
Even all these years later, I could still feel your anguish at what you’d done.
You could have become the captain of your own ship or even an admiral one day. But you walked away.”
He gave her a slow smile. “It’s nice that you think so highly of me, but I don’t think I was ever destined for greatness in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. I couldn’t even stomach one battle or the repercussions of losing that battle.”
She sat up and put her hands on his cheeks. “You left the navy. You didn’t like the cruelty and the indecency. You didn’t want to be part of it. You left, and that makes you a good man.”
“I think most men would not want to be part of something like that.”
She laughed and shook her head. “If you think that, then you don’t know most men. Take it from me, the world is far crueler than you can imagine.”
His hands on her waist tightened. “I hate that you’ve seen that side of humanity. I wish I could kiss your eyes”—she closed them and he kissed her eyelids—“and make the memories of the horrid things you’ve seen go away.”
She opened her eyes. “You made everything go away a few moments ago.”
He gave her what she’d heard described as a rakish smile, and her breath quickened while heat spiraled out from her belly. She still wanted him, even after what he’d just made her feel.
“I could do that again,” he said. “We could stay here the rest of the day and night and block the whole world out.”
“I’d like that.”
He kissed her softly but without urgency.
Then he drew back and looked at her. “If you could forget all the bad things that have happened—the death of your father and stepfather or the selling of your brother and sister, for example—would you do it? Say there was some sort of elixir you could drink and forget all the tragedies of life, would you drink it?”
She liked the way he spoke and the way he thought.
She’d never known anyone who talked like this, of imaginary elixirs and what-ifs.
Her world was concrete and fixed. There had never been room for what-ifs, and when she allowed herself to imagine a stolen moment with him or even a life, she’d felt guilty and foolish because she’d always been taught that life was pain and nothing good ever happened to people like her.
And yet, here she was, naked and in his arms, her body singing, listening to talk of magical potions.
“I wouldn’t drink it,” she said. “Would you?”
“Sometimes I think I would. Some nights I would give anything to forget what I did that day. I want to excavate that part of my brain that remembers the scent of the blood and the sight of the mutilated flesh of those men who did nothing but try to follow ineffective orders. I think if I could remove that part of my memory, it would be like removing that part of myself. Then I might be able to forgive myself.”
She ran her hands up his bare back and down his muscled arms. “We’ve all done things we can’t forgive. I can’t forgive myself for not being there when Brown sold Charlie and Joanna.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Neither was what happened on the Dauntless.”
“But if I’d—”
She put a finger over his lips. “In my world, there are no what-ifs. There’s only what is and what isn’t.
You did something you regret. Now you atone for it until you can forgive yourself.
I think maybe that’s why you’re here and helping me find my brother and sister.
You want to do a good deed to offset the bad. ”
“I wish I was as good as you seem to think. But I’m here because since you kissed me at the Belgrave ball, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and wanting you to kiss me again.
And now that I’ve seen you naked, I’ll have all sorts of wicked thoughts about you and all my free time will be planning how I can get you naked again so I can put my hands on you.
” His hands moved from her waist, up her rib cage, until he was palming her breasts.
Her nipples hardened, and she closed her knees on his hips.
“Now you see how truly degenerate I am. I’m no better than any other man.”
“Yes, you are.” She threaded a hand through his auburn hair and pulled him in for a kiss.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Garret pulled back to listen.
“Shit, it’s my brother.” He stood up, releasing her abruptly.
He fumbled about with the discarded clothing on the floor until he found a shirt.
“This is yours.” He tossed it to her, and she pulled it over her head just as the door opened.
“What the devil?” the man who entered said as Tamsin pulled the hem down to her knees and stood up.
Garret was still shirtless, and he shoved her behind him.
“Oh, it’s just you. I thought it was Lady Leven.
She keeps coming here and begging me to paint her in the nude, but I—wait a moment. Who’s that?”
Tamsin saw Garret take a breath. What he did next would be telling. She fully expected him to treat her like a doxy and divert his brother’s attention from her. But a tiny part of her hoped he would behave as though she were someone important to him.
Tamsin peeked out from behind Garret. “Hello.”
“Oh, hello.” Killian Kildare’s eyebrows went up, animating his already expressive face.
He was a handsome man, if a bit disheveled.
His thick auburn hair looked in need of a trim and was tousled all about his head, and not in that careful stylish way.
This man truly looked as though he hadn’t brushed his hair and hadn’t changed his clothing from the day before.
His coat was impossibly wrinkled, and his trousers were spotted with dots of red and yellow.
Tamsin assumed they must be paint. Unlike Garret, who had the loveliest brown eyes, this Kildare had green eyes.
Now they narrowed as he looked at his brother.
“I didn’t expect you to bring a lightskirt here. ”
“She’s not a lightskirt,” Garret said. “She’s…”
Tamsin looked at him, brows raised.
“She’s a friend.”
“From the looks of it, a very close friend,” Killian Kildare quipped. He held out a hand. “Killian Kildare.”
Tamsin took his hand. “Tamsin Archer. Do you mind if I step behind that screen and dress?” She indicated a red screen where she imagined the chamber pot and other toiletry items were hidden.
“Go ahead.”
She gathered her clothing, careful not to bend over too far, then scurried behind the screen to dress.
As she sorted out the garments, she could hear the men speaking in low voices.
Tamsin didn’t know how she should feel about being introduced as Garret’s friend.
On the other hand, he’d immediately rejected the idea that she was a prostitute.
What did she want him to call her? His lover?
She wasn’t anything more than that to him.
She never could be. Still, his brother’s reaction to her told her something else she’d suspected about Garret.
He wasn’t a womanizer. He obviously hadn’t brought a woman to this studio before, or if he had, it wasn’t a regular occurrence, since his brother had seemed surprised to see her.
She had her breeches back on and was struggling into the coat when she heard the younger Kildare say, “Where did you meet her?”
“The Belgrave ball.”
“Don’t tell me that’s your thief?”
Tamsin stilled, curious as to what Garret would say about her.
“She’s not a thief,” he said, lowering his voice. “There’s more to the story.”
“No doubt,” Garret’s brother said. She heard the clink of a glass. “Is this my wine you’re drinking?”
“I’ll buy you another bottle.”
“You seem to be spending your blunt rather freely for a man who is cavorting with thieves rather than pursuing heiresses. Or have you forgotten your grand scheme to save the family already?”
“Quiet down.”
Tamsin was so still she’d stopped breathing. Her face felt hot, and a trickle of perspiration ran down her back.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Garret said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him. “I am still courting heiresses. In fact, I was at Miss Grant’s house this morning.”
“And you left Miss Grant’s house and came here with your friend?”