Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(61)

As her body relaxed, her mind drifted from one thought to another. She wondered how Damon had reacted to her sudden disappearance, if he had tried to find her…or if he had been too busy dealing with Lady Ashton to give her a thought. Her imagination conjured a picture of him with Pauline, their bodies entwined in the act of love. She shook her head to clear away the image. It troubled her profoundly, the question of what had happened after she left Damon's home the night of the theater fire. Had Damon allowed his mistress to stay? Had they argued? Made love?

“I don't care, I don't care,” Julia muttered, rubbing her wet hands over her face. But that was a lie. Despite all her denials, fear, and stubbornness, she couldn't help but feel that Damon was hers. After all she had suffered because of their marriage, she had certainly earned the right to love him. On the other hand, if there was a baby…she wasn't certain she could live with the thought that she had influenced Damon to abandon his responsibilities.

Just as she splashed her face again, she heard the bath house attendant's chirruping voice. “Mrs. Wentworth?”

Wiping her blurry eyes, Julia looked toward the doorway where the elderly woman stood.

The gray curls pinned on top of the old woman's head bobbed cheerfully as she spoke. “Mrs. Wentworth, there's a visitor for you. One you'll be quite happy to see, I've no doubt.”

Julia shook her head emphatically. “I told you that no one is to come into the bath while I'm here—”

“Aye, but you wouldn't turn away your own husband, would you now?”

“Husband?” Julia asked sharply.

The attendant nodded until her pinned-up curls were in danger of toppling. “Aye, and a fine, handsome man he is.”

Julia's mouth sagged open in disbelief as Lord Savage pushed past the woman. “There you are,” he said pleasantly, his gaze falling to Julia as she sank deeper into the steaming pool. “Have you missed me, darling?”

Recovering quickly, Julia gave him a slitted glare. “Not at all.” She longed to fling an armful of water over his immaculate trousers and white linen shirt.

The bath attendant giggled at what she perceived as their playfulness. Damon turned to favor her with a charming smile. “My deepest thanks for reuniting me with my wife, madam. Now if you wouldn't mind allowing us a few minutes of privacy…and keeping other visitors away…”

“Not a soul will cross the threshold,” the woman vowed, winking at him as she departed. “Good evening, Mr. Wentworth!”

The name elicited a scowl from Damon. “I'm not Mr. Wentworth,” he muttered, but the attendant had already gone. When he turned back to Julia, she was still glaring at him.

“How did you find me?”

Casually Damon removed his coat and draped it across the back of a chair. “Your friend Arlyss told me that the acting company was preparing to tour in Bath. After investigating a few hotels and inns, I discovered where you were staying. The proprietor of the inn told me it was your habit to come here in the evenings.”

“He had no right—”

“I was very persuasive.” His gaze fell to the white tops of her br**sts, gleaming in the wavering lamplight.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that,” Julia said sarcastically. She came closer to the wall of the pool, concealing her body from him. Perhaps it was because of the heat of the water, but her heart had picked up a rapid beat. No one else looked at her the way he did, his gray eyes warm and appraising, filled with possessiveness.

Damon crouched near her, balancing his arms on his bent knees. “Keep running from me,” he said softly, “and I'll keep finding you.”

“You won't spend a single night with me at the inn. And I suspect that nearly every lodging in Bath is completely full. If you don't care to sleep in the street tonight, you'd better return to London without delay.”

“I own a terrace house at Laura Place.”

“Why?” she retorted, trying to cover her discomfort. “You're not exactly the kind of man to make the social rounds in Bath—”

“I bought the house for my father. He likes to come here when his health permits the journey. Would you like to see it?”

“Hardly. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been trying to avoid you.” Her head jerked back as Damon reached out to brush some drops of water off her chin. “Don't touch me!”

“If you're angry because of what happened with Pauline the other night—”

“It doesn't matter in the least. I don't care if you arranged for her to be there or not. And I'm more angry with myself than anyone else.”

“Because you wanted to be with me?” he murmured.

The silence would have been complete, except for the gentle sloshing of water in the pool. The relaxed feeling the bath had given Julia was now gone, replaced by a tension that stretched through every part of her. She stared at Damon's tautly honed face, the alert gleam of his eyes, and she realized the extent of his hunger. He was here because he wanted her—and he would not let her go easily.

“You shouldn't have followed me to Bath,” she snapped. “You won't get anything from me, especially not the kind of welcome you seem to expect.”

Rather than argue, he raked her with a thorough glance. His gaze fell to her slender hand, her fingers stiff against the slippery stone that edged the bath. “You're wearing the ring I gave you,” he observed.