Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(68)

Stumbling back, Julia turned away and held her hands to her pounding chest. She took several deep breaths, willing the emotions inside her to uncoil. Damon came up behind her, close but not touching. His voice was flat as he spoke somewhere above her head. “I'll accompany you to the inn.”

“You don't have to…” she began, but he ignored her and went to ring for a carriage.

They were silent as they traveled to the inn, the atmosphere strained between them. Their thighs rested close together, brushing occasionally as the wheels of the vehicle bounced over uneven places in the street. Julia tried to move away, but it seemed that she kept sliding against him. She would die before moving to the opposite seat, especially under the focus of his cool, jeering gaze. Finally the miserable ride was over, and he helped her from the carriage.

“I'll go up to my room by myself,” Julia said, sensing that he intended to accompany her.

Damon shook his head briefly. “It's dangerous. I'll see you to the door.”

“I've stayed here alone for more than a week, and I've been perfectly fine without your protection,” Julia pointed out.

“For God's sake, I'm not going to touch you. If I had seduction in mind for tonight, you'd be in bed with me right now. All I want is to see you safely to your room.”

“I don't need—”

“Indulge me,” he said through his teeth, looking as though he were going to strangle her.

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Julia preceded him into the building, past the proprietor's table and the vacant dining room, toward the stairs that led to the second floor. Damon followed at a slower pace, his black brows drawn together in displeasure. They progressed down a long, poorly lit hallway until they reached her room. Extracting a slender key from the reticule slung around her wrist, Julia turned her attention to the lock. The key turned far too easily.

Realizing that she must have forgotten to lock her room when she had left that morning, Julia made a show of rattling the key against the metal catch. She'd had enough to deal with tonight, without being accused of carelessness and incompetence. Turning the knob, she paused and looked back at Damon. “You've done your gentlemanly duty,” she informed him. “I've been delivered safely to my door. Good night.”

Taking the unsubtle cue to leave, Damon stared at her with sullen gray eyes before turning his back on her and striding away.

With a sigh, Julia entered her room and fumbled for a box of matches. Carefully she struck a match and applied the tiny yellow flare to the oil lamp on the dresser. She replaced the glass globe and adjusted the wick until a gentle glow filled the room. Her mind was consumed with thoughts that made her head ache. She was oblivious to her surroundings, lost in worry… but as she glanced in the cheval glass, she saw a flicker of movement in the corner of the reflective surface. At the same time there was an odd scraping noise on the floor.

She was not alone. A bolt of fright went through her. Whirling, Julia managed a half-scream before the sound was extinguished by a man's hand crushing hard over her mouth. She was hauled back against a skinny but inexorably strong frame. Nostrils flaring, eyes wide, she stared at the heavyset form of Lord Langate as he approached her. She was being held by his companion, Strathearn. They were the two men who had pestered her at the New Theatre earlier in the day. It appeared that they had bolstered their courage with a great deal of liquor, both of them stinking and sour-breathed, and insufferably smug.

“You didn't expect to see us again, did you?” Langate purred, smoothing his chubby hand over the greasy strands of hair combed across his balding head. His gaze slid appreciatively over her writhing form. “What a prize wench you are—the smartest bit of goods we've ever seen. Isn't that right, Strathearn?”

The tall man nodded and chortled in agreement.

Langate's small mouth opened in a grin as he spoke to Julia. “There's no need to be frightened. We'll take our ease with you, and we'll pay you nicely for it afterward. You'll be able to purchase any bauble you like. Don't look so outraged, my dear. I'll wager you've entertained many eager gentlemen of our sort between your pretty thighs.” He came closer and caught one of Julia's flailing hands, forcing it to his swollen crotch. A leer of anticipation creased his round face. “There,” he crooned. “That isn't so bad, is it? I think you'll enjoy—”

But his sentence was never finished. Julia heard the sound of the door bursting open, and she was abruptly released. Unable to find her balance, she fell forward, her hands and knees striking the hard floor. Crawling to the corner, she pressed her back hard against the wall. A lock of hair fell over her face, obscuring her view of the action before her. She heard the dull, meaty sound of fists impacting flesh in repetitive blows, and the howls of pain that filled the room.

Scraping back her wayward hair, Julia realized that Damon had come back, and he seemed intent on killing her attackers. After sending Strathearn crumpling to the floor in a heap, he turned his attention to Langate, beating the older man until he was whimpering for mercy. Through her shock and fear, Julia realized that Damon was indeed ready to commit murder. “Please stop,” she gasped. “I'm all right. If you don't stop, you'll kill him…Damon…”

At the sound of his name, he paused to glance at her with eyes as dark as coal. Whatever he saw in her face seemed to recall him from the murderous rage that had overtaken him. He stared down at the quivering man beneath him, and shook his head to clear away the haze of bloodlust. After wiping his bloodied fists on Langate's coat, he stood and crossed the room to Julia. Langate and Strathearn took the opportunity to leave immediately, groaning and cursing as they made their escape.