Damsel in Disguise

by Heino, Susan Gee

  He left the room. She’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome there, and he ought to thank her for that. He had better things to do with his evening. He had to figure out which direction Lindley must have gone. He had to contemplate ways to circumvent Fitzgelder’s schemes. He had to worry how this all affected his mother and sister. He had to think of places he had not yet searched for Sophie’s body.

  Mostly, though, he thought he’d just rather get thoroughly drunk.

  JULIA WOKE WITH A START. WHAT TIME WAS IT? SHE had no way of knowing. Her room was dark. It took several moments before she even remembered where her room was.

  Of course, she was at the Steward’s Brake. But where was Rastmoor? She was alone. How long had she slept? Good heavens, it must have been all day!

  She’d slept in her clothes and now scrambled to her feet and tucked her shirt hurriedly. Drat that man, he promised he’d come and tell her when he found something! Had he found something? Surely that Jeb fellow from the stables had returned. Had Rastmoor gotten information from him?

  What if he had? Blast him, what if he learned where Lindley had taken Sophie, and he’d left her here to go off after them? By God, she never should have let herself fall so soundly asleep. But it had been so long since she and Sophie left London, barely ahead of Fitzgelder’s men, and she’d not dared let herself fully relax until now.

  She yanked on her boots, horrible things. They were heavy and noisy and uncomfortable. No wonder men were so often in foul moods. They wore such dashed unpleasant clothing. She ran to the rusted mirror in the corner to do what she could with her hair. Hopeless, she decided, even for a man. No wonder Rastmoor had left her alone all afternoon.

  But what if he hadn’t come to tell her what he’d learned because he hadn’t been able to? What if while she’d been sleeping, Fitzgelder had caught up with him? Good heavens, what if he’d been hurt—or worse! She gave up on her appearance and threw her coat over her shoulders. Lord, she’d never forgive herself if she’d slept through Rastmoor’s murder.

  She had to find him. She tore the door open and charged into the hall. Something blocked the threshold, though, and she tumbled down on top of it. It was hard, and lumpy, and it groaned. By God, it was Rastmoor!

  “What the devil . . .” he started.

  “Anthony!” she exclaimed, clambering off of him and studying him over for injuries. “Are you all right? Have you been hurt?”

  He pushed himself up into a seated position, and his eyes narrowed at her. The light was burning at the top of the stairs nearby, and though he looked a bit shaggy, the man was happily whole.

  “Julia?” he asked. “What in God’s name are you doing out here in the hall?”

  His words were slurred. He smelled like whiskey. Indeed, she’d been around enough actors in her life to recognize the symptoms. Rastmoor was staggering drunk.

  She smacked his chest and pushed away from him. “Here I am thinking you’ve been murdered by Fitzgelder, and really you’ve just fallen down drunk in the hallway.”

  His brows furrowed. “I have not fallen down. I sat down here for the express purpose of avoiding falling down.”

  She sat back on her heels. “So this is what you’ve been doing all day? You’ve been sitting around drinking while Lindley does who knows what to poor Sophie?”

  “Face it, m’dear, anything Lindley has been going to do to poor Sophie he’s done it already. For my part, I’ll wager he’s shagged her good but left her none the worse.”

  She smacked him again. Harder. “Don’t talk that way!”

  He had the gall to laugh at her; then he was fool enough to think she’d actually allow him to help her up once he got himself into a standing position. True, he looked fairly sturdy there, but she had no use for him. She managed to stand just fine on her own. She wasn’t the one who’d been swigging back whiskey all day.

  “I take it you had a good nap?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I was expecting you to come tell me when you’d found Sophie.”

  “I didn’t find her, which you should be glad of, since I did everything but drag the river. I’m fairly convinced she’s still alive.”

  “And being shagged by Lindley,” she said, making sure her smirk was obvious.

  The floor in this inn was remarkably dusty. Julia’s trousers were a sight, and she stooped to pat as much of the dust off them as she could. Rastmoor tried to help, but she slapped his hands away.

  “Just making myself useful,” he said, matching her smirk.

  “You’d do better to make yourself sober.”

  He shook his head. “No, then I’d realize how damned uncomfortable it is sleeping out here against your door.”

  “Well, don’t think I’m going to invite you in,” she assured him.

  “I wasn’t trying to get in. I was trying to keep anyone else out. I doubt you’d like a repeat of your visitor from last night.”

  Last night? Heavens no, she didn’t want anything that happened last night to be repeated, that was certain. So is this why she found him out here, slumped on the dusty floor? He thought he was protecting her? That was actually very sweet. At least, it would be sweet if she could believe it.

  She didn’t. More probably the man was simply on his way to rouse her for another tumble when the whiskey got the better of him, and he passed out. Given how things stood between them, the idea that Rastmoor would sacrifice his comfort for her personal safety was more than a bit unlikely.

  “I don’t need you watching over me,” she declared. “You ought to be this concerned about Sophie.”

  “I was never engaged to be married to Sophie. Besides, all Fitzgelder really wants from her is that locket. Lindley could have had that off her in five minutes, yet we had a report he’d been seen with her all the way up here in Warwick, didn’t we?”

  She decided to ignore that first comment. He was drunk. Nothing he might say could hold any meaning for her—even if it did make her catch her breath for one split second and wonder if there was perhaps the slightest chance he didn’t entirely hate her.

  “He must be taking her to Fitzgelder to find out what else she knows,” she suggested.

  “So why didn’t we pass them along the way? Who was Sophie with that she ended up here before Lindley found her?”

  “I don’t know. How should I know? You were the one out gathering information all day. Why don’t you know anything? Oh, I should have never let you talk me into coming up here to rest.”

  “You needed it. Didn’t you and Sophie stop anywhere after you left London?”

  “Of course we did. I just . . . I thought it would be safer if one of us kept a watch on things at night.”

  “So you didn’t bother sleeping. How noble of you. Now why don’t you head on back to your bed and finish out the night? It’s got to be after one o’clock. We’ll see what we can find when the sun comes up.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I’ll be right here.” He leaned against the door frame and pointed to his spot of floor.

  “Don’t be silly. No one’s going to bother me. Go to your own room, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Can’t. I gave it up.”

  “What? Really, I’m flattered, but . . .”

  “Don’t be. I didn’t give it up for you; I gave it up for those two women we met during that unfortunate altercation on the road last night.”

  This caught her off guard. “What? The women with the baby?”

  “The same ones. They arrived a few hours ago, and mine was the only room that didn’t already have people sleeping in it. So there they are, and here I am.”

  “So you really weren’t out here to protect me from marauders in the night.”

  “There is that added benefit, and you said yourself you find it flattering.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  “You mean drunken ass.”

  “I mean every kind of ass. Did you even attempt to find out any more about where we might possibly find Sophie?”
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  He nodded. It came off somewhat sideways. “I did. But that Jeb fellow hasn’t showed up yet so I’ve got nothing more to add to our collective pile of information. There’s nothing more to do until morning.”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “It’s hopeless. We may never find her now.”

  “Go back to bed, Julia. It’s late.”

  So that was all there was to it? This was as much as he could do for Sophie, even with his own family secrets at stake? He truly was a drunken ass.

  “I will. I’m going back to bed, and I don’t care where you sleep.”

  She marched past him and back into her room, but he made no attempt to follow. Funny, she expected that he would. Now, damn her female weakness, she was disappointed he hadn’t.

  “Good night, Julia,” he said, sober as a schoolmaster.

  “You’re really going to sleep on the floor?”

  He gave her that smile, and she wanted to kick herself for melting under it. “I’ll be right out here if you need me,” he said.

  She took two more steps into her room, and he started to pull the door shut. She stopped him. Even an ass shouldn’t be left to sleep in the hallway, she supposed.

  “Wait. It’s a big bed, and you’re drunk. No reason we can’t both get a decent night’s sleep.”

  He eyed her first, then the bed. His gaze slid back to her. “The bed’s not that big, and I assure you I’m not that drunk.”

  A thrill ran up her spine. “You’re going to wake everyone in the building if you insist on continuing this conversation in the hallway. Now get in here.”

  He strode into the room. That excitement coursing through her spine fanned out to include every inch of her. He was here, and there were still several hours of dark, seductive nighttime ahead of them. She closed the door, blocking out the thin light from the hall. They were alone and Rastmoor was nothing more than a shadow now, a huge, perfect shadow with an aura of moonlight silhouetting him against the faded window drapes. She moved toward him.

  “I suppose you can take the right side of the bed, and I’ll take the left . . .”

  “No,” he interrupted. “I don’t play that game.”

  And once again he was surrounding her, taking her into his arms and pulling her close. She gave up her lips to his crushing, heated kiss. Longing overwhelmed her, and she tried desperately to draw his very being into her soul.

  He pulled her shirt over her head and struggled at the fabric she’d used to bind herself. He swore when he could not remove it, then resorted to ripping the thread and literally tearing it off of her. Thank heavens. She needed to feel his hands on her skin.

  She also needed to get rid of his clothing this time. Unfortunately, he was a bit too tall for her to drag his shirt up over his head, but she could certainly reach his trousers. So she did, having become an expert at undoing the blasted things over the past few days.

  With one half of the front flap unbuttoned, they fell low, bunching around his muscular thighs. His smile glowed in the moonlight.

  “I take it you’d like me to remove them?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Well, fair’s fair, my dear,” he said, going to unfasten her own trousers.

  They did not bunch at her thighs. Most of her padding seemed to be in the rear area. She probably looked ridiculous, but Rastmoor didn’t seem to care. He was studying her pale body in the faint light with an obvious appreciation.

  He was studying it up close, in fact, and his hands slid down the full length of her as he knelt down to finish removing the trousers. She was standing over him; the perfect position for removing that shirt once and for all. She gathered it and tugged it up and over. He shrugged his arms through.

  “Does it bother you that we’re removing exactly the same articles of clothing from each other?” she asked, hoping he didn’t make a habit of that sort of thing.

  “Not in the least, so long as this is what I know I’ll find underneath,” he said.

  With that, he reached around to grasp her buttocks and pulled her toward him. By heavens, the man buried his face in her most intimate area! She was about to push him back, when the sensation of it all distracted her. Overpowered her, in fact.

  He was kissing her there. How odd . . . how wonderful! A mite too wonderful, in fact. It was making her legs go weak. She had to grab his shoulders for support.

  “To your liking?” he said, tipping his face to look at her.

  She nodded. Really that was all she could do. Her voice was lost somewhere.

  “Come here,” he said, rising to stand before her.

  She couldn’t help but notice he was standing all over, too. Last night had been too quick and too furious. This time she could get a full view of him. At least, as full a view as the partially hidden moonlight would allow.

  “Just a moment,” she said and turned away from him to move to the window.

  She pushed the draperies aside and let the bright moon filter in. Ah, that was much better. Now she could get her full view.

  A sound from the yard below the window caught her attention, and she ducked back. So there were still servants at work down near the stable? Well, it would simply not do to let herself be seen this way.

  She moved closer to Rastmoor. Let the world go on around them. She had all she needed right now. There’d be plenty of time tomorrow to think about servants and Sophie and strange goings-on at night.

  Rastmoor smiled. It appeared she was not the only one who appreciated the stronger lighting. His gaze roved over her, and she reveled in his approval. He might be an ass, and he might think awful things of her, but by God, the man wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  He took her hand and pulled her to the bed. She went willingly, of course. She’d always gone willingly. Right from the start, she’d not been able to maintain discipline around Rastmoor. Heavens, she’d only known him three days when she first let him have his way with her. In a carriage, of all places. She supposed she should have been terrified, as cautious as she’d always been about such things, but she wasn’t. They were in love, and that first time with Rastmoor had been wonderful.

  Even now, the love might be gone, but the wonder was not. Her senses sparked at his touch, and her intimate places burned when he pressed her down into the mattress, covering her body with his and ravaging her mouth with more fiery kisses. Thankfully, her physical being had completely taken over any rational thought. She could enjoy the moment without a single thought to how miserable she’d be when this was all over and Rastmoor was gone from her bed—and her life—again.

  Well, she tried not to think about that, anyway.

  His constant attention to her most sensitive areas was most helpful in distracting her. She did her best to be just as distracting in return. It appeared she was successful. Rastmoor’s kisses trailed hot over her body, leaving her panting and moaning for more of him. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, though.

  He stretched his long, solid body along beside hers. Slowly and methodically he explored her arms, her shoulders, her thighs, her back. She conducted her own excursions into the wonders of his perfectly sculpted chest and the manly parts yet farther south. He sucked a deep breath through clenched teeth when she fisted one hand firmly around him.

  He was kissing her lips again then. For minutes or hours or days they remained like that, intertwined, breathing the same air and possessing each other’s body. She felt him grow harder still in her hand, and she rocked against him. When their release finally came tonight, it would be untamable.

  Then Rastmoor shifted. He held her hips in his strong hands and practically hoisted her off the bed and up onto him. For a moment she paused there, unsure what to do. But then it became clear.

  Always in the past their coupling had been hurried, secretive, and usually fully clothed in whatever space they could risk being found in. This was something completely new. She gazed down at him and stroked his powerful form. Then she raised herself slightly to find just the right position.


  And lowered back down onto him, bringing his manhood into her body and shuddering at the sensations that flooded her throughout.

  Indeed, they’d certainly never done this before, with Julia leading the way. Fortunately, again, the animal instincts took over, and she did not have to contemplate the deeper meanings and implications of her actions. She let passion guide her and went to grating her body against his and memorizing each powerful angle of his frame with her hands.

  Pleasure became the ocean around her, rolling her on waves of feeling so intense in their beauty that each time the sensation increased, she could barely survive it. She wasn’t sure she had survived it. When the climax hit her, she called out, rocking against him to the point of exhaustion and struggling to breathe.

  Rastmoor was throbbing inside her, roiling beneath her, crushing her against him as the waves of release ripped groans from the depths of his being. That only served to heighten the sensation for Julia, feeling his climax while experiencing her own. Her muscles gripped him, and the cool night air around them was charged with the fury of their passion.

  At last she was fully spent and crumpled against him. His arms encircled her, heavy and damp. She would have gladly stayed this way forever.

  But she couldn’t. Eventually Rastmoor put her off of him. She hated even an inch of air between them, but suddenly air was all she felt between them. He did not reach for her or hold her close as she might have expected. It really was over already.

  “By God, you’ve learned a bit over the years, haven’t you, my dear?” he said at last.

  It stung. There was no emotion in his words, only the same satisfied tone he might have used after winning a friendly game of cards. Had she really been fool enough to expect more than that from him?

  “I think we should get some sleep,” she said before she had to answer, before the pain could show in her voice.

  “Yes, we should. Thank you.”

  With that, he simply pulled up the covers and turned to face the opposite wall. Just like that, she was forgotten and discarded. An ache burrowed deep into her soul. It wasn’t likely to go away any time soon, either.