A Kiss In The Dark (30 page)

Long after Deirdre had fallen asleep within the circle of his arms, Tristan lay staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the tangle his life had become.

Everything was so confusing, and it seemed the harder he tried to sort it all out, the more the answers evaded him. Between his fear for Emily and his jumbled feelings for Deirdre, it was a wonder he wasn’t a stammering idiot by now.

Glancing down at the head of red curls nestled so trustingly on his shoulder, he couldn’t ignore the sharp pang he felt in the vicinity of his heart. Though what had happened between them hadn’t been planned, he couldn’t be sorry for it. It had been the most intense experience of his life. There’d been women in his past, of course, but not a one of them had ever come close to touching him the way Deirdre had.

And then to discover that she’d been a virgin … well, it was mind-boggling, to say the least. Not that he was complaining. Just knowing that he was the first to ever give her that sort of pleasure filled him with a sense of satisfaction—not to mention a primitive possessiveness that was vaguely disconcerting. Never before had he been possessive of a female, but she was proving to be the exception to the rule.

In more ways than one.

If only she’d been the hard, harsh gold digger he’d believed her to be in the beginning. That would have been so much easier for him to deal with. He could have paid her to help him find his sister, eliminating her as a threat to his long-held defenses.

Instead, she’d managed to knock down those defenses little by little with her stubborn determination, her kind soul, and her caring nature. Watching her with the people of Tothill Fields had been a true revelation. Through her, he was learning he could not judge all of them by the men who had murdered his mother. It was something he’d known deep down all along, but meeting Lilah, the McLeans, and even the Rag-Tag Bunch had opened his eyes, and Deirdre’s generosity had shown him the feeling of accomplishment that could come from helping those less fortunate.

In many ways, she was almost too unselfish.

He tightened his arms around her and buried his nose in her strawberry-scented hair. In all honesty, she needed a keeper, otherwise she would continue to give unstintingly until she burned out like a candle and there was nothing left. It had to take quite a toll on her, both physically and emotionally, especially as she had such a personal connection to all of her charges. Each and every one of them was important to her. Why, she’d even taken Emily into her heart. Finding his sister had become just as necessary to her as it was to him.

Which led him back to his other dilemma.

Emily.

His jaw clenched as he recalled his conversation with Deirdre earlier. She was right. Ever since he’d returned, he’d spent his time avoiding his sister, subconsciously ignoring her pleas for attention because dealing with her had brought back too many memories of all he’d lost. Looking back now, he realized that Emily had tried to voice her frustration and unhappiness to him on more than one occasion, but he’d just patted her on the head and sent her on her way as if her feelings had been inconsequential. No wonder she’d run away. For all intents and purposes, he’d treated her no differently than their father had.

Dear God, he didn’t want to believe she’d be better off with their aunt, but what other conclusion could he come to? Because of him, she was alone on the streets, had perhaps witnessed a murder, and was being pursued by a man who was apparently the personification of evil.

Regardless of what Deirdre had said, he knew he was responsible for it all, and it was tearing him apart.

Some of his disquiet must have conveyed itself to Deirdre, for she stirred restlessly against him, and he smoothed a calming hand over the silky curve of her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her. He had to try to put all of this out of his mind and get some sleep, otherwise he would be exhausted tomorrow and of no use to anyone. That, however, was easier said than done.

Very soon now he would have to make some major decisions. Not just about Emily, but about the woman in his arms, as well. She’d become very important to him in a short amount of time, and though he wasn’t certain what his exact feelings for her were or what he was going to do about it, he was very much afraid that even after all this was over, there would be no letting her go.

S
omeone was crying. Rolling over on her pallet in her darkened corner of the Rag-Tag Bunch’s hideout, Emily listened intently, trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from.

She had no idea how long ago the soft sniffling had first started. She supposed it had been there at the very edges of her consciousness for quite some time, but she’d been too caught up in the turmoil of her own thoughts to notice. After the events of that morning, her mind had been awhirl, and she’d spent hours tossing and turning in a vain attempt to fall asleep before giving up in defeat.

It was then that the faint weeping had finally registered.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, she lifted a corner of the curtain and peered out into the room, her eyes struggling to penetrate the gloom. Someone had left a single candle burning on the plank table, but its dim glow did little to dispel the shadows or reveal the person who sounded so heartbroken.

Unable to fight her curiosity for another second, Emily got to her feet and stealthily made her way over to retrieve the candle. Holding it aloft, she turned in a slow circle in an effort to get her bearings. For a long moment, all she could hear was the deep, even breathing of the boys as they slept, and she was just beginning to believe she’d imagined the whole thing when another cry reached her ears.

It emanated from the darkness along the opposite wall, and she started in that direction, following the sound. Even with the flickering flame to guide her path, however, she almost stumbled over the culprit before she saw him.

It was Benji.

Sitting on his pallet with his knees drawn up and his head buried in his arms, his thin shoulders were shaking with the force of his sobs.

Emily was immediately concerned. Placing her candle on the floor close by, she knelt beside him and reached out to draw the little boy into her arms. “Benji, darling, what is it? Why are you crying?”

He didn’t answer; he just shook his head and wrapped his arms around her neck in a stranglehold.

“Please, Benji. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Lifting his face, he looked up at her with tear-drenched eyes, looking drawn and anxious in the pale light. “It’s my book, Miss Angel. Someone tore my book.”

She glanced over his shoulder and barely stifled a gasp of outrage as she caught sight of the destruction that had been wrought. The cover of Benji’s precious book had been ripped asunder, its pages torn out and strewn about on the floor next to his pallet. It was completely destroyed, beyond being salvaged, and Emily felt her heart wrench in sympathy. That book had meant the world to the lad in her arms, and now the only thing that had given him pleasure in this wretched existence was gone.

Who would do such a thing?

But before the question had even finished echoing in her head, she knew the answer.

Jack.

One glance in the direction of the older boy’s pallet was enough to tell her that he was gone. In fact, the bedding looked oddly undisturbed, as if he’d never even turned in for the night. More than likely he was lurking in the background somewhere, basking in the results of his handiwork.

“I woke up and found it like that, all ripped apart.” Benji hiccupped and swiped at his eyes with a grimy fist. “I’ll never ’ave anything as nice again.”

“Nonsense,” she whispered, taking him by the shoulders and forcing him to meet her gaze. “As soon as I get home, I promise you I’ll buy you dozens and dozens of books. As many as you want.”

The boy’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Rising, she dusted off her breeches and squared her shoulders. She had no intention of letting Jack get away with this. She was going to make sure he paid. “Don’t you worry, Benji. You wait right here and I’ll take care of everything.”

Without waiting for his reply, she turned and crossed the room to the door of the hideout, her steps silent and purposeful. She was relatively certain she knew where that devil was hiding, and he was about to receive the tongue-lashing of his life.

Careful not to wake the other boys, she pushed open the door and slipped out into the alley. The storm that had broken out earlier that evening had long since moved on, with only the rain-wet cobblestones and the occasional flash of lightning in the distance to give testimony to its passing. Wrapping her arms about herself to ward off the chill night air, she glanced left and right, her eyes searching the darkness for some sign of movement among the crates and barrels that lined the alleyway.

“Looking for me, Princess?”

The insolent tone came from right behind her, and she jerked around, her heart flying into her mouth. At first, she could see nothing except for a vague shape, but after a second or two her sight adjusted, and she realized it was definitely Jack leaning against the side of the building. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he was watching her with an expression that was difficult to read in the dimness.

The same old fear he always seemed to inspire in her grabbed her by the throat, threatening to choke her, but she took a deep breath and gathered her courage in both hands, refusing to be intimidated.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I am.” Proud of how cool her voice sounded, she marched forward to stand before him, hands planted on hips. “How could you?”

“’Ow could I what?”

“Be so cruel.” As she pictured the look on Benji’s face, her temper once again bubbled forth, overwhelming any trepidation she may have felt. “You knew how much that book meant to Benji and you destroyed it anyway. Tore it apart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he did. She could see it in the curl of his lip, in those malevolent eyes.

“I don’t believe you.” Leaning forward, she jabbed a finger at him contemptuously. “He’s just a little boy. Are you that much of a coward that you have to torment a child?”

He stiffened, and Emily immediately wondered at the intelligence of confronting him on her own. The hatred that emanated from him was enough to bring all of her wariness crashing back.

Too late.

“Suppose I try tormenting someone more my size, eh? ’Ow would that be?” He suddenly lunged forward and caught her wrist in a punishing grip. “Someone like … you?”

She tried to tug away from him, but his hold was too strong. “Let me go.”

“Oh, come off it, luv. You think I don’t know why Peter likes you so much? You’ve been giving it to ’im, ain’t you? Why, you’re a right little doxy underneath all them fancy manners of yours.”

“Stop it.”

The next thing she knew, he had pulled her forward and shoved her up against the building, trapping her between the heat of his body and the stone edifice.

“I’ll stop when I’m ready.” He pressed an arm across her throat, holding her in place while he trailed a hand down the front of her, his touch lingering, making her shudder with revulsion. “Right now, I want some of what Peter’s been getting.”

In one quick, unexpected movement, he grasped the front of Nat’s borrowed shirt and yanked as hard as he could. Buttons popped and flew in all directions, and the action shook Emily out of her terror-induced paralysis.

She started to fight, kicking and hitting out at him, but the blows had very little effect. In fact, he seemed to be amused by it all, chuckling at her vain attempts to free herself. His arm at her throat had cut off the passage of air to her lungs, and as she struggled to breathe, the edges of her vision started to blur and go dim. All she could see was his face, a mask of evil intent as he loomed over her.

Then, abruptly, he was gone. Sucking in a gust of oxygen, she stumbled away from the wall, her gaze searching the shadows to find two figures locked in a fierce struggle only a few feet away.

After several tension-filled moments, the taller form managed to send the shorter one crashing into a pile of crates across the alleyway, and Emily drew close enough to recognize Peter as her rescuer. He stood with jaw clenched, his eyes glittering as he glared down at Jack where he lay on the ground.