Free A Kiss In The Dark by Kimberly Logan Page A

continued along its route south toward the river, the palatial homes and quaint shops of Westminster soon gave way to the dark, narrow streets and ramshackle buildings of Tothill Fields. The change was abrupt and jarring, and Tristan felt a chill as he realized how easy it would have been for Emily to pass into the environs without even being aware of it until it was too late. It was true that Tothill wasn’t quite as squalid as some of the rookeries on the east side of the city, but it was bad enough in its own right and could be just as dangerous.
    He knew that better than most.
    Before long, they pulled up in front of a tavern with a weathered, hand-painted sign hanging above the door. “The Jolly Roger” it declared in bold letters.
    It was Tristan’s turn to look askance at his companion. “This is our destination?”
    Avoiding his eyes, she gave a stiff nod before opening the carriage door and alighting.
    “Wait.” Tristan climbed down behind her and reached out to place a restraining hand at her elbow. At the contact, however, a sharp jolt instantly shot up his arm and he pulled away, as if burned.
    Don’t touch , he reminded himself, shoving the offending hand deep in his pocket. It’s better if you don’t touch her .
    He cast a brief glance up at Cullen, who was still perched up on the driver’s box. The servant was glaring down at him in a menacing manner. Deciding it would be prudent not to antagonize the coachman where his protective instincts for his mistress were concerned, Tristan took a step away from her before continuing. “I was just going to suggest that if I’m supposed to be your servant, it might be better if you wait for me to assist you.”
    Her face flushed a becoming shade of pink. “You’re right, of course. I wasn’t thinking. I’m so used to doing things for myself, I just—”
    She stopped, biting her lip. For a brief moment, Tristan found himself entranced by her charmingly befuddled expression, but he managed to tear himself away and turned to open the tavern door, bowing her inside before him.
    The interior of the establishment was dark and dim, though cleaner than one might have guessed from its façade, with a scattering of scarred wooden tables and chairs. At this time of the morning, no one was about except for a burly, gray-haired man Tristan took to be the tavern-keeper, who was sweeping the scuffed plank floor, and a scruffy individual who lay slumped in the far corner, snoring loudly.
    “Good morning, Harry.”
    At Deirdre’s greeting, the gray-haired man looked over his shoulder, a surprised smile wreathing his ruddy face. A black patch covered one eye, giving him a piratical look. “Why, good morning, m’lady. You’re out and about early this fine day.”
    “Please, Harry. I’ve told you before you may still call me Deirdre. I’m the same person I’ve always been and I don’t want you to treat me any differently.”
    Harry scratched his head and set aside his broom. “I don’t know, m’lady. It don’t seem right some’ow.”
    “I insist.”
    Tristan frowned as he observed the two people in front of him. Their easy interaction had him mystified.
    Deirdre glanced over at the snorer, who twitched once in his sleep and shifted restlessly before settling down once more. “I see Tom didn’t make it home again last night.”
    “He’s been propping up me wall since midnight,” the tavern-keeper huffed. “Why, it reminds me of when your da used to—” He halted, his cheeks flooding with color. “I’m sorry, m’lady … er, Deirdre. I meant no disrespect.”
    Sorry for what? Tristan wondered, noting Deirdre’s apprehensive look in his direction. What about her da?
    But before he could question her, she’d changed the subject. “It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. By the way, I’m here to see Lilah. Is she upstairs?”
    “’Course. Where else would she be? That one don’t crack an eye before noon.”
    “I’ll just go