Free A Kiss In The Dark by Kimberly Logan Page B

ahead up then, shall I? We won’t be long.”
    Deirdre started across the room toward the stairs and Tristan followed, glancing at Harry in passing. Though the old man examined him with a curious expression, he said nothing; he merely retrieved his broom and went back to his sweeping.
    “What happened to his eye?” Tristan murmured to Deirdre as he mounted the steps behind her.
    She looked back at him over her shoulder, a genuine smile lighting her face. “It depends on which day of the week you ask him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the same story twice in all the years I’ve known him.”
    Just how many years was that? Tristan asked himself as they reached the top of the stairs and continued along a dim hallway. And how was it that a tavern-keeper had come to know her father?
    In front of him, Deirdre halted before one of the doors at the end of the corridor. She raised her hand to knock when it swung open to reveal a tall, thin gentleman with bleary eyes and a pasty complexion. With an unintelligible mutter, he pushed past them into the hallway and moved off toward the stairs, his gait less than steady.
    A second later, a woman appeared in the doorway, her long fall of black hair tousled and her buxom figure clad in a garish dressing gown. Her heavily made-up face gave mute testimony to her chosen profession, and Tristan couldn’t restrain a start of surprise.
    Good God! The woman had brought him to see a prostitute!
    At the stunned look on Tristan’s face, Deirdre felt a brief surge of satisfaction. After spending most of the journey here certain he was secretly laughing at her, she was happy to see the tables turned.
    The truth was, she’d been off balance ever since they’d departed her town house, and she didn’t like that feeling at all, especially when Tristan seemed unaffected by anything that happened between them. She almost wished she’d agreed to his suggestion that he ride up on the box. At least she would have had a little private time to get her teetering emotions back under control. She’d been a ninny, however, determined to prove to herself and him that she could be in his presence without losing every bit of sense. An exercise in futility, of course, because the moment he’d touched her arm as they’d stepped down from the carriage, every sensible thought had flown right out of her head.
    “Deirdre, luv! What are you doing ’ere so early?”
    Lilah’s exclamation brought her out of her ruminations, and she gave her friend a warm smile, aware all the while of Tristan’s penetrating gaze. “Hello, Lilah. I hope you don’t mind me showing up so unexpectedly, but—”
    “Don’t be daft! You know I’m always glad to see you.”
    The dark-haired woman ushered them into the room, chattering away, as usual, and completely unconcerned with her state of dishabille. Deirdre had to stifle a laugh as she noticed Tristan’s bemused countenance. She’d known Lilah for as long as she could remember. Aside from Harry, the prostitute had been one of the few people who’d been there for her in the days after her father’s abandonment, and she was quite fond of her. However, she knew the woman’s exuberant manner could be a trifle disconcerting.
    “I’ve been wanting to thank you for those dresses you brought me the last time you came to visit,” Lilah was saying as she closed the door behind them. “They’re right fine. Too fine for the likes of me.”
    “Nonsense. Nothing is too fine for the likes of you.”
    The prostitute beamed, then turned to Tristan, her eyes lighting with curiosity and definite feminine interest as they roamed over his muscular form. “Who ’ave we ’ere?”
    The scowl that marred Tristan’s face told Deirdre he didn’t much care for being sized up like a prime stallion on the block at Tattersall’s, so she swiftly intervened. “This is Tristan.” She was surprised at how easily his name fell from her lips. In fact, the familiarity with which she spoke it