Forbidden Angel (24 page)

The next morning, Edward slathered fresh butter and jam on a warm croissant while Angeline added honey to his tea.

“Edward, have you had any more news from Scotland Yard?” She lifted her own cup. “I suppose with Charles Malcolm dead, there may be no point to it.”

“Assuming he is indeed deceased,” Edward mumbled around the bite of croissant.

Shocked, Angeline stared at him. He swallowed, hard, and hastily added, “Of course he must be dead. I mean, even though he could have left the house just as you did, he probably . . . uh, that is to say the fire was so hot it would explain why the officers did not find a b-body.”

His eyes bulged as she bounded to her feet and leaned toward him. “What are you saying, Edward?” Angeline’s voice rose as fear gripped her.

“What’s happening in here?” Adrian demanded, striding into the room. Jeffrey and Esteban followed closely.

“Tell them, Edward. Tell them what you just told me.” Angeline pointed at the gathered men.

“Tell me what, Edward?” Adrian placed his hands on Angeline’s shoulders, a calming gesture, and encouraged her to sit. “What have you heard?”

Edward’s eyes widened even further as he gaped at the three large men. “Well, the authorities did not find a body while investigating the burned-out estate. It’s possible they haven’t yet recovered his remains. The house was still smoldering and too hot to search thoroughly.”

“He is not there,” Angeline said bleakly. “You cannot imagine how depraved a man he really is. I know Cazador would have killed him had it gone on much longer. Malcolm is pure evil and his madness had completely overtaken him.”

She began to shake as fearful images built in her mind. “If he’s still alive, we have not heard the end of him. He has one thing and one thing only in mind. He wants from my family what he cannot have by any other means.”

Esteban knelt before Angeline, taking her hand in his. “He will not harm you again. Should he approach this family, we will deal with him. Do you believe me,
niña
?”

“I’m trying,
Tio
Esteban, but no one tried harder than Adrian to protect me, and it almost cost him his life.”

Esteban edged closer, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “We have the advantage of knowing what we are truly up against, and Lord Adrian did not. If he comes again, or sends this man he hired—”

“No, Cazador would not—” She stopped abruptly, realizing what she had almost said.

“What, my love?” Adrian prompted softly.

Angeline averted her eyes. “I’m certain he is gone.”

Esteban came to his feet to stand by Adrian. Angeline was aware he eyed her curiously.

“Lady Angeline, I didn’t mean to upset you. Sometimes I just talk without thinking.” Edward attempted to reassure her.

“It’s not your fault, Edward. This whole thing is upsetting.”

Angeline felt Adrian’s sharp blue gaze studying her. She would need to be very careful.

Adrian, with a hand on the mantle and a boot on the grate, studied the flames as they leapt in the large hearth. He glanced up as Michael crossed the room and came to stand beside him, suddenly interested in the fire as well.

“Is the plan still to leave tomorrow morning?” Michael questioned.

“Yes. Rafael seems to feel it’s urgent. I don’t like crossing the Channel at this time of year, but there’s no other way. Angeline is terrified Malcolm will come after us and I have no way to soothe her, especially since I believe she’s right.”

“Angeline is a strong woman, Adrian.”

Adrian bent and added a piece of wood. “I wish I knew what to expect from
Don
Fernando. I realize it’s important for Angeline to see him before he dies, but I’m concerned it will not go as she hopes. We know what he was like twenty years ago. I doubt much has changed.”

Michael faced Adrian. “That’s out of our control. He is what he is, but it’s her wish to see him.”

“May I join you?” Jeffrey queried as he approached.

Adrian glanced over his shoulder. “Please do, Uncle. This is not an easy thing for me to say, but I must say it.” There was a long, brittle silence as he searched for words. “I have always loved Windsford Hall and I dreamed of it when first I left. Somewhere, without my realizing it, Spencer Ranch and Texas became as much a home to me as England.”

“What are you telling me, Adrian?” Jeffrey asked.

Adrian ran his fingers through his hair. “I know my responsibility and duty to my family. It’s not right to leave the care of both Windsford Hall and Ashley Manor to you, but I need some time to work things out. Would you continue to handle the affairs here for a while longer?”

Jeffrey visibly relaxed. Reaching out a hand, he squeezed Adrian’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my boy. It’s not a burdensome thing you ask of me. The estates have good managers and Mr. Thornby is a remarkable solicitor.” He studied Adrian for a moment. “Until James is old enough to take his rightful place, there will not be a representative for either family in the House of Lords. Have you thought of that?”

“Yes I have,” Adrian acknowledged. “Both families need representation and they shall have it. When we return from Spain, we’ll talk again. It may well be I must travel between England and America. When James is old enough, he will act as his own man.”

“I have every faith you will make it work.”

Adrian heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Jeffrey cleared his throat. “You both have promised to watch over Penelope for me. I don’t want to disappoint her, but I must admit to having concerns for her safety if that madman is following you.”

Before Adrian could respond, Michael stepped in. “Rest assured, sir, I will protect her.” Michael met Jeffrey’s gaze openly. “When we return, I wish to ask you for her hand in marriage. Although I don’t have a title and estates, I can give her a good life and make her happy. I don’t plan to stay in the Army and I have enough money to provide well for her.”

Both men regarded Michael in surprise.

Michael shrugged. “I chose the Army, it did not choose me. I wanted adventure and to make a life for myself apart from my family’s businesses. My father and uncle are in shipping and other ventures such as spices and trade in the Indies. It holds no real interest for me, but, lately, I’ve been in touch with them.”

“The shipping lines HH Venture and HH Sophia, are they by any chance what you’re referring to?” Adrian asked curiously, seeing his friend in a different light.

“Sophia is my mother’s name. I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I just felt I had made my choice and there was nothing more to say. I was wrong. When I contacted them, they were quite happy to hear from me and had just been waiting for me ‘to come to my senses.’” Michael grinned.

“I thought your family was from the South?”

“As a lad I was a bit of a hellion, and was sent to live with my maternal grandfather in Georgia. I never have been able to lose the accent.” Michael’s lips twitched. “When the war started, I lied about my age and went back north to fight with the Union army.”

Jeffrey held out his hand to clasp Michael’s. “I’m happy to learn you’ll be able to provide well for her, but more than anything, I want her to be happy. Can you promise me?”

“I will do my very best, sir.”

Unable to contain his enthusiasm, Adrian clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family.”

Charles Malcolm stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was an aging, portly man with stringy, dull-brown hair in need of washing. His bloodshot eyes didn’t see the skin turned sickly yellow or the patches of red veins spread across his nose and cheeks, a result of the amount of liquor he consumed.

His yellowed teeth and rank breath attested to an overindulgence of alcohol and tobacco. His clothes were dirty, with droppings of food splattering the front. He saw only the handsome man he had once been in his youth. He ran a brush though his thinning hair.

“Run from me, will you? I’ll show you, Miss High-and-Mighty bitch, and that so-called husband of yours. ‘Course, he’s not really, is he?” He grinned at his reflection.

“I’ll show you what a real man is like. He won’t take from me what is rightfully mine. It’s my money and I shall have it. Those Spaniards will see I’m a man to be reckoned with.”

His eyes narrowed to slits as his lips lifted in a grotesque smile. “I’ll find you too, Cazador, you traitor. You betrayed me and you’ll pay for it. You probably had your way with her, just like Windsford and that Captain did. I don’t care. She’s just a whore and the means to an end.”

Malcolm straightened his frayed cuffs. “I will marry her, use her, and claim all that should be mine. When I’m done, I’ll dispose of her and that runny-nosed brother of hers as I did the others. Then, everyone will pay me the respect I deserve when I enter a room.”

Adjusting his cravat one last time, he placed a hat on his head and left the room. They were somewhere in London. He would find them. A few discreet coins placed in the right hands would buy him all the information needed.

His town house was dark and in disrepair, all the servants having long since left his employ. But he saw only what he wanted.

Shutting the door behind him, he began whistling a nameless tune as he caught a hackney to one of the gambling hells in town. His luck would change.

He could feel it.

With the weather calmer than expected, the trip across the English Channel to France was accomplished without mishap. A rider was dispatched to alert those at Hacienda Cordova of their imminent arrival.

As day after day on the road passed without any sign of Malcolm, Angeline’s fears eased. Perhaps he was dead or, if not, had finally given up.

As the large coach rumbled along the road, her thoughts were on her mother and father, and the family they’d run from so many years ago. She had no idea what she would find upon arrival.

Angeline thought of Philippe. She owed him her life. When she’d asked, he’d said it was finished. Did he refer to her ordeal only, or the life he had chosen? She hoped for the latter. If he continued as a gun for hire, there would come a time when someone would kill him. Focusing on the view through the window, she tried to block the thought of Philippe, lying dead somewhere, from her mind.

After leaving the cold wind and snow of England and northern France, the warmer climate was a welcome change. When the sun dropped lower in the sky and dusk began to fall, Shirley lit the lanterns in the coach. As they passed houses washed in different pastel shades, Penelope closed her book and leaned forward to peer outside. Light spilled through windows of the adobe homes, smoke billowed from chimneys, and the houses grew closer together. When the coach and outriders passed a small, whitewashed church, the bells began to peal.

The coach finally came to a rocking stop, and Angeline peered at a large, white building, its front windows lit with brightly glowing lamps. A sign beside the door proclaimed it a hotel.

Adrian pulled the coach door open and stuck his head inside. “We’ll stay here this evening and finish our journey in the morning. I’ve been assured hot water awaits each of you ladies.”

His news met with an excited chorus of female appreciation.

Michael’s cheerful face greeted them at the hotel’s entrance. “Our rooms are ready, and dinner will be served in an hour. There’s not much time for a long soak, but I’m told the food is excellent.”

Angeline stepped through the door. “I will admit to being famished. I suppose that’s not very ladylike.”

“I find that admission quite charming,” Michael assured her.

She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Adrian shot a quelling glare in Michael’s direction. With a rustle of skirts, she swept past Adrian and up the stairs to their room. Once there, she found a large copper hip bath. Dipping her fingers in the water, she tested the temperature.

“The water is perfect.” She lifted her long hair and presented her back to him. “Help me out of this gown, please.”

After pressing a kiss on the back of her neck, he began undoing the long row of buttons. “I can remember when you were this eager for me. Now it seems I must take second place to a tub of scented water.”

As he tugged at the last button, he mumbled, “Whoever designed this was not thinking of men, unless it was their wish to frustrate us.”

“Well, my desire for you has not changed one bit. If anything—” She caught her lower lip between her teeth.

“Yes?” He nuzzled her neck below her ear, splayed a hand over her midriff, and eased her back against him.

She went willingly, fitting her body to his.

He murmured, “I’ve missed this, sweeting. I didn’t know if you were well enough for bed sport. I would not risk hurting you.” He hesitated. “We’ve not discussed it, but before everything happened, you thought you might be with child.” His hand slipped down to her abdomen. “Is there still that chance? Your body went through so much.”

Angeline covered his hand with hers and pressed his palm against her belly. “The babe is still here, Adrian, and with each day, grows stronger.”

“Thank God.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head and rocked her in his arms for a few moments. Too soon, he released her to help her out of the gown. His fingers made quick work of the ties holding her petticoat, and it fell in a dusty heap at her feet. She’d not worn a corset since the wound.

Angeline shed her chemise and drawers, then swiveled to find Adrian on his knees in front of her. She stared, her senses skittering. Slowly, he untied the ribbons of her garters, rolled the stockings down her legs, then leaned forward and kissed the inside of each knee. Angeline shuddered, willing to forego the bath, food, anything to be near him.

Adrian came to his feet, his heated gaze drifted over her. “Before I forget the others are waiting for us and decide to stay . . .” He scooped her up and deposited her in the tub. “I’ll leave you to your bath. If I remain much longer, they’ll not see us before morning.” He strode toward the door. “I’ll send Shirley to you and await you downstairs.” The door shut firmly behind him.

Within moments Shirley bustled in. Angeline chose a gown of pale rose wool with darker rosettes surrounding the scooped neckline and hem. After brushing Angeline’s thick hair, Shirley quickly plaited and coiled the heavy tresses into a coronet. With her toilette completed, they hurried to meet the others.

Angeline slid onto the padded bench beside Adrian, her senses vibrating at the sight of him. She found it rather disconcerting to realize how, in the few short months they’d been together, she craved his scent, his attention, his lovemaking. His mere touch. She was no more composed than she’d been upstairs when she’d wanted him to stay.

Content to listen to the low timbre of conversation, interspersed with the quick bark of men’s laughter as they regaled each other with tales of their childhood, she let her thoughts wander.

Adrian was not the man she had envisioned throughout the years, and yet he was so much more. More complex. More vital. More touchable. Whether he realized it or not, he was as much a victim as she to the desire which drew them together. The knowledge made her smile.

Adrian leaned nearer and whispered in her ear. “I was worried we could not amuse you, my love.”

Their gazes met. The wicked light, dancing in his blue eyes, sent heat pulsing through her. With little provocation she would fling herself at him and insist that he accompany her upstairs.

She forced her brightest smile, and slid her thigh against his. She was rewarded when he jerked, his breath releasing in a soft huff. His eyes sparkled, and she caught the slight crinkle at the corner of his mouth.

Adrian pulled a watch from his pocket, thumbed it open. “It grows late and we have an early morning.” His gaze lifted to Rafael. “How far is the hacienda from here?” His other hand found Angeline’s knee under the table.

“Perhaps an hour,” Rafael replied. “Should we be concerned?”

A crease appeared between Adrian’s brows, and he withdrew his hand. He sighed. “Yes. I would like to believe good wins over evil, right triumphs in the end, but that’s not been my experience with Malcolm. To underestimate him now, to let our guard down, would be a dangerous mistake. If he lives, he will come to present his claim to your family. Although I don’t believe he’ll try and take her again, he may decide to kill anyone his twisted mind believes could interfere with his plan. Which would be most of us.”

Rafael rose to his feet. “We will be on watch. For now, I think we should see the women safely to their rooms.”

Adrian’s fingers curled around Angeline’s elbow. As he ushered her up the stairs to their room, he moved closer to her side. The thought that one man could cause so much devastation for so many infuriated her.

After they crossed the threshold of their bedchamber, she rounded on him. “I’ve joked with you about my killing Malcolm, but I am not teasing now. If I have the opportunity to end this, I will, Adrian. That man stole your life, the one you should have had in England, and now threatens this one.”

She rested her hands on his arms and gazed up at him. “You said it yourself, he will kill whomever he believes stands in his way. I will not have my child grow up without its father.”

She placed her fingers over his lips before he could speak. “Although each and every one of you is able to end this,
I
am the one he will allow close enough to see it done.
I
am the one he would least expect.” Angeline waited for the inevitable explosion.

“If you’re finished shushing me, I would like to respond.”

The gentle tone of his voice might have fooled her into relaxing, if she hadn’t seen the muscle twitch in his jaw and anger flash in his eyes.

She raised her chin. “You must see this is the most logical way—”

“Like bloody damn hell it is,” he stated firmly. Before she could react, he scooped her up in his arms and dumped her in the middle of the bed. She rolled to the side and grabbed the edge of the mattress in an attempt to pull herself off the side furthest from him. His hands clamped around her ankles and jerked her back to the middle, then flipped her over on her back in a tangle of skirts and legs.

He leaned over her and pointed a finger at her, nearly touching her nose. “Do not move. If you do, I swear I’ll turn you over my knee and paddle you. Perhaps if William had done so, you wouldn’t be such a headstrong hoyden now.”

She sat up and glared at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Adrian shed his coat and waistcoat, reached for his cravat, and tugged the starched linen off in one quick jerk. “Do you test me?”

“No.” She had no doubts he would make good on his threat. “What are you doing?” She eyed him.

Opening the top few buttons on his shirt, he pulled the article of clothing off over his head, threw the now rumpled garment across the room, and sat on the edge of the bed to tug at his boots.

Distracted, Angeline watched the play of muscles move under the smooth skin of his back. Her fingers itched to touch him.

He scowled at her over his shoulder. “What am I doing? I should think it damned obvious. You, on the other hand, haven’t a clue as to what you’re playing at.” He was back on his feet, facing her, hands braced on his lean hips. “You think you can control a madman?” He shook his head. “Not bloody likely. He’s capable of things you can’t begin to imagine.”

She listened to Adrian’s warning, knew he was right as she recalled all she had seen and learned of Malcolm’s treatment of women. She’d witnessed firsthand his cruelty. But even as her mind recognized the truth and recoiled in fear at what he said, her body reacted in a different way to Adrian as he shed his clothing.

She was a wanton. It was the only way to explain the desire washing through her. He was all muscle and sun-kissed skin. Heat pooled in her belly and her thighs began to tingle. She wanted to run her hands over him, to touch and kiss him—to feel him inside her. Angeline moved restlessly, running her tongue over suddenly dry lips.

At the sight of her pink tongue, Adrian swallowed, hard. Desire, hot and intense, swept through him. As the bleak tightness that had gripped his chest at her announcement eased, he breathed in deeply. Her gaze skimmed over him like a caress, one he felt to his bones. His body hardened alarmingly.

He reached for the buttons on his trousers as she stirred, her hands opening and closing on the counterpane. Although he’d witnessed countless women undress, he’d never had one observe him so acutely.

Adrian flipped open the placket on his trousers and tugged them off, leaving only his drawers.

Her gaze dropped to his manhood, already straining against the soft linen. She came up on her knees and reached for him.

He stilled her movement. “Don’t you think you should undress?” He released her hands and moved to the chair in the corner.

Adrian knew her body, knew it as well as he knew his own, and never grew tired of admiring her.

“I, uh, of course.” Angeline slid off the bed. “Are you going to just sit there?”

“Yes.” He leaned back, placing his hands on the arms of the chair.

She frowned. “Well, are you going to turn down the lamp?”

He shook his head slowly.

Angeline made an odd noise in her throat. She reached behind her to open the back of the gown. Then a smile played at the corner of her mouth. She half turned, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes as she peeked over her shoulder at him, then nudged the gown from her shoulder to reveal creamy white skin. His breath hitched in his throat.

Her long lashes fluttered and held him in thrall, this woman whose eyes had always mesmerized him. Her slender fingers played over the gown where it covered her other shoulder. Little by little, inch-by-inch, she edged the gown off to let it fall and pool at her feet.

Adrian’s body tightened uncomfortably. His hands gripped the arms of the chair.

Within seconds, she undid the ribbons of her petticoats and they joined the pile on the floor. Slowly, she faced him.

Adrian gazed, transfixed, as she stepped out of the clothing and kicked them to the side. She stood in front of him, feet spread, hands on hips, and surveyed him. He wanted her, and she knew it, the minx. She knew what effect she had on him.

He could see her rosy nipples and the dark patch at the apex of her thighs through the thin material of her shift. As she lifted her arms to release her long braid, her lacy garter peeked beneath the edge of her shift. Like a black, silky veil, her hair fell around her shoulders and down her back. Then she swung her head, sending the long mass swirling around her. His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his ribs.

She was what every man dreamed of touching, of possessing, and she was his. Again, her eyes met his, and the corners of her lips lifted in a sensual invitation. She raised her shift and placed her foot on the edge of the chair by his leg, then fingered the ribbon on the garter.

He managed a strangled, “Leave it” before he pushed up from the chair and reached for her.

The intoxicating scent of rose and woman filled his senses as he curved one arm around her, lifted, and sat her on the edge of the bed. She leaned back on her arms and looked at him with trusting eyes.

Adrian lifted one slender foot and removed her slipper. She uttered an almost cat-like purr as he pressed his thumb into the arch and ball of her foot, and her body stretched sensuously. He repeated the same ministrations with the other foot.