Immortal Surrender (38 page)

“The what? What do you mean his soul’s suffered darkness?”

“I do not want to tell you, Noelle.” The last thing he wanted to do was give her reason to fear him, especially now, when he planned to say his oath tonight.

She would have none of his excuses. Rolling off his body, she sat up at his side. “I don’t care if you want to or not. I want to know.”

Groaning aloud, Farran tossed an elbow over his eyes. If ever a man was doomed, ’twas surely him. “Can this not wait?”

“No, it can’t.”

“Aye, then.” He let out a heavy sigh and dropped his arm to the mattress. He stared at the ceiling, unable to bear witness to the condemnation he would cause. “The curse I told you of. ’Twas not just immortality Gabriel gave us. Nay, ’twould be too easy to live forever. He gave our souls a taint. A piece of Azazel’s darkness that festers as we age.”

Sensing he had not told her everything, Noelle pressed, “And?”

He glanced at her, then quickly looked away. The last of his explanation came out in a rush. “Each time I kill Azazel’s creatures, it grows. In time, I shall become a knight under his service. An evil being.” He rose to sit, grimacing with the effort.

She scrambled after him. Her fingers cut into his shoulder, and she pulled him around to meet her accusing glare.

“
This
is why everyone’s been saying you’ll kill me?”

“I am not going to kill you, Noelle. ’Tis a preposterous claim. But aye, ’tis what they believe.”

She stubbornly folded her arms across her breasts. “If it’s so preposterous, why does everyone think it?”

God’s teeth, she would not relent until he told her all of it. He expelled a hard breath and frowned. After a moment’s pause, he swiveled to catch her hands in his. The answer would not sit well. If she chose to run, he intended to stop her flight. He chose his words with care. “Anne believes she has seen your death. She claims ’twill come at the hands of a dark knight—the creature we are
all
capable of becoming. Because she says you are unafraid, they have assumed ’tis me.”

She drew back, but shock did not fill her features as he had expected. Instead, anger glittered behind her eyes. His frown deepened with confusion. He had told her of her death—why did she seem unconcerned?

“So it is possible. You kept this from me. Why?” Sharp and brittle, her voice cracked through the room.

Difficult—her name was woman. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Is it not obvious? I did not wish to scare you.”

Consternation settled into her mouth, pursing rosy lips tight. ’Twas such a misplaced expression for such delicate features he could not help but chuckle. He cupped her cheek and leaned in closer to kiss that puckered mouth. “You are not angry?”

With an indecipherable mutter, Noelle ducked out of his grasp and under his arm. She bent to his side, inspecting the stitches there. The tender probe of her fingertips made him shiver. But the sensation passed all too soon. She drew away and rolled her eyes. “You’re already healed where your stitch popped loose.”

He considered telling her his suspicions her hands had more to do with his healing than Uriel’s talent with a needle. Before he could decide how to begin, she slid into his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. “No. I’m not mad. But don’t keep things from me. Even Anne had the decency to tell me I’d die.”

Farran bristled. Anne had no right to tell Noelle such. ’Twas not her place. The damage she could have caused … Even Declan’s lies would not come close to such disaster.

At the remembrance of his brother’s strange behaviors, Farran eased Noelle out of his lap. “I must speak with Mikhail about Declan. ’Twill not take long.” He let his lips linger against hers, hating that he could not lie down beside her and nestle into her warmth. But this strange comfort of sleep would come soon enough. He could wait the twenty minutes necessary to fulfill duty. Besides, the little bit of distance his absence would create, would give him time to prepare for the offering of his eternal service.

Her eyes remained on him as he dressed, their brazen path as heated as her hands.

*   *   *

Noelle sank into the pillows as the outer door thumped shut. She had her explanations and had done her best to pretend the truth didn’t bother her. Honestly, the meaning of her oath disturbed her greatly. With it, another voice joined in. Farran’s as he tried to tell her what she was.

I shall gain the light that lives in your soul.

On the heels of his haunting echo rose Anne’s reminder that the oath would save his life.

It didn’t take a scientist to come up with the translation—those Latin words held the key to his salvation. In keeping silent, she doomed him to a fate she didn’t entirely understand, but knew could only be horrific.

She had no right to barter with his life.

Then again, he’d said the fighting made the darkness grow. If she found a way to keep him from battle, she wouldn’t be playing Russian roulette with his soul. From the way he had made love to her tonight, she sensed his feelings deepened. Could it take that terribly long to win his loyalty? His love?

She’d settle for his loyalty. Once she earned it, his love couldn’t be far behind.

Decided, she curled into the pillows and gave in to a soft smile. Tomorrow she’d tell him about the Sudarium. When she explained why she’d hidden it, he’d have no reason to be furious. Especially not when he’d kept things from her as well.

*   *   *

Hushed voices beyond Mikhail’s door stilled the hand Farran lifted to knock. Mayhap now was not the best time to cast more suspicion on Declan’s character. If he waited for morning, he could ease the news of deliberate betrayal with the declaration he had won Noelle’s oath.

Aye, he would start the morrow fresh. Spend the night with Noelle. Learn to live again.

He turned away to do just that, when the mention of his name brought him to a halt.

“You can’t tell Farran, he’ll be furious,” Anne insisted.

Mikhail countered firmly, “’Tis his seraph. Her mistakes become his as well.”

Farran cocked his head, his scowl intact. What wrong had Noelle committed whilst he slept?

“No, no, no!” Anne exclaimed. “I didn’t tell you so you could drive another wedge between them. Can’t you do whatever it is you do and magically make it reappear?”

The heavy scrape of chair legs against wood signaled Mikhail left his desk. His voice grew closer. “I have already done so. ’Twill be here in a few hours.”

Anne’s voice rose an octave. “Then
what
is the big deal? Do your stuff, Mikhail. Fix it.”

“I cannot.” He paused before adding, “Will not. The
big deal,
as you say, is a quarter-sized hole in the fabric where a mouse feasted. What would you have me do, Anne, claim ignorance? ’Tis dishonest. Noelle will face her wrongs.”

“Phanuel’s an angel,” Anne argued. “He’ll under—”

No longer content to eavesdrop, Farran barged into the room. If Noelle had erred, he would know about it now. Whilst he had yet to speak the words, in spirit she had his loyalty. His duty was to defend her, even if she committed wrongs. And he could not bring himself to believe anything Noelle had done was more than a misunderstanding. “What wrong has Noelle committed?”

Anne’s squeak drew his dark scowl. She backed up as if his glare threw fire, her face as white as a ghost’s. “Farran.”

“Aye, Farran. Now tell me what you speak of.”

Wild eyes darted to Mikhail, who had resumed his chair. Farran followed the path of her gaze, and when she offered naught more, he challenged Mikhail. “Do you suffer from the loss of your tongue as well? Tell me what wrongs you accuse Noelle of!”

Mikhail folded his hands in his lap, his stare unblinking. “I see you have pledged yourself to her. Congratulations, sir knight, for making such a monumental step.” He eased to his feet, crossed to the cabinet behind his desk. From the lower drawer he produced the satchel Noelle had sent with Lucan. He tossed it across the mahogany surface where it came to rest in front of Farran. “You are prepared then to defend her for hiding the Sudarium. She will need your sword should it not return with Gottfried tonight.”

Farran stared at the leather bag in disbelief. He had seen her hand the very sack to Lucan. She had not touched it since. Mikhail’s claims must be false. He shook his head against the closing of his throat. “You are mistaken. I have been with her since she gave the bag to Lucan. He brought it here. It has not left your office.”

“Good, good.” Mikhail nodded. “You shall need the meaning behind your words.”

His goading tone needled beneath Farran’s skin, striking fury. Farran curled his hands into fists to fight the urge to reach across the desk and grab Mikhail by the throat. Every muscle stiffened like a board.

“Striking me will solve naught, de Clare. Curb your temper before you come to regret it.” Mikhail strode around his desk, grabbed the satchel from the top, and pushed it into Farran’s hands. “You shall find it full of clothes. As did I when Anne came to me this morning. Noelle kept the relic in her purse. She hid it in her room at Bethany’s adytum.”

Each word Mikhail uttered pierced through Farran’s heart and turned it into a sieve. As his chest constricted to agonizing limits, he looked to Anne, hoping beyond all measure she would claim Mikhail false.

She shattered him with the sad shake of her head. “It’s true, Farran. The only reason I told Mikhail—”

“Damnation!” He slammed his fist down on the desk hard enough to make it shudder. Absolute devastation rose to choke him, and he spun for the door before it could suffocate his air.

“Stay where you are,” Mikhail commanded. “There is more for you to hear.”

By God, he could stomach no more. Noelle had betrayed him. Deceived them all. He had thought her pure, and behind her innocent smile, the same vile nature Brighid possessed lay in wait. Did no woman not know the meaning of deceit? Even Anne betrayed, for with her rightful honesty, she condemned Noelle.

One hand tight around the doorknob, Farran halted, yet he did not turn around.

“Noelle will face her misdeeds, Farran. Should the Sudarium arrive as planned tonight, tomorrow she shall take the damaged cloth to Phanuel. There she will confess what she has done to the Angel of Judgment. As your ward and mate, you will accompany her. The punishment Phanuel demands, you too shall share.”

His spine stiffened to stone. Traverse the seas at her side, when he could not bear to look upon her? He would rather descend into Azazel’s hell. “Nay, find someone else. We have exchanged no vows.”

“She is your seraph. The duty is yours alone.”

Farran jerked the door open and stormed into the hall. How dare she play him false. To think he had been minutes away from swearing himself to her. If he had, he would have no choice but to champion her to Phanuel. Her misdeeds would be seen as his, and once again, he would carry the mark of traitor. ’Twas bad enough she would bear the brand. That he must stand and bear witness to it. But
he
would not pay the price at her expense.

“Farran, wait!” Anne called from behind.

“Leave me be.”

She caught up before he could round the corner and grabbed him by the elbow. “Wait. It’s not what you think. Ask her to explain.” Her voice held urgency. Her eyes begged. “Please, Farran. Don’t shut her out.”

He looked down to where her fingers dug into his arm. “Take your hand off me before I give Merrick reason to draw his sword.”

Her gaze flickered, and her lips parted as if she meant to speak. When she said naught, Farran shook his arm free and left her standing in the hall.

He mounted the stairs two at a time. Each step that took him nearer to her room distanced him from Noelle. She had played him for a fool, and like the fool she thought he was, he had fallen into her wily trap. She would explain herself, but not before he made it clear she meant naught to him. That he would take his leave the very moment they returned from Spain.

He let himself inside her room and slammed the door shut. The bang brought her upright on the couch. She whipped around with a startled yelp.

In the next instant, Farran knew her act had been deliberate. Her body pulled away, distancing herself from him like a cornered mouse. And those tawny eyes he had come to adore filled with shame.

*   *   *

“I can explain.” Despite the frantic stutter of her heart, Noelle held Farran’s furious stare. She told herself she wasn’t afraid of him, only of what might happen between them. That he might walk away from her forever. Anne had predicted devastation … Clearly, she’d been right.

But only someone who lacked the value of life would mistake his deadly glower. If she’d been a man, she’d have found herself facing down the point of his sword. Maybe already run through.

“I care not to hear your words.”

She rocketed to her feet, her fear replaced by sudden anger. She’d given him the chance to explain. Had even forgiven. While she wouldn’t hold out for his acceptance, she refused to suffer his belligerence. “Well you’re going to. You came back here for something—what was it, Farran? Your keys? Maybe your belt? It damn sure isn’t me, is it?”

His jaw clenched so tight she was certain his teeth would crack. He took a threatening step toward her, then thought better of it and stopped. “Do not test me, damsel. You will not emerge the victor.”

“I don’t
want
to be the victor. This isn’t about who wins, who loses. We are partners, not pawn and master.”

The anger that rolled off him crashed into her like waves. Though he stood several feet away, the heat of his body burned. His nostrils flared, his eyes glinted like sharp daggers. In every way he was a dragon, and she the prey he sought to trap.

Trap her, he did. Three determined strides brought him in front of her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip fierce enough to make her flinch. Dipping his head, he brought his gaze level with hers. “We are
not
partners.
We
are finished, Noelle.”

She did her best to find her courage and ignore the biting sting of his words. With a shake of her shoulders, she twisted out of his grasp. “You of all people should understand. You kept your secrets. You didn’t want me to be afraid.” When he reached for her again, she evaded his grasp. “I
was
afraid, Farran. I thought you were crazy!”