Thrilled with her find, Angele gratefully left the dusty eyrie to return to her chamber, leaving the lofty space to the creepy crawlies and spiders that no doubt lurked in the shadows just waiting for her to leave.
Her punishments had continued until Gabriel considered her debt paid. She felt happier, lighter, fully absolved. Gabriel had insisted that they put the past behind them now and concentrate on their new beginning. She’d readily agreed, feeling free-spirited since her final punishment. She had forgotten how well her husband understood her psyche. Her guilt assuaged, she felt able to plan for the Yule and Christopher’s arrival.
With her son’s future in mind, her next visit that day was to the nurseries. She found them in a deplorable state. Not cleaned or decorated in years, the rooms were furnished with rusty iron beds and mouldering curtains. A plethora of broken and discarded toys lay scattered about amidst damaged chairs and tables dumped there, presumably awaiting a repair that had never been attempted. There was no way these rooms could possibly be prepared in time for Christopher’s arrival.
She strode into her husband’s study without the customary knock. “How do you intend to accommodate our son, because I have just come from the nurseries, and the rooms are in terrible disrepair? I wouldn’t kennel a dog there, let alone my precious boy and his nursery maids.”
“Where do you suggest our son should sleep then, other than in the nursery?” Gabriel asked, appearing nonplussed by her question.
Angele stamped her foot. “You are not taking this seriously. Have you even been up there since I was last living here?”
“Well, no, I have not, but…” he began, looking rather sheepishly at her
Angele threw both hands in the air and began to pace the room, turning her back on him. “Christopher will have to sleep in a guest suite until they are cleaned and prepared for him.”
“An admirable solution. Now perhaps I may be allowed to get on with estate business?”
Angele spun about to face him, her eyes narrowed. “What could you possibly have to do that could be more important than preparing for our son’s imminent arrival?”
“You will moderate your tone of voice, madam. I understand that you are excited by our son’s homecoming, but he is not likely to be here for a few days yet. Relax, my dear. Instruct the servants with any preparations or changes you wish to be made. Mrs. Berry will see to it that he has adequate accommodation, never fear.”
She’d slapped him before she considered her action.
Merde, why ever did I do that?
He was being perfectly reasonable, and yet it was for that very reason she’d become so enraged. She was nervous about the meeting of the two males she loved best in the world. She wanted Gabriel to be as excited as she about the arrival of their son, but he so clearly wasn’t, and it was that which infuriated her.
He drew himself up to full height and glowered down his patrician nose. “I had hoped that the final session across my knee the other evening might have been the last time you would require correction this year. It seems I was sadly mistaken in that assumption. Come here.”
With hesitant steps of trepidation, she went to him. He drew her over to the fireside chair. Tears of regret filled her eyes. She deserved his retribution, but to her astonishment, instead he seated himself before the crackling fire and drew her down to sit upon his lap. While one arm cradled her, his other arm rose; he used his thumb to wipe away her tears.
“Why so overwrought, angel?” he enquired.
She drew in an unsteady breath.
“Je suis ennuye parce que I want you and Christopher to love each other as much I love you both. I am afraid that you might dislike one another,” she confided. More tears misted her sapphire gaze.
He was silent for a while. The sound of the ticking mantel clock and the occasional popping spark from the blazing fire soothed her rattled nerves. She relaxed against his chest, staring into the dancing flames.
Finally, he stirred. “I cannot tell you that my son and I will never fall out, for such is human nature, but I can promise you that I will love him as unequivocally as you do. I pledge my love to you and our son, Angele. I shall always do my utmost to do what is right for the both of you. I cannot promise it will always be what you want but I will give you whatever you need. I love you more than myself. You need never be in doubt that my love is sincere.”
She placed her small palms either side of his face and sat up to gaze into his eyes. Only honest integrity and pure love shone out at her. She lowered her mouth to his, kissing him, putting every fibre of passionate love into her time-honoured gesture.
This was what she had always loved about him. Her husband understood her to the very depths of her soul. He always gave her what she needed. Her lips quirked as she pressed them against his mouth, and she recalled his words—no, he did not always give her what she wanted but he instinctively knew, just as now, what she needed. She had expected a spanking at the very least for the harsh slap she’d dealt him, but instead he had comforted her. She broke their kiss.
“I apologise for slapping you, mon amour. It was uncalled for,” she admitted sheepishly.
He winked at her. “Never fear, I shall find a way for you to repay me.”
She flushed at his meaning, smiling as he chuckled throatily at her discomfiture.
And so a compromise was reached, and guest rooms were prepared for Christopher a few doors down from theirs. A nursery maid was selected using Ivy’s knowledge of the existing staff. In the meantime, servants were set the task of cleaning and emptying the nursery in readiness for a programme of redecoration. Gabriel suggested Christopher might like to give suggestions to help the nursery feel more like home to him. Angele knew at once that her son would like that.
They received word from Robin and Mary, stating that they would arrive Christmas Eve to spend the twelve days of Christmas with them at the ancestral home. Angele was disappointed that she would have to wait until then to be reunited with her son, but her husband’s love making each night, and sometimes during the day, was more than enough compensation.
Chapter 13
The house was full of excited anticipation, it was the night of the ball. Angele took a leisurely bath in the linen-draped copper tub, surrounded by flickering candelabras.
Ivy dressed her hair high with artful curls. Her gown of ice-blue silk, scattered with tiny glittering crystals, showed her snowy white skin off to perfection. The flush of nervous excitement that bloomed in her cheeks would be well hidden under her mask. The diamond drops in her ears and the circlet that surrounded her neck had been a wedding gift from her husband. Indeed, Gabriel was moved to comment that on this occasion more than any other, she looked like the angel she was named for.
The queue of guests wove from the entrance hall, up the stairs, and ended at the ballroom door where Carroll, the butler, announced each couple as they entered. St. Nicholas and Angele stood ready to meet and greet each and every one.
The line seemed interminable, but finally Carroll announced their final guest. “Milady Misrule!”
Angele frowned and cast Gabriel a curious glance. “Who...?” she mouthed to him.
He raised a questioning eyebrow in reply, indicating that he was none the wiser. They turned to watch an unknown lady come towards them. She was dressed in crimson velvet and wore a black eye mask. Her golden hair was piled severely high and ornamented with three crimson ostrich feathers. Matching rubies glittered in her ears. Her mouth was rouged red, while her cheek sported a black beauty spot, so placed as to indicate that she was unwed and free for dalliance.
“Who on earth is she?” Angele whispered, sotto voce.
“I have absolutely no idea,” Gabriel replied out of the corner of his mouth. He inclined his head towards the siren. “Welcome to Michaelmas Hall, milady. I do not believe that we have been introduced?”
The woman halted in front of them. Arrogantly, she ignored her host, her focus centred solely upon Angele. “So this is
she. The woman who has supposedly returned from the dead,” she stated in a voice that was soft, belying her siren’s appearance.
“This is indeed my beloved wife, Angele St. Nicholas, yes. Again, I ask, have we been introduced, madam?”
She turned a glittering gaze upon him. “Yes. I have to say that I am somewhat surprised and insulted that you do not recall me, St. Nicholas.” With a snap of her scarlet fan, the lady of misrule spun away, and melted into the press of people that milled about the crowded room.
Gabriel and Angele stood silently watching as she weaved her way through the crowds, the red ostrich plumes easily marking her progress across the ballroom.
Their strange visitor was soon forgotten as they danced together, the host leading the dance, a traditional opening to the ball. Friends who had known them as newlyweds claimed their attention. Angele was kept constantly dancing, and etiquette demanded that Gabriel, too, was kept glued to the dance floor.
During a break from her dance suitors, Angele made her way to the refreshment table where a number of thirsty ladies had congregated about the punchbowl. Sensing a presence beside her, Angele turned and looked up from her glass to find the woman in red standing before her.
“You should have stayed dead,” she hissed. “What right have you to come back to take what was supposed to be mine?” The woman spat the words and reaching out suddenly, she snatched the mask from Angele’s face. Frozen the woman stood staring aghast at her. Staggering backwards, she asked, “How could St. Nicholas possibly prefer you to me?”
Angele shrunk into herself in horror. Her disfigurement was exposed to everyone in the room. The expression of shock on the siren’s face would surely reflect what others would feel confronted by her scars. Filled with utter panic, Angele did not know which way to turn. She felt nauseous and thought she might be sick.
“You have the gall to stand there and spout such nonsense while dressed like a harlot! You stand before an angel, an angel who has been returned to me by some a Yuletide miracle! I tell you all that I would choose my Angele above all women—and that most certainly includes you, Lady Bellingham. Yes, I recognise you now, Noelle. Believe me when I tell you that I do not like what I see. I am certain your father shall have something to say upon the subject of his daughter appearing in public dressed as a jezebel. Is this any way to behave if you wish to attract a husband? I think not!”
Angele winced for the girl as her husband gave his former fiancée the most humiliating dressing down she had ever heard delivered in public. However, while she shuddered for the poor girl, her heart vibrated with joy. Gabriel’s words rang with a deep sincerity; he truly loved and wanted only her!
Confidence flowed into her veins. She finally understood that he desired her as she was now and not simply because he remembered her as she used to be.
The musicians stopped playing. Dancers came to a standstill, and those around them stood silent, everyone listening in apparent awe to her husband denouncing Noelle Bellingham.
Angele watched in fascination. The jezebel before her shrank, becoming the young girl she actually was, lacking in confidence to carry through whatever wicked plan she’d intended. Pity moved her at the girl’s sad plight. Just when Angele was about to step forward to intervene, wishing to shield Noelle further from Gabriel’s wrath, a young gentleman, Christian Knight, the son of Sir Rupert Knight, who owned the neighbouring estate, suddenly stepped between the two antagonists. The young man gazed upon the weeping Noelle, admiration glowing in his eyes.
“My lord, with your permission, I should like to assist this young lady from Michaelmas Hall. If it pleases you, I shall escort her over to my parents to afford an introduction.”
Gabriel nodded, a tick twitching in his cheek. Tight-lipped, he stepped aside, allowing the young man to lead Noelle across to the opposite side of the ballroom where his family stood watching the unfolding events with obvious consternation.
Gabriel turned and waved at the musicians. He led Angele onto the dance floor where a quadrille was hastily formed. It was only as they began the dance that Angele realised her mask lay forgotten by the refreshment table. Her face was uncovered, yet no one paid her any heed. People were gathered, staring after Noelle. Ladies whispered behind their fans, but no one’s focus appeared to be on her. She relaxed.
The time came to exchange partners within the dance. The gentleman she was handed to merely smiled kindly, commenting upon the recent icy conditions. Her next partner spoke of the coming Yuletide celebration, asking whether she missed the warmer climate of the continent. No one stared at her scars or questioned her about them. It was just the sort of reassurance she needed to continue dancing unmasked. Finally, she was reunited with her glowering husband.
“Noelle obviously loved you. Was it necessary to be quite so harsh with her?” she asked gently.
“Bloody girl should be horsewhipped. What was she thinking coming here dressed up like that, and all alone? She will be utterly ruined.” He continued to rant in a similar vein. The music ended, and he executed the final bow. She curtsied in reply. Gabriel ushered her from the floor.
Spinning about, he cast her a such a tender look of concern her heart melted. “Are you certain you are all right, my love? I swear I had no idea that Noelle had formed such a tendre for me.”
“I realise that. Poor girl, I feel some sympathy for her. Her love is ambivalent; she does not really know you as a person. I am sure she will recover and move her affection to another. Her pride has been dented, and I should think after the set down you gave her that any romantic feelings she entertained towards you are completely dashed.”
Angele caught a movement from across the room and craned her neck in an attempt to find Noelle’s whereabouts. Scarlet ostrich plumes drew Angele’s eye, and she saw that the Knight family were leaving. Noelle was chaperoned in their midst. Christian guided Noelle forward with a proprietorial hand at the small of her back.
Angele clutched Gabriel’s arm.
“Do look.” She pointed across the room.
They both stilled to watch the family leave. Sir Rupert lifted his hand in a conciliatory gesture as the small group departed.
“Well, well, perhaps I should predict a match,” Gabriel said, sounding relieved, and obviously mollified by such a thought.
The evening continued pleasantly and unremarkably. Gabriel and Angele led the procession into supper, and unmasking came at midnight. Not one person commented on Angele’s face. All the gossip was concentrated on the disgraceful behaviour of Noelle Bellingham. Gabriel privately concluded that it had been a good thing that she had turned up when she had, for it had totally taken any focus away from Angele’s scarred face. Noelle’s disgrace enabled his wife to go unmasked in public for the first time in five years. Since she had overcome that first hurdle last night, Gabriel said he was certain that she would now cope unmasked out in the wider world. After all, she would have him beside her, and woe betide anyone who dared to upset his precious angel.
Chapter 14
Gabriel lay beside his naked wife and watched her sleep. He toyed with a long shimmering curl of hair, waiting for her to awaken. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he smiled.
Angele’s lips curled sweetly. Drowsily, languidly she stretched beside him.
“Last night I asked if you were feeling all right. I ask you again today, is all well with you?” He leaned over her, anxiously watching her expression.
“I am more than ‘all right’, I am en extase, mon amour,” she assured him.
“Shall we take the day for ourselves today? Tomorrow is time enough to think of preparations for the Yule festivities.”
She placed her hand on his naked chest and walked her fingers downwards towards his groin. “You have some kind of entertainment in mind peut-etre?” she purred.
His cock responded to her teasing words, rising to tent the sheet that covered him. “Again, madam? I thought I’d quite worn you out last night,” he quipped.
She cocked her head impishly, pointing at her chest. “Moi?Mais non!”
“In that case…” He pounced, rolling her over onto her back, his lips covering hers.
She squealed in surprise; he chuckled against her mouth. She subsided as he seared her mouth with his, melting into him. He curved his arms about her, his palms cupping her buttocks so her mons pressed into his rigid member. She whimpered.
He brushed his mouth across her neck, dropping kisses there then moving to her décolleté and breast. Taking the burgeoning nubbin between his teeth, he worried it gently. Her back arched. Her whimpers turned to moans of lust that drove him to seek the twin peak of her other breast.
He slid his hand from her rump, delving his fingers between the soft folds of her sex. Gad, she was wet, primed and ready for him. He lifted her up to meet his shaft and impaled her slowly, deeply.
“Gabriel!”
Her husky cry encouraged him to rut, taking her more forcefully than he’d intended. He was surprised by how fast she reached her release, his name constantly on her lips, her sweet groans echoing about the chamber. With a roar, he felt the sap rise within him. The tightening of his stones lifted his sac, and his pleasure flooded deep inside her fluctuating sheath.
“Angele!”
They spent the whole morning in bed, lunching lazily from a tray whilst sitting before the fire within their chamber, dishabille. After lunch, they took a bath together. They played cards and chatted for much of the afternoon. The day and the night were theirs, and they took the time to relearn one another’s bodies, reconnecting with their souls. By the time dawn came the following day, there were no secrets left untold or disappointments left unshared.
Snow still lay in patches on the ground, the air icy cold. For the most part the roads were clear. The day before the first day of Christmas, the Yule log was dragged into the house. It was also the day Christopher was expected to arrive along with Mary, Robin, and their children, Rudy and Holly. Although Angele and Gabriel had been up since dawn, both too excited to sleep—their family’s arrival would not be until after luncheon.
The Master Of Michaelmas Hall Page 9
