She frowned. Lord knew, she shouldn't care that he was gone after the confrontation earlier that night, but Slade had agreed not to wander the house at night, to preserve the ladies' reputations. A heartsick laugh escaped her. Reputations that said ladies seemed not overly concerned about.
Crossing to her clothespress, she took down a long shawl and draped it about her, tucked her feet into slippers and set out in search.
She found him in the garden, silhouetted against the iron bars of the gate. Always before, he'd exuded primal animal energy, restless potency, as if every sinew in his magnificent body possessed the raw power to control any situation, triumph over any foe. But tonight, he stood still, peering through the iron bars like a pagan god imprisoned, yearning for his mistress, that silver-tressed lady sailing upon the moon.
He was stripped down to his shirtsleeves and breeches, his ebony hair tangling like midnight secrets about his broad shoulders. Shoulders that looked as if they carried the weight of every enemy he'd ever battled.
She wanted to be angry with him for his betrayal. Wanted to rage at him. Demand to know why he'd hurt her so badly hours ago. But more than anything, she wanted to close the space between them and bury her face in the solid warmth of his chest.
Was this what Jenny had faced? And Elise and Violet and Isabelle? This horrendous need that forgave a thousand sins and painted a hopelessly flawed man with the colors of fantasy until even when he hurt you, you needed him with a desperation that seared your soul?
Her eyes burned, a prickly lump of pain clotting her throat.
"Adam?" She breathed his name, and he froze for a heartbeat, then turned to face her. She would have been prepared if he'd had his sword in hand, after the lesson he'd given her in the dangers of creeping up on a soldier, especially at night.
But nothing could have prepared her for the expression on Adam Slade's face. It was as if the moonlight's silvery blades had carved away the mask he'd worn for so long, leaving his rugged features raw and oddly new.
His shirt was open to the waist, the sheen of bronze flesh sprinkled with dark hair showing in stark contrast to the white of the fabric. And his hands were empty. It was the first time Juliet had seen him without a weapon within a heartbeat of his grasp.
One dark brow arched, and she saw him struggle to summon mockery into his fathomless black eyes. "What are you doing out here?"
"I needed to find you. Talk to you."
"What the devil can you have to say to me? That I'm a bastard—by nature as well as by birth? That you despise me? I've heard it all before, Juliet."
"No. I want to know why, Adam."
"Why I'm a son of a bitch? Years of sacking cities and storming citadels, no doubt. Gets to be a disagreeable habit."
"But if you've spent so much time warring, I'm certain you've seen scores of wounds far worse than mine. Why did my three little cuts upset you so much?"
Whatever direction Slade had expected the confrontation to take, Juliet could see her query caught him by surprise. He raked one massive paw through his dark hair. "I don't know why the devil I was so upset. I should've let you shovel down the whole mess. Would've made my life a hell of a lot easier."
The words wounded, but she would allow him no retreat. "You've seen enough wounds to gauge the severity by the amount of bloodshed. I'm certain that it took you barely a moment to figure out that mine was a minor injury. So, why were you willing to hurt me far more deeply than that bit of glass ever could?"
Adam backed away a step, his shoulders bumping the gate. The iron made a dull metallic clang as it blocked his escape. "Blast it, this is absurd! It's done. No sense hashing it over again," he groused, his craggy cheekbones a shade darker in the moonlight. "You're going to catch your death of cold running around out here in your nightgown. Bloody hell, woman, what is it with you? For a vicar's daughter, you spend the devil of a lot of time prancing about the garden in your unmentionables!"
She didn't respond to his blustering, only looked deep into those dark desperate eyes. "Adam, why did you hurt me?"
"Damnation, Juliet, leave it alone!" He started to reach for her, then stopped, his hands knotting into fists. "You don't know what you're asking."
"A simple question. I trusted you, Adam. You hurt me. But as I look at you now, I think maybe you hurt yourself even more. I deserve to know why."
"Because when I look at you, I... blast it, Juliet, in Scotland, my brother was headed for the gallows. I tried to take his place, but would the noble idiot let me? Hell, no! He had a lady who would live and die for him, a pack of orphans who adored him, and a worthless block-brained half-brother who'd gotten him neck-deep into a hopeless cause he'd never believed in."
A tortured laugh ripped from Adam's chest. "Gavin had everything to live for. I was nothing but a disaster, blundering from one battle into another, one more soldier in the ranks of millions destined for an early grave. I would gladly have gone to the gallows for him. Would have sacrificed anything or anyone in this world or the next to save him."
His voice roughened, softened. "But tonight, when I saw you bleeding, I knew that, agonizing as it might be, I'd have watched Gavin walk to the gallows, if by doing so, I could save you."
Juliet gazed up at him, aching, awed. "Adam... I..."
"Damn it, Juliet, what are you doing here in this hellhole? A lost angel, searching for light where there is nothing but darkness? Why can't you see how hopeless it is? The only thing that can happen here is that you'll be destroyed? Either swiftly, by an enemy, or more slowly, torturously, from inside yourself as you realize the truth?"
"The truth that you and Isabelle were so eager to show me tonight?"
"That truth. And others."
"Do you know what I've learned since you came charging up to Angel's Fall? You came to rescue me, but I believe that you are the one who has been wandering around, lost. Adam, you could stay with us, here, forever. Build something real instead of laying siege to places you don't care about, fighting battles that aren't your own."
Juliet laid one hand upon his chest, ever so gently, felt the throb of his heartbeat beneath the layer of sinew and satiny skin. "I need you, Adam. Here to help me. But it's more than that. I feel..." It took more courage than she could have believed possible to say the words. "I feel as if we were meant to find each other, that we belong together. I have feelings for you that are so—so confusing. I want—"
"Damn it, woman, are you hearing a word I'm saying? I can't stay in this blasted house much longer! Every minute I slide closer to Armageddon. Hell, this past two weeks makes the torture-fete Gavin and I suffered when we were prisoners in Scotland look like an accursed musicale! Do you have any idea what agony it is to sleep in your blasted bedchamber each night, listen to your soft sighs, see the moonlight painting your hair in silver when I can't touch you, take you?"
A shiver of lightning-hot sensation shot through Juliet, setting every inch of her skin tingling with a soul-rending need. She could almost see him, the night weaving shadowy fingers through his hair, the moonlight gilding his warrior's face as he watched her sleep. It was an image of indescribable intimacy, but it brought no stinging surge of shame.
The sweep of those ebony eyes, stormy with desperate yearning, laid siege to every belief she'd ever had. And she trembled, not in genteel horror or virginal terror at the earthy emotions rampant on Adam's face, but rather, with a raw excitement and a fierce compulsion to bury herself in his arms, to press her lips against the hair-roughened skin of his chest, to see where such a rash action might lead them.
Heat stung her cheeks as she realized what her papa would think of such behavior. But Papa wasn't here. And she was so very alone. Alone, except for this reluctant warrior, with his scarred hands and his wary eyes and rough-edged confessions.
She stood for long moments, trembling on the edge of a chasm, knowing the choice was hers. She could flee back to the house and embrace her hurt, her sense of betrayal, or she could step off the edge of th
is precipice of emotion, tumbling to what might be her own destruction, or the miraculous haven of Adam's powerful arms.
She'd seen the ruin a man could wreak in a woman's life, especially a man as dangerous as Adam Slade—a man who, from the moment he'd arrived, had told her he wanted nothing more than to walk away.
Once he did, she'd be left with a broken heart—the kind she'd seen reflected so many times in the faces of her angels. But until this instant she hadn't realized that there could be only one thing worse than being left behind by Adam Slade. That was never having known his passion at all.
She felt the simple fantasies of the girl she had been slip away, a woman's more complicated dreams shivering to life in their place. And she closed the space between her and Adam Slade, knowing there were no happily-ever-afters written in the stars, knowing that once she ventured forth she could never retreat back to her ivory tower of innocence. Knowing that it would leave her forever changed.
Mustering a boldness she hadn't even known she possessed, she pressed her lips to the thunderous beat of his heart, tasting the salty satin of his chest for the first time. A guttural cry tore from Adam's chest.
He manacled her wrists with his hands, trying to force her away. "Thunder in heaven, Juliet! Stop! I'm not made of stone!"
"I want to know everything you're made of, Adam. Bone and sinew, midnight eyes and a velvety mouth." Her fingertips strayed up to trace his lower lip with awe. "Who could have guessed that a man's mouth could be so tender?"
Adam jerked away. "I'll hurt you, blast it! The instant I'm able, I'm going to walk away from this place. Walk away from you. You deserve a good man, angel. One with a clean whole heart, like my brother. Who can give you dreams instead of nightmares and heartbreak."
"I choose you, Adam. Don't you see, I finally understand. All those years, some part of me blamed Jenny for running off with the squire's son. Blamed even poor Elise for some part of her fate. I didn't know then that your heart chooses for you, and that once it does, there can be no going back, no matter what the pain."
"You don't know what you're asking, Juliet," Adam ground out, his big hands trembling.
"I'm asking you to make love to me, Adam. Please." She buried her face against his chest, her heart beating with the wildness of a caged lark's wings.
For long moments he stood, rigid. Then he pulled away. "Now I understand why I stumbled across your father on that accursed Irish road. This is God's revenge for all those years I laughed with the devil."
Juliet shook her head, confused, a little hurt. "Is it so awful that I told you what was in my heart?"
"Awful?" Adam gave a harsh laugh. "It's pure torture." Blast, he'd been so damned careful not to catch a bout of Gavin's infernal heroism, knowing that the stuff was more virulent than the accursed plague.
Who would have guessed that his scruples would make an appearance now? It was a damned inconvenient time to play the hero.
"Do you know what hell is, angel?" he asked. "It's listening to your voice, watching your lips tremble, so dewy-moist with wanting, hearing you offer everything to me, heaven after all these years. Yet knowing that I can never... never have you."
"But you can! Adam, you can! Even if you won't stay forever I'll accept that. But I—"
He held his hands out to her in the moonshine. "Do you have any idea the kind of horrors these hands have performed? I've killed so many men I'll never be able to wash the blood from my conscience. I've sold my sword, my skill to men I should have been helping to destroy instead of protecting. And each time I did, I sold another piece of my soul."
"No! There is goodness in you. Papa knew it. And I can sense it, too."
"Maybe there is. At least enough to know it's too late for me. I won't defile you, Juliet. Go back to your bed and your stitchery and your impossible dreams."
His gaze locked with hers, and he winced at the pain in her lovely features. He turned away. He could feel her gaze against his back, silent, sad.
"I... understand now," she said softly after a moment, taking a step away from him.
Hell, he knew she'd never understand in a thousand years. He sure as blazes didn't! He'd never wanted any woman the way he wanted Juliet Grafton-Moore now, naked beneath him, bathing him in innocence, resurrecting the unbroken pieces of his soul. Most miraculous of all, she wanted him, an angel offering up everything she was to a battered warrior who didn't know what the hell to do with his life now that the drums were silent.
He'd spent a lifetime taking what he wanted, devil take the consequences. Why didn't he just gather the infernal woman up in his arms and put an end to this misery? But he kept his fists knotted at his sides, his whole body shaking with the effort not to reach for her.
"I understand why you attempted to mount the gallows in your brother's place," she said in that low voice that fed a thousand fires of passion. "Why you can't stay here at Angel's Fall no matter how much you want to. It would ruin your plans if you were to love me, live the rest of your life being cared for and cherished and—"
"Cherished?" He uttered a harsh laugh. "You might as well attempt to cherish a tiger. You'd end up in the same condition. Torn to ribbons by the very paws you want to hold you."
"How can you be so certain? Or are you afraid, Adam? As long as you were fighting on some insane battlefield, you could ignore the truth. That it takes far more courage to live than to die a glorious death. Because if you live, you risk failing the people you love."
Adam's fists knotted, nails digging into his palms. Damn her—damn her for lancing open wounds he'd hidden forever, secrets he'd buried in the darkest corners of his soul. Damn her for knowing the truth.
But could she really comprehend all the ugliness inside him? How many people he'd failed? His mother, his sisters, Gavin. And for what? His father's approval? That pride-filled smile that meant so little in comparison to his mother's humiliation, his sisters' lost futures, Gavin's banishment? How much pain had he caused because he hadn't had the courage to confront his own father with the agonizing truth?
Adam struggled to wall up his feelings, bury them as he had so many times before. He had to get away from Juliet before she dredged the last secrets from his soul, for if she did, there would be no place left to hide.
"Under these circumstances, there is only one thing to do," he said. "I strike my colors. Surrender the field."
"You what?"
He turned toward her, just in time to see her stricken face go white as wax. "I'm leaving Angel's Fall first thing in the morning."
"But what about the threats?" she stammered. "You gave your word of honor—"
"I intend to keep it. I will hire someone to take my place. I don't know why I didn't think of that solution before, by God's blood. I've enough coin to muster a blasted army if I want to. Set a round-the-clock guard at every entrance of Angel's Fall for however long is necessary."
She drew herself up to her full height, a radiant guardian angel girding her wings for battle. "This is our home. I won't have it turned into an armed camp."
"It might as well be! You're damned well under attack!" He swore as she spun around, marching toward the house with her shawl trailing behind her.
"Blast it, Juliet!" Adam raged, storming after her. "What are you going to do? Stand your ground here, like a stubborn little idiot, until someone pulls the blasted house down on your head?"
"Yes!"
"Why, damn it to hell? Tell me the truth this time, not a pack of pretty fairy tales."
She whirled to face him, the moonlight snagging, silver in the tears that filled those passionate blue eyes. "When Papa died, I lost everything—even the house where I grew up. Everything, from Papa's favorite chair to his library of books belonged to the parish of Northwillow. I could take away nothing... nothing but the memory of him, the little sermons he'd preach to me, his dreams of healing... healing everyone—his parishioners, Mama, and my brother and sister... and me, when I was forever so sickly."
"Juliet, I k
now you're grieving."
"I'm done grieving. I'm looking for the higher meaning in all this—trying to make something good come of all the pain I caused. I spent my whole life hiding from the rough edges of life, but they found me anyway. I helped Jenny run away with the squire's son who claimed to love her. But he left her alone, penniless, swelling with his child."
Adam's jaw clenched, and he knew that his own mother might have suffered a similar fate if his father had chosen to abandon her, that he might have been vulnerable as Jenny's child, lost to the cruel winds of fortune in a world that scorned the helpless.
"Then," Juliet continued in a voice that tore at his heart, "when it was already too late, Papa went to find Jenny. We thought... the squire had lands in Ireland. And his son had promised Jenny that he would take her there. Papa never blamed me, only vowed he would find her... bring her back to Northwillow. But Jenny was in London. She died in childbirth, abandoned, alone. Both Papa and Jenny died because of me."
"Juliet, don't be absurd. They made their own choices."
"Like your brother did when he rode off to join Bonnie Prince Charlie?"
Adam recoiled as if she'd struck him. "Damn it, it's not the same thing!"
"Isn't it? I had the power to stop Jenny from running away, but I didn't. I begged Papa to find her, to mend the hideous mistake I had made. He would have sacrificed his own soul to ease my pain. In the end, he gave his life."
"He wouldn't want you to take such insane risks in an effort to appease your conscience. He wanted to shield you from danger, not put you in the center of a whirlwind."
"Why am I even trying to explain. You'd never understand my reasons for staying here. You have a family who loves you, who waits for you to visit them."
"I haven't seen them in years."
"Because you're a stubborn, blind, bull-headed idiot! If I had anyone who waited for me, who loved me, I'd run to them with all my heart. But I don't have anyone, Adam. They're dead. All dead."
Angel's Fall Page 19
