Angel's Fall

by Kimberly Cates

  Juliet reeled. Adam promised there would be another Angel's Fall? A home for Elise and the others to make their own? And a nursery—she hadn't even thought of including a nursery. But Adam had. He knew all too well the children who resulted from such liaisons. He might have suffered like Will, been alone, friendless, had his father tired of his mother.

  She'd never thought what bastardy meant. A castoff child. A child most sanctimonious fools would say should never have been. A child whose unforgivable sin was just daring to be born.

  Adam had seemed so scornful of everything Juliet had tried to build, just like Millicent and Violet and the others. But somehow, in the crucible of the fire, something extraordinary had been forged. Something far more precious than walls and tables and cloaks and even necklaces wrought in golden lilies.

  Wonder and hope beat painfully to life in her breast, bursting with something even more agonizing and beautiful. Love.

  Juliet flung her arms around Elise. "Thank you for telling me this. I have to—have to find Adam—talk to him. I've been so awful, blaming him for what happened. I said the most horrible things to him."

  She was appalled by the remembrance of her cruel words, haunted by the memory of his eyes. The silent pain as he let her batter at him with her words, hurting him in a way no one else could have, striking past his armor into a heart all the more vulnerable and tender because he fought to keep it so well hidden.

  "But you're not supposed to know any of this! He made us swear."

  "Where is he? Elise, do you know?"

  "He went out just after Isabelle left for good. You should have seen the magnificent carriage she left in. He'd said he had some things to check on at the old Angel's Fall."

  Juliet turned and ran, bursting into the study where the Earl of Glenlyon sat working. His compassionate gray gaze leapt up from the letter he was writing.

  "Juliet," he said, rising to his feet with a sleepy-lion smile and coming to stand before her. "It's good to see you out of your room. I'm just expecting a visit from a friend of mine who leaves for the colonies in two weeks. Adam insists that Fletcher—or should I say Kieran—needs a fresh start. Seems the boy has a genius for getting into trouble, leaping into fights that aren't his own. Reminds me of Adam when he was that age."

  Gavin chuckled. "Of course, I'd imagine taming a new continent will be enough of an adventure even for Fletcher, although I'd wager Adam is going to miss the lad more than he'll ever admit." The earl grimaced. "Listen to me rattling on. Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "Could I borrow a horse? A very gentle one? I... I need to go someplace."

  "You're not thinking of leaving us?" Concern shadowed that expressive face, the face of a dreamer, so different from Adam's. "Adam would never forgive me if I were to lose you."

  "It's Adam I have to find. To tell him..." Impulsively, she scooped up not the hands of a peer of the realm, but the hands of Adam's brother, the man Adam loved and trusted. "I know about what he's doing—trying to restore Angel's Fall. The ladies slipped and told me." Her throat ached with emotion. "I hurt him so terribly the night of the fire. That's the most abominable thing about loving someone. You know right where to strike when you want to hurt them."

  Gavin Carstares's hands tightened on hers. "You love him, then?"

  "With all my soul. But he's never spoken of... I mean, he's made it clear he's never wanted a wife. He's a wanderer, used to a life of adventure. I'd not want to tie him down. I couldn't bear if he were unhappy."

  "Ah, Juliet, Juliet." Gavin stroked her hair back from her face. "No wonder my brother has been behaving like a wounded bear. I always knew he'd surrender his heart as reluctantly as he would surrender his sword. But once he encountered a lady brave enough to take it, it would be a treasure worth the fighting for. I would go with you, but—"

  "No! It's kind of you to offer, but wait for your friend." Her cheeks stained red. "Fletcher's safety is most important.

  "Ah." Gavin raised his brow in realization. "Not to mention the fact that wooing beneath the eyes of a spectator can be most awkward, can't it? And I've never been able to resist teasing my brother unmercifully. Tell Larch in the stable to saddle Stardust for you. She's my daughter's horse, and gentle as a lamb."

  "Thank you. So very much."

  "No, my dear. Thank you. My brother has spent forever fighting ghosts he couldn't see, trying to cast himself to death because of his birth, his mother's pain, and my father, God rest his soul. Give him a reason to live, Juliet."

  Juliet pressed a grateful kiss to the earl's hand. "Bless you for loving him, your lordship."

  "He hasn't made it easy at times." Gavin grinned. "When I was wooing my Rachel, he was insufferable. She shot me and I..."

  "Your wife shot you?"

  "Of course, she insists the pistol went off by accident when I tried to wrestle it away from her. She was most put out that I'd ruined her grand escape by bleeding all over the place. After all, one can't drag a wounded hostage all the way to Edinburgh. Far too inconvenient."

  Gavin chuckled. "Never mind. I'm certain Rachel will adore telling you the tale of our courtship, especially if Adam is there to embellish it."

  "Good luck with Adam, my dear." A solemn light shone in his eyes. "I've been praying that he would find you for a very long time."

  Joy filled Juliet as she ran down the corridor. It brimmed over as she dashed through the earl's gardens to the stables. When at last she guided her mount out of the townhouse's gate, she shivered with delight.

  All the color that had bled from the world the night of the fire spilled back onto the palette of the city, the hues bursting with life, with possibilities.

  She'd lost possessions—a house, a necklace. But she'd won so much more.

  She turned the mare toward Angel's Fall, her heart dancing.

  Chapter 18

  Betrayal. Adam had seen all of its hideous faces often enough in the years he'd earned his fortune with his sword. He'd grown inured to it, toughened his soul to it so he could bear confronting it again and again.

  He'd lifted the most gorgeous masks and discovered what poison lurked beneath. Officers thirsting for glory, willing to buy it by scaling the dead corpses of the men they led. Greedy men willing to steal anything from another man's gold to the virtue of his wife.

  Yet as he watched the elegant establishment Isabelle had swept into an hour ago, he felt sick to his very soul.

  He'd waited long enough for her to get neck-deep in skulduggery before he intruded. It was the patient hunter who captured its quarry.

  His hands tightened into fists on the reins. It was time to put an end to the madness, to cut to the root of the evil that had destroyed Angel's Fall and his lady's dreams. And Isabelle was his only possible link.

  There were secrets in the Frenchwoman's face, locked beneath the slightest tightening of her lips, the nervous jump of her gaze, the furrow of concentration that carved between her delicate brows.

  Hell, he was grasping at straws. He knew it. Maybe chasing after phantoms. But the person who had dared attack Angel's Fall had to have been familiar with the routine of those inside. Had to know any weaknesses that could be exploited.

  Isabelle had been in her chamber that night, true. Yet she'd not been caught unawares the way the rest of them had. Her treasure box had been in her arms, an almost eerie calm gracing those feline features as she swept out into the garden.

  He had to discover exactly what she knew. Had to discover the villain who had destroyed Angel's Fall so that such a disaster could not repeat itself.

  His jaw set, grim. Familiar hunger for the kill surged through him. From the time he first stepped on a battlefield, he'd been notoriously ruthless. But that soldier had not believed in anything or anyone. He was the image of mercy when compared to Adam now. A man who loved. Who cared too damn much. Who would take any risk, fight any battle, ferret out any enemy to see his lady safe.

  A delivery boy balancing a large parcel started to wobb
le past him, and Adam dismounted, reaching out to stop the lad. "Do you know who lives here?"

  "Why, a lady, sir. French she is, and demned high in the instep, if you get my meaning. She's just moving in."

  "Is she now?"

  "Aye, sir. You never saw such a stir. Been deliverin' pure mountains of furniture an' gowns an' such. An' a coach and team for the stables. As fine a set of mares as I ever saw. She must be passing wealthy to afford such a set-out."

  "Indeed." Adam scowled. "It must have been raining gold coins and she stood beneath the shower."

  "Mebbe she came into an inheritance. Do you think so? A rich uncle or some such dyin' real convenient like?" The boy flashed a cheeky grin. "Wish I could find me a rich uncle. What d'ye think my chances are?"

  "Obviously miracles do happen," Adam said. "Allow me to assist you, boy. I'll deliver the package to the lady."

  The boy hung back, dubious. "I don't think I should surrender it, sir."

  Adam flipped the boy a coin worth three times his due. "The lady and I are acquainted, and my visit is something in the way of a surprise."

  "Ah, well then," the boy conceded. "I was to take it around to the servant's door."

  Adam sketched the lad a bow and took the parcel. Within a matter of minutes, an apple-cheeked housekeeper had been taken into the conspiracy to surprise her new mistress. She showed him through a well-appointed kitchen, down the corridor, and into a small withdrawing room to await her lady.

  Adam set the parcel down on a gilt table and withdrew to the shadowy corner to wait. A quarter of an hour had passed before Isabelle swept in. Garbed in exquisite poppyhued satin with a silver-gauze bodice, she looked every inch the courtesan. Emeralds dripped down the powdered curve of breasts displayed to the greatest advantage by the low-cut neckline. Her hair was twined with ropes of pearls. Lace frothed at her wrists, and a smile that should have been dazzling curved her sensual lips.

  "My darling, I had no idea you would be here so soon!" she protested. "But I had the bedchamber made up first, just in case—"

  "Forgive me if I don't take you up on your generous offer," Adam sneered, stepping into the light and turning to face her. Isabelle froze as if he'd leveled a pistol at her heart.

  "Sabrehawk!" Her cheeks flooded with crimson, one hand fluttering up in an attempt to cover the emeralds, but the necklace was far too lush, the stones far too plentiful to cover with one feminine hand. "What—what are you doing here?"

  "Delivering a parcel. Shall we see what it is?" He stepped to the table. Isabelle darted to block his path.

  "No. I've not the least curiosity. Now, I fear I am very busy so you'll have to leave."

  "You've been busy, I'd wager, Isabelle," Adam said bitterly. "From the look of it you've worked a blasted miracle. One day dependent on Juliet's charity, then stripped by the fire to one nightgown and a box of trinkets. The next week, a veritable army delivering every known luxury to your own establishment."

  Isabelle's chin jutted out with belligerence. "It is lovely, is it not? My new lodgings. I'm particularly fond of the bracelet." She brushed back the lace at her wrists to display an exquisite ring of green fire that must have been worth a fortune.

  Adam's gut was seared with fury as he remembered Juliet's anguish over the loss of her own mother's necklace, how she'd all but run back into the fire in an attempt to save it. But she had already broken away two of the golden lilies, pawned them in an effort to keep Angel's Fall running.

  His hand flashed out, catching Isabelle's in a viselike grip. "Everything has a price, Isabelle. It's obvious yours was high."

  "If one must be a whore," she said brutally, "it is wisest to be a high-priced one."

  "And I suppose if one must be a traitor, it is better to be the vilest kind imaginable."

  "Traitor?" Her brows arched in surprise.

  "No more games, Isabelle! How did you come by this wealth? There is only one possible way. You betrayed Juliet for a blood price. You are responsible for the fire."

  "I was upstairs in my bedchamber! You saw me come out of my room when you and Juliet came to warn us of the blaze!"

  "And you conveniently had all your treasures tidily boxed and ready to scoop up before you fled. Hell, you probably smuggled half your gowns out before as well. Maybe I should go upstairs and check in your clothespress."

  "Have you run mad? I've always kept my treasures together, ready to scoop up at a moment's notice. One never knows when a protector will tire of you and decide to turn you into the streets. It only makes sense to be prepared."

  "Someone unlocked that back gate, Isabelle. Someone let an accomplice know when to creep in, to set the fire. It had to be someone inside Angel's Fall."

  "It wasn't me. I have an aversion to bathing in fire. It's bad for the complexion, don't you know."

  "Damn you, Isabelle! I'll shake the truth out of you if I have to. Now tell me—"

  "Madam?"

  Adam bit off a curse at the housekeeper's voice.

  "A thousand pardons, madam, but the gentleman is willing to give two hundred pounds for the silver service."

  Isabelle wheeled about, looking flustered. "Mrs. Brooke, tell him to wait."

  "But he's hungering after the gilt vase on the mantel. I told him that you'd likely sell it—"

  "Mrs. Brooke, enough! I have a guest!"

  "What the devil is going on here? You're selling the silver? Hell, you must've just bought the stuff!"

  "Just delivered yesterday, sir." Mrs. Brooke shook her head dolefully. "Lovely it is, too. "Tis a shame never to use it."

  "Get out, now, or I'll tell the man he can buy you as well!" Isabelle snapped. The servant scurried out with a wounded expression.

  Isabelle made a great show of smoothing the lace at her cuff. "As you can see, I'm quite busy at the moment. If you'll excuse me—"

  Adam stepped in front of the door, blocking her escape. "You're not going anywhere until you give me an explanation, Isabelle."

  "Mon Dieu, why are you tormenting me? Go back to your swordfights and your adventuring. You're free to leave now. What happens here in London is no longer your concern."

  "Juliet is my concern."

  "Take her with you, then! Or trundle her back to that provincial little village she came from. I know what I'm doing."

  "And exactly what is that?"

  She sighed. "You'll not leave me in peace until you know, will you, Sabrehawk? If you must know, there has been a man eager to become my new protector for months now. A merchant. I've accepted his offer. True, he stinks of the shipyards, but he is fabulously rich. Enough to give me all the things I deserve as his mistress."

  "Like silver?"

  "Silver and gold and emeralds. I come at a high price."

  "But you're selling the silver. Why? It makes no sense!"

  "I will earn every bracelet, every bit of silver or gold a hundred times over in the time to come! He said that if I would allow him to come to my bed, he would surround me with treasures fit for a queen. Isabelle, Queen of the Barges!"

  She gave a mocking laugh. "How far I've fallen from his grace, the duke. However, I took my merchant at his word. He'll receive the appropriate bills for my purchases as expected, and will never need to know that instead of twenty place settings of silver there are only two sets in the drawer. As for the other accoutrements for decorating the household—men see nothing beyond the end of their own nose when they are amorous. He'll never notice how many things he paid for that never appear."

  "But that still doesn't explain anything. Why not keep the things if this merchant is supporting you?"

  "Because I need money."

  "Then ask him for it—"

  "He's not a fool, generous as he is. He'd ask what it was for. And I hardly think he would agree to supporting a haven for fallen women just to amuse me."

  "A—what?"

  She tossed her head in defiance. "I'm using whatever I can scrape together to finance a house to replace Angel's Fall."


  Adam staggered back a step, stunned. "You mean that you—that all this—"

  "You don't need to gloat over what a fool I am. No one is cursing this as idiocy more thoroughly than I am."

  "But why? Why would you do such a thing?"

  A faraway light came into the courtesan's eyes, and she fingered the emeralds as if they held some secret too painful to bear any longer.

  "I was barely fifteen the night my mama squeezed and powdered and pinched me into a plaything for le Comte de Rouette. I wished most devoutly to die."

  Adam fought a sharp jab of sympathy, rage.

  "If there had been any place I could have run away to, any place I could have found haven, I would have done so. But there was not. My fall from virtue was as unavoidable as it was brutal. Le comte was not a gentle man."

  Adam didn't want to feel that sense of kinship with this woman, not when Juliet might be in danger. But he was all too aware how narrowly his own sisters had missed such a fate—missed it by the depth of their father's purse, and the generous spirit of the legitimate half-brother who had embraced them when he had every reason to ignore their very existence.

  "I left le comte with a token to remember our affair by, however. My maid's sewing shears embedded in his flesh."

  "You killed him?"

  "No. Only stabbed him in the thigh. I only wish I'd had better aim, so I could have saved other girls from my fate. I was frightened out of my wits. You see, he'd tired of beating me and decided to go after my mother."

  "He was a sick son of a bitch! Tell me where he is and I'll kill him for you."

  She shrugged one elegant shoulder. "Such heroics are hardly necessary. He's been dead these many years. And my mama might as well have been. She's never spoken a word to me since that day. I had ruined everything by not becoming le comte's mistress, you see."

  She met Adam's gaze, sharing with him a moment of complete understanding. Two people battered by the fates, two fighters who had clung to life tenaciously if not honorably. Two who questioned whether the victory had been worth the price they'd paid. Yet both of them had been changed forever by the compassion of a naive angel who had made them believe in goodness, in beginning again.