by Tess Oliver
“Release her now or I will tear you to shreds.” Angel Van Ostrand glared down from Titus’s back. The massive horse resembled a black dragon as puffs of steam shot out of its flaring nostrils.
The man’s grimy fingers loosened their grip on Jane but then tightened with rage. “Not until you give me my reward.”
“Our reward,” his partner spoke up from behind the wagon. He held a circle of rope on one arm and a small pistol in the other. The barrel of the gun trembled in the man’s unsteady hand as he aimed it at Angel.
Angel dropped down from his saddle, and Jane sensed a wave of fear in the man holding her wrist. He took the slightest step back as Angel approached.
Angel gazed at her with the same intensity as always but she dropped her face to look away. She had to remind herself that it was all a ruse. Angel Van Ostrand had a heart of ice. Most likely his father had insisted he come look for her.
The man with the pistol scuttled around the back of the wagon and walked up behind Angel. He lifted the barrel and pointed it at Angel’s head. “Give us the reward and you can ‘ave your pretty wench.”
Angel nodded once then threw his elbow into the unsuspecting man’s face. Blood spurted from his nose. The pistol flew up in the air and landed barrel first in the snow.
The man holding Jane yanked hard on her arms and dragged her several steps away from Angel before grabbing a knife from his pocket. He shoved it beneath Jane’s throat. She could feel the cold tip of it against her skin.
“Jimmy, get your pistol.”
Jimmy sat up groggily and looked around. Blood covered his face and shirt. He crawled over to the pistol and plucked it out of the snow.
Jane felt the knife press a little deeper. Angel’s expression was cool and calm as he raised his hands in surrender. “Tell you what, let the girl go and I won’t kill the both of you.”
The knife pushed a little harder against her throat. She could feel the man’s putrid, hot breath against her cheek as he laughed. “Seems to me that you are not in a position to give orders . . . Master. One move from you and this blade will open up her throat.” He motioned with his head toward his partner. “And Jimmy will put a bullet in your head.”
Jimmy walked closer but looked rather shaky on his legs. Angel lunged out, snatched the pistol, and shot the knife holder in the knee. The man released Jane, dropped the knife, and collapsed with a yell of pain. The horse hopped forward several steps with the wagon. Jimmy stumbled back, fell to his bottom and then half-crawled, half-ran down the road and out of sight.
Jane took her first real breath since the knife had been pushed against her throat. She touched the skin on her neck and felt a small trickle of warm liquid. The weakness in her legs and the lightness in her head caused her to stumble forward. Angel’s bracing arm was around her instantly. Jane’s fingers clutched his forearm to keep from slipping to the ground.
Angel held the other arm outstretched with the pistol still aimed at the bleeding man. “I’ll help you onto your wagon and then you will be on your way. Understood?” Angel’s tone left no room for compromise.
The man waved off help from Angel. He whimpered in pain as he pulled himself onto the wagon dragging his bleeding leg behind him. He lifted the reins and urged the horse forward.
Jane allowed herself the momentary pleasure of the comforting heat of Angel’s arms then she pushed him away. “I’m fine,” she said, although the lingering unsteadiness was more than apparent. She dared not look Angel in the face or risk breaking into sobs.
“Jane,” he said in that tone that always sent tendrils of warmth curling around her.
She closed her eyes against the sound of it. “I was heading toward town. I won’t bother you any longer.” Even to her own ears it sounded ridiculous and slightly childish.
“It’s freezing and that sky is predicting a blizzard. Return to Greystock with me. Please, Jane, I’m sorry.”
She still had not looked at him but was keenly aware of his gaze riveted to the side of her face. “I’ll return to Greystock until the storm has passed but only until then.” She started walking in the direction of the manor.
“Jane, you can’t seriously consider walking the distance. You’ll freeze to death long before you reach the house.”
“I’ll be fine.” She marched along on shaky legs. Snow fell on her head and shoulders and the biting wind whipped up around her. The violent tremors that shook her body belied her previous declaration.
A heavy coat dropped around her shoulders, but she did not look back at him. She clutched the coat around her and continued to forge ahead. Her fatigue, the harrowing afternoon, and the instant comfort from being wrapped in Angel’s warmth and enticing scent made her nearly lose her resolve.
Angel’s tall shadow loomed over her as he rode Titus next to her.
She stared ahead. “Sir, you do not need to ride alongside of me. I’m perfectly able to find my way back alone.”
“Jane,” there was that tone again and it nearly drove tears from her eyes. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
“I prefer to walk alone.” She pulled up the collar of his coat higher around her face. She could feel the long ends of the top coat dragging in the snow behind her.
“I prefer to ride with you.”
She walked stubbornly along in silence, her legs getting weaker with each step. The heady feeling had returned with a vengeance, and she felt as if she was closing in on a state of delirium. Her body shook violently beneath the heavy coat and weakness pervaded every muscle in her body. Her foot sunk into a drift of snow, and she fell forward but caught herself.
She stopped and watched him ride several paces ahead. “Please, Angel, go away. I can’t stand to have your pity when I know you abhor me.”
Without warning he jumped off of his horse, marched back to her, and grabbed hold of her arms. He stared down at her with a gaze that both terrified and thrilled her. “Abhor?” A small laugh escaped him. “Bloody hell, woman, is that what you think?” He squeezed her arms harder. “Jane, you have invaded my soul. You own my heart and there is nothing that will ever change that. You possess me wholly.”
A hot flood of tears streamed down her cheeks but she could not suppress a smile. “And they say women are a puzzle.” She peered up at him through bleary eyes and at once the scenery seemed to spin out of control. The vision of the beautiful man in front of her blurred. Her legs could no longer support her and she collapsed against his chest. Being lifted into Angel Van Ostrand’s protective arms was the last thing she remembered before slipping into a fever driven darkness.
Chapter 23
It was not an easy feat riding home at a devil’s pace with Jane’s limp body tucked in front of him, but Angel made good time. It seemed every minute was critical. When she’d finally lifted her face to him as he held her arms on the road, he’d known immediately that she was ill with fever.
He handed off Titus to John and carried Jane up the steps to the house. Ellie met him as he stepped inside. Alarm crossed her face as she saw a seemingly lifeless Jane in his arms.
“Call Father immediately. She’s alive but is sick with a terrible fever.” Ellie scurried off to do as she was asked, and Angel carried Jane upstairs to her bedchamber. She stirred in his arms and tiny moans rolled out from her lips as her face nuzzled against his chest.
Lettie raced in to help.
“Pull back the covers, Lettie, and then start a fire. We must keep her warm.” Angel removed his heavy coat and the wet cloak from Jane’s thin shoulders then tucked her beneath the quilts of the bed. He placed his hand on her flushed forehead and was shocked at the heat radiating from her skin.
Father walked in carrying a bowl and a spring lancet. “Thank god you found her. We must bleed the fever out of her.”
The look of concern in his father’s eyes nearly revived Angel’s hope that the old man had not lost all of his humanity.
Father took hold of Jane’s hand, stretched out her arm, and pushe
d back her sleeve. “She has good veins. I cannot to afford to lose her now.” Father looked up at him. His face was thinner and more drawn than ever. “Ellie brought me a post from the village. Baron Rowntree visits next week. And I will need you to serve as witness of her prior demise. If she survives that is.”
Angel nearly hurled himself over the bed at his father. He reached across and grabbed hold of his father’s shirt. Father’s face paled beneath Angel’s glower. “You will not parade her in front of Rowntree so wipe the notion from you head, Father,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Or I will wipe it for you,” he added ominously. “I will have no part in your sickening show and neither will Jane.” He released his hold on the old man.
Father faltered back several steps and pressed his fingers to his temple. His weathered faced grimaced in pain. “You will see us both in the street,” he said weakly.
“I’d prefer to live in the streets then be part of your foul scheme. Besides, you have your experiment down the hall— still asleep I assume. Even you have no idea what to do with him other than knock him senseless with your tonics.”
Ellie walked in with a bowl of water and a cloth. “While you two argue over which one of you is more wretched, this girl will die of fever. And take your dungeon tools away. You will not drain one drop of blood from this girl’s arm. She has little to spare as it is.” Ellie sat on the side of the bed and placed a cool cloth across Jane’s forehead. She appeared instantly comforted by it. Ellie looked over at Lettie. “As soon as that fire is built, Lettie, bring up a pot of tea and add some honey to it.” Ellie glanced over at Father. “Get back to bed. I don’t need two patients to tend to.” Father obviously did not have the strength to argue. He shuffled out silently.
“Ellie, do you think—” Angel began to ask but was interrupted by the woman’s terse response.
“I think that you will do no good at all hovering over her like a worried hen. If you want to help, Master Angel, then bring me another pail of cool water. We will draw the fever from her head with fresh water.”
Angel turned to attend to his task.
“And Master Angel,” Ellie called to him.
He looked back at her and her confident posture had slackened some. “I know you’re not a praying man, but you might want ask a favor from Him this time. The girl looks very bad.”
Midnight approached and silence fell over the house. Ellie had been pleased that Jane had sipped a cup of tea, and Angel sent the exhausted woman off to bed. There was not much to be done now except wait. Angel pulled his chair up to the side of Jane’s bed. She slept restlessly, tossing and turning as if her body ached with illness. He felt hopeless as he watched her, the girl who had complete control of his heart. He’d all but washed the image of her lifeless body from his mind and when his father had reminded him that he’d been a witness to her death, it was all he could do to keep himself from ripping the old man’s throat out. Now, though, all he could think was that he would do anything not to lose her— even his father’s macabre scientific experiments seemed less distasteful with the unthinkable possibility of her dying. And he wondered if what she’d gone through in his father’s laboratory had made her stronger . . . or weaker.
He took hold of her hand and kissed her fingertips then tucked the blankets securely around here. Her long lashes fluttered open and she gazed at him with her violet eyes before closing them again.
Angel collapsed back in the chair with heavy lids. He closed his eyes for a moment and drifted off only to be woken when Jane’s uneasy sleep turned fretful. She turned her face from side to side and clutched at the blankets.
Angel sat on the edge of her bed and touched her shoulder. “Jane.”
She sat up and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. She trembled in his arms but it wasn’t the fever. In fact, much to his relief, her skin had cooled some. He held her for a long time, and her face remained pressed against him. Weakness forced her to lie back down, but Angel could easily have held her in his arms all night.
She blinked up at him from her pillow. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and he reached over with his thumb to wipe it away.
“May I have some water,” she said so weakly the sound of it tugged at his chest.
He poured her a glass and braced her head with his hand so she could sip the water. She relaxed back again but she still looked shaken.
“I had a terrible dream,” she said.”
He took hold of her hand. He could not feel whole unless he was touching her. “It was just a dream. It’s over now.”
She shook her head. “No, it was a dream that revealed my past. I remember now. I remember—” Her face turned away from him.
“You’re still not well, Jane. It can wait until you’re stronger.”
“But what if I forget again,” she cried out, and it seemed to drain her of the little strength she had. “Please, I must talk about it now.” She sobbed. “I don’t want to forget.”
Angel held her hand in his and sat in silence.
“I never knew my real mother. My father died in a horrible carriage accident on my tenth birthday.” She paused and swiped at a tear on her face. “I was left alone with my stepmother.” Jane closed her eyes. “She was a monster,” she said quietly and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 24
Jane opened her eyes. Burning embers in the hearth filled the room with a warm glow. Angel’s head rested on her bed as he leaned awkwardly from his chair. He was fast asleep. Her arm felt shaky and weak as she lifted it and placed her hand on his head. She smoothed his disheveled black hair. He woke beneath her touch. His eyes opened and a smile crossed his face.
“You’re feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes, much better. But you look terrible. You should go to bed.”
He cracked his neck from side to side. “Honestly, I think I slept better than I have in years.” His hand reached up and rubbed the side of his neck. “However my neck feels a bit stiff.”
Jane pushed to sitting but dizziness still overwhelmed her. She swayed forward and Angel caught her. “I guess I’m still a little lightheaded.” She leaned back against the pillow.
The previous day’s events were coming back to her, and she tried to wipe them from her mind as quickly as they reappeared. But some of the moments, she planned to keep forever. Angel Van Ostrand cared deeply for her. Perhaps even as deeply as she cared for him. And while she had no intention of throwing herself at the man any time soon, she would take comfort in the fact that he cared for her. Then the visions of her past resurfaced and a wave of despair washed over her.
Angel seemed to sense it. He took hold of her hand. “What is it, Jane?”
“I know why it took so long for my past to come back to me.” She swallowed back the bitterness in her throat. “It was horrid. After my father died, my stepmother did everything she could to make my life a living nightmare. I kept having visions of my nursery and now it is all too clear to me. That is the room I would hide in to avoid her beatings.” Her throat felt parched and sore. Angel’s face hardened as she spoke as if his mind went instantly to thoughts of murder. “I begged her to send me to relatives but she couldn’t. My father had left instructions in his will that she needed to care for me or she would not get a penny.” A small laugh escaped her. “Father thought he was ensuring my safety and happiness but instead he’d sentenced me to a life of hell.”
“Does the woman still live?”Angel asked.
“I suppose so.” Jane glanced toward the window. The heavy drapes kept out the morning sun. “Angel, open the drapes, please. I cannot bear the darkness any longer.”
Angel walked over and tied back the panels of damask fabric. The light was harsh at first but as her eyes adjusted, Jane’s mood improved in the bath of sunshine.
“Do you think she had something to do with your murder?”
“Attempted murder?” Jane corrected him. “It’s possible, but not everything has come back
to me. I rather hope it doesn’t. It is all so awful, I’d rather be ignorant. I’d rather believe that I had no existence until I arrived here at Greystock Manor.”
Ellie walked in with a tray. “Is the patient hungry?”
Jane smiled. “The patient is starved.” Angel helped her to sitting, and Ellie placed a tray with heavenly smelling biscuits and butter on her lap.
Ellie smiled down at her with her hands on her hips. “You look much better, Miss Jane.”
“Thank you, Ellie.”
Angel walked over and dropped his arm around Ellie’s shoulder and squeezed. “Yes, Ellie, thank you. You are quite the physician.”
“Oh hush, and don’t let your father hear that or he’ll hand me my bags and send me on my way.”
“Never, Ellie. You have a home here at Greystock for as long as you want,” Angel said. “Where’s Zander at this morning?”
Ellie laughed and walked to the window. She motioned down below with her head. “Come see. He’s found a new interest.”
Angel walked to the window. Zander was bundled in a coat and hat. He walked up and down the stone path that led to the smoke house. “What is he doing?”
“He’s counting the stones,” Ellie said. “Of course he can only count to eight and then he starts over again at one, but he has been at it for hours. I prefer it to having him wear a hole in the carpet of the drawing room with his pacing. When he’s occupied, he’s out of my hair for awhile.” Ellie walked over to Jane and poured her another cup of tea. “He’s not asked once about Miss Jane all morning. I think he might have forgotten about her.”
