by Tess Oliver
The third man had better aim, and Angel felt a searing pain cross his thigh. Hot blood trickled down his breeches as he lifted the ax and hurled it at the man who’d shot him. The shooter’s eyes bulged with fear as the gleaming blade of the ax flew at him, but he managed to duck clear of it. The ax wedged itself into the adjacent wall.
The first man had recuperated and stumbled toward the fight. Angel swung his bleeding leg out and kicked the man square in the jaw as he neared. Blood splattered from the man’s mouth and Angel’s leg. A stabbing spasm shot up his thigh, and it took him a moment to regain balance after his foot landed on hard ground. A fist hit his jaw like an iron canon ball and he flew backward.
Before picking himself up off the ground, Angel spotted a pitchfork lying buried in a pile of manure. He grabbed the handle and flew at the man holding the pistol. The man didn’t have time to react before the sharp ends of the pitchfork stabbed his arm. The gun dropped to the dirt, and Angel kicked it out of reach before dealing an effective blow to the man’s hideous face with the handle of the fork.
The leg of Angel’s breeches was soaked with blood and he was feeling the effects of his wound. He spun around and an elbow shot into his stomach. He dropped the pitchfork and doubled over. One of the men grabbed his arm and wrenched it painfully behind his back. He groaned as he heard his shoulder pop out of place. Within seconds, two of the men held his arms while the third one pummeled him with his fist. Then through the haze of pain he heard a small feminine gasp that had a far greater effect on him than the beating.
All eyes turned toward the doorway. Jane stood there with tears in her eyes and her hand covering her mouth.
Angel struggled to regain his breath. “Jane, go back to the house.” His voice cracked out of his throat. “Run!” She turned and skittered out of the building.
Jane’s brief appearance had caused the man on his right to temporarily loosen his hold. Angel took advantage and wrenched his arm free, swinging it at the man’s head. Then Angel shot his leg back and kicked the man hard in the knee. His victim cried out in pain, and his partner quickly returned the favor and kicked Angel directly on his wound. The pain was too much to bear, and Angel dropped to his knees.
One man still held tightly to his arm and it felt as if one good snap on his already dislocated shoulder would break the bone free from its joint.
“Get the girl,” the man growled to his partner as he yanked Angel back to his feet. Angel gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. Through the fog he tried to assess whether or not Jane had had enough time to reach the house.
An evil laugh came from the man standing next to him. “Don’t know how that pretty wench survived but I guess we got lucky. She’s worth even more to us alive.” It was all Angel needed to hear to regain his strength. The fist of his free hand shot into the man’s hideous smirk, and Angel could feel the man’s teeth jam into his knuckles. The man released him as he stumbled backward. Angel walked over and stomped on his chest with his good leg. His partner remained on the floor holding the leg with the crushed knee.
The third man raced back into the stables, his face stiff in horror. A monstrous roar followed him and the other two men struggled to get back to their feet as a giant silhouette filled the span of the open doorway.
Zander’s fierce growl rattled the walls of the barn. He lumbered into the stables with a look of murder that could have scared the hide off a bull. The man who had just returned could not duck out of Zander’s reach fast enough. The giant reached forward, grabbed him up, and threw him clear across the building where he landed in a crumpled heap against the loft ladder. Van Ostrand’s creature then set his sights on the man with the crushed knee. The man half crawled to the back of the barn. Zander was on him in three strides. He grabbed the man’s foot and lifted him into the air, dangling him by his injured leg. The man yelled in terror as Zander spun him around like a lasso then released him. He flew head first in to the wall. The third man didn’t wait for his partner to land. He raced out of the stables without looking back.
Angel limped over to the hook where John hung extra rope.
“Brother hurt,” Zander asked. His expression had transformed from murderous to sympathetic with one blink.
“Brother is fine.” Angel smiled weakly and walked over to pat Zander on the arm. “Thank you, Brother.”
A wide grin spread across Zander’s face. He watched with the curiosity of a child as Angel tied the hands and feet of both men even though neither looked conscious enough to run off.
“Master,” John said as he entered the barn, “I saw the other man take off toward the horses and thought you might need me.”
“You’re a brave lad, John. I’m afraid we lost one of them, but we still have these two.” Angel kicked the boot of the man he’d just finished tying. “John, ride Titus to the magistrate. Tell him we have two thieves captive in our stables.” Angel braced his hand against the wall for support. “And John, be quick about it. This barn seems to be spinning, and I don’t know how long I can stay on two feet.”
“Aye, Sir.” John raced out.
One of the men stirred. He moaned as he opened his eyes and struggled to sit up with bound hands and feet. Angel walked over to the ax and yanked if free from the wall. His injured leg shook as he crouched down closer to the man. “Who is paying a reward for the girl? Who’s looking for her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man hissed back at Angel.
Zander’s attention had been diverted by the horses. Angel leaned closer to the man and lowered his voice. “I will use this ax to cleave your ugly face in two if you don’t tell me why you’re after the girl.”
The man turned a terrified shade of gray. “I don’t know nothing about the woman who offered the reward. We just needed to bring her back alive this time.” A foul-breathed chuckle rolled from his mouth. “First she wanted her dead, and now she wants her alive. Daft woman, whoever she is.”
“Where does this woman live?” Angel asked.
“Don’t know.”
Angel lifted the ax and twirled it once in his hand. “It takes me two swings to split the trunk of an elm. I’ll bet your skull comes apart in one.”
“I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know. She lives somewhere south of here and north of London. I don’t know where exactly. Only one of us who knew where she lived was Haber. That coward who ran out of here.”
“Fucking hell.” Angel stood and nearly fell forward.
“Get yourself inside, Son. I’ll stand watch over these scoundrels.” Father stood at the door with his hunting rifle. His pasty face was wet with sweat despite the frigid temperature outside. The rifle looked unsteady in his hands. Jane stepped out from behind his father. Her eyes were swollen from crying and her nose was pink. Her gaze went directly to the bloody leg of his breaches, and Angel heard a tiny, soft gasp escape her lips.
Angel smiled at her. “I suppose I have you to thank for sending out our one man cavalry?” Angel inclined his head toward Zander.
She shrugged timidly. “You were rather outnumbered. I just thought I would even things up a bit.”
Angel laughed but dizziness swarmed his head. He braced himself against the wall. “Father, if you think you can stand watch over these two until John returns with the magistrate, I think I might just head inside and see if Ellie can sew up this leg. I don’t think the bullet lodged in the flesh. It just took a chunk out of my thigh. Ellie’s pretty handy at trussing up a turkey, so I figure I’ll give her a go on my leg.” He took one step and swayed forward. Jane ran to him and picked up his hand to place over her shoulder for support. Angel winced. “Other arm, Sweeting, that shoulder is feeling about as good as the leg at the moment.”
She peered up at him from beneath the weight of his arm draped around her and he knew what he’d just gone through was worth it. He would do anything to keep her safe.
“What were these awful men after?” she asked.
“Jus
t some thieving vagabonds.” Angel glanced back at the man who he’d threatened with the ax. “They won’t be stopping at Greystock again.”
Chapter 26
A shudder ran through Jane but it was not caused by the winter night seeping through the window frame or the meager fire in the hearth. Each day more and more unsettling memories of her past drifted into her mind. Although drifting was a mild word for the way each regained ugly truth jarred her emotions. Most of the memories were of long ago, and the recent past was still a blur.
While she’d never known her real mother who died when she was still a baby, her early childhood had been filled with the usual pleasantries of any well-bred daughter of a wealthy gentleman. But her father’s new wife put an abrupt end to the indulgences and love lavished upon her in youth. Her stepmother’s name was Margaret, or Maggie as her father had called her. She was a pinch-faced, bitter woman who never smiled or laughed. But the thing that Jane remembered most was that the woman hated her more than it seemed anyone could ever hate another human being.
After her father’s tragic death, Jane found friendship and solace amongst the servants. The housekeeper, Bea, saved her from many thrashings by hiding her down in the servant’s quarters. Bea would tuck Jane in next to her in her small wobbly bed and tell her stories about princes and castles, and she would fall asleep in the security of the housekeeper’s arms. And through it all, she could never figure out what she’d done to make Margaret despise her so much. One thing was certain, her stepmother hated her enough to have her murdered. And while that mystery about her past was now solved, it hadn’t given Jane the slightest bit of relief.
Jane flipped the cover open on the book she’d carried up to her room, but her mind and heart were not really set on reading. Some words were hastily penned on the title page. “To Father on his fortieth birthday. Angel.” Jane smoothed her fingertips over the writing and smiled. The man had wound his way into her heart so deeply, she rarely stopped thinking of him.
Ellie had sewn up his leg with the skill and precision of a practiced surgeon, and Dr. Van Ostrand had attended to the unpleasant task of pushing Angel’s shoulder back into place. Angel had recuperated quickly from the entire event. The thieves had been carted off by the magistrate, and it seemed doubtful that they would pass this way again.
Jane shut the book, blew out her candle, and scrunched down beneath the quilts of her bed. In the darkness, as every night since the memory of her stepmother had surfaced, she worked hard to drive her thoughts away from the evil of her past and toward the happiness she now felt. But it was difficult. It was all so horribly ironic. During her first days at Greystock, she’d struggled to grab onto some piece of her past so she could discover her identity. Now she would give anything to have her mind erased of it all.
It was late and, aside from the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the hallway and the distant hoot of an owl, all was quiet. Jane shut her eyes and unexpectedly her mind coasted to the day when Angel had taken on the three thieves in the stables. Even though she’d tried not to think of that day, visions of that awful afternoon still haunted her. But this time it was different. The face of the man who’d held Angel’s arm when she came upon them in the stables came unbidden into focus. Jane sat up with a gasp. It was a sharp angular face with a jutting chin and a nose to match. His small eyes resembled that of a crow’s. She’d seen the man’s sinister expression before.
A cold sweat covered her skin, and her hands shook as she lowered her feet to the cold floor. She flew out of her room and raced down the dimly lit hallway to Angel’s door. She knocked lightly but suddenly did not have the courage to stand in the deserted hallway alone to wait for his response. She burst into the room. He shot up in bed.
“That vagabond was the man who stabbed me,” she blurted and ran to his arms.
He didn’t say a word. She closed her eyes as he held her.
When the tremble in her body had slowed, she pulled her face from his chest and peered up at him. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Angel looked down at her a long moment as though he were carefully selecting his words. “When I traveled to town, I’d heard rumor that some men had gone through the village asking about a young girl.”
“But how did they know to come here?” Jane asked, and the tremble had returned upon hearing that her murderers had not given up.
“It’s a small town. Word got around that there was a young girl, a relative, visiting Greystock Manor. I rushed back here and John had already spotted the men running into the stables.” He kissed her forehead. “But it’s over now, Jane. You don’t have to be afraid of them anymore.”
“But the one man escaped.”
His strong arms tightened around her. “And if I ever see him again I will kill him. I’ll not let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”
She pressed her face against the bare skin of his chest. “It is so wretched knowing that there is someone out there who despises me so much, she wants me dead.”
Angel’s arms loosened momentarily and he looked down at her. “She? So you’re certain it is your stepmother who is behind all this?”
“She has always hated me,” she said quietly. The warmth and comfort of Angel’s arms made her lids heavy, and drowsiness tugged at every muscle in her tired body.
“Shall I carry you back to your room?”
She shook her head and pressed closer to him. He guided her back to his pillows and laid her down. His long, hard body slid in next to her, and he drew the covers up over them. She coasted off into a sound sleep.
***
Jane had no idea how long she’d slept but the room was pitch dark and the fire had dwindled to hot ash. She snuggled closer to Angel, and in his sleep he instinctively pulled her into his arms. She lay there listening to the steady, quiet sound of his breathing. She thought about the few truly intimate moments they’d shared and realized that she wanted that intimacy to return. After the last time, when he’d so abruptly shooed her from his room, she’d put up a wall to keep from getting hurt again. But truthfully she could not vanquish the feel of his kisses or his touch from her mind.
She lifted onto one elbow and gazed down at Angel. He was as glorious in sleep as he was awake. She lowered her lips to his mouth and kissed him softly. He stirred for a moment but didn’t open his eyes. She kissed him again but firmer.
“Jane,” he moaned against her mouth. His hands reached up and he held her face as his mouth covered hers in a deep, probing kiss. Then his hands slid down pushing the top of her night rail off her shoulders and exposing her naked breasts to the cool, night air.
She dropped back against the pillow and he raised himself over her. His mouth trailed down her neck and his tongue traced a delicious path over her skin to her taut nipple. She arched her back, pushing her breast further into his mouth with each circle of his tongue. She felt the slightest bit of disappointment as his mouth released her breast. He scooted down her body, his mouth stopping briefly to kiss her belly through the sheer material of her nightgown. His fingers clutched at the thin fabric as he inched the bottom of her gown up over her thighs. He pushed the heavy covers of his bed away and the chill of the room felt startlingly tantalizing as it caressed her nearly naked body. And then the coolness stroked her netherlips which now throbbed with heated moisture.
Angel’s dark head moved farther down stopping at the dark curls of hair between her legs. He peered up at her with a wicked smile. “Open your legs for me, Sweeting. I want to taste you.”
A blush heated Jane’s face and her legs stiffened at the thought of opening herself so brazenly in front of him. He seemed to sense her angst. His mouth pressed against the skin of her thigh and he kissed her. Then his mouth moved slowly up her inner thigh and she found she could no longer resist the pleasure of his mouth on her bare skin. Her legs relaxed and he pushed her thighs open with his hands. He groaned deeply as his mouth continued its excruciatingly exquisite journey along her leg. Without warning his
tongue stroked the searing flesh of her netherlips and she clutched the sheets with her fingers and cried out. His hands went beneath her bottom and he lifted her off the mattress exposing her even further to his probing mouth.
When his tongue licked the hot, aching bud of her womanhood she did not know if she could bare it. His fingers pressed into the flesh of her naked bottom as he pulled her against his hungry mouth. She lifted her hips against the pressure of his mouth wanting it more and more. Then his tongue slid inside her and she moved her hips in an almost frenzied effort to feel each lick. His hands pushed her bottom higher, and she moved wildly against his mouth until her body was wracked with spasms of ecstasy. She muffled her scream with her fist.
Angel kissed her tender flesh softly as she collapsed back onto the cool sheets. Then he lifted himself over her and stared down at her with such intensity she knew there was only one way to end this. She spread her legs open, every inch of her flesh alive with the rawness of sensual pleasure.
“Angel, I want you.” It was all she needed to say. He lowered himself between her legs and she could feel his thick, hard erection pressing against the mound of hair between her legs.
His mouth came down over hers as one of his hands slid beneath her bottom again. He lifted her hips up and slid into her gently at first and then hard. A tiny pain shot through her and she gasped.
