Forbidden Angel

by Sandra Lea Rice

  Each man had carried some part of what they needed to feed and care for the whole. They sat around the fire quietly drinking coffee and waited for a broth to heat.

  A vaquero, carrying a black bag, approached Adrian. “Let me, Señor.” Concentrating on the task of cleaning and re-bandaging the wound, he commented idly, “I appreciate what you do, but, had you told us, we could have helped sooner. Take these and chew on them. You will rest.” He handed Adrian two leaves.

  Adrian examined them suspiciously, then slipped them in his mouth and chewed. “Thank you.”

  The man inclined his head and returned to the others.

  Soon, the pain in his body began to ease and the bleeding had once again stopped. To himself, he acknowledged his foolishness, but rationalized it as his desperation to find Angeline. His eyelids felt heavy, and his limbs had turned to stone. “What was that?” he mumbled to Frank who sat nearby.

  “It’s a weed I’ve seen Injuns use. I heard tell they carry the wild plant and chew on a leaf if they get hurt. They can keep fightin’ if they don’t feel the pain. Don’t know the name.” Frank touched Adrian’s other shoulder. “Just give up and sleep, Boss. It’ll be light soon enough.”

  Chapter 30

  Cazador studied Angeline’s flushed features and felt an unfamiliar fear settle in the pit of his stomach. “Angelina, wake and eat. We have only bread but it will give you some strength.”

  “Can’t,” she said weakly, her eyes closing again.

  Cazador quickly extinguished the fire and tied the packed bag behind the saddle. Petite, and as light as a feather, without food there would be nothing for her to draw from.

  He picked her up and strode from the hut to the waiting mount. Lifting her to the saddle, he swung up behind her.

  “Niña, stay with me. It is not far now.”

  The smooth rocking motion of the canter was easiest on her, and the horse was strong and used to long distances. Cazador kept them moving at a steady pace before he finally slowed to a walk.

  “You are home,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Home?” she murmured faintly.

  “Si.” He walked the horse through the trees, making his way carefully toward the back of the house. “May I see where Franchesca rests?”

  Angeline directed him to the site. “There, Don Philippe.” She was barely able to point.

  Cazador dismounted, taking Angeline with him. He sat her in a wrought-iron chair and waited until she had her balance. “Do not move, niña.”

  Stepping to the grave, he removed his hat and knelt. “Mi esposa, I have missed you so. Your daughter is like you. I could hear your words in her voice. Forgive me for not coming to you sooner, but I did not know. I promise, I will protect your niña. My love stays with you always, sweet Franchesca.” Touching his lips with his fingers, he laid them against the marker.

  He regarded Angeline. “I should have seen the likeness from the beginning,” he whispered, his hand to her cheek. “I will take you into the house where it is warm. I cannot leave you like this.”

  “It isn’t safe for you to stay.” She sagged in the chair. “Take me to the back door. I will call for someone from there.”

  With a sense of misgiving, Cazador did as she asked and then remounted. “Hasta luego, Angelina. We will meet again.” He touched the brim of his hat before disappearing into the woods.

  Angeline stumbled through the back door, and collapsed.

  Frank dismounted and picked up a sodden piece of material from the ground.

  “What is it, Frank?” Adrian asked, moving to take the cloth from him. He recognized the cape immediately as belonging to Angeline. “My God,” he gasped gripping the blood-soaked wrap in his hands.

  Frank signaled for Rafael. “Boss, we know she’s still alive and I believe I know where he’s takin’ her. If I’m right, they’re headed back ta her place.”

  “I don’t know why he would, but I pray you’re right.” Rafael joined them, and Adrian handed him the cape. “It’s Angeline’s.”

  Rafael’s features hardened. “We must hurry.”

  They halted as they neared the road leading to the back of Ashley Manor.

  Adrian studied the house. “He was far enough ahead that I can’t believe he’d still be here. But just in case, I’ll go on ahead, and—”

  “We will all go.” Rafael spurred his horse on.

  Adrian leapt from his horse as it neared the back entrance and sprinted for the door, followed closely by Michael and Frank. When he stepped through, he found Angeline lying on the floor. Dropping to his knees, he slipped an arm under her shoulders and lifted her against him while he searched for a pulse.

  “Dear God, Angeline, open your eyes.” Adrian ran his fingers lightly down the side of her flushed cheek and across her forehead. “She’s burning up. We need a doctor!”

  Rafael knelt beside them and brushed the hair back from her face. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, “She could be Franchesca, all those years ago.” His gaze slid to the patch of red on her side. Jumping to his feet, he shouted orders in Spanish.

  Carlos, with the ever present black bag, appeared and knelt beside them. After a cursory examination, he spoke quietly to Rafael. Adrian saw Rafael’s face pale, and instinctively held her closer.

  “Give her to me,” Rafael commanded, slipping his arms under her before Adrian could protest. “Where is her bedchamber?”

  Adrian could only shake his head. In all the years of their acquaintance, he had never been to the family’s private wing.

  “Look for a room in colors of pink and rose, one that overlooks the side gardens and the lake,” Michael interjected. Seeing the surprised looks from the men and the narrowing of Adrian’s eyes, he quickly added, “She told me about it on the trip.”

  Angeline fought the constraints. Hot—too hot. I hurt. Everywhere hurts. Can’t move! Heavy—too heavy. Crushing me. Get the weight off. Can’t breathe. Help me, please, something is tearing at my side!

  She struck out with her arms and twisted furiously, trying to dislodge whatever held her down. Finally, something cool pressed against her lips, then lay against her forehead. She sighed in relief and stopped struggling.

  Then the coolness was gone and she was left to fight the heat and the weight again. Tired. So tired. There was a buzzing sound, like bees. Would they hurt her, too? The buzzing came closer and changed to voices, quiet, anxious voices. She tried to open her eyes but her lids were too heavy. She longed for peaceful darkness to take her and just drift away.

  “I won’t let her die, do you hear me? I won’t lose her. I can’t.”

  Adrian’s voice?

  “You will kill yourself if you do not rest. When did you last eat?”

  That voice . . . it had whispered softly to her when the fire wanted to consume her. Who?

  She must have spoken aloud as, suddenly, cool hands touched her face. She lifted her lashes slightly, the effort taking all her strength, and gazed into lavender eyes so like her own. Pain and fear rode heavily in their depths, but there was something else, too. A connection.

  “Angelina . . . we are here with you. Keep fighting, little one.”

  “Too tired.” She wanted to slip into that peaceful place where there was no more pain or heat, and nothing tore at her side.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.” Adrian? Her eyelids were so heavy. The voice came again, more compelling this time. “Sweetheart, my love, please open your eyes.”

  She lifted her lids.

  “That’s it, sweeting, that’s it. Everyone is here. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. Adrian leaned forward and kissed the drop away. “I have your hand,”—he squeezed lightly—“and I won’t let go.”

  “Pro-promise?”

  “I promise, sweetheart, I promise.”

  The day wore on, the hours ticked by and day turned to night. Adrian sat staunchly by Angeline’s side as first Bunny and then
Shirley shared the task of bathing her in cool water. They fussed at his presence for such personal ministrations. But he stubbornly remained at her side, instead resting his cheek on the mattress beside her, adamantly refusing to release her hand.

  Only when it became necessary for him to relieve himself, and ease his cramped muscles, did he leave her. At such times, either Rafael or Esteban immediately claimed her hand.

  And then, just as the sun began to rise, Adrian felt her fingers tighten around his. His eyes snapped open and he looked down at her. As she stared at him, tears filled her beautiful eyes.

  “I was afraid you were a dream,” she whispered.

  “I’m here and I’m real.”

  “He told me you weren’t dead, but I wasn’t certain—”

  Adrian frowned. “Who told you?”

  “Thirsty.” She licked her lips.

  Adrian poured a small amount of water into a glass and, slipping his arm beneath her shoulders, held it steady while she sipped.

  The door opened and Bunny stuck her head around the edge. “Oh praise be!” She rushed toward the bed, then pressed her hand against Angeline’s cheek and forehead.

  Hearing Bunny’s exclamation, Shirley joined them and Adrian was ordered from the room with strict orders to eat, bathe, and sleep. When he glanced back over his shoulder, Bunny and Shirley were hovering over Angeline.

  Adrian stumbled down the stairs and into the dining room where the other men gathered. At his entrance, they looked anxiously toward him.

  “Her fever broke and she’s awake. I was herded from the room by a bevy of females intent on taking care of her.” When Rafael started to rise, Adrian lifted his hand and added, “It’s not safe for any male up there right now. Even Pen rushed by me without a word and disappeared inside.”

  Rafael grinned and retook his seat. “Now you will eat. Unless you plan to disappoint her when she regains her strength?”

  Adrian blinked. Then, as the significance of Rafael’s words sank in, he felt his face flush. When the other men chuckled good-naturedly, Adrian found himself relaxing for the first time in almost a week.

  Penelope spoke quietly to Michael at the dinner table. “I’ve read adventuresome tales and enjoyed them, but living them is something entirely different. I much prefer quiet living and a good book. I’m certainly able to deal with the excitement, but the worry over loved ones and their safety is exhausting.”

  Michael nodded and set his wineglass down. “It is, but I want to assure you it’s not always like this. In Texas the weather stays warmer much longer. Life there can be very peaceful, especially in and around Houston and some of the larger cities.”

  When he noticed interest from some of the others, he was happy to share his view of life in America. “People there are far more unbiased and less likely to consider titles and bloodlines. Most view good manners and fair dealing as more important. Of course, there are always a few who will make a show of it.”

  “I think it would be quite enjoyable,” Penelope conceded. “Yes, I would like that.”

  Michael met her gaze and let the pleasure he felt at her admission show. “As Adrian can attest to, it’s a land where a man can build a very good life for himself, either with his hands or his abilities. All of the opportunities are there for those unafraid of hard work.”

  Esteban raised his head. “Where is this place?”

  Michael regarded Esteban. “Texas, in America. There is a chance to build something I don’t believe exists here, unless you’re born to it.”

  Esteban hesitated, obviously considering Michael’s opinion. “We have land and mines in America ourselves, though not in Texas. I have often thought of seeing them.”

  “If the opportunity arises, you must come to Houston and the Spencer Ranch,” Michael suggested. “With your niece there, it should be a perfect opportunity.”

  “Why do you believe Angelina will return to America? She has her family in Spain, and the estates, both this one and Lord Adrian’s,” Rafael said, reminding Michael that they now figured in her future.

  Michael accepted Rafael’s comment with a nod. “You’re quite right. I don’t really know what she’ll do, but I am certain whatever she decides, she’ll be with Adrian. They both love the ranch, but there is a lot to consider and choices to be made.” Michael turned his wine glass slowly in his fingers. “You will find, Don Rafael, your niece has a mind of her own.”

  Frank chuckled. “That would be one way ta put it, I expect.”

  “I for one am happy here.” Jeffrey glanced around at the others. “I have never been away from England and that suits me perfectly. I have pastimes I enjoy, the estates to manage, Parliament. I find that quite sufficient.”

  “Well, I’m ready ta go home. It’s been real interestin’, but when we’re done with what we come for, I’ll be on the first boat back ta America.” Frank forked a bite of his dinner, considered the plate, and frowned. He swallowed, quickly followed the bite with more wine. “I miss my steak an’ biscuits an’ such. Not that this ain’t good, mind ya.”

  Penelope’s eyes sparkled at Frank. “Something new does take time. I like kidney pie myself.”

  Frank looked in disbelief at his dinner plate. “Kidney pie?” His lips puckered. “If ya all don’t mind, I’ll excuse myself and go see Shirley.”

  “Certainly,” Jeffrey managed. After Frank left the room, he turned to his daughter. “Penelope. Good grief, child.”

  Esteban had covered his mouth with his napkin to hide his amusement, but now, as his brother could contain his no longer, they all laughed. Penelope was the exception. She continued to eat, with only an impish grin to give her away.

  “So that’s the way of things,” Michael said, his gaze fixed on her face.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Penelope popped another bite into her mouth.

  Frank found Shirley sitting at the kitchen table.

  She barely raised her eyes from her tea. “I wondered how long it would be. There’s some biscuits and chicken waiting for you on the stove.”

  He smiled fondly at her. “You know me well, Shirley. You’re a good woman.” Picking up the plate, he seated himself at the table and began to eat.

  “What’s on your mind, Frank?” She put the cup down and considered him.

  He hesitated, then met her gaze. “Sometime soon I’m goin’ back home ta things I know and I’m comfortable with.” He reached across the table and clasped her hand.

  “I ain’t got much ta offer ya, and I never been married before so I’m set in ma ways.” Frank rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “But if you’ll have me, I promise ta be faithful and ta make sure ya always have a roof over yer head and food ta eat.”

  He hauled in a deep breath. “The thing is, I belong there, not here. So if ya say no ta me, I’ll understand.”

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  “Yes?” His eyes widened. “Ya said yes?”

  “Yes, I said yes.” She smiled. “Most happily, yes.”

  Jumping to his feet, he pulled her from the chair and swung her around.

  Cook bustled into the kitchen, stopped, and nodded. “You’re a smart man, Frank Bates, yes you are.”

  Chapter 31

  When dinner was finished and the women had withdrawn, Michael stepped outside and lit a cheroot. He understood Frank’s desire to return to Houston. He felt the same.

  After accepting Angeline would always want Adrian, it left a feeling of emptiness inside. Penelope, with her dancing red curls, freckles and green eyes, was sweet and vivacious. Angeline was beautiful and exotic, a combination of fire and adventure. Forevermore, the smell of roses would remind him of her. Where Penelope found her adventures in the books she read, adventure would always seek out Angeline.

  Penelope joined him as he drew on the cigar.

  “If you feel the need to smoke, it doesn’t offend me if you do so in my presence.”

  “I’m finished.” He flicked the butt out into
the snow.

  She wrapped a stole more closely around her shoulders. “I was hoping we might talk again.”

  “Come, let’s sit by the fire.” Michael opened the French door for her. “You’ll take a chill out here.”

  “Frank has proposed to Shirley and she has accepted. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Took him long enough,” Michael retorted. He brought Penelope near the heat from the hearth and sat beside her on the settee.

  She folded her hands in her lap and raised her eyes to his. “I know how you feel about Angeline. I have from the beginning. You are a good man, Michael Harrington, with much to offer someone.”

  He took her hand in his. “You’re very sweet, Penelope. And you’re right about my feelings for Angeline. But I hold no expectations.” He gazed into Penelope’s green eyes where he saw compassion and something more. “I’ve been questioning what I want for my life and I realize the Army no longer holds any appeal for me.”

  “What do you want, Michael? You may think me bold and unladylike, but I’m certain I would make a good wife for you. I’m under no illusions about your feelings for me, but I believe I could make you happy.” She tightened her fingers around his. “I’m willing to wait, with the hope that you would one day come to care for me.”

  Stunned, Michael ran a finger down the side of her cheek. “You are worth far more than that. I don’t find you unladylike, but refreshingly honest. You should have someone who wants you beyond all others and would do anything to make you happy.”

  Her eyes held a sheen of purpose. “You have no feelings for me, then? I don’t believe it. You may not yet know what those feelings are.” She drew her hand from his and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I know you long to return to America, and I didn’t want you to leave without at least telling you how I felt.”

  The gentle touch of her fingers surprised him. “What do you want in a marriage, Penelope?”

  “I want a comfortable home. It need not be large, just warm and friendly. I want to care for my husband and know he’s happy. I want to give him children to fill the house with laughter. I want him to respect me and recognize I have opinions of my own. I want to be able to talk to him on many subjects and . . .” She glanced at Michael and reddened.