Dark Angel (Entangled Edge)

by TJ Bennett

  “Indeed,” I responded and lifted the scone to my mouth, biting into the fresh, buttery crust. “We will ruin our dinner with these.”

  He deposited his onto the platter in disgust. “Perhaps I will have Cook make something light tonight. It appears I have lost my appetite.”

  I shrugged and poured a dollop of honey on my scone, then ate contentedly while he watched. A bit of honey dribbled onto one corner of my mouth, and I delicately licked it off.

  Gerard’s expression darkened further. “If you are trying to distract me from Pangburn’s visit…” he began.

  I raised my eyebrows in inquiry.

  He slowly smiled. “It is working. Continue.”

  I flushed and self-consciously dabbed the remaining honey from my mouth. My fingers were sticky, but I resisted the urge to lick them clean. Gerard seemed to take an almost sensual pleasure in watching me eat, and I was not foolish enough to provoke him. I did not know how recovered he was from his earlier agitation, although he seemed much calmer now.

  “I am certain he only came to be neighborly,” I offered, cleaning my fingers with the napkin. “After all, Jeffries said you have an open invitation for callers to come in the evening.”

  “One which is rarely, if ever, accepted. I do not believe the vicar has crossed my threshold in years. Now you are here, and so is he.” He scowled.

  I tilted my head. “Are you at odds with him?”

  He crossed his ankles and contemplated the tips of his polished boots. “Not with him.”

  “With Mrs. Howard, then?”

  He shrugged.

  I sighed. “I see I am going to have to pull every word from you as though it were a tooth.”

  “Have another scone.”

  I started to laugh, but then my heart stilled with a flash of intuition. “You were involved with her.”

  His gaze avoided mine, and he did not answer, his lack of reply damning in itself.

  “Intimately?”

  He flicked a nonexistent speck of dust off his immaculate breeches. “I am not certain how you managed to turn a conversation regarding Pangburn’s interest in you into an interrogation about Mrs. Howard and me.”

  “Will you answer? You promised we would talk.”

  “About my abilities, and the island, not about my paramours.”

  The word struck hard. Paramours. Well, of course there would be. On an isolated island such as this, a man as virile and compelling as Gerard probably had to chase women off with a stick. I admitted to myself he had been the object of a few of my own fantasies. It did not make the knowledge any easier.

  “Is she divorced? Mrs. Howard, that is?”

  For the love of God, I swear he blushed.

  “She is not.”

  “Widowed?”

  He shook his head.

  “Was she married at the time of your affair?” I held my breath.

  His gaze snapped to mine. “It was not an affair. It was a moment of…poor judgment,” he confessed. “And you would make a damned fine barrister.”

  Bitter disappointment rushed in and I deflated. “Oh, Gerard. Not a married woman.”

  He rose and came to me, sitting beside me on the divan, then took my hands in his. “Will you allow me to explain?”

  “I am certain you do not owe me an explanation,” I said, withdrawing my hands, the tips of my ears burning with resentment. “I am nothing to you, after all. Just a stranger who washed up on your beach.”

  He retrieved my hands, his elegant, mobile fingers clasping mine tightly. “It is true I do not owe you an explanation. What is not true is that you are nothing to me. I will not have you thinking I am a villain who goes about debauching married women for sport. Will you allow me to explain?”

  My throat seemed to have closed in upon itself, and I could not speak, so I simply nodded.

  “It was nearly a year ago, at least as we experience the passage of time here.” He hesitated and looked uncomfortable. “Dammit, there is no way to say this without seeming as though I am trying to make myself look better and her worse. And I know, I mustn’t swear.” He glowered at me, exasperated.

  His very consternation went far to turning aside my pique. Besides, I was too curious to know the story to remain angry with him. “Just tell me the truth, Gerard. That is all I ask.”

  “Very well. Mrs. Howard is married to Roger Howard.”

  I remembered the man who whittled and watched as I left for Gerard’s. “I met him briefly, when I visited the village.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What did you think of him?”

  “Well, he is handsome and seemed friendly enough, but I did not care for him, to be honest. He was too familiar. I barely spoke to him.”

  Gerard’s jaw firmed. “I suggest you keep it that way. He’s a hardened philanderer who apparently enjoys knocking his women about. Though I don’t make it a habit to intervene in the affairs of husbands and wives, I made it my business in regards to Mrs. Howard. Still, doing so may have made things worse for her in other ways.”

  He stood, pacing restlessly. “The man’s infidelities eventually forced her to petition the council for a divorce over a year ago. However, he’s thus far refused her petition, and she remains bound to him although they have not lived together as man and wife for some time.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What happened between us occurred after their separation. Perhaps she tried to engage my interest that day as a way to get back at her husband. Perhaps she was merely lonely. Who can understand a woman’s mind?”

  He stopped and threw me a bemused glance. I waved away the unintended insult, signaling him to continue.

  “On the occasion in question, I had been using my healing ability to assist a woman Mrs. Howard attended. I was feeling very low after.” Some remembered echo of pain caused him to turn his head to hide his expression, but I saw. “It was late and raining. As I was leaving, she asked for a ride home in my carriage and I stupidly agreed.” He murmured to himself, “Why did I agree?”

  My mouth dry, I reached for my tea, bracing myself with a sip. “What happened, Gerard?”

  “She—we…” He sighed. “Suffice it to say that afterward, we were horrified at the lapse. It never happened again. The whole business was an important lesson for me and a source of great embarrassment for her.”

  I forced back the jealousy gnawing at my innards. He had not known me then. I had no right to be resentful of their night together, or to believe he might have behaved differently if we had known one another first. Still, rightful or not, the jealousy remained.

  “Is that why you do not keep women servants? Because the temptation would be too great to take advantage of their willingness at such times?”

  “It is not worth the complications that ensue.”

  I thought of his behavior toward me in the library, and in his rooms. Perhaps my presence here created difficulties for him as well. I felt protective of him and did not wish him to feel any awkwardness as a result of his care for me. “Is that why Mrs. Howard seems antagonistic toward you?”

  “I believe so. Her cousin does not know what transpired between us, only that we do not get along. I do not owe him an explanation, but I doubt he would approve.”

  I studied him for a long moment. “Why is it that you no longer fund the vicarage? Because you are angry with Mrs. Howard?”

  That brought him up short. “I am not angry with her. We are adults and bear the responsibility together. For me, what happened between us is over. Her antipathy continues to grow. I do not know why.”

  Perhaps for the very reason that he had moved on and she had not. To be cut so neatly from the lives of two men cannot have been easy for her.

  “She was willing?”

  “She approached me.” He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it in appealing disarray. “I do not brag when I say this… Apparently, I radiate a certain…energy after the extensive use of my gifts. As it coincides with a lowering of my own guard, it is incumbent upon me to remove my
self from society on those occasions.”

  I had felt the raw sexual power he exuded today. His natural magnetism, always shimmering in the air around him, crystallized into a terrible brilliance, focusing his sensuality like a prism until it burned away common sense.

  He looked at me strangely. “You are the first woman whose presence has ever calmed me at such a time.”

  I did not know whether to be glad for him or disappointed for myself that I was the only one who did not inflame him. I felt my spirits sink another notch.

  Frown lines bracketed his mouth. “You are also the only one who arouses my interest during the times in between.”

  At that, my spirits soared. I firmly tamped them down, but they simmered nonetheless, warming my soul. I was special to Gerard, and to be special to the most intriguing man I had ever met dazzled my mind.

  He dropped back into his chair and rubbed a hand wearily across his jaw. “Regardless, I have tried to make amends to Mrs. Howard. I gave her my apologies. I could not offer for her, as she has a husband. She will not take a penny from me even though he left her with nothing. I may be the master here, but she is no better at obeying my commands than—” He looked at me, lifting an eyebrow— “than you are.”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “So I provide a more than adequate living for Pangburn, because he takes care of her out of it. She knows where it comes from and is loath to use more of it than a subsistence level without explaining why to him. As far as I can tell, they give most of it away.”

  I sensed his exasperation, and agreed with it. “What a tangled mess.”

  “Yes. I have decided to leave them to each other.” He sighed and gave me a narrow-eyed look. “But do not think she, or any other woman I know, can hold a candle to you in my regard.”

  “Well.” I sat back in my chair. “That was boldly stated.”

  “Not as bold as I would like to be.” His smoky gaze considered me.

  I blinked at him, wary. “Gerard, are you feeling quite all right? I mean, you are not still under the influence of…?” I gestured vaguely.

  “The only influence I am under is yours.” He moved to sit beside me on the divan, and I scooted back in alarm. My hair was up today; he reached and pushed an escaped lock away from my face, then lingered, the back of one finger brushing across my cheek. I had to stop myself from shivering at the featherlight caress. It would only encourage him.

  “The color of your hair is so intense. I cannot think what to compare it to. Not orange, not red…closer to roses than to flames, I think.”

  I pursed my lips. “Really, Gerard, do not attempt to distract me with pretty poetry about my hair. You promised me answers, and answers I shall have.”

  “You crush me.” His lips quivered on the verge of a smile. “Oh, very well.” He flung an arm along the back of the divan and heaved another sigh. “Ask your questions.”

  I took a deep breath. “What happened to all those stillborns, Gerard? Why did they die?”

  He went white. “I will not speak of that.”

  I reached out my hand and stopped him when he would have left me. “You must. I need to know. Please.”

  He lurched to his feet and loomed over me. Cold fury lit his gray eyes, and fear leaped in my breast.

  “I have been patient with you thus far, but do not push me.”

  I stood, swallowing hard, and faced him down. He was furious, yes, but there was something else behind his reaction.

  Fear.

  “You will not hurt me, but you want me to believe so. Why? What are you so afraid of?”

  He made a noise of disbelief. “I am the master here. What should I have to fear?”

  The desperation in his eyes said I had struck home. I searched his strong, lean face for clues to his misery. “Look at you. You are like a growling bear with a thorn in its paw. You protect the very thing that hurts you most and seek to bite the hand reaching out to help.”

  I laid my hand gently on his arm again and felt the yearning in the muscles contracting beneath my fingers. “Please, let me help you, Gerard.”

  I heard a rattle of chinaware behind me; pictures trembled on the walls. My gaze darted around in confusion.

  He grabbed my shoulders and yanked me hard against him. “You want to help me? Let me show you how.”

  With that, he wrapped his hand around the back of my head and crushed my lips to his. I opened my mouth with an astonished gasp, and he delved in. Fear and excitement battled within me. A spark burned low at my center and threatened to unhinge me. Years of restraint battled with the wild desire to run free, to cast propriety to the winds, to take, take, take what I wanted for the first time in my life. The conflict blazed within me, coming out as a choking gasp.

  He must have heard my whimper of distress because the pressure eased, but he did not release me, the kiss becoming an arrogant demand, a declaration of erotic intent, a primitive claiming of desire that would not be ignored. I had never been kissed like that, as though nothing else mattered but his need of me. It stripped me of my defenses, and I could not stop myself from responding.

  I opened to him.

  With a ragged sound, he clenched his hands in my hair, anchoring my mouth to his, the stroking of his tongue liquid and deep. Answering his need, I wrapped my arms around his waist, leashing him as much as he had leashed me. The sound of rattling china grew louder, and I opened my eyes just in time to see the tea service levitate straight into the air and whirl madly about. My mind reeled from the stark evidence of magic and the sensations bombarding me from within. Only the center of the storm, where we stood locked in one another’s embrace, remained undisturbed.

  I was drowning, unable to save myself, not even wanting to. I hunted for the honey on his tongue, the exotic tang of tea, luxuriated in the rough stubble of his beard on my cheeks. Filled with frantic yearning, I moaned into his mouth.

  I sensed his triumph at my surrender. He pulled me roughly against him and backed me up against the wall, holding me in place with his body as though he had every right.

  I lifted up on my toes and he growled low in his throat, hiking me higher until we dovetailed, his hardness to my softness, his male to my female.

  What had started as a demonstration of dominance devolved into a grapple for sensation. We had lost control.

  He reached down to the hem of my gown and hauled it up, popping threads in his haste, while I ripped his shirttails out of his breeches and push my hands beneath the fabric. The windowpanes cracked with a sound like gunshots; the picture frames on the wall shook violently, cascading to the floor one after the other in an eruption of glass and splintered wood. Shocked, I pulled back, my emotions reeling in a malaise of desire, confusion, and mortification.

  He froze, his chest heaving as though he’d run miles in minutes. He pulled my hands away from where they still clutched at him, and circling my wrists with his fingers, drew them behind me, clasping them together with his large hands at the small of my back. The position forced my aching breasts against his chest, where I could feel the rapid-fire beating of his heart.

  With feral eyes, he stared down at me, taking in the signs of my arousal, my gasping breaths. The hands holding me at bay trembled violently. The tea service dropped to the floor, spilling everywhere, and the display cases ceased their rattling.

  “Damn you. Do you understand now? This is the only thing I want from you,” he rasped, his fingers burning my flesh, “the only thing I can give. I’ll pull you down, take you like an animal, and leave you without a backward glance.”

  His words mocked me, but I divined the torment beneath the surface of his cruelty. Despite the raging hunger he’d sparked, what he needed most was not my body, but my friendship.

  I lifted my chin. “You do not scare me, Gerard. I am your friend. I will remain so, no matter what you say, no matter what you do. I am not so easily frightened away.”

  Astonishment flashed across his face and hope smoothed his expre
ssion. Then his face hardened and he pushed away from me. He gripped his head in his hands, an inarticulate sound escaping his lips.

  A figurine flew by, breaking against the opposite wall.

  I took a step toward him, alarmed.

  “Are you mad?” he shouted, holding up a hand to stop me. A heavy sculpture in the corner toppled, smashing across the carpet; a topiary followed it down. “Have you no sense of self-preservation?”

  “I am no more mad than you,” I shot back.

  “You think yourself so clever, so safe,” he snarled, raking back his hair. He stood before me, flushed, his clothing askew, his lips still damp from my mouth. His black hair fell wild over his forehead. “You think you know me, but you have no idea what you are dealing with.” He jammed his shirt into his breeches, straightened his collar. “Righteous little cat, with your rules and proprieties,” he muttered, then jabbed a finger at me. “You want more than friendship. You want what I want, and now I know it. You are a fool!”

  I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. I had crossed over an invisible threshold from which there was no turning back. “Who is the greater fool, Gerard? You, who seeks to debase what is between us, or me, who seeks to elevate it?”

  “You call what has happened here elevated?” His lips pulled back in a mockery of a smile. “Well, hold onto your illusions as long as you can, little cat, for the nightmare will come soon enough.”

  He stalked past me. A nearby vase flew off its pedestal and crashed to the floor in his wake. Before I knew it, he was out the door, slamming it so hard behind him the walls shook.

  I took a deep breath and gazed for a long moment at the havoc Gerard’s passion had wreaked upon the innocent room.

  “Oh, my,” I murmured, sliding down onto the divan, my trembling knees no longer able to hold me. I touched my swollen lips and winced. “I do believe I sent him scurrying.”

  And although it was completely inappropriate, I laughed, the sound escalating until I was nearly keening, until the tears rolled down my cheeks and fell to the carpet below.