Dark Angel (Entangled Edge)

by TJ Bennett

  “Become better acquainted with you, dammit.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You will speak civilly, or we have nothing more to discuss.”

  I could see him fighting for control. Slowly, his teeth grinding, he removed his hands, spreading them wide, and stepped back. Then he slicked his hair back with his hands, and the dampness seemed to surprise him.

  “Forgive me,” he said stiffly. “I was…concerned about your overlong absence. With the fog…” He trailed off. “It is not safe for you.”

  “You were concerned for my safety.” I hemmed in disbelief. “Not jealous I had spent the entire day in the company of another man after having kissed you only last night.”

  He gaped at me. “By God, you are plainspoken.”

  “It is one of my many attractions,” I answered drily.

  “You have no idea,” he muttered under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well, let us begin again. Yes, I am bloody—that is, very jealous. So much so, I can hardly see straight. And do not tell me I have no right, because I know it as well as you. I am an ass for mishandling this, and an even bigger one for expecting you to wait upon my pleasure until I can join you. And I am also an idiot if I do not think our handsome vicar, or some other besotted swain, won’t try to take advantage of my absence when I am not around.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Now who is speaking plainly?”

  He ran a hand across his jaw. “Even though I have confessed to being a jealous ass and an idiot, you will do me the great favor of humoring me. I cannot always be with you when I wish, and I feared for you today.” His uneasy gaze moved away, staring out the window at the evening sky. “I overreacted, perhaps, but there are dangers out there, little cat, even your sharp claws will not protect you from.”

  “Gerard, I could not come back any earlier because of the fog. I was perfectly safe,” I began, then stopped. Of course, I had not been so sure of my safety when the fantastical creature pursued us through the mist.

  “Were you?” he asked quietly.

  “Matthew would not harm me,” I answered evasively, uncertain in hindsight whether whatever we had encountered in the mist had been, as Matthew suspected, Gerard’s emissary. Why was Gerard so worried for my safety if he had sent the creature himself?

  “It is not Matthew who concerns me.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him.

  “Well, not just Matthew,” he admitted. He approached me, and this time he brushed his hands down my arms. “I do not want you harmed. It would devastate me to a degree you could not begin to imagine.”

  “Gerard, have you heard of the black catlike creature that stalks the mists?”

  He hesitated at the abrupt change of subject. “I know of the stories, yes.”

  “You admit to it?” I asked him eagerly. “Where does it come from? What sort of creature is it?”

  “I do not know how to answer that—wait. Why do you wish to know?”

  “I believe we encountered it today while we were out walking through the woods. The fog came upon us unexpectedly, and in it we felt as though we were being stalked.”

  Shock made his eyes flare wide. “Catherine, are you—” His hands trembled. “Did it harm you?” He searched my frame as though he might have missed a gaping wound while we spoke.

  I waved away his concern. “I am fine. Matthew was injured but only inadvertently. He fell when the creature—whatever it was—leaped between us. Matthew struck his knee, but he will recover.”

  Gerard blanched. “Dear God. Anything might have happened.” He backed away from me. “We don’t know if your being here has affected you as it does us. You might have been killed.” He turned to the window, his hands clenching and unclenching beside him.

  “But I was not. I do not believe it was the creature’s intention.”

  “How would you know what goes on in the mind of such a beast?” His voice sounded dark with emotion.

  “I have thought about it. I was frightened when it happened, but afterward, since I have had time to reflect, I find I do not believe it intended to harm us after all. If it meant to attack us, why didn’t it? Matthew was on the ground, helpless, for several minutes. Thom was separated from us. And we were all exposed the entire time, with no way to defend ourselves. What wild creature stalks its prey and does not finish the job when the prey is at its most defenseless? No, it does not make sense.”

  “But you believe it stalked you?” Gerard still had his back to me, and I could see the tension in the straight blade of his shoulders.

  “Perhaps followed us would be a better word.” I chose my next words carefully. “Matthew thinks you may have sent it.”

  His head snapped around. “What?”

  “Did you? To watch over me while we were not together?”

  His jaw worked, and he finally forced his words out. “Believe me when I say this to you, Catherine: I have no control over that beast. It does not respond to my will. If it has you in its sights, I do not know what it means for you.”

  Something about the cold fear in his expression made me believe him.

  He came to me then, took my face in his hands, and gazed at me intently.

  “Promise you will not leave here without me again. It is a cruel thing to ask, but I ask it nonetheless. I will take you anywhere you wish to go. I will fetch and carry you, I will even wait for you in the damn carriage if you wish to have an assignation with every eligible male on Ynys Nos, but promise me you will not venture from these grounds without me again.”

  “But even the grounds are not safe. Jeffries told me about the latest incident. And you will not visit me during the day. Where do you go? What do you do?”

  He stroked his thumbs across my cheeks, his gaze insistent. “Do not try to change the subject. Where I go and what I do is no concern of yours. What is important is that you must be more careful. We cannot know if you are like us, and I do not wish to find out. I could not bear it if something happened to you because I failed to protect you. I would go insane. Promise me.”

  I could not promise him such a thing, despite his dire predictions. I would not be held a prisoner here all day, nor have Gerard in tow while I sought the keys to my freedom. While I desired less and less to leave him, I desired to see the children even more. I had stolen for them, lied for them. I would do whatever was necessary to get back to them, if that possibility even existed, however remote it might be.

  “Oh, Gerard, I…”

  I bit my lip. I could not form the words. I had lied to my enemies but never to my friends. The forged letters of credit had been necessary to retrieve the funds my husband had left for me under the stewardship of his father.

  This was different.

  “Promise me,” Gerard demanded, his breathing harsh, his big body so near to mine.

  I did the only thing I could think of, the only thing guaranteed to throw him off the track.

  I kissed him.

  Gerard’s response was immediate. He practically devoured me, his mouth ravenous, his tongue stroking mine, his rich, dark flavor weakening my knees and stealing my breath until spots floated in front of my eyes. Oh, God, I wanted to breath him in, absorb him like a sponge in water, but abruptly, he pushed me away, his expression horror-struck. Admittedly, it was not the reaction I had expected.

  “What in hell do you think you are doing?” He wiped the palm of his hand over his mouth, clenching his fingers as if to capture the sensation within.

  “Kissing you,” I panted, my mind jumbled with the passion his kiss had evoked.

  “Why, for God’s sake?”

  “B-because our first experience was so memorable?”

  He stared as though I had sprouted a limb from the top of my head. “You’re mad. I nearly destroyed the drawing room last time we kissed. I do not know when it can be made useful again.” He took a wary step back when I moved closer. “We have already proven I have little control where you are concerned. Do you wish to bring this entire house
down around our heads?”

  I lifted an eyebrow, curious now. “Could you really do that?”

  He took a deep breath, a muscle working in his jaw. “That is beside the point, is it not? We are far too volatile together for safety’s sake. You have to give me time to nail the picture frames down first, bolt the furniture. Reinforce the ceiling beams.”

  “Is that what we are after?” I folded my hands before me, regaining some semblance of control. “Safety, I mean? Perhaps I have had too much of safety, and it is time I kicked over the traces and ran free.”

  “Spoken like a woman who nurses soldiers in a war zone.”

  “We did not fare badly this time. Maybe it simply wants for more practice.” I moved closer, determined to keep him off-balance, but he sidestepped me.

  “I promise, little cat, I’ll have a special room outfitted where you may kiss me to your heart’s content without fear of injury, but for now…” He pointed a finger at me. “Let it be known I will not be distracted. It is high time for someone to take you in hand.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “Do you want to take me in hand, Gerard?”

  “Someone,” he persevered, “with more sense than to let you run about unsupervised, flinging yourself into dangers unknown.” Blowing out an exasperated breath, he asked, “How did your husband ever manage you?”

  I had tried to make peace with my memories of Jonathan, but they still raised a complex whirl of emotions—sadness, regret, and lost chances. “He claimed to treasure me for who I was, not for whom society wished me to be.”

  Gerard rolled his eyes. “And that sounds like it was spoken by a besotted swain. Well, while you reside in my home, Catherine, you are under my protection. I told you when we first met I will take care of you now. Whatever troubles you becomes my trouble, too.”

  “I do not recognize your authority over me,” I said, bristling. “Only a husband has those rights, and I no longer have one.”

  His gaze softened. “It does not mean you must make your way through life alone. Do you never grow tired? Do you never desire someone to shoulder your burdens, to look after you? To stand by your side, no matter what?”

  An unexpected swell of sentiment clogged my throat. Of course, I wanted that. Who would not? But I had lost the right to be taken care of when I had lost my child. It was my weakness that had led to her untimely end in the first place. I could not allow myself the luxury of weakness again.

  I had been so tired that night. I had not gone to her when she called.

  I turned from Gerard, blindly reaching for an abandoned cravat lying crumpled on a velvet-covered footstool. “I do not require taking care of,” I said, my voice quavering. I smoothed out the fabric, matched the corners together, and cleared my throat. “I am perfectly capable of seeing to myself.”

  I lowered my head, staring hard at the gray cloth in my hands as its image blurred. “But sometimes,” I admitted softly, folding the square into quarters, “I think it might be nice to be looked after.” I set the cravat aside, blinking to clear my vision. “Every now and then.”

  I felt his strong hands grip my shoulders. “Then let me.”

  I wavered, leaned back against him for just a moment. I felt the cool links of the chain around my neck, the press of the oval cameo between my breasts, and I stiffened my resolve against his gentle persuasion.

  “You are very kind to offer,” I said, “but no, I couldn’t possibly.”

  His hands fell away from me. His disappointment covered me like a cloak.

  “That is rather too bad. For you shall have my service, Mrs. Briton, whether you wish it or no.”

  I turned and noted the stubborn tilt of his head, the formidable expression on his face.

  He gripped the lapels of his dressing gown, one eyebrow haughtily arched. “Now, having delivered this pronouncement, I could make a grand exit, but I am forced to acknowledge I am neither coiffed nor clothed, and these are, after all, my rooms. Therefore, I must ask you to leave so I may summon my cowardly valet and finish dressing for dinner. I understand Cook is making a meal she insists will tempt even you to overindulgence, and timing is critical.” He paused meaningfully. “Consider yourself forewarned.” With that, he strode to the door to bellow for his valet.

  His final warning had nothing to do with Cook’s meal. He had flung the gauntlet down, and yes, I would consider myself forewarned.

  I do not think he noticed he never received the promise he sought from me.

  If this was to be a test of wills, the master was about to discover he had met his match.

  Chapter Thirteen

  While Gerard, pretending to eat, eyed me across the table during a meal which was indeed so sinfully delicious it would have made the archangels weep, I broached the subject that had been on my mind since leaving Matthew.

  “I wish to visit with a Mrs. Blackpot from the village, Gerard. Could you arrange an interview with her for me?”

  He halted the ascent of the spoon containing kippered cod’s roe to his mouth. “The midwife? Why?”

  “Well, it is a delicate matter. Not appropriate for dinner conversation.”

  He frowned. “Then why did you bring it up at dinner?”

  I shifted in my seat. “It simply occurred to me at the moment. I had no intention of discussing the particulars with you.”

  Setting his spoon down, he drilled me with a hard stare. “If you intend to visit the midwife about a delicate matter, I damn well want to know what it is. You haven’t been here long enough to get into that sort of trouble.” He squinted at me. “Unless you were enceinte when you arrived?”

  “Oh, for goodness’s sake, no, Gerard. It concerns—” I pursed my lips, knowing how sensitive he was on the subject of the stillbirths.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I understand she counsels the women here on intimate matters.” Lowering my voice in deference to the footmen standing against the wall, I whispered, “Her advice must not be working, given the number of unfortunate incidents that still seem to occur.”

  His mouth tightened. “I see. And what good would speaking to her do?”

  “In my professional experience, I have encountered women who engage in behaviors that can put them at risk for unwanted consequences. I happen to know there are reliable devices to prevent such consequences.”

  His expression went blank.

  “You are so troubled by the—the stillbirths here.” I lowered my gaze to the delicate china on the table, fiddling with my fork. “Matthew explained what you endure for the sake of the laboring women.” At his sharp intake of breath, I rushed on. “If I could help them to prevent conception, there would be no more heartbreak, either for the women or for you.”

  He clenched his spoon in his hand but finally relented. “It is not necessary for you to attend Mrs. Blackpot at her home. I will send for her.” Catching a footman’s eye, the silent order was given.

  “Thank you, Gerard,” I murmured and applied myself to my meal once more.

  He was quiet for a long time, but I knew he watched me. I finally met his gaze. “What?”

  His expression troubled, he said, “The life you have led. What you have endured. I admire you, but at the same time, you bring out such conflict in me, such protectiveness. I want to—” He broke off, gripping the stem of his wineglass so hard, I feared it might snap. “No, it is too pathetic,” he said beneath his breath, then pushed his glass and plate away. A footman immediately removed them.

  I leaned closer to him, placing my hand over his on the table, and spoke softly. “What is it, Gerard? You can tell me anything; I hope you know that by now.”

  A muscle flexed in his strong jaw, and he glared at me, heated emotion shimmering just below the surface. His words came out clipped and low, as though he had no desire to speak but could not help himself.

  “I have all this power, and yet before you I am helpless. I want to take care of you. I want to protect you, to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything y
ou’ve never had. I want to keep you safe. I want to keep you. But I am the last person in the world who should do it.” He slammed a fist on the table, and the silverware jumped. “God. What a wretched fool I am.”

  He shoved his chair away from the table with a scrape of the wooden legs and bolted, leaving me gaping at his back while he strode from the room. His declaration astounded me. He was possessive of me, even attracted to me, but I’d had no idea to what depth.

  It seemed he was always running from me, or I from him, and I had grown tired of the game.

  Pushing away from the table, I pursued him outside, into the gardens. The white tuber roses, which had been barely flowering buds the last time I’d seem them, now crowded on either side of the winding path, their heavy stalks burgeoning with trumpet-shaped blossoms in defiance of the season and the climes. Sweet autumn clematis hung from the trees and lent their vanilla-like aroma to the tapestry of scent. It was as if everything flowered excessively by magic here, and I did not doubt that might be the case.

  “Gerard, wait for me.” He startled me when he abruptly stopped on the garden path and I almost ran into him. “Oh!” I exclaimed, stumbling.

  He turned and gripped my arms to steady me. Something in him must have wanted me to follow him, or I would not have been able to catch up.

  He gazed down at me, a smile of self-derision on his mouth. “I have waited for you forever, it seems. But will you wait for me?” Drawing me inexorably closer, he slid one hand around my back and rested the other against my cheek, staring at me as though he might read my very thoughts.

  His bewildering intensity unsettled me. “What do you mean, Gerard?”

  “You will leave me if you can.” He said it with a flat certainty.

  “If I can, I would leave this place, yes. But I would not be leaving you, only going home to what I have left behind.” I rested my hands on his chest. “When I find a way home, you could come with me,” I offered tentatively.

  His hand slid down to the tender skin of my throat, his thumb stroking over my pulse, sending shivers through me, gauging my reaction.

  “I cannot leave. But you will find a way to go because you are stubborn and persistent and ruthless, even in your compassion. I will be alone again. It is only a matter of time. It is my destiny, my punishment.”