World of de Wolfe Pack: Kiss an Angel (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Meara Platt

  “Oh, Jeremiah.” She cast him a tender smile. “That’s a lovely thing to say. I feel the same way about you. We’re uniquely bound, you and I. Aren’t we?”

  He gave a reluctant nod. “But before we explore this… bond… this rupture in the fabric of existence… you deserve to know who I am. It’s taken me too long to come around to the decision. My name is Titus.”

  Her heart began to thud within her chest. She’d waited twenty two years for that revelation and he’d just casually rolled it off his tongue. Just like that. Titus. “It’s a fine name. Strong, no nonsense. It suits you. Do you have a family name?”

  He nodded. “De Wolfe. My father was Solomon de Wolfe and I had a brother called Atticus. He was known as the Lion of the North, for no one was braver in battle than he.”

  Ginny pursed her lips. “I’m sure you were braver. I can’t imagine anyone able to best you in combat.” But his enemies had also managed to get in a few blows before he’d dispatched them. “How is your shoulder wound? Healing?”

  The corners of his lips twitched upward in the hint of a smile, but it was the warm glow in his eyes that brought a hot blush to her cheeks. The man certainly knew how to look at a woman and make her feel beautiful. “I’ve forgotten about that scratch. All better. Haven’t thought of it in days.” He extended his arm to show her, his well formed muscles rippling with his every movement.

  She cleared her throat and willed her heart to stop pounding through her ears. The butterflies in her stomach was also fluttering in a wild frenzy of excitement. “Yes, I see that it’s healed nicely.” She was amazed by her ability to speak without having her voice squeak. “Lord Titus de Wolfe. A wonderful name.”

  He shook his head. “I was merely a knight. Sir Titus de Wolfe. Had I lived, I would have inherited my father’s castle. It was known as Wolfe’s Lair.”

  “Wolfe’s Lair,” she repeated in a whisper. “Where is it?”

  “On the border between England and Scotland. It’s still there, inhabited by the Duke of Hexam and his family. He’s a de Wolfe as well.”

  “De Wolfe,” she murmured, her thoughts foolishly straying with girlish fancies. Ginny de Wolfe. Lady Ginny de Wolfe. Duchess Ginny. Nonsense, of course. Despite her desire to marry him, she knew it was an impossibility. Perhaps a stronger and braver woman could have overcome the laws of nature and existence, but who was she to attempt such a feat?

  Even if she did accomplish the impossible, who would have the authority to marry an angel and a debutante? Did such a man of the cloth exist? “Shall I call you Jeremiah or Titus?”

  “Jeremiah,” he said without hesitation. “I haven’t been called Titus since my death. I’m Jeremiah now. That’s my given angel name.”

  “Brynne is distantly related to you. Did you always know that?” Lettie had helped Brynne discover his true identity. He was a direct descendant of Atticus de Wolfe. If Jeremiah had indeed known it, why couldn’t he simply have told her and Lettie straight out and saved them all a lot of heartache?

  Jeremiah sighed. “I knew there was a family connection, but didn’t quite know how we were connected. I wasn’t Brynne’s guardian angel, only yours and Lettie’s. The lion birthmark on his shoulder obviously marked him as a de Wolfe descendant, but Lettie was the one who had to figure out the rest of it.”

  Ginny clasped her hands and rested them on her lap. “So are you saying that you don’t have all the answers?”

  He grunted and then emitted a hollow sounding laugh. “All? How about none of the answers? You and I must puzzle out our destiny together. That’s how these things work. So, first step is to figure out why you can see and hear me. Next, we figure out what would happen if I touched you.”

  “Jeremiah, what are you saying?” She knew what would happen. She’d erupt in hot tingles up and down her body. She’d melt into his brawny arms. Her love for him was a shield that would protect her from any harm, but how was she to convince him of it?

  What if she was wrong?

  She tried to steady her rapidly beating heart. “Do you want to touch me?”

  “I think we ought to try it in small stages,” he said, thinking logically when her thoughts were anything but that.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Damned if I know.” He glanced at her night table, his gaze fixed on the mint green gloves strewn atop it. She she hadn’t bothered to put them away yet.

  He did want to touch her!

  Ginny’s throat felt parched. “Why are you staring at my gloves? Oh, I see. Cautious steps first. You think my putting them on will offer me some protection if matters go awry when you take my hands in yours. I understand the danger, but we’ll never know unless we try.”

  He leaned forward so that she felt his warm breath against her cheek. “Hurting one’s charge is frowned upon in celestial circles. We guardian angels take our responsibilities seriously. You may be willing to take the risk, but I’m not. I dare not run my fingers over your bare hands or touch my lips to yours yet.”

  Not only touch her, but kiss her!

  He might sound reluctant, but Ginny knew he wanted to, for his voice had turned husky and his eyes were a hot, glistening amber.

  “An angel’s kiss?” She gazed at him in wonder and then smiled. “Sounds heavenly.”

  Her heart beat faster with excitement. She wanted so badly to feel his touch, to feel the warmth of his lips on hers and the heat of his body as he held her close. “I don’t think we ought to be timid about this.”

  Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Finally, an answer to her prayers.

  “Who’s the experienced warrior, you or me?” He drew away and ran a hand through his hair. “No damn kiss until I’m certain there’s no danger to you. This isn’t a casual game of chance played at some elegant ton gathering. This is your life at stake, Ginny.”

  She cleared her throat not once but twice, and with her hands still tightly clasped and resting on her lap, stared down at her toes and said, “I know, but don’t think too hard about it. We’re going to do this. It’s you I want to kiss, it’s your arms I want holding me, not Simon de la Londe’s. I feel like a coin purse whenever he looks at me.”

  “De la Londe?”

  She heard the rumble of thunder in the distance and felt a sudden sizzle in the air brought on by the approaching storm. “Yes, he’s the young man Aunt Frances introduced me to this evening. I intended to jot down notes about–”

  “Simon de la Londe?”

  “Yes? Why are your eyes blazing?” She jumped at the sudden crack of lightning that struck directly overhead. “Oh, dear! That startled me. There must be a storm approaching. Do you know him?”

  “Know him?” More lightning cracked overhead and angry rolls of thunder shook the rafters with enough force to bring the ceiling down atop her. This was no mere storm but a tempest of mythic proportions. “If the bastard comes near you again, I’ll rip out his entrails with my bare hands and shove them down his traitorous throat.”

  He disappeared in a blinding blaze of light, leaving her alone to contemplate his words. “Merciful heavens,” she muttered, placing a hand over her pounding heart.

  What had Simon ever done to him?

  Chapter 6

  Ginny donned another of her new gowns to look her best when callers came for afternoon tea. This one was a pale peach gown trimmed at the collar and sleeves with ivory lace. Her hair was done up once more, but this time in a less intricate bun and several wisps of her hair were loosely curled along her brow and the nape of her neck. She finished the effect with small, teardrop pearl earrings and simple string of pearls around her throat.

  Jason, Edward and Lady Frances were to join them along with several family friends and some new acquaintances, including Lord Simon de la Londe. Oh, dear. Would he be safe from Jeremiah’s wrath? It was too late to call off the afternoon tea and her parents had refused to rescind the invitation sent to Lord de la Londe without good reason. She couldn’t very well tell them that her guardian angel had thre
atened to kill him.

  Jeremiah had been angry, but he would never hurt a defenseless man. Would he?

  No. He was too honorable.

  She was glad they would be a party of about twenty, for the mere thought of having to guard Lord de la Londe and at the same time entertain him was exhausting to her, especially if Jeremiah appeared.

  What had happened last night? Why had he become so enraged?

  There was so much about Jeremiah that she didn’t know. He’d been her guardian angel since the day she was born, but it had taken her until last night to learn something as simple as his given name. She’d also realized that he had a fiery dark side and a centuries old hatred of the de la Londe family. Why?

  Could she ever forgive him if he unleashed his anger against this present day Lord de la Londe?

  What was she to do? Her family wanted her to give Lord de la Londe a chance, but she didn’t quite know if she could manage it. Was it fair to give him hope when her heart responded to another, even if that other was behaving like a celestial ass at the moment? She was no fickle maid to allow her attentions to flit from beau to beau, although Jeremiah hardly counted as a beau.

  He was a brawny hunk of dangerous angel that no one in their right mind would ever dare trifle with. Had he been enraged enough to give up the idea of ever kissing her? Or worse, what if he decided to abandon her?

  Could she make a life with Lord de la Londe instead?

  She shook to attention as their guests began to arrive and she heard Lord de la Londe’s voice in the entry hall. One of several voices. Having others around to take up the slack in their conversation was a relief.

  “Lady Eugeeenia, you have a lovely home,” Lord de la Londe said as she approached to greet him. He bowed over her outstretched hand as any gentleman who was trained in chivalry would do, but his gaze darted around their elegantly decorated entry hall, obviously taking note of the crystal, gold trim, and exquisite porcelain on display and tallying their cost in his head.

  “Thank you, my lord. It is quite pleasant here, but the compliment is owed to my mother. She’s the one responsible for truly making it a home for all of us.” He’d remarked on the house and said nothing yet about her or the gown she was wearing.

  One big demerit for Lord de la Londe.

  “Might I add that you look beautiful,” he said in the next breath. “Surely you’ve received the compliment at least a dozen times from the other gentlemen here today.”

  Oh, that was rather a good save.

  She quietly forgave him. “You’re the first to arrive and likely will be the only one to mention it.”

  He boldly raised her gloved hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon it. Her heart tugged at the simple gesture, something Jeremiah had never dared to do for fear of harming her. “I sincerely doubt it,” he said smoothly, flashing her a smile, “but I fully intend to stake my claim on you. That is, if you will permit me. I hope we will use this time to get to know each other better.”

  She was spared the need to respond when her mother drew her aside to introduce her to some old friends. Was she being unfair to Lord de la Londe? What harm could there be in merely talking to him? She’d make it plain that his ardor was not reciprocated.

  She did her best to remain pleasant but cool, even introduced him to a friend or two in the hope that his attention might stray to one of them, for he was a good catch despite his mercenary tendencies. It wasn’t his fault that her heart lay elsewhere.

  Indeed, even more mercenary than she’d realized. As the afternoon wore on, she couldn’t help but notice that he studied the Beresford possessions with far more interest than he studied her. It seemed as though he was taking inventory, counting every painting, vase, and teacup. She wanted to count the spoons to make certain none were missing after the tea ended.

  “Lady Ginny,” he said, regaining his attention as it wandered, “will you save me a dance at the Duke of Montford’s ball?”

  She nodded.

  She’d also permitted him to call her Ginny because Eugeeenia was really beginning to grate on her nerves.

  She was eager for the day to end so that she could retire to her chamber and await Jeremiah’s arrival. Surely he’d calmed down by now.

  But Jeremiah did not come to her that evening or the next.

  So she danced two dances with Lord de la Londe at the Duke of Montford’s ball and allowed him to escort her into the dining hall to keep her company while she ate a light supper. Once again he was perfectly charming, except that he studied the sapphire necklace at her throat a little too avidly.

  She silently forgave him and accepted his invitation to ride in the park with him the following day.

  The rest of the week passed in a blur, for Ginny spent her days visiting friends or being at home to greet friends, always with Lord de la Londe close by, and the evenings were taken up with balls, musicales, and other elegant entertainments, once again with Lord de la Londe managing to remain beside her for most of those affairs.

  He was obviously courting her and the ton had taken notice.

  She was too busy worrying about Jeremiah to think much of it.

  Where was Jeremiah?

  She had been calling out to him for almost a week now with no response. Had he come to harm? Gotten into trouble and had his wings clipped?

  Had he been banished from heaven because of her?

  Her heart lodged like a thick splinter of wood in her throat.

  This was all her fault. She’d been so hungry to touch him that she’d given no thought to the consequences to him. What had she been thinking? Daring to challenge laws that had been in place since the dawn of man’s existence.

  “Lady Ginny, you seem distracted this evening. What’s wrong?” Lord de la Londe said, appearing sincerely concerned.

  “I was expecting to meet a friend, but he isn’t here.” She glanced around the Earl of Selby’s glittering ballroom pretending to seek out Jeremiah even though she knew he’d never appear to her in a crowd.

  “He?” Lord de la Londe’s eyes narrowed to an angry green. “Obviously someone not to be counted upon.”

  She blushed, kicking herself for her lapse. “No, you misunderstand. I’ve known him since I was a child. Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  He relaxed his stance, but only a little. “I’d like to invite you and your family to tea at our home this Saturday. My father’s feeling a little better and would like to meet you. I hope you don’t mind. It would mean a lot to him.” He cast her a wry grin. “I’ve been a wastrel since my university days and haven’t done much to earn his respect. I hope to amend that now. I think he’ll approve of you.”

  Her own smile faltered. “Lord de la Londe… I–”

  “Call me Simon. Please, Ginny. I apologize if I’m moving too fast for your liking, but I have no doubt about my feelings for you. I haven’t said anything until now because I sense that you’re reluctant to hear them expressed aloud. But I think you like me a little, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Good, then we have an understanding.”

  She inhaled sharply. “No, you presume too much, my lord. We–” She broke off and gazed across the ballroom, her attention suddenly caught by a figure who’d just entered.

  “Something wrong?”

  She nodded. “Oh, my heavens! It can’t be.” She raised on tiptoes and craned her head to peer over the crowd, an impossible task for she was merely of average height for a woman.

  Lord de la Londe caught her by the elbow and drew her close. “Ginny, what’s wrong? You’ve turned ashen.”

  “I… I… though I saw someone… but it can’t be him.” Her head began to spin.

  He arched an eyebrow, his expression obviously wary. “Your friend? Why the surprise? I thought you were expecting to meet him here.”

  “Yes… no… you see, I wasn’t talking about this friend. No, this friend isn’t… you see, he’s supposed to be dead.” Her head was now spinning in earnest. Was it really
Jeremiah she’d seen making his way through the crowd? Impossible. Others were calling out to him in greeting, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying above the din of chatter and music, only that he was nodding his head and responding.

  She slipped out of Lord de la Londe’s light grasp and hurried toward the terrace to take in some badly needed fresh air. Her head was a jumbled whirl and the strains of the waltz were now blaring in her ears.

  She covered her ears and continued toward the terrace.

  “Lady Ginny! Wait!” she heard Lord de la Londe’s muffled voice call after her.

  She knew he meant to follow her through the crowd, but she was able to slip between the milling throng while he was bigger and broader and had to shoulder his way through without knocking anyone over. It slowed him down.

  She was about to run down the terrace steps that led into the garden when she suddenly bumped into what felt like a solid oak tree but turned out to be a gentleman’s broad chest. She bounced off his rock-hard chest, lost her balance and was about to take an ungainly dive down those steps when she was suddenly caught up in a pair of exquisitely muscled arms. “My apologies,” a man said, drawing her against his body to steady her. “My fault, of course. I didn’t notice you rushing out from the open doors.” He spoke in a voice she knew quite well, having heard it ever since she was a child. Jeremiah. It can’t be. His grip was gentle but firm.

  Her legs buckled and she fell against his chest. “You? It’s impossible.” Her voice sounded shrill to her ears, but she was in panic. Jeremiah was touching her! Holding her! Others could see him! No, she must be dreaming. “Jeremiah, how is it possible?”

  “Who’s Jeremiah?”

  She shook her head in confusion. “Aren’t you… isn’t that your name? Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

  He glanced around and quickly drew her down the steps and out of sight of curious onlookers. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. That’s it, do the same again.” He still had his arms around her.

  “You’re holding me.” He noticed the direction of her gaze, but made no move to take his hands off her. In truth, she didn’t mind. There was something warm and comforting about his touch.