"Yeah."
"When you've completed your assignment, wait three days, then go to Carson's shipyard, just after dusk. Your payment will be waiting."
"All right. Three days. I..." Hinges squeaked, and Lapp became aware that he was alone in the room. He swore softly, gritting his teeth against the waves of muscle spasms.
What he needed was a drink. More than one. He wondered if it was safe to leave and thought the better of it. Still cursing, he dragged down his canvas breeches and emptied his bowels where he stood. "Serve the rich bastard right," he muttered between groans. "Serve him right to have to clean up shit."
* * *
"Angel." Will called her name quietly as he swung long legs over the balcony railing. "Are you in there?" He took a deep breath and reached for the bronze knob. "It's Will. Don't be afraid."
A faint tinkling of musical notes came from inside.
"Go away," she called. "I've nothing to say to you."
He pushed open the door. Angel sat cross-legged on the high bed, her glorious hair spread out around her shoulders, a silver music box upside down in her lap. She wore nothing but a lacy white linen shift... a garment so thin that he could clearly see the darker shading of her nipples through the cloth.
His mouth went dry. He drew in a deep breath, feeling heat flood his loins. "Angel...," he began. He wanted her. Honor be damned. He had to have her or go mad.
Her eyes narrowed just before she hurled the music box at his head. "No!"
Sidestepping, he swore and snatched the object out of midair. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"If I meant to kill ye, it wouldn't be with a trinket, you smooth-tongued son of a bitch!" She scrambled up, slid down off the bed, and flung herself at him. The music box tumbled to the floor as he caught her and crushed her against him.
"Angel. For God's sake." Desire spiked through him as she struggled in his arms. "Calm down." His hoarse whisper broke as her unbound hair brushed his face, and he drank deeply of the sweet, intoxicating scent.
"Calm! I'll show ye calm!" Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest. He could feel her hips and thighs. She was warm, and soft, and dangerous.
"Be still. Your arm. I don't want to hurt you."
She had no such consideration for him. "Devil the arm, and devil you!" she cried as she kicked him soundly in the knee and pounded at him with a clenched fist. "Burn in Satan's tar pit, ye bloody, lyin' blackguard!"
"Quiet! Do you want to raise the house?" Her blows were more than love taps, but he paid them no heed. He didn't want to rouse Lizzy's servants, so he clamped a hand over her mouth. "Angel, stop!"
Pain shot through his fingers as she bit him.
"Ouch! Damn it!" He bore her backward and pressed her down on the bed. "I'm not going to hurt you."
He threw himself over her, barely avoiding a knee to his groin. Catching the wrist of her uninjured arm, he pinned it to the mattress. His heart hammered against his chest. Heat flashed through his body. "Be still, for the sake of God!" He groaned as raw lust flooded his senses. His sex swelled and hardened, pulsing with sudden, intense need.
But Angel paid no heed to his growing erection. She bucked and thrust against him. "I hate you!" she sobbed. "Let me go. Let me—"
Abruptly, he released her and rolled away, shaken, stunned by his violent reaction... shaken more by what he wanted to do than by her forceful blows.
He was no rapist, but he was a man. And having her half-naked beneath him... her scent in his nostrils... her hair loose and brushing his face was almost more than he could bear. He gritted his teeth and groaned, fighting the urge to capture a reddened nipple in his mouth and taste of her sweetness... struggling to keep from parting her thighs and... "I'm... I'm sorry," he said.
"Sorry? You're sorry?" Bolts of green lightning flashed in her eyes. "You want to hunt down my family... my friends, and hang them? And all you say is that you're sorry?"
Not trusting himself to touch her, he rose off the bed and backed away. She sat up, and he saw a red stain flowering on her injured arm. "I never meant to harm you."
"Then you should have left me where you found me!"
"With a nest of pirates?"
"Better for me and mine if I'd let you drown."
"Do you mean that?"
"Aye!" Then she covered her mouth with her hands. "Nay, I don't know... I know nothing since I've come to this place." She stared at him, her face pale in the candlelight, her cheeks streaked with tears.
What are you? he wondered. Temptress? Innocent? Murderer?
She shook her head, and gradually the fire in her gaze cooled. "I would not see you drowned and food for crabs," she admitted. "I could not. But neither will I stand by and watch you harm those I love."
His groin ached, and his pulse pounded in his head. "I've no business here," he said. He took a step toward the French doors.
"No. Stay. Throwing the box was a brat's trick. I should not have done it."
"Your aim's good. You nearly brained me."
"Not good enough." She bit her lower lip. "I could not believe that you would betray me so. To plot against the Brethren and turn me—your handfast wife—out of your house."
"You knew all along that I mean to rid the coast of raiders."
She shook her head. "I thought I could make you understand that we are not the murderers you seek."
"I can't let go of this, Angel. My father died because of—"
"Your father took a coward's way out."
Cold fury seized him. "If you were a man...," he began.
"Would you strike me for speaking the truth? It is the truth, and well ye know it!" she flung back. "Have ye not thought as much yourself?"
"My father was no coward."
"Then why didn't he live and face his troubles instead of leavin’ them for you to solve?"
"You can't understand a gentleman's honor. There's no way I can make you see—"
"Nay. I cannot. And no way you can make me believe you're not ashamed of me in front of your friends. Or that you didn't send me here to this house to be rid of me."
"Don't," he said. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you. I simply—"
She let go of his hand and placed two fingers over his lips. "No lies between us."
His chest tightened as he saw the tears glistening like stars on her eyelashes. "It's not what you think. Lady Graymoor is my friend. She offered to bring you here because it isn't fitting that you remain at Falcon's Nest."
Angel's mouth trembled. "Nay. Another lie," she said. "Julia doesn't want me in Charleston. And I understand that well, because I don't want to be here, either."
"It's not what you think. Julia isn't jealous of you."
"If she isn't, she's a bigger fool than I am, Will Falcon. Her eyes eat you like a spring bear devours honey."
He pulled her into his arms. "I care about you, Angel. I swear I do."
For a moment, she held herself stiffly, and then the tears began to flow. He held her for long minutes while she wept.
And finally, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Don't leave me," she begged. "I don't want to be alone this night. Please, Will. I'm... I'm so afraid."
"You?" He didn't think she was afraid of anything, this woman who'd faced down armed men and trod the pitching decks of a vessel in foul weather without the slightest protest.
She wrapped her arms around him and uttered a strangled sob. "I am," she said. "I'm lost without sun... or compass in this place."
It was wrong. It was stupid. Yet, he couldn't resist her pleading. He let her draw him back to the bed... back to tousled blankets that held her scent, to soft white sheets that bore the imprint of her body....
Chapter 15
For a long time, Angel lay cradled in Will's strong arms, trying not to weep, trying not to beg him for what she knew she couldn't have. Her thoughts tumbled frantically, seeking solid earth and finding only shifting sand.
When had she lost her
reason and allowed herself to hope Will might love her—she who had never had anyone to call her own? And when had she begun to love him?
Unshed tears as bitter as salt burned her eyes. Never had she felt so weak... so unable to choose her own path and follow it, come gale wind or rogue wave. And not once in her life had she looked into the future and seen naught but emptiness.
Finally, Will, a man so beautiful that he might be a merman spun of mist and dreams, leaned down and kissed her tenderly. "I shouldn't be here," he said. "I'm taking advantage of Lizzy's hospitality in the most craven manner."
She moistened her lips and met his gaze with her own. What right did she have to question him as though he belonged to her? To speak as if their wedding vows had been more than a wreckers' handfasting exchanged at sword point.
"I know what I am and what you are," she whispered.
"But I must know the truth. Did you lie with your Julia tonight?"
Scowling, he stiffened and pulled away from her. "Julia's a lady! She's not the kind of—"
"Woman that I am?" Angel finished. Terror turned her numb inside, but she would not let him get the best of her. "You need not say it. I know that I am no soft Charleston maiden with pale skin and uncallused hands. But if you haven't gone to Julia's bed, there's no reason you shouldn't be here with me."
"There's every reason." Anger glowed in his eyes. Still, she would not yield, and she would not let him see her fear.
"I don't know what to say to you," he said. "Our being together breaks every rule of honorable behavior."
"Who makes these rules? And who follows them?"
"I do. I try."
"These rules... are they written down?"
"They're taught." His features seemed as sharp and lifeless as a ship's figurehead. His eyes burned through her, etching her soul.
"Then you've been taught nonsense." She rose on her knees, struggling to find the words to make him see. "I need you tonight, and mayhap you need me."
"It isn't fair to you for me to be here."
"Let me judge what's right for me." She reached out and touched his cheek, trailing her fingers along his jaw and lower lip. "Can you tell me that you don't care for me?"
"You know I do. But I also care for Julia. And every ounce of common sense tells me that we don't have a chance in hell of being happy together."
"Because you mean to lead men to kill the Brethren?"
"That's part of it."
"You don't have to go, Will. Revenge won't ease the hurt you feel for the loss of your father."
"Maybe not. But it will save other lives. It's something I have to do."
"Even if I beg you not to?"
He nodded. "Even then."
"You found us by accident," she argued. "But many have searched. Mayhap you'll not be lucky again."
"We'll see."
She was trembling inside, but she hadn't given up hope that she could change his mind, make him see the Brethren as she did. "Can ye deny that you brought me here for your own reasons? Not to save me from being hung, but because you could not be parted from me?"
"Maybe I do."
She gave a small sigh of disbelief. "Liar. There is your dishonor, Will. Not in wanting me, but in refusing to see what your heart tells you."
He swallowed. "I wish it were that simple."
"I'm a woman, and you're a man. What else can be more important?" She put her arms around his neck and pulled him down.
Could Will kiss her like this and not love her? Could the sweet coming together of teeth and tongues, the wonder of skin against skin, the rush of overwhelming excitement be nothing more than physical mating?
It was impossible to believe that, and she would never do so again. Even if he left her forever, she would cherish the memory of these moments when she knew that what she'd found was love. "If you want to break our handfast, can we not part friends?"
"Angel." He groaned as he pulled away. "There can't be a future for us. My life and yours... they don't..."
"Right now... at this minute... they do," she whispered. And catching his hand, she lifted it to her breast. "'Twould be a shame to waste this fine bed." Shivers of delight skittered through her at his strong, hot touch.
Leaning forward, she kissed him, slowly and deliberately, lingering at the corner of his mouth, then slipping her tongue teasingly along his lower lip. "Ah, Will," she murmured as she kneaded the muscles at the nape of his neck until he groaned with pleasure.
"Witch," he accused. But this time it was Will who kissed her, who caressed her throat and ran his hands possessively over her body, lingering at her breasts and causing her nipples to swell and harden into tight, aching buds.
"Kiss me there," she begged him, pushing her shift off one shoulder to allow him access.
Gently, he cupped her breast in his hand and nestled his face against it. "You are so beautiful," he murmured huskily, "my wild, beautiful Angel..."
Her breathing quickened as his lips closed on her nipple. "Oh..." The sweet tugging sensation caused waves of rainbow light to break over her. But it wasn't enough, didn't satisfy the throbbing ache between her thighs.
She couldn't lie still. She had to get closer to him... to feel all of him against her bare skin. It didn't matter if he left her before morning. This moment would be all she would ever ask for. "Forget your rules," she whispered. "For this one night, forget everything but what we feel for each other."
Boldly, she sought the source of his power, sliding an exploring hand inside his breeches to stroke the length and breadth of his arousal, making him gasp with need. The feel of him was glorious, hot, and granite-hard beneath the layer of silken-soft skin.
"Take me, Will," she begged. "Make me yours."
"No! I can't do this," he protested, pulling away.
Tears blurred her vision as she stared at him. "Why?" she asked. What manner of man was he to refuse what she offered? She knew he didn't despise her. She could hear his quick intake of breath, feel the hard heat of his need.
Heat scalded her cheeks. "Go," she said.
"I'm sorry," he answered. "This isn't about you. It's me." He rose off the bed, tucking his shirt back into his breeches.
She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. She should hate him, but she couldn't. She would sooner despite the sun for being out of reach. She had no shame.
And as if he had read her mind and misunderstood her thoughts, he said, "You've nothing to be ashamed of. The fault is mine. I should never have let this happen."
She buried her face in her hands, shaking with unfulfilled need.
"Don't cry," he said. "I..." Swearing, he crossed the room to where a glass decanter of port stood on a table. He poured two glasses, then carried them back to the bed, and handed one to her. "Take it, damn it."
She lifted the glass to her lips, but she couldn't drink. She felt as though she'd turned to wood. She couldn't speak... couldn't even think. All she knew was that Will was leaving her, and she might never see him again.
"I have to decide," he said. "I need to choose which way my life will continue."
"You! Your life?" Without warning, her temper flared. "A pox on you for bringing me here, for making me—" love you. She almost said it, but snatched back the word at the last second, and with it saved a fragment of her shattered pride.
She pulled her legs up so that she sat Indian fashion on the bed again. "I'll trouble you no more." She forced herself to take a sip of the wine and swallow it. "If you won't be Adam to my Eve, I'll find another not so particular."
"Don't talk like that," he said harshly.
She swirled the port in her glass. The thick, sweet liquid was as red as blood. "You've given up any right you might have had to tell me how to act or what to say."
"I don't know why I came here," he said.
"Liar." Angel's injured arm was throbbing, but she ignored it. Her heart was what was broken. The cut would soon heal. But nothing could mend her heart. "Be glad I'm not a witch," she said. "If
I were, I'd give you reason—Go, Will. Go before I wake the house with my screams. I release you from our handfast marriage."
His eyes clouded with confusion and regret. "And if I don't want to be?"
She shrugged. "What you want doesn't matter."
"I'll take care of you. I won't abandon you."
"I can take care of myself, Will Falcon. Any of the Brethren could tell ye that."
"I've hurt you."
"Hurt me?" She forced a bitter laugh. "You're the fool. You did what I planned all along. You brought me to Charleston, where I wanted to be. Where a canny wench can make something of herself besides toothless and old before her time. I'll find my own fortune. And none—least of all you, you hamper-arsed cod's head—will say me nay!"
His reply was one that would have made Bett blush, but Angel paid him no heed as he jerked open the louvered double door and vanished over the side of the balcony. Instead, she sank to the bare floor and sobbed dry tears until she could weep no more.
* * *
Back in his own house, Will finished off a bottle of French brandy before retiring. It was late when he rose; his head felt twice its size, and his tongue felt as though it had thickened and grown fur.
Sickened in spirit, he had the feeling he had committed some great crime the night before but couldn't for the life of him figure out what else he could have done.
"Damn you, Angel! Would you rather I took my pleasure and then left you for someone of my own station?" He'd done the only honorable thing. So why did he feel like a man who'd just drowned a sack of newborn pups?
An hour later, bathed, shaven, and fortified with two cups of Delphi's strong coffee, he presented himself at Lizzy's front door with a dozen phrases to soothe Angel's wounded pride.
"You are too late, sir," Griffin informed him. "Lady Graymoor and her guest departed by coach earlier."
"Do you know where they went? When they'll be back?"
Falcon's Angel Page 14
