Warrior Angel

by Margaret

  He had allowed himself to imagine that she was desperately in love with him and that only her husband stood in the way of their happiness. Later, when he was older and more experienced, he had realized that she was only being kind to a lovelorn youth.

  Lady Isouda had been a strong woman herself, Derek recalled suddenly. Once their castle had been attacked while her noble husband was away in a distant land. The lady had undertaken to lead the castle’s defense herself; and though, of course, she had not taken up arms, she had conceived the strategy that had driven off the attackers. He remembered her the day of the assault—her beauty in her black dress and her peril; how he had pledged his young fourteen years of life to her.

  Strange. Derek had not thought of Lady Isouda in centuries. And yet, once upon a time, he had believed that she was God’s gift to him—but that had been before God had disappointed him, let him down. Was it possible that God was trying to make amends? Was Rachel God’s gift to him?

  No, Derek reminded himself sternly. God didn’t give gifts to mortal men. God taught lessons, severe lessons. The God Derek knew was a God of wrath, not of love.

  Still, he couldn’t help but think that Rachel was undeniably beautiful, elegant, and graceful. To-night, certainly, dressed in her finest, she was stunning, but he had been struck by her beauty this afternoon—the laughter in her eyes and the rainwater glittering like diamonds in her hair, not seeming to mind that her makeup was smeared over her face.

  And she was in danger, in peril not only of her life, but her immortal soul. She was strong, but she was also proud and stubborn.

  And Derek had offended her yet again. Not only offended her, he’d made her mad. Derek shook his head. When it came to women he was, like William had said to him, like a bull in a china shop.

  He held open the door for Rachel. She cast him a glacial glance.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “It is just that I love the taste of shoe leather.”

  She looked at him, puzzled.

  “That is why I keep putting my foot in my mouth,” he said.

  She thawed out, even gave him a smile.

  The driver of the limo stepped out to open the door for the car’s occupant. Rachel halted beneath the building’s awning to await her companion. A cold wind had sprung up after the rain, blowing in off Lake Michigan, and she shivered and clasped her arms around her.

  Derek wondered why she hadn’t worn a coat. The bitter thought came to him that she had been too excited over her date.

  The man stepped out of the car. He was tall, with black hair and eyes dark as the pits of hell. He was somewhere in his early forties, and even Derek, who knew nothing about clothes and cared less, could see that he was impeccably and expensively dressed.

  Derek glanced at Rachel. Her eyes shone. Her smile for this man was radiant. She was enchanted with him. He could see that plainly enough.

  And Derek knew why.

  This was no man. This was an archfiend in disguise. Derek didn’t need a sign from God to know that this man was dangerous, not just to Rachel, but to anyone who crossed his path.

  “Hello,” Rachel said a little breathlessly, kissing him. “You look magnificent. Really, you’ve out-done yourself this evening.”

  Zanus stood back to admire her. “And you are as beautiful as a dream.”

  “Thank you.” Rachel laughed. “Compliments of Chanel.”

  He regarded her with concern. “You’re shivering.”

  “I didn’t bring my coat,” Rachel said. “It was so warm today. I didn’t think—”

  “Please, take mine.” Zanus removed his overcoat and settled it over Rachel’s shoulders. She protested, but he smiled and shook his head.

  “We must get you in the car before you freeze.”

  He put his arm around her, strong and protective and commanding. Derek saw Rachel stiffen a little and he hoped she would put this guy in his place, as she’d put him in his place in the elevator. But Zanus smiled at her and she seemed to melt. Meek and demure, she permitted him to usher her down the stairs.

  Derek, watching, had to remind himself that he was an observer. He couldn’t follow his own inclination, which was to punch the fiend in the throat and leave him sprawled on the sidewalk.

  Zanus gestured to the driver that they were returning to the car and now Zanus was reaching for the handle of the car door. Derek, running down the stairs, beat him to it. A leap and a bound and he was there to open the door for Rachel. As she passed by him, clutching Zanus’s coat around her, Derek tried to send her a mental warning.

  I am here for you, he told her silently, his eyes gazing into hers. You do not know what this man is. He is more dangerous than you can ever imagine. If you want to tell this fiend to go back to Hell’s flames where he belongs, I will stand by you and protect you.

  Derek felt so strongly that he was sure he must be reaching her, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was going to follow his urging.

  Rachel halted to stare at him, mesmerized.

  “Please, Rachel, get in,” Zanus said from behind her. “Before you catch cold.”

  Rachel blinked and, with a final, confused glance at Derek, she smiled at Zanus and slid into the limo’s black leather interior. She was not looking at Zanus, however. She was staring at Derek and there was a wondering expression on her face.

  Derek stepped back and Zanus walked past him. The man’s hell-pit eyes fixed on Derek—eyes so empty that, despite himself, Derek felt a shiver at the base of his spine.

  “You’re drooling, boy,” Zanus said in a smooth voice, just low enough that Rachel could not hear. Pulling a bill out of his wallet, he handed it to Derek. “Don’t wait up.”

  Derek didn’t take the bill. His right hand was clenched and he was having to use every bit of his mental discipline to keep from planting that fist on Zanus’s square-cut jaw.

  Zanus smiled as though he knew what Derek was thinking. He stuffed the bill into Derek’s pocket, then stepped into the car, shut the door, and the limo drove off.

  “He does not know who I am!” Derek realized and he smiled grimly. “The archfiend takes me for nothing more than a love-sick doorman. Well, my friend, we’ll see about that!”

  His fist relaxed. He discovered he was literally shaking with rage. He watched the limo until the red taillights were out of sight.

  Derek had never felt so frustrated. He had the power to halt that limo with a thought. He had the power to rip open the metal frame with his bare hands and yank Zanus out and with a call to the cherubim gatekeepers, he could send him back to the nether regions where he belonged. He had the power to reveal to Rachel the fiend’s true nature.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he stood, flat-footed on the sidewalk, with Zanus’s one hundred dollar tip in his pocket. He couldn’t to do anything except watch the archfiend drive off with the first woman to have ever touched his heart. Not the infatuation of a boy. The love of a man.

  But he wasn’t really a man, he reminded himself. He was an angel, a holy warrior, sent to Earth on a vitally important mission. He couldn’t risk giving away his identity. He was human now, and forbidden to use his powers. He had to obey orders.

  Much as he hated to admit it, those orders made sense to him now. He had seen firsthand how dangerous the Dark Angels were to mortals. He had to learn as much as he could about what the fiends were plotting.

  Orders or no orders, he planned to keep watch over Rachel. He intended to stay at his post until he knew she was home safe and sound.

  When the night man came on duty, Derek handed him the hundred dollar bill and sent him home.

  Five

  Rachel was sitting at a beautifully appointed table at Charlie Trotters. She’d drunk some wine, undoubtedly a little too much, but it was exquisite; like drinking kisses snatched in a vineyard in southern France. They had finished dinner and were waiting for dessert and coffee and brandy.

  Zanus excused himself for a moment. As soon as he left, waiters swooped down to pick
up and refold his napkin. They also refilled her wineglass.

  Rachel sipped the wine, enjoying the beauty of her surroundings and the memory of a fantastic meal. She had been worried over nothing. They had not had The Talk. Their conversation had been interesting, as always; Zanus was a fascinating man, well read, knowledgeable. He did not monopolize the conversation, but encouraged her to talk and he listened to her attentively. This had been the perfect date. He was the perfect man.

  Why, then, did she have the feeling that something was missing?

  “He’s charming, thoughtful, romantic, handsome,” Rachel muttered into her wineglass. “Everyone who meets Zanus thinks he’s perfect. Well, not everyone.”

  Rachel’s thoughts went back to the unsettling interlude with Derek the doorman. She was standing at the limo door, arranging her skirt, when their eyes met. She had the strangest feeling he was trying to tell her something, send her a warning. She would have written it off as mere jealousy and been flattered and even amused except that there had been a moment when those blue, blue eyes looked into hers that she felt a shiver go all through her. A moment when she’d wanted to forget the limo and grab hold of him and cry, “What is it with you? Tell me what you know!”

  But why should he know anything? And why should she care if he did? It was all very confusing. Rachel drank more wine and wondered what was keeping Zanus. Perhaps he had to make a phone call. Cell phones were verboten in Charlie Trotters. And what about the end of the evening? She wanted to sleep with him. She really did. She was thinking of this when Zanus returned to their table.

  Reaching into his pocket, he said, “I asked our waiter to hold off on that crème brûlée for a minute so that I could give you this.”

  He drew a long velvet box out of his pocket and placed it onto the table in front of her.

  Rachel was speechless as she looked at the box, then up at Zanus.

  “You didn’t—”

  “Please open it before you tell me I didn’t have to get it for you.” He smiled at her.

  Rachel opened the box. Inside was a diamond bracelet with two strands of diamonds arrayed on either side of one perfect strand of emeralds. Rachel gasped and then caught her breath. She placed her hand over her mouth and gazed at the bracelet in awe. She looked at Zanus.

  “It’s wonderful. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She touched the bracelet in disbelief.

  “That’s because they don’t make anything like this anymore. This is a vintage piece. It has history.” He reached for the box and took out the bracelet.

  “Let me help you put this on.”

  “Thank you. This is such a wonderful gift, I didn’t expect this. You’ve been so wonderful to me…”

  “I like being wonderful to you,” he said. “Diamonds and emeralds become you.”

  Rachel admired the jewelry. In that moment, she felt completely and perfectly happy and she scolded herself. He was perfect. Which meant there must be something wrong with her. Must she always overanalyze every word and gesture? Why couldn’t she let herself be happy in a relationship? She could almost hear her mother’s voice, asking her that very question.

  “This evening has been perfect,” she said, smiling into his eyes.

  “So perfect that I do not want it to end,” he said and he took hold her hand.

  Was it her imagination or had his voice lingered on that last word?

  He confirmed it by his next words. They were tender, caressing, but there was a meaning behind them she couldn’t ignore.

  “A man cannot wait forever, Rachel,” he said softly. “I know you have reservations because I am your client.” He hesitated, then said with a smile, half kidding and half not kidding, “Perhaps, it might be better if I wasn’t—”

  “No,” Rachel said hurriedly. “Please. I know. I’ve been overly cautious. It’s just that…” She looked into his eyes and saw desire. And she felt the same. Of course she felt desire. He was wonderful, after all. Oh, what the hell! Life was short. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

  She smiled at him. He smiled back. All was settled.

  For the rest of the evening, she was consumed by a fever of nervous anticipation. Rachel was acutely conscious of each one of his touches—when his fingers pressed the small of her back to guide her through a doorway, when his knee brushed against hers or his hand rested over her hand. Every touch seemed to be a deliberate and calculated move on his part. Each was perfect. He never held her hand too long, so as not to become sweaty. He never pressed her too hard, and his knee never kissed hers long enough to be forward.

  Of course he is experienced with women, Rachel thought. What did I expect? A fumbling pubescent boy? No, dear heart, you wanted a man, and now you’ve got one. A real man. Stop sabotaging this for yourself.

  “You are awfully quiet, my dear. Is something bothering you?” Zanus asked during the ride home.

  “No,” Rachel smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “Nothing’s bothering me.”

  He leaned over to kiss her passionately. He reached both hands up to hold her face. His eyes were so dark that Rachel couldn’t tell where the black of his pupils ended and the iris began. His eyes were drawing her near and she relaxed, letting herself fall into them.

  The limousine pulled up in front of Rachel’s building.

  Rachel drew back from the kiss and asked nervously, “Would you like to come up for a drink? A brandy, maybe?”

  “Yes, a brandy would be nice, “Zanus said with a knowing smile.

  Rachel had to rearrange her clothes in order to step out of the car. Zanus helped her out. He looked to the driver, then back at Rachel.

  “Should I send the car home?”

  It was a loaded question and they both knew it. She thought of the dinner and the bracelet.

  “Yes,” she answered softly.

  As they entered the lobby, she was very thankful Derek wasn’t there. And then they stepped into the elevator and she forgot Derek. For she suddenly remembered the state of her apartment. She’d cleaned this afternoon but wasn’t sure if her cursory job would be up to snuff for him—some men were fastidious, Zanus seemed to be that way—but if Rachel had an army of servants like he did, her place would be immaculate too. Maybe if I keep the lights turned down, he won’t notice that I didn’t dust.

  “Um, my place may be a little messy,” she said, flushing.

  Zanus stopped her. He took her head in his hand and gently kissed her lips. Then he whispered in her ear, “I am coming up to see you, not your apartment. Messy or clean, I’m not reporting you to the Martha Stewart militia.”

  She laughed and he kissed her again.

  As she unlocked the door and turned the light on, Rachel quickly peeked around for any obvious dirt she had overlooked that afternoon. Seeing nothing, she moved to the kitchen to find the brandy and Zanus walked into her living room.

  Rachel brought out the brandy and sat on the couch. Zanus sat down beside her. Relaxing, he put his arm around her. He took a sip from his glass, then set it down. Rachel took a gulp from hers. This should feel so right, but it was feeling all wrong. Did she really want to do this? She could call it off now, fake a stomach ailment or something. This was their first time together and Rachel worried about the implications to their business relationship. What if things between them changed? This was why you didn’t sleep with a client! But already, it had gone too far for her to stop without seriously of fending him.

  “Come here.” Zanus took hold of her hand and pulled her to him and kissed her.

  “We will do this properly.” Zanus stood up and took off his shirt off to reveal strong and well-muscled arms and chest. He lifted Rachel up from the couch and carried her to the bedroom.

  After it was over, Rachel waited tensely for Zanus to hold her, so they could fall asleep in each other’s arms. Fortunately, he merely gave her a kiss on the cheek and rolled over to his side of the bed.

  Rachel scooted away, not wanting to touch him. She was exhausted, but she couldn�
��t sleep. She kept wondering: Why did he have sex with me? The act had been so mechanical on his part. No feeling, no passion, no love. Just an act. What had she just done? Why did she suddenly feel cheap?

  A man gives you a diamond bracelet and you hop into bed with him. What did you expect?

  Rachel told herself to shut up. Why should she feel guilty for making love with Zanus? He’d always been kind and respectful of her. He had let her set the boundaries of their relationship. Maybe that was the problem. He’d said that their evening was going to be special and Rachel had assumed they would talk about where this relationship was headed. Only they hadn’t discussed their relationship. They had talked about everything but their relationship and their feelings for each other.

  She had been dreading the conversation, true, but she still thought the timing for it was right. She hoped that if they talked things through she’d have a better understanding of his thoughts on the future, and whether she was a part of that future or not.

  Yet, he had given her that beautiful bracelet. Maybe he wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings. Maybe he was using his bracelet to say what he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be the first man she’d met that couldn’t discuss his feelings and instead showed them with gifts.

  Still, something wasn’t right about him. He never asked her what she wanted, where she wanted to go, or what would made her happy. He did what he wanted and assumed that she would be ready to follow him anywhere. Even though she was the one who had invited him up to her apartment, she knew quite well that the dinner and bracelet were a ploy to make her feel obligated to sleep with him. He had even tried to blackmail her, she realized suddenly, with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. That business about the night ending. What he’d really meant was that if she didn’t say yes their relationship would be ending! She’d seen it so clearly, yet she’d lied to herself.