Forbidden Angel

by Sandra Lea Rice

  Joel appeared at his wife’s side to usher them into the hotel. With only an hour before dinner, they hurried to their separate rooms to freshen up and change.

  Angeline washed quickly and Shirley helped her into one of her simpler black dresses. The corset lifted her breasts alarmingly high and revealed an expanse of creamy skin.

  “I wonder what torture they will think of next,” Angeline mumbled, fussing with the neckline.

  “Stop tugging, my lady. ‘Tis a respectable gown and you look lovely in it. Let’s finish your hair so you can be off.” Shirley pushed her down onto the padded bench before the mirror.

  With her hair arranged on top of her head and jet earrings in her ears, Angeline was finally declared ready. Shirley picked up the perfume bottle and squeezed the bulb, sending a light spray of rose-scented toilet water across Angeline’s bare shoulders.

  “I can get myself undressed and into bed, Shirley. Go and enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Thank you, miss.” Shirley bobbed a curtsy and exited the room.

  Angeline felt distinctly uncomfortable at the attention her entrance garnered from the occupants of the room below. Nonetheless, she lifted her chin and continued down the last remaining steps, through the lobby and into the dining room.

  Joel and Virginia had already seated themselves when Angeline started in their direction. Adrian met her in the middle of the room, irritation evident on his face.

  “You should not be without an escort. Where is your maid?”

  “Good evening to you too, my lord.” Angeline dropped into a slight curtsy.

  “Do not provoke me, Angeline.” Gripping her elbow, he propelled her to the table where Joel and Virginia waited.

  Virginia glanced from her brother’s sullen expression to Angeline and lifted a delicate brow. Angeline smiled reassuringly, all the while refusing to look at Adrian.

  “What are the plans for tomorrow?” Joel asked, studiously trying to lessen the tension.

  “The barbeque is in the afternoon, with dancing later in the evening. The following day is the wedding. Afterward, we can finish our shopping.” Virginia ticked off the planned schedule.

  Joel quirked an indulgent brow. “Our shopping?”

  She patted his arm. “Yes, dear, our shopping. Angeline and I have some personal items to buy as well as things for the ranch, and you will want to stop at the library to see if your book is in.”

  “Oh, well, in that case . . .” Joel drawled.

  The rest of the evening passed with Joel and Virginia doing most of the talking. At times Angeline would glance at Adrian to find him watching her, his expression dark and brooding. He remained withdrawn and silent, responding only when pressed.

  Joel laid his napkin down. “Well, my dear, I for one would not mind an early night.” He sent Virginia a pointed look.

  “I’ll go up as well.” Angeline rose, happy to escape Adrian’s probing glances.

  Adrian came quickly to his feet. “I’ll escort you to your room to make certain you get there safely.” He placed his hand in the small of her back. The proprietary gesture surprised her.

  After saying goodnight to Joel and Virginia, they continued up the next flight of stairs to her room. When Angeline turned, she found Adrian standing within inches of her. The heated look in his eyes sent any coherent thought skittering from her head. When his gaze slid to her mouth, she found it suddenly hard to breathe.

  Then he stepped closer still, and her breathing stopped altogether as her heart thundered against her ribs. His hand slid slowly to her nape and drew her closer until his breath feathered across her lips.

  “Do not tease me, Adrian,” she whispered. “That would be very cruel.”

  “I would not do that, sweetheart.”

  His lips touched hers softly, briefly, then again and again until she shivered and tentatively kissed him back. The slight rasp of his evening beard against her skin sent delicious heat through her body to pool in her belly. When the tip of his tongue traced the line of her lips, she responded by opening her mouth and stepping into him.

  Instantly, his arms tugged her closer as his tongue slid between her lips to caress hers. An explosion of pleasure and need swept through her, his every touch urged her closer and closer, until she let her tongue dance with his. On a surge of yearning that was both pleasure and pain, she moaned and pressed against him.

  He released her mouth to trace a line of moist kisses along her jaw, nipping the sensitive curve between her neck and shoulder. Her knees went weak, and she grasped the lapels of his coat to remain upright. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the rapid thud of his heart. His hands and mouth did remarkably wicked things to her senses until she felt hot and disoriented.

  When his lips caressed the swell of her breasts, heat flooded the area between her legs and she arched against him. His mouth returned to hers in what could only be described as a predatory invasion; a plundering not just of her body, but of her wits.

  Angeline met the thrust of his tongue with hers in the timeless dance of mating mouths and human desire, and thrilled to the sound of his deep groan.

  When he skimmed his hands down her back to lift her against the hard evidence of his desire, she slid her arms around his neck. As her breath became ragged gasps, Adrian eased back from the kiss, and slowly pulled away.

  “Go inside and lock the door behind you. Do not open it for anyone . . . including me.” Adrian reached around her to open the door. Dropping a quick kiss on her lips, he urged her into the room.

  After she’d set the bolt, she heard his footsteps retreating.

  Charles Malcolm veered away from the shadows in the hallway. His anger had risen when he’d been forced to witness Adrian’s hand on Angeline in the dining room. Then throughout dinner, Windsford’s eyes had all but devoured her. But the scene he’d just witnessed, at her door, had turned anger to blind fury.

  The slut! If that was what she desired, he could accommodate her far better than Windsford could.

  Adrian Spencer, the proverbial thorn in his side. He would see his plan well and finished this time. Charles slipped back down the stairs.

  Chapter 13

  Too aroused to sleep, Adrian descended the first flight of stairs toward the dining room. Although he’d thought of Angeline often throughout the years, she now invaded his dreams at night and the very air he breathed during the day. Her scent, the shimmer of her hair in the light, the soft, lilting sound of her laugh was like a drug, one he needed to survive. If he’d refused to acknowledge his need for her before, he no longer could. He wanted her desperately.

  He found Joel leaning against the wall, waiting.

  “What are you doing here?” Adrian growled as he strode by.

  “I thought you might need some company. May I buy you a drink?”

  “Make it coffee. I doubt I’ll sleep anyway.”

  “Coffee it is.”

  The dining room was all but empty, the lights dimmed for the few remaining guests who sat, conversing quietly. Adrian sank into a chair against the wall and leaned back, waiting until his brother-in-law had taken the seat next to his.

  After a few sips of coffee, Adrian blew out a long breath. “William asked me to consider marrying Angeline. I’m not unaware of her feelings for me, but I believed them to be only a young girl’s infatuation.”

  “You believed them to be? She’s a woman, Adrian, and knows her own mind.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “What are your feelings for her?”

  Adrian hesitated before responding. “My feelings are complicated. How can I offer her a life with a man who some believe killed his fiancée in a fit of jealous rage? I couldn’t subject a wife and children to that. But at the same time, I can’t let her go.”

  “That is something to discuss with her, Adrian. I assume she’s aware of it.”

  A shadow fell across the table and Adrian glanced up. Every muscle in his body tensed.

  “W
indsford. It’s been a long time.” Charles Malcolm stared down at them, a look of snide satisfaction on his face.

  “I wondered when you’d show.” Adrian didn’t rise, nor did he invite Charles to sit.

  Charles’ face flushed at the affront. “I’ve come for what is mine.”

  “And what would that be?” Adrian’s hands tightened into fists.

  “Lady Angeline Ashley. She is to become my wife,” Charles announced. A triumphant smile lit his smug face.

  Rage erupted within Adrian and he fought the urge to fling himself at Charles. “Leave now while you still can.” His words sounded all the more ominous for their softness.

  “Threatening me changes nothing. I would have thought that a lesson learned, Windsford.” Charles rolled back on his heels. “I plan to return to England with her. When she is wedded, and bedded,” he smirked, “she will thank the heavens I came for her.”

  As Joel rose to his feet, Charles sent a quick, dismissive glance in his direction before returning his attention to Adrian. “Her quick flight here only whetted my appetite. I do so love a good challenge.”

  With a roar, Adrian leapt from his chair as Joel reached out to stop him.

  Malcolm stepped back out of reach. “I’ll make arrangements to collect her.”

  “Do not even try,” Adrian ground out.

  “I suggest you speak to Lady Angeline. In the meantime, don’t you try and stop me. I shall have her and enjoy every exhilarating moment of it.” With a nod in Joel’s direction, Malcolm strode from the room.

  Adrian sank into his chair and closed his eyes.

  “What is this about, Adrian?” Joel dropped into his chair. “Who is he?”

  “His name is Sir Charles Malcolm. His grandfather was given the honorary title of Baronet which passed down to Charles. At one time, they owned some good farm land and a home in the country. After his father died, under questionable circumstances, Charles sold the land and went through the money quickly. Everything that wasn’t entailed was eaten up with gaming, women, and opiates. It was rumored that he was involved in all forms of debauchery. I know personally of one woman he brutalized and murdered.”

  “My God.”

  “Her name was Lady Pricilla Hamilton, the daughter of the Earl of Stonebrook . . . and my fiancée.” Adrian leaned back and rubbed his hand over his brow.

  “We were at a ball Stonebrook had given to announce our engagement. The party was a crush, with all the best families represented. My father and Sir Harris Malcolm were friends, so of course Charles was invited. While talking with some friends, a footman handed me a note I believed was from Pricilla. She asked that I meet her in the formal gardens behind the house. When I got there, she was lying in a pool of blood from a gash on the back of her head. She’d been brutally beaten, her dress torn where she’d tried to fight off her attacker. She lived long enough to verify Charles as her assailant.”

  Joel scowled. “Surely no one believed you would kill your own fiancée?”

  “So you would think.”

  “Why was he allowed to get away with it?”

  “I was holding her in my arms, covered in her blood, when I heard a woman scream. Then Charles began shouting that I’d killed her in a fit of jealousy. He claimed she’d planned to cry off and marry him. None of it was true, but no one else had heard her name him, but me.”

  Joel uttered an oath. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  Adrian sighed. “He’s always had some perverse desire to have all that is mine. A few of us grew up around each other, with Charles being the eldest. He was already at Eaton when I was called up. We spent some time together, but we were not close. We both went on to Oxford but Charles had to leave early. Financial difficulties, I heard later.”

  Adrian reached for a cigarillo and lit it. “He’d always shown extreme antipathy toward me, generated, I would assume, from his jealousy. I was the son of an Earl, a viscount in my own right and my family held an old and respected title that went back nine generations. We had accumulated a substantial fortune, with lands and well-cared-for estates. I was also building quite a nice personal fortune through investments. My father was highly respected in Parliament and I was set to follow in his footsteps.”

  Adrian drew on the cigar, letting the smoke out slowly. “Women vied for my company and I had entrée to all the best gatherings. Not so with Charles. Even then, he was a womanizer and his treatment of them well known. No father who cared anything for his daughter would let him near her.”

  Adrian snuffed out the cigarillo. “I went after Charles in front of everyone and threatened to kill him for what he’d done. He claimed my loss of control was another example of my murderous temper.”

  “Was this why you left England?”

  “Partly. Under normal circumstances, they would not arrest a lord of the realm without absolute proof. Understandably, Stonebrook was very distraught at Pricilla’s death, and wanted justice. I wasn’t even allowed to attend her funeral. Out of concern, my father booked passage for me to America.”

  “But if they didn’t formally charge you with her death, why have you stayed away?”

  “I’d never set a foot wrong, never once done anything to bring disgrace to our family name. I knew from the beginning what my responsibilities were. I studied hard and learned everything I could, from politics to managing the estate. I knew all our tenants by name. And then . . .” Adrian shrugged helplessly. “It sounds lame, but when Pricilla died, so many people that should have known better, stared at me as if I was some monster.”

  “You were young, Adrian, and grieving. Perhaps that wasn’t what they felt at all,” Joel suggested. “Did you ever resent having your life so dictated?”

  “Resent?” Adrian thought for a moment. “No. I felt pride in myself, my family. But I found a freedom in America I never imagined existed.”

  “Your father died. What of your title?”

  “The title passed to me, as did my inheritance. My uncle agreed to manage things in my absence.” His mind drifted to England. “All of our tenants have been there for generations and are trustworthy. Spencer House in London is shut up, with just a caretaker in residence. The same is true at Windsford Hall.”

  Adrian rolled the coffee cup in his hands, then shoved it away. “Jeffrey’s a good man and has managed my interests quite well, but he grows older and I’m asking a lot of him. Truth to tell, I’ve shirked my responsibility in England for the thrill of building something entirely new, something of my own and not what was handed down to me. In England, I have the responsibility of maintaining, and hopefully increasing, what others of my family before me have built. Here, it is what a man can envision and build with his own hands.” He glanced at Joel. “I’m not unaware that many would love to be in my position.”

  “The title didn’t go to your uncle in your absence?”

  “No. It doesn’t work that way. He is my uncle through my mother’s side. Only the male line inherits. My father and grandfather before him had no brothers. Neither do I. If I die without producing a male heir, the title will be lost and the entailed property will revert to the crown.”

  “So, what will you do?” Joel lit a cigarillo, blowing the smoke into the air.

  “It’s time I return to England and, if possible, prove Malcolm’s duplicity.”

  “You could also marry Angeline and produce an heir,” Joel pointed out calmly. “I don’t suppose you would find that a hardship, and marriage would solve both your problems.”

  Adrian absently tapped a finger on the table. “I believe Michael will ask for her.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Adrian paused. “No. It’s not. But like most women, she’ll want love in the bargain. I can’t promise that.”

  “Then tell her the truth, all of it. She’s a smart woman and obviously cares for you.” Joel leaned back. “If you want my advice, I would talk to her soon. It doesn’t appear there’s much time.”

  Malcolm climbed into t
he rented hackney and tapped on the roof with his cane. All of his hard work might come to naught, and all because of Adrian Spencer. The chit had fled. He’d had to take what modest funds he could raise and chase after her. The cards had not been kind to him lately and he was, again, in dun-city. His creditors were after him. If he wasn’t careful he would end in debtors’ prison, or deported to the continent. And, if the cent-per-centers caught up with him before he had the money, he would end up floating in the Thames.

  It had been an absolute stroke of luck when Lady Longhaven sat at his table to play cards. Good fortune had indeed been his when the game was whist. She was known to be a terrible player. With a little encouragement and a few glasses of wine, she’d lost heavily.

  A walk out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air, another glass of wine—this one laced with a touch of laudanum—and she had signed the note without questioning what was on the paper.

  And then, when an accident had claimed both Lord and Lady Longhaven, leaving no one to dispute his claim, his plan had seemed so very simple.

  Windsford! How Charles hated him. Adrian had everything, everything that should have been his. If his brainless twit of a mother had only married Elliot Spencer when she had the chance, instead of his weak and useless father, all would be different.

  Charles had bested Adrian once and he would do it again. He would have the lovely Angeline, and everything else for which he’d planned so carefully.

  Chapter 14

  Adrian relaxed in the swaying carriage, and eyed Angeline thoughtfully. If she believed he offered marriage only as a way to protect her, she would hie off to England as soon as she attained her twenty-first year. Although he’d threatened, he wouldn’t be able to stop her. Pride, and a misguided belief in the emotion called love, would not let her accept anything less.

  Passion, he could promise her, and fidelity. But, love, well . . . that left one vulnerable.

  He would give her the protection of his name, children, and anything else that lay within his considerable means.