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

by Meara Platt

  Never.

  For months now, his damn wings throbbed whenever he looked at her, even when she wore those prim morning gowns that covered her exquisite body from neck to toe.

  Yet how could he refuse her request?

  He’d known this day would have to come.

  “I’m obliged to help you, Ginny. It’s my job.” Although matchmaking was never discussed when he’d been assigned to protect her and her sister, Letitia. He’d bridled at the assignment back then, for warrior angels were meant to fight and not play nursemaid to children, but he’d long since accepted the task and taken Ginny and Lettie into his heart.

  Lettie had found her happiness with a childhood friend, Brynne. Theirs had been one of those rare love matches, Lettie having loved Brynne all of her life and Brynne having felt the same way about her.

  Ginny had seen their love take root and blossom and now wanted the same for herself. “Thank you, Jeremiah.” She cast him a smile that was achingly sweet in its innocence and quite stole his breath away. “Despite my peevish behavior toward you,” she continued, obviously remorseful, although his own behavior had been worse, “I know that I’m out of my depth when it comes to men. I know nothing of their natures and wouldn’t have a clue if their pretty words were smooth lies or the sincere truth. But you would.”

  He gave a curt nod, for that much was true.

  She laughed softly. “I’m sure the same words of seduction have carried through the centuries… and you’ve likely used them all.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps.”

  He’d been granted twenty two years with Ginny and ought to have been ready to part ways when her true love came along. He wanted to be ready. He had to be. Damn it, no. He wasn’t remotely close to being able to give up his Ginny.

  When had she become his Ginny?

  He groaned silently as her robe drifted open slightly to reveal the pink swell of her breasts.

  Satan’s fire!

  Was he being tested? If so, he was about to fail miserably. “Are there any specific qualities you wish for in a husband?”

  “Other than complete and utter worshipful devotion?” Her kissable lips turned upward at the corners in an impish grin, but that grin soon faded as her thoughts turned serious. “No, I’d like to keep myself open to all possibilities. I wish I could be more precise, but I’m truly at a loss. There hasn’t been a single gentleman I’ve met in all my London seasons who has made my heart so much as flutter. It should flutter, shouldn’t it, Jeremiah?”

  “Yes, it’s a requirement for you.” Good, no infatuations to worry about yet. But the little hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle, for this upcoming season felt different.

  Damned angel’s intuition.

  This would be her year, unless he gave in to the urge to carve into pieces any man who dared offer for her. He knew how to use a blade. He’d been one of the best fighters of his day until betrayed and slain by men he’d once trusted and considered friends, cowardly vermin who’d forsaken their oaths to their rightful king.

  After over three hundred and fifty years to forgive and forget, he hadn’t forgotten a moment of that day or forgiven those who’d attacked him. He shook out of the thought. His untimely death had nothing to do with Ginny’s search for a worthy husband.

  She scurried across the carpet with a soft gray swirl of her woolen robe and stopped at her writing desk to withdraw paper and quill pen, then sat on the chair beside her desk and unstopped the bottle of ink sitting on it. “Must make my heart flutter,” she wrote and proudly nodded. “Yes, that’s a good start.”

  Her long dark hair, still wet from her bath, clung to her robe like morning dew to a flower, accentuating her womanly curves. “And those points you mentioned earlier, Jeremiah. He must be willing to risk his life for me, must be a man of honor and someone I can respect. I think I will add that he must also love children.”

  His heart suddenly felt tight. “Aye, children.” He’d never had any, for he’d been killed shortly after his marriage and although his wife had been carrying his child, the babe had died in her womb shortly after his own death.

  He turned away from the warmth of Ginny’s cozy bedchamber and stared out the window into the cold and lonely darkness, desperate to lose himself in the patter of the icy rain.

  “Jeremiah, what’s wrong?” He heard the creak of Ginny’s chair as she rose and came to his side, and although he wasn’t looking at her, he caught the light scent of lavender on her body, that exquisite, perfect body of hers that he ached to hold. “How inconsiderate of me,” she said quietly. “I never thought to ask whether you had children. Did you? Perhaps a fine son just like you.”

  “No children, Ginny.”

  “But a wife?”

  He’d been married briefly to Isobeau de Shera, but she had never been meant for him, although she would have been faithful to him without doubt. As he lay on his deathbed, he’d made his brother promise to protect Isobeau by marrying her. Somehow he’d known that Atticus, his own beloved brother, was meant to be her true love. “Give me the rest of your list.”

  “That’s all I have so far.” She rested her hip against the window ledge and eased back as she continued to study him. “I wish you would tell me more about yourself. Who are you really?”

  “It isn’t important. All you need to know is that I’m someone you can trust.” Perhaps he wasn’t being fair to her, for he knew everything about her. She was a quick witted, spirited and kind young woman. He was proud of the way she’d grown up, always ready to help those in need and sincerely caring for the tenants who worked the Beresford farms.

  But all those good thoughts flew out of his head as her robe slipped open again, giving him another glimpse of her firm, pink breasts.

  He was suddenly a hot, lusting angel who ached for a woman he could never have and was determined to claim her anyway. Even if it meant breaking every celestial rule in existence. Satan’s fire. If his body flamed any hotter his feathers would melt.

  What was he thinking?

  He could never ruin Ginny’s life.

  He could never interfere with her marriage plans.

  He could never hold her in his arms.

  Nor could he ever kiss her.

  Chapter 3

  “Ginny, are you almost ready?” her mother called up the stairs to her and a few moments later bustled into her bedchamber. She walked two steps in and came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, dear. Oh, my heavens.”

  “It will get done,” Ginny assured, watching her mother’s eyes widen as she gazed around the room and saw the disarray. Ginny’s belongings were strewn haphazardly about the room, shoes, gloves, and reticules tossed everywhere, hats and gowns piled in a heap atop the bed. The large trunk that was to store all of her possessions stood beside the bed, its lid flipped open and completely empty.

  Ginny had been in similar disarray ever since Jeremiah’s last visit two weeks ago, her heart flipped open and empty, for she missed him terribly. Was his wound healing? Was he still peeved with her? Was he thinking of her at all? She certainly was thinking of him.

  Constantly.

  She’d convinced herself that it was necessary because she was concentrating on the list of qualities she sought in a husband and he was the measuring stick by which she intended to judge every eligible suitor.

  But it was rot and nonsense.

  She was falling in love with her guardian angel.

  The more qualities she added to her list of ‘must haves’, the more she realized that she must have Jeremiah.

  No other man would do.

  But he was a celestial being and she was a mere slip of a girl. How could she make it happen?

  Surely, there were rules against such a union. Not mere rules of society, but rules that were woven into the fabric of existence. Could she kiss an angel without bringing about the destruction of the world?

  It gave one pause.

  “How will all this possibly get done within the hour?” Her
mother’s gentle admonishment brought her back to the present and the utter mess she’d made of her bedchamber. “You haven’t started to pack yet. And where’s Clarissa? Oh, dear. I’ll send up reinforcements. Obviously, you’ve been running the poor girl around in circles all morning long and not allowing her attend to this most important chore.”

  “Not at all. My stomach felt a little queasy, so I sent her down to the kitchen to fetch–”

  “You’ve been distracting her with made up errands from the moment this household awoke.” She took Ginny’s hand and patted it gently. “Don’t you wish to go to London?”

  She nodded. “I do, but what if the same thing happens this season?”

  “Ah, I see.” Her mother shook her head and sighed. “The dreaded marriage mart. It is awful when you think about it, a few short months amid a crush of unfamiliar faces, and you’re expected to find a suitable husband in that time.”

  Ginny pursed her lips, willing herself not to cry. “I don’t want someone who’s merely suitable. I want what you and Father have, what Lettie and Brynne have found. How will I know when that deep and abiding love comes along for me? What if I never find it? I don’t think I can shackle myself to just any man, even if he turns out to be most amiable.”

  Her mother laughed softly. “No, I don’t suppose merely amiable will do.” She patted Ginny’s hand again, gazing at her in motherly concern. “I understand completely, my love. You and I are very much the same.” It was true, not only in their looks – the same big dark eyes and unruly dark curls – but in their thoughts and quiet manner. Lettie had been given the beautiful red hair and passionate nature. She and Brynne might never have married if Lettie hadn’t fought for his love. Indeed, she deserved all the credit for claiming her happy life.

  Ginny had yet to meet a man worth fighting for.

  Well, perhaps one. But how could she fight to claim an angel? It simply wasn’t done. No, she had to turn her attention to the attainable men. There had to be one among the eligible bachelors she would meet in London who could make her heart flutter. One little flutter. How hard could it be?

  “Love doesn’t happen on a convenient schedule,” her mother assured, interrupting her thoughts once again, “but it will happen for you. Be patient, my love.” She bussed her cheek and dashed off to finish closing up the house, for they were to be in London through the summer.

  Ginny was left alone once more to wallow in her misery. No, she was behaving like a petulant child again. She needed to be enthusiastic. Excited to be returning to London. Hurrah! Going to be such fun.

  If she said it often enough, she might come to believe it.

  She was trying.

  She was sorely trying.

  But she’d been through three seasons already and her toes were definitely dipped into the waters of spinsterhood. “Blast it. Botheration. Hell’s turtles.”

  She heard a rich, resonant chuckle from behind her. “Hell’s turtles? Never heard that one before.”

  She whirled to face Jeremiah. Flutter. Flutter. Did he have to look so incredibly handsome? She brought a hand to her heart to still its rampant beat. “What are you doing here? I didn’t call for you.”

  He glanced around her room and frowned. “This place looks like a battlefield in the aftermath of a fierce battle. This marriage business is wreaking havoc on you, isn’t it?”

  She nudged aside some of her gowns and sank onto her bed. “I suppose it’s obvious.”

  “Why so distressed?” He nodded. “You’re no coward, Ginny.”

  She tipped her chin up in indignation. “Who ever said I was? Inability to pack has nothing to do with cowardice.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and arched an eyebrow, the casual gesture making him look even more wickedly handsome and appealing than usual. “Is that so? I think right now you’d rather eat worms than face another London season. Marriage was a much simpler matter in my time.”

  Her ears perked and she turned to him, eager to hear more. “Tell me about how you dealt with matters of the heart back then. Please, Jeremiah. You never speak of yourself. It isn’t merely that I’m curious, which I am. You know that I am. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s as though my heart is aching to know you.” Goodness, how would he take that admission? She didn’t understand what she meant by it, only that he was the measure by which she intended to judge all men. How could she judge anyone when she knew so little about him?

  She nibbled her lip and held her breath, no doubt looking quite desperate, for after a long moment of simply staring at her and saying nothing, he nodded and then lowered the lid on her empty trunk to sit on it. “We married for alliances in my time. Love wasn’t a consideration, although it did happen that some husbands and wives fell in love with each other.” He grinned wryly. “But mostly they didn’t. Men sought their pleasure elsewhere, usually with the castle… well, some women were conveniently close at hand.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened.

  “I’ve shocked you.”

  “No, not at all.” But her blush said otherwise, for she knew he referred to castle whores and any other woman willing to spend the night in his bed for a coin or two. In truth, a man with his good looks could have any woman he wished at no cost to himself. “Please, go on.” This was the most he’d ever revealed to her and she wasn’t going to stop him no matter what he told her. “What did the wives do?”

  “Wives sometimes went into another man’s arms, but at far greater risk to themselves and their lovers. In my day, when king battled king and succession always depended on one’s blood ties, it was no small matter for a woman to be true to her husband and bear his children. She would be put to death if caught in another man’s arms. Indeed, certain death if the infidelity occurred before she’d given her husband an heir or two to secure his bloodline.”

  She listened intently, rapt in his words. He spoke with a quiet authority and seemed to be the sort of man who would never come out with a rash statement or act in haste, but he was also a man who would take action to defend what was his. “Jeremiah, were you a king?”

  The question appeared to surprise him. “No, Ginny. But I fought for my king whenever called upon to do so.”

  “Did you lead his armies?” She gripped the edge of her bed, her thoughts caught up in the past as she tried to place him in time and determine his rank and importance. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d played a major role in history. “You were a man of significance.” She wondered what sort of woman would have caught his eye back then. Certainly not one like herself who knew so little of the world and could never inspire armies. “Tell me about your wife.”

  “No, Ginny.” The simple statement, spoken with quiet authority, stilled her tongue. Something had happened between them and whatever it was, he’d been hurt by it. Yet she sensed that he’d respected his wife, so she doubted that his wife had betrayed him.

  Mother in heaven! A woman would have to be mad to favor any man over Jeremiah, but he carried a pain in his heart because of that marriage. She ached to know the reason for it, yet wouldn’t press him on it. The revelation had to come from him whenever he was ready to reveal it. “Will you be with me when I’m in London?”

  He nodded. “Of course. I’m always with you and always will be… for as long as you need me.”

  She inhaled sharply and rose to face him. “For as long as I need you? How is that determined? Do I have a say in the matter?” This was a new and startling turn of events. She had never considered herself without Jeremiah by her side, even when he irritated her and she wished to banish him to perdition.

  He took a step back, as though worried she’d gotten too close. Right, that tacit rule about guardian angels not being permitted to touch those they were guarding except under circumstances of deadly peril. Stupid rule. And didn’t heartbreak count as a dire circumstance?

  “Ginny, what is wrong with you lately? You were always the brave one, never flinching when faced with adversity, but s
uddenly you seem to fall apart for no reason at all.” He frowned. “Is there something more going on than distaste for the London marriage mart?”

  She blinked away the tears in her eyes, those tears proving that she was indeed falling apart for no reason. “No… yes… I don’t know.” How could she reveal that she’d fallen in love with him? She hadn’t wanted it to happen, and she was doing her best to fall out of love with him and concentrate on the beaus she would meet this season.

  He took another step back, purposely keeping his distance, but his words were gentle and filled with concern when he spoke so that she knew he was backing away for her protection, not his. “Ginny, I’ll never abandon you. If you want me by your side until you’re old and feeble and about to take your last breath, then that’s where I’ll be. You are the only one who can turn me away. The decision is yours and you’ll know when it feels right. The power lies with you.”

  She brushed her hand across her cheeks to wipe away the tears that had fallen upon them. “I don’t feel very powerful at the moment. If you must know, I feel utterly confused.” She turned away and began to neatly fold her gowns, needing something to do with her hands that were now trembling.

  She wondered how it would feel to hold Jeremiah’s hands.

  Warm. Nice, she imagined, even though they were the size of bear paws and the skin lightly roughened from holding weapons when he battled demons or practiced battling demons. The worst thing she’d ever had to battle was an ink bottle with a stuck stopper. “Did you love your wife, Jeremiah?”

  “Your maid is returning. Safe travels, Ginny. I’ll see you in London, for you won’t need me until then.” He disappeared into the air, leaving only the memory of his massive white wings, his muscled body, and the not yet faded scar on his shoulder. She ought to have mentioned it first, for it still looked red and painful.

  Were angels able to feel pain?