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

by Meara Platt

  However, he ignored servants as did most of the ton, for they were beneath his notice. She wasn’t keen on that attribute, but he wasn’t cruel either. His greatest vices so far appeared to be snobbery and a fondness for material objects.

  The day was sunny and gentle, the sky a deep blue. They passed green rolling hills and cattle gathered under a tall oak to shade themselves from the heat of the noontime sun.

  What a difference from the bustling center of town filled with old stone buildings and crowded parks.

  Simon was standing on the front steps of the elegant manor house watching their approach. He came forward as their carriage rolled to a halt, and as they descended, Ginny realized that there were several carriages arriving behind them. She also noticed a small party already gathered on the east terrace.

  Simon was all smiles as he greeted them. “You’re here,” he whispered in her ear and escorted her inside. “I was afraid you would change your mind and send regrets.”

  She cast him a hesitant smile, for he’d read her thoughts. She understood his intentions and knew he wanted to marry her. She wasn’t ready to accept his offer yet. She wasn’t certain that she’d ever be ready. “Your home is lovely.”

  Jeremiah where are you? You promised not to abandon me.

  Simon shook his head and sighed. “Not mine yet, but it will be fairly soon. My father isn’t long for this world. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. I thought he was doing better, but he took another bad turn last night. I’m hopeful it will pass and he’ll be able to join us this afternoon even if only for a little while. He’s eager to meet you.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him as well.” Yes, she was here and dragged deeper into this marriage business than she cared to admit. Other than his obvious appreciation of material possessions, confirmed once again by the avid look in his eyes as he spoke of this house, Simon de la Londe did not have any major faults that she could detect. Everyone seemed to think so, even her parents, and she had great respect for their opinions.

  After freshening up, she and her parents joined the other guests on the east terrace for afternoon tea and cakes. A salty breeze blew across the lawn although the sea was quite some distance away. Was there a storm brewing off the turbulent North Sea?

  The day was perfect now, the mix of salt air and sunshine quite soothing and Ginny found it as pleasant as the cool country air that swept down from the mountains surrounding their home in the Lake District.

  She was seated at a small, wrought iron table beside Simon’s cousin, Helena, who did not feel quite the same way. She appeared to be in her early thirties and was married to a tall, thin viscount with pinched lips and a haughty manner, also seated at her table. “This is most distressing. The sun damages one’s complexion and the sea air wreaks havoc on one’s hair.”

  Simon joined them in time to hear her comment and his pleasant smile slipped. “No one’s stopping you, Helena. Leave whenever you wish. It’s a short ride back. Take one of the carriages, just remember to return it.”

  Ginny paused with her teacup raised to her lips. She understood that not all families maintained good relations, but to issue the comment in front of strangers – which she was to Helena and her husband – surprised Ginny.

  Helena’s face turned scarlet. “Lord of the manor already, Simon? Need I remind you that your father is still alive? And that he’s promised this house to me upon his death.”

  Oh, goodness. She had no wish to be in the middle of this family squabble. “I ought to see how my parents are–”

  “Stay, Lady Ginny. Please.” Simon placed a hand on her shoulder and pressed down gently to keep her rooted in her chair. “I suppose you ought to see the worst of my family sooner rather than later.” He turned to his cousin. “The house will be mine. All its contents will be mine. Rest assured, once I’m marquis you shall never step foot in here again.” His voice remained lethally soft.

  Helena and her husband left in a huff.

  “They’re off to complain to my father, no doubt.” He smiled wryly. “They’re the family embarrassment, if you must know. We aren’t all like them.”

  “Why does she think the house ought to be hers?” It was an impertinent question to ask, but she asked it nonetheless.

  “She was raised here. It was her father’s dying wish that she should have it, or at least be permitted the use of it during her life. Her father was the elder brother, but he left no sons to inherit, so the lands and title passed to my father. This house, the estate at Jarrow and the lands surrounding it are all entailed, so giving anything to Helena is quite out of the question.”

  “But she could live here, couldn’t she?”

  He shrugged. “She doesn’t really want to. You heard her complain. She doesn’t like the place, just thinks it’s her right to have it. My father allows her to come and go as she pleases, to treat this house and even our estate at Jarrow as her home. I suppose I’ll hold my nose and do the same even though I made no promise to her father. But it would dishonor my father if I threw her out. So she’ll stay and be a nuisance.” He shrugged again and held out his hand to her. “Come, I’d like to show you around.”

  The implication being that she would soon be his wife and entitled to enjoy all that he possessed.

  She accepted, but only out of politeness. Also, she was curious to know more about him. She wasn’t certain why, but she felt it was important.

  He made a point of remarking on every treasure his family owned. “This one dates back to the War of the Roses. My ancestor, also known as Simon de la Londe – I’m named after him – had originally supported Henry, but saw there was no profit to be had in it, so he allied himself with the Yorkists and supported King Edward.”

  She gazed at him in surprise. “Your ancestor turned against his rightful king?”

  Simon shrugged as he continued to escort her along the family’s portrait hall. “He wasn’t a fit king. Old Simon had no wish to die that day in support of a monarch who was a fool.”

  She saw a decided family resemblance among the de la Londe men. They’d donned their finest garments for these portraits, the fur hats and collars and their bejeweled fingers denoting they were men of wealth and power. “I never realized one’s loyalty could be so easily bought.”

  “Everyone has a price,” he said, studying her as though trying to determine hers. “There are always hazards in forsaking one’s oath to a king, but Simon might have come out of it with riches beyond measure had he not made one fatal mistake.”

  “Betraying his king?”

  He tossed his head back and laughed. “No, he would have suffered little of consequence for that. His mistake was in killing a de Wolfe.”

  Ginny came to an abrupt halt and gaped at him. “He killed a de Wolfe?”

  He nodded. “I know your sister is now married to one of their descendants, but have no fear. We’re all quite civilized now. I have no quarrel with any of them… well, Titus and I have never gotten along well, but we deal with our mutual dislike by ignoring each other.”

  Her heart was stopping short and then leaping into her throat and stopping short again in increasingly erratic bursts. “Titus?”

  He nodded. “You met him briefly at the Selby ball. He was the one who caught you as you fainted.” He took her gently by the elbow and led her toward a portrait at the end of the hall. “Family connections were essential back then. After my ancestor killed the Titus who was alive in his day–”

  “In the time of the War of the Roses?”

  “That’s right. Titus had a brother called Atticus de Wolfe, a fierce warrior in his own right known as the Lion of the North. Atticus took quick revenge for his brother’s death. He hunted Simon down and killed him. Even I will admit that this was not my family’s finest hour. Simon ambushed and murdered Titus, a man he’d once considered a friend.”

  Ginny’s eyes rounded in surprise. “A friend who had stayed loyal to their rightful king.”

  Simon held up his ha
nds in surrender. “I don’t disagree, but war is brutal and men do whatever they must to protect their families. It would have been a fine plan, but Titus survived long enough to name his attackers. I would have made sure the man was dead before I turned my back and rode away.”

  Ginny balled her hands into fists. “That’s where we differ, Lord de la Londe. I would not have harmed him in the first place. I would have respected my oath of loyalty to the king and honored my friendship with Titus de Wolfe.”

  His expression turned grim. “You and Titus would have died side by side on the Lancastrian field of battle at Towton. The Lancastrian forces were decimated. Very few survived. I can assure you, Titus would not have been one of them.”

  “But his brother, Atticus, survived to take revenge.”

  He nodded. “And took Titus’ wife for his own. Legend has it that Isobeau was beautiful. Who knows? Perhaps Atticus let his brother die so that he could claim the lovely Isobeau for himself. But it was convenient to blame my ancestor so that no taint would fall his way. It is well known that the marriage of Atticus and Isobeau was a love match.”

  Ginny turned away in disgust.

  The tea could not end soon enough for her, but she was glad she’d attended if only to understand why Jeremiah had refused ever to speak of Isobeau and become so enraged at the mention of the de la Londe name.

  In truth, knowing what she now knew, he’d shown remarkable restraint when she’d mentioned Simon. Is this why he was staying away from her now? He needed to regain control of his anger first?

  She was quiet as she and her parents rode back to their townhouse. They arrived home late, so Ginny went directly upstairs to her bedchamber. Millie was waiting to assist her out of her gown. “I lit a fire, for the night has suddenly turned chill. There’s a cold wind blowing in from the north and the air is thick and damp. We’ll have rain soon. A bad storm is on the way.”

  Ginny muttered her thanks and once Millie had walked out, she settled on a stool beside the hearth with brush in hand to work the knots out of her hair as was her usual nightly routine. “Jeremiah, where are you?” she whispered as the rain began to fall in earnest and the wind began to howl outside her window. She heard the clatter of shutters as they banged against the brick walls and the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance.

  A familiar voice responded, deep and resonant and comforting as always. “I’m here, Ginny.”

  She turned toward the window where she’d heard the sound of his voice and gasped. Jeremiah stood proudly before her, his wings bloodied and he appeared to be exhausted and in terrible pain. She leaped up and started toward him, wanting to throw her arms around him and tell him how much she’d missed him. “What happened? Another demon battle?”

  He backed away when she got too close. “Careful. Don’t come near me. This is even worse than it looks.”

  “Oh, no!” Worse? What did he mean by that? What was happening? “Please, Jeremiah. What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. Just let me look at you.”

  For the last time? Had he been punished and locked away in an angel prison – did such things exist – and he’d escaped? Was he a wanted angel on the run?

  “I love you, Ginny. I want you to know that.” His every word came out with tortured effort.

  Her eyes began to tear. “You love me? In a sweet, guardian angel sort of way? Or a hot, lusting, let’s turn heaven and earth upside down to be together way?”

  He cast her a lopsided smile that soothed the ache in her heart. “The latter.”

  The months of worry that she might lose him simply melted away in that moment. She understood the risk in pursuing their love, but he was worth it. He loved her. He loved her. She could no longer hold back her tears of joy. “I suppose this is an appropriate time to tell you that I love you, too. With all my heart and soul, but I suppose you realized it before I did because you can see into my soul.”

  “I can see into your heart as well.” He nodded. “Everything about you is beautiful, Ginny.”

  She licked her lips. “What happens next, Jeremiah? What must I do?”

  His laugh was a soft, concerned rumble. “I’m not sure. I’m not the only angel who speaks in riddles. We all do, has to do with setting you on a path but allowing you to choose where it will take you. I think you’re supposed to go on with your life as usual and… and if Simon offers for your hand in marriage, you’re to accept him.”

  Ginny shook her head in disbelief. “Who’s telling you this nonsense? I don’t love him. I love you. Goodness, that sounds nice. I love you. So you see why I can’t accept him.” She stared at him in growing dismay when he kept silent. It wasn’t a happy silence. He was worried. How could agreeing to marry someone who didn’t hold her heart be the solution? It felt wrong. “What would happen if I refused Simon’s proposal?”

  “I don’t have the answer to that either. Nothing to you, I think. But I would no longer be your guardian angel.”

  “What? No, it can’t be. You promised to stay with me always. I’m holding you to it. You can’t leave me, Jeremiah. You gave me your sacred angel oath.”

  “And I mean to keep it so long as there is breath in me.” He let out a ragged sigh, attempted to take a step toward her and winced. He winced. His pain must be beyond measure. She wanted to rush forward and throw her arms around him, but knew he’d leave if she tried it. “I want you to know that you’re the one, Ginny. The only woman I have ever loved. The one true love I never thought I would find.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?” She started toward him again and stopped herself. He would disappear forever rather than allow her to be injured by his touch. Is this why he looked so bruised and bloodied? Did he have to lose his wings and weaken his body in order not to harm her? Or had he defied a celestial tribunal and was now being made to suffer for that defiance? “Have I done this to you? Were you punished because you tried to find a way for us to be together?”

  He emitted a pained laugh. “I’ve endured worse.”

  “Oh! I did do this to you!” She put a hand to her mouth in horror.

  “No.” There was a fierce amber glint in his eyes as he spoke to her. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “But you’re suffering because of me! All because I wanted to kiss an angel. My angel. You. I can’t let this happen to you!” She was desperate to put her arms around him and hold him close to her heart, a heart that was now breaking in shame over what she’d convinced him to do.

  She would never have asked if she’d understood the danger to him.

  She was supposed to be the one at risk. Not Jeremiah. He was invincible. “Jeremiah, are you dying because of me?”

  “This isn’t your fault, Ginny.” He hesitated a long moment before continuing. “You’re young still, but I’ve been around for hundreds of years. I never realized what it meant to be in love until you grew up and turned into the beautiful woman that you are. It isn’t merely your outward beauty. It was never about that. You always understood my heart. That’s why you’re able to see me as the man I truly am.”

  “But my love is now destroying you. Look at your wings,” she said, taking a ragged breath. Her heart ached so badly, she didn’t know how she managed to breathe at all. “They’re broken and bleeding.”

  He looked upon her with exquisite tenderness. “They’re just wings. I can do without them. I can’t do without you.”

  She tried to protest but he would have none of it. “It’s too late, Ginny. My choice is made and can’t be undone. Nor do I wish it to be undone. I love you.”

  She wiped her tears with the back of her hand that was now clenched in a fist. “Love isn’t supposed to be like this. I love you, too. So much. How do I protect you?”

  He laughed mirthlessly and took a step toward her, stopping close enough so that she could feel his warm breath against her ear. “I wish I’d had you by my side at Towton. You would have saved me from de la Londe’s treachery. We would have r
outed the Yorkists and avoided years of bloody battle. Ginny, you have the heart of a lion. The heart of a de Wolfe. My family would have loved you.”

  “Don’t say any more. Please, Jeremiah. My heart is shattering into a thousand pieces for what that de la Londe did to you.” Her tears were now falling unrestrained upon her cheeks. “I’ll never accept Simon’s offer of marriage now.” She shook her head furiously. “No, I could never marry into that family knowing how they treated you.”

  “Ginny,” he said with exquisite gentleness, “You must. I think it’s his body I’m meant to take.”

  Chapter 9

  Ginny’s father set down his newspaper and cast her a pensive look when she came down to breakfast the following morning. “Sweetheart, you didn’t appear to enjoy yourself at Lord de la Londe’s house party yesterday. Care to tell me what happened?”

  She crossed to the buffet and stared at the array of eggs, ham, and kippers set out on silver platters. None of the fare looked tempting so she settled for a cup of tea and then sat down beside her father. She wanted to tell him what was going on, but how? Confiding that she was in love with an angel who couldn’t touch her unless he took over another man’s body didn’t sound like the sort of conversation one ought to have over breakfast.

  She had lots to think about, for she wasn’t merely distraught for placing Jeremiah in danger, but what of Simon? He was to be that body! “He showed me portraits of his de la Londe ancestors and some of them were men of little honor who saw nothing wrong in selling one’s loyalty. One of his ancestors betrayed King Henry during the War of the Roses and allied himself with the Yorkists for his own advantage.”

  Her mother entered the room as she was speaking and took her usual seat across the table from her father. “Don’t be too hard on Lord de la Londe, sweetheart. Many important families did the same. Those were difficult years and everyone struggled to make it through with their lands and families in tact. Often, one brother would support the Yorkist side while the other supported the Lancastrians. This way, if one brother was punished, the other could approach the then sitting king and beg for mercy. By the way, there’s a letter for you from Lettie. Wilmot’s put it in the basket on the entry hall table.”