Falcon's Angel

by Judith E. French

  "William!" Lizzy called. "Griffin said you were waiting for us out here. Capital idea. Capital. Sickrooms make people sick. Garden air, that's the cure for you. Garden air and nourishing soup."

  One servant set a large glazed tureen in the center of the table. A second added soup bowls and spoons. The third uncovered a silver platter of scones, butter, and jam.

  Lizzy settled herself beside him. "I had a visitor this morning," she said. "You'd be interested to know that Edward Mason had the nerve to send his solicitor to my house with an offer to purchase Falcon's Nest at an outrageous sum."

  "Maybe you should take him up on the offer," Will answered.

  "Impudent upstart. To imagine that I'd receive him." She snapped open an ivory fan and waved it under her chin.

  "No, seriously," Will said. "You've no need of a second home. And I've no prospects of making enough money to pay you what you've already put out."

  "Unless you marry Julia Hamilton."

  "I'm not."

  "Does Julia know this?"

  "Yes. I've told her," he said. "I've made it clear to Julia that what I feel for her is friendship. That's no basis for a marriage."

  Lizzy laughed. "Since when?" She tapped him with the fan. "Many would say that Hamilton is a perfect match for you."

  "And you, Lizzy? What do you think?"

  "I believe there are times when reason must be abandoned, and a man—or even a woman—must follow their heart."

  Will grinned. "I keep telling you that you're the only woman for me. And I am serious about the house. I'll find a place for Delphi and her family. It's foolish for me to go on living like a man of wealth, when..." The words died in his throat.

  Angel came down the walk accompanied by a maid. "What do ye think?" she cried. "Am I as fancy as a flounder in a petticoat?"

  Will laughed. In the days since Angel had returned, he'd seen little of her. Lizzy had sent word that she'd commenced Angel's lessons in deportment.

  "It's hopeless," Griffin confided. "She doesn't even know how to walk or sit. Not the slightest clue on how a lady faints, or how one is expected to dissolve in hysterics. I fear Angel has not the constitution to learn."

  Will stared at Angel. She was in a white, filmy dress with ruffles along the hem. The material was so thin that he could see the outline of her body through it when she moved from shadows to sunshine.

  His instant reaction to the sight cheered him with the thought that he wasn't completely dead. Quickly, to hide the growing evidence, Will covered his lap with Delphi's quilt.

  Someone had made an attempt to tame Angel's hair, but pins and bonnet did little to contain the wild, coppery-gold mass. Tendrils tumbled over her forehead and hung loose around her cheeks and throat... locks of hair that he wanted to stroke and rub between his fingers.

  "Are ye speechless?" Angel demanded. She twirled around, revealing a glimpse of shapely ankles and pink satin slippers. "I've learned to pour tea and to dance."

  "Show us." Lizzy clapped her hands, and one of the footmen produced a violin. As the servant drew the bow across the strings, Lizzy nodded imperiously to Griffin.

  The butler bowed and offered Angel his hand.

  "Nay." Laughing, she yanked a bonnet ribbon and sent the fine straw confection spinning into a boxwood hedge. She shook her head, and pins flew in all directions. The pink slippers followed.

  Will started to rise, wanting to go to her and pull her into his arms... remembering how it was between them in his dream. But before he could make the effort, she came to him and put her hands in his.

  Her touch, her nearness, made his throat constrict with emotion. What was there about Angel that drove all else from his mind when she was present? He'd never felt this way about another woman.

  If only he was certain that he could trust her.

  Lady Graymoor and Griffin retreated to the far corner of the garden, where the gardener was planting a sapling. The servants followed attentively a few steps behind.

  "You are beautiful," Will said to Angel.

  "But no Charleston lady." Her eyes sparkled with merriment. "Griffin says that I will find a husband all the same. Do ye... do you think I can?"

  Will's grip tightened. His pulse quickened. If Lizzy thought to tease him by mentioning other men, she had succeeded. "Do you want a husband, Angel?"

  "I had one, but I didn't suit him," she replied, growing suddenly serious. "If I ever take another, he must have me as I am, not as he wishes me to be."

  He was no good at these games, and he had no wish to play. "I've ended it with Julia," he said. "Irrevocably."

  "I hope she's not heartbroken."

  "It was never more than friendship between us. With you or without you, I never could have married her. We would have made each other miserable."

  "Then it's best you part."

  "What of you, Angel? Are you heartbroken?"

  She pulled back, out of his grasp. "I'm a pirate," she said. "I have no heart."

  He pushed himself up to his feet. "Are you?"

  "Ye say I am. It must be true." Her emerald eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Send me home, or send me away. I can make do anywhere that the tide washes."

  "You're still determined to be rid of me? Is there no chance that you could learn to be at home here in Charleston?"

  "As what?"

  "I think I—" he began, then broke off as he saw Lady Graymoor and the others returning. "Later," he promised. "When we have more privacy."

  "It's useless," Angel replied. "No matter how Lady Graymoor changes the outside, inside, I'm still the same island wench with salt on my skin and seaweed in my hair."

  "There, there," Lizzy said as she joined them. "If you two argue, people will take you for man and wife." She chuckled and smiled kindly at Angel. "No one expects you to learn decorum in a few days. It took me years to go from parsonage to earl's ballroom. You listen to me, and I promise to find you a rich husband."

  "I don't think I want one." Angel hitched up her dress and rolled down a stocking. "Who but a cod's head would wear hose in this heat? Or long sleeves?"

  Waves of dizziness made Will weak, and he sat down heavily. "We need to talk," he said to Angel.

  "Mayhap," she answered. "Lady Graymoor says she means to leave Charleston. That I'm to go with her. But your wound is far from healed. I won't leave you until you're out of danger."

  "Of course you won't leave William," Lizzy said. "We're all going together. Cholera is spreading through the town. It's not safe here. I'm moving my household to Nottingham, and you must come with us."

  "To your plantation?" It was difficult to carry on a rational conversation with Lizzy when all he wanted was to be alone with Angel.

  "Where else?" Lizzy pursed her lips. "I do believe the fever has addled your mind. Did you think I was planning a sea voyage to England?"

  "Take Angel," he said. "I'll stay here." He didn't want to remind them that he meant to sail with Richard's fleet or that he'd not be able to rest until he found justice for his father. "The wound is nearly closed."

  "You'll gain nothing by staying to die of cholera," Griffin said. "And the road to Nottingham runs two ways. It's not that far."

  "I'm not afraid of cholera," Angel said.

  "You should be." Lizzy glanced meaningfully at Will.

  "If I come, Delphi and her family must come, too. I'll not leave them," Will hedged. "I should—"

  "Bring them all." Lizzy frowned. "We'll talk there, William. You're doing our Angel no good, you know. Best to plot a proper course of action before your reputation and hers are utterly ruined."

  "Very well," Will agreed. "I'll tell Delphi to pack at once." He smiled at Angel. "You'll like Nottingham," he promised.

  "You promised I'd like Charleston."

  "You'll love it. It's on an island."

  "Water around it?" Angel's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No streets, nor rows of houses, and mobs of chattering town folk?"

  "Not a single paved carriageway," Gri
ffin assured her. "Nottingham is surrounded by river and swamp, a primeval wilderness of hanging moss, live oaks, and black water."

  "Sounds like Eden," Angel said.

  "I'm certain you'll think so," Will said. "There are even snakes."

  * * *

  Early the following morning, Delphi, two of her daughters, five grandchildren, and assorted members of the household set off for the plantation with Lady Graymoor's household staff. Will had just locked the front door and was waiting for Lizzy's coachman to bring the carriage from the stable when he was confronted by Edward and George Mason.

  "You don't appear deceased," Edward said as he reined in his horse.

  Will noticed that the man was riding a flashy bay gelding. "Did you want something?" he asked. "Or did you come by to continue our disagreement?"

  "I demand an apology, Falcon. You've made false and defamatory statements about me—publicly insinuating that I ordered you shot from ambush. I could sue you for defamation of character."

  "Impossible, you self-righteous bastard. You don't have any character to defame."

  Mason's mouth tightened. "I appeared at the appointed hour. You are the one who didn't. Perhaps you had someone pretend to shoot you, because you were too cowardly to face me on the field of honor?"

  Will's reply was both succinct and profane.

  "I don't like you, Falcon," Mason said. "I didn't care for your father, either. It's men like you who give gentlemen a bad name."

  "I've been given to understand that you'll be supplying several of the ships going in search of the wreckers," Will said, ignoring the insult. "I'd think you'd be afraid of being recognized by your comrades."

  Mason smiled thinly. "Perhaps when this messy pirate affair is settled, we can resume our appointment. I'd like nothing better than to silence that foul mouth of yours permanently."

  "I'm at your service, Edward. Anytime, anyplace. I assure you, the feeling is mutual."

  "I understand that the brigand you had arrested has escaped without a trace. Doubtless, you'll blame me for that offense as well."

  "Archie Gunn's escaped?" Will asked.

  "Ah, something the great Will Falcon doesn't know."

  "Let's go," George said. "This exchange is meaningless."

  "If you'll excuse us," Edward pulled back on the reins, and his horse moved restlessly. "And for your information," he added, "the mare proved to be unsound. She went lame. I ordered my stable master to dispose of her."

  Swearing, Will lunged at him.

  Edward laughed and nodded to George. Digging his spurs into his mount's sides, he rode away, disappearing around the corner just as Lady Graymoor's carriage appeared. His brother followed.

  Anger, black and deadly, washed through Will. He knotted his hands into fists as he thought of the sweet-tempered mare Mason had destroyed out of spite. "I'll add Calli to your score," he said. "But you'll pay in full, you sanctimonious bastard. I swear on my father's soul."

  * * *

  Angel woke in the lavender-white glow of dawn. For a minute or two, she lay there, remembering yesterday's journey from Charleston by coach and then boat to this great house among the moss-hung oaks.

  Rising, she pushed away the mosquito netting and crossed the high-ceilinged room to an open window. Heavy mist blanketed the house, but she could feel the nearness of the river and smell the scents of brackish water and tidal reeds. To her, the smells were sweeter than wild strawberries, and her throat tightened with emotion.

  She strained to hear the chorus of frogs and insects and the far-off cry of a night heron. Her heartbeat quickened. She pulled a cambric chemise over her head, and after a few seconds' hesitation, stepped into a pair of silken drawers with drawstrings at the waist and a pearl button just below each knee. Reluctantly, she tied on an unboned bodice that Lady Graymoor's maid had called jumps, and topped off her attire with a ruffled underskirt of linen. Shoes would only hinder her progress, so she left those behind as she climbed nimbly out the window and onto a tree branch.

  Skinning down the oak to the soft grass, Angel ran lightly across the lawn toward the river. She didn't need to see the water. She could hear it.

  Next to a dock, she found a dugout with a paddle lying in the hollowed-out bottom. Smiling, she stepped into the gently rocking craft, slipped the rope, and let the current carry her away.

  * * *

  Will found her two hours later walking away from a tiny cabin nestled in the palmettos. "Angel? What are you doing here?" he asked her. "I couldn't find you."

  She smiled at him. "'Twas the river. It called me." Seeing him on his feet and able to walk this far gave her a rush of happiness. "There was fishing line in the bottom of the boat I borrowed. I caught some fish and gave them to the old woman who lives in that house. Her name is Aba Sunday."

  "I've been wanting to talk to you since we got to Nottingham."

  "Aye. I thought that. But I wasn't sure that I was ready to talk to you." She approached the dugout that she'd secured to a tree root earlier. "How are you feeling? Is the headache better this morning?"

  "Most of it. A twinge here and there, but I'll live."

  "Good." She inspected him closely for signs that he might not be telling the truth about his recovery. Only a small bandage covered the gouge the bullet had made, but Will's eyes still reflected pain and a bone-deep fatigue. She touched his arm. "Let me take you back to the house in the dugout."

  He nodded. "All right."

  Taking his hand, she helped him into the boat, pushed it out into the river, and leaped in.

  The tide was still incoming, running away from the house. Will didn't protest when she made no attempt to turn the craft.

  "Am I being kidnapped?" Will asked after they'd traveled another quarter of a mile, drifting past groups of slave quarters and a green rice field.

  "Mayhap," she answered. A great blue heron started up and took flight over their heads. "It's fair country, this place. So much beauty, it hurts a body to look at it."

  "Yes, I agree."

  She felt his eyes burning holes in her back and turned to meet his clear-eyed gaze. It wasn't the bird or the great, moss-hung trees he was looking at, she realized. It was her Will was calling beautiful. She felt her cheeks grow warm with pleasure....

  "I've been thinking, Will. I'd made up my mind to leave as soon as you were out of danger. But now..."

  "Now, you've changed your mind?"

  "If you'd never come... if I'd never pulled you from the sea, I would have stayed with the Brethren... stayed where I was content."

  "But we did meet."

  "Aye, and you carried me here."

  "To a bigger world."

  She nodded, realizing there were things out here that she'd miss if she returned to her island home... sights she wanted to see... questions still unanswered. "But you took me without asking did I want to come," she continued. "That was hard for me to accept, to be treated like what I wanted didn't matter. It's the same as some of the men on the island. They made the laws, and women lived by them. I thought you were different."

  "I am different, Angel."

  "Are you?"

  "I was wrong not to ask you. But you would have refused. And I didn't want to leave you there."

  "Why? When I mean so little to you?"

  "Don't say that. I think I'm in love with you."

  She scoffed. "No need to tell me lies."

  "Angel—"

  "Hush, Will. Let me have my say. When I wanted you, you wouldn't have me. We were handfasted, but I wasn't good enough for you to take to your bed."

  "It was never that. It was a matter of honor. I care for you, more than I can find words to tell you."

  Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. She turned her back and fixed her eyes on the bow of the boat. Digging her paddle in, she stayed the little craft and spun it in midriver. His words were bittersweet. She thought he meant them, but it had always been too late for the pair of them. They were no more suited to be bride and gro
om than a doe and a swan.

  But, oh, how hope tantalized her, dancing just out of reach. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away. "You might think different once you're well," she said. "Julia's a good woman. And she's one of your kind. Ye could do far worse."

  "I could do far better."

  She raised the paddle, staring at the crude carving along the blade and watching as drops of water ran off to drip into the dark flow. The lump in her throat was back, making it impossible to talk and hard to draw breath.

  She couldn't hide the truth from herself any longer. She loved Will Falcon, loved him as deep as the sea and as high as the moon. But because she loved him, his happiness meant everything to her. She'd not let him throw away his future for her.

  But neither could she stand by and let him destroy the people she loved, those who had raised her and been her friends. She'd have to find a way to convince Will to forget the attack, or she must warn Bett, Cap'n, and the others of the danger. But so long as she could keep Will in Charleston, the Brethren were safe.

  And if the Brethren were safe, what was wrong with snatching a few hours... a few days of happiness? After all, wasn't that what she'd wanted from the first? From the moment she'd laid eyes on him.

  She'd known that she and Will were different... that nothing between them could last. But she'd wanted Will to be the man who made her a woman and gave her something to hold close to her heart forever.

  Since she was a child, she'd stood in the shadows of other families, never really belonging to anyone. She was no more than driftwood washed up on a beach, a merry-be-gotten child without a name or memories.

  "Could we forget Mason and Julia and the Brethren?" Will asked. "Here, in this place, could we try to see what we feel for each other?"

  She already knew, she thought. And no space of time or words would change her love for him. Or her realization that even if she could trade her happiness for the lives of the Brethren, Will would only want her until he came to his senses.

  How could she make him understand that all they'd ever have was the pleasure they could give each other here and now?