Falcon's Angel

by Judith E. French

  "Yes, miss, I'll say just them words."

  As Ruby padded away down the hall, Angel wondered if she'd been dishonest. Although her pain was more heart than belly, she was sure some of her aching came from her gut. And the moon—rising full and yellow tonight—for certain was part of her maziness. She felt it in her bones.

  Later when Will knocked at her door and called her name, she would not open it. Instead, she drew close and asked, "What do you want?"

  "I have to see you," he insisted.

  "By the dock. When all the house is asleep."

  "If you don't come, I'll come for you, locked doors or none."

  She heard his footsteps fade away.

  And when Lady Graymoor came to check on her, Angel lay as if sleeping, with her eyes closed and one hand flung out motionless.

  "Are you sick, child?" she asked kindly.

  Angel stirred and pretended to awaken.

  The older woman felt her forehead again. "No fever. Doubtless a good night's sleep will put you right."

  "Aye," Angel answered. "I'm certain I'll be more myself on the morrow."

  "The boats are yours to use whenever you like," Lady Graymoor said. "But take care. There are bears and alligators, poisonous snakes, and even a few wolves. It's easy to become lost when you don't know your way, and there are places where quicksand will suck you down."

  Angel smiled. "I'm never lost, ma'am, not with stars to guide me." She shrugged. "And wild critters don't scare me. Bett always said that because I was born fey, I could charm them with fairy magic."

  "Perhaps you can." The countess kissed her on the forehead. "God keep you."

  "And you, my lady."

  For a moment, as Lady Graymoor swept from the room, Angel let herself think of what it would be like to belong here, to be not just an uninvited guest, but this good woman's lost grandchild. The thought crossed her mind that it would be easy to pretend, to lie and say that she remembered bits and pieces. Hadn't one of the servants mentioned that the child was lost when a ship went down?

  I could say, I remember almost drowning. I was with my mother, but then she was gone and I was alone. Bett pulled me from the water. I cried and cried, and then Bett took me home with her and told me that I'd best forget my family. They were gone.

  Shame flooded her, disgust that she might even think such dung. Lady Graymoor had been good to her. She could never betray that kindness with lies and deception.

  If she wasn't good enough for the likes of Will Falcon, she couldn't pass herself off as an English lady. She'd not the stomach for such evil.

  Elizabeth likely had been a frail child with pale skin and dainty features. She'd never have had the strength to swim to shore in rough seas or to survive if she reached the beach. Washed away, she was, poor mite. And none to hear her dying cries but seabirds on the wing. No cross or stone to mark her grave, naught but a grandmother's anguish. Mayhap the little maid had become a wandering ghost, forever lost, forever weeping in vain for someone to come take her home.

  Gooseflesh rose on Angel's arms. Many the times she'd felt the presence of something unexplained in the stillness of a hot afternoon or in the early morning mist. All manner of haunts and unearthly beings roamed the Outer Banks, and those who had the sight, as she did, were wont to see or hear them now and then.

  Angel had never seen a spirit child, but she'd witnessed other things that didn't bear repeating, sights that would turn a man's bones cold. She didn't fear the specters, didn't fear much but humans between earth and heaven, but some visions had troubled her sleep and made her wary.

  Lady Graymoor had bid her beware of snakes, bears, and gators. Angel chuckled. She'd sooner step gently around a water moccasin or keep upwind of a black bear than face down the likes of a headless pirate or a wailing, soul-sucking banshee. And most wild creatures were peaceful. If you left them alone, they'd do the same by you.

  She waited until the house grew silent. The moon rose over the trees, the horses in the stables ceased their nickering, and the birds went to roost. Then she shinnied down the limb outside her window and made her way to the damp grass below.

  When she reached the dock, Angel's heart leaped in her chest. A ghostly shadow waited for her in the dugout. "Will?" she whispered. "Is that you?"

  "I was afraid you wouldn't come." He climbed out and took her in his arms, kissing her so passionately that it made her head swim.

  "What do you want?" she asked breathlessly.

  "You... only you." He kissed her again and then murmured, "It's not safe for you to roam the river country alone."

  I think I'm in more danger here, she thought, trying to maintain control of her emotions. "So Lady Graymoor said," she managed. "But I told her that I'm used to looking out for myself."

  Will held her in the circle of his arms. "Archie Gunn escaped from jail."

  "I know," she admitted. "I saw him."

  Will's muscles tensed. His gaze pierced hers. "You saw him? When? Where?"

  She touched her lips with two fingers and wiggled free of Will's embrace. A hard resolve slipped over the features that had greeted her with such open intensity, and she sensed again the intensity and danger she'd not seen since the night he'd climbed in her window. Affection. "While you were abed at Falcon's Nest," she admitted. "Archie was coming out of a tavern near the docks."

  "He didn't see you?"

  She shook her head.

  "And you didn't think it important enough to tell me?"

  Will was angry now. "I did want to tell you," she said. "But I wanted to wait until you were stronger. Ye could hardly chase him when you were too weak to rise from your bed."

  She climbed into the small boat, and he followed, taking care not to tip it as he settled into the stern. She pushed away from the dock without speaking.

  For a few minutes there was strained silence between them, and Angel concentrated on maneuvering the light craft in the current.

  "When will you learn to trust me?" he asked after a time. "I don't want there to be secrets between us."

  "Easy said." She pushed off from the dock and dipped her paddle. "When have ye trusted me? You've accused me and mine of piracy, and you've hidden your thoughts and your actions from me."

  "I have my reasons."

  "As I have mine."

  "I love you, Angel."

  His words affected her so much that she nearly dropped the paddle. Gooseflesh rose on the nape of her neck. Suddenly, it was hard to draw breath.

  I love you wasn't the same as I think I love you. She'd waited so long, hoped and prayed for those words. But now they came too late.

  She wasn't as ignorant as she'd once been. And she knew that a man and a woman wanting each other's bodies wasn't the same as a love that would hold you together through storm and fire until age turned your hair to white.

  "I said, I love you. Now, you're supposed to tell me the same."

  "What do ye want of me?" she asked, not looking back, afraid she couldn't face those relentless blue eyes boring into her soul. "A woman who cannot read or write her own name."

  "I want you to be my wife."

  A knot twisted in her throat. She paddled harder, unable to speak. She had gone over and over the possibility that this might happen. But hearing the words from Will's lips was different. She prayed silently that she had the resolve to carry through her plan.

  "Angel. You could learn to read, if that's important to you."

  "Mayhap I could." But she wasn't certain she wanted to try. What if she couldn't? What if she was too thickheaded to ever make sense of letters jumbled together?

  "I'm asking you to marry me," he said. "At St. Michael's Church, with Lady Graymoor, Richard and Julia Hamilton, and all of Charleston bearing witness."

  Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back.

  "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He reached for her, and the dugout rocked.

  "Stop that," she said, "unless ye wish to dump us to the gators."
>
  "Pull to shore or I'll take my chances."

  Stubbornly, she kept paddling. "Men like you don't marry women like me. They hide them away where they can visit them without anyone knowing." She knew she sounded foolish. All this time they'd been together, and it had been her wanting the swiving and Will too proud to take what was offered.

  "What rule says I can't make you my wife?"

  They say it, she thought. Everyone. All the world says it.

  "We can make our own choices, Angel."

  "Do you still think me a pirate?"

  "No. I don't. I was wrong, and I'm sorry I accused you."

  "What made you change your mind?"

  "The way you cared for me while I was hurt... the way you refused to take advantage of Lizzy. Any woman with an ounce of larceny in her heart would have pretended to be her lost grandchild. And you never did, Angel. Your actions proved your honesty far more than words."

  They passed the old cabin. No light had burned in the window, and Angel smelled no smoke from the hearth. From far off, inland, away from the river echoed the faint sound of African drums.

  "Do you love me, Angel?"

  She swallowed, resting the paddle on the side of the boat, letting the current take them. "I do," she answered finally. That much was true. No need to tell him that she would not wed him in St. Michael's Church or any other. No reason to spoil what might happen between them today by arguing about tomorrow.

  Any more than she would try to convince him of the Brethren's innocence...

  "If we both love each other," he continued, "nothing else matters."

  She remained silent, remembering all too well what Julia had said to Will that day in Lady Graymoor's hall. "Angel could never be accepted by the people who matter. She'd be unhappy, and she would ruin your career."

  If she married Will, his friends would turn their backs on him. She and Will might care deeply for each other now, but in time he would blame her for her base blood and her ignorance. Oh, she could ape the manners and the words of a Charleston lady, but she would come to feel the walls close in around her.

  And when Will sailed away—if anyone would give him a ship to captain—when he was gone for months or years, she would be truly alone without a soul who loved her for herself. She would pine for the sea and lonely beaches, for the sight of swimming dolphins and the great flocks of waterbirds. In the end, she would run away and leave him, or wither and die within the cramped streets of Will's city.

  What Will was asking her to do was impossible. She had to remain strong, not let herself become bewitched by what could never be. She took a deep breath and dug her paddle in the dark water, thrusting them out into the deepest part of the river.

  The beauty of swamp and forest embraced her. The bright moon illuminated great stands of pine, interspersed with yaupon, beech, and walnut. Stately cypress crowded the live oaks draped in Spanish moss that hung low over the water. The banks were thick with ferns, palmettos, swamp privet, and pickerelweed; and the air was sweet with the scent of wild orchids.

  Any other time, she would find wonder and delight in such sights and smells. She would listen for the croak of frogs, the splash of fish, and the rustle of wild things in the underbrush. She would look for deer or bobcats, and she would glory in the magnificence of God's kingdom.

  But not tonight... tonight, nothing mattered but this man and her need for him. Her heart raced, her thoughts tangled, and her body yearned for the touch of his hands.

  She nibbled her bottom lip, trying to pretend that her breasts didn't feel heavy and full, and that her swollen nipples didn't rub against the rough linen of the man's shirt she wore in place of a bodice. Heat pooled between her thighs, and aching desire spiraled up from the core of her secret places.

  "Angel." Will's voice came soft, but she could no longer ignore his order.

  And when she came to a break in the foliage at a natural landing, she nosed the craft against a bank and leaped out. Will followed her. Together, they pulled the boat onto high ground. He removed a blanket and a bottle from the stern of the dugout and caught her hand.

  "Find us a clearing free of snakes and alligators," he said.

  Trembling, she led the way up a slight rise and into a mossy hollow ringed by fairy tufts of wild rice and jack-in-the-pulpit. Still smiling, she broke away and twirled in the moonlight like one demented. "Will this suit ye, sir?" she teased.

  "Perfect."

  Her hand tingled where it had touched his. She felt light enough to float above the treetops... to soar into the velvet heavens and touch the stars. "Nothing will harm us here," she promised. "'Tis enchanted. Can't you feel them? The kelpie folk are all around us."

  "Kelpies?"

  "Pixies. Sprites—the fairy folk."

  "I should have guessed." Chuckling, he set the wine bottle down and spread the blanket on the moss. "You're the only charmer I know, Angel. You've put a spell on me, one that I never want to awaken from."

  He opened his arms. Suddenly shy, she took a step backward. The moss was cool on her bare feet.

  "I love you," he repeated.

  The forest beckoned. If she fled, he'd never catch her. She was as fleet as a doe and twice as wary. But she could feel the blood pumping hot in her veins and knew that everything she wanted lay within her reach. He uttered her name once more, and she threw herself into his arms.

  Will's kiss was sweeter than hope of salvation, both tender and demanding. The taste and feel of him melted her fears and fanned the sparks of desire within her. He kissed her again and again, until she didn't know earth from sky or her flesh from his.

  Will's hands moved over her, touching, stroking. "I want you," he murmured. "I can't live without you."

  "Sweet Will," she whispered as she clasped his head to her breast and buried her face in his dark wavy hair.

  He kissed her mouth and her throat. She moaned and squirmed against him, wanting more. His hard-muscled arms embraced her, and she wound her legs around his waist and clung to him like seaweed to a mooring post.

  Her nipples puckered. Her belly tightened. Her breaths came quick and deep. "Show me what to do... how to please ye."

  He trembled, powerful shudders that clouded her eyes with tears. "You've really never..." He broke off, his tone hoarse, disbelieving. "Never been with a man?"

  "Are you sorry?" She leaned back, trying to see his eyes in the semidarkness. "Will it make your pleasure less?"

  "No." He lowered her to the blanket and knelt beside her. "I never thought... hell, none of that matters now." He tilted her chin up and kissed her again. "Do you know what happens between a man and a woman?" he asked her.

  "Aye, I do... sort of. What goes where, but..." Her face grew hot, and she would have turned her head away, but he leaned close and drew her bottom lip gently between his teeth. She gasped as excitement bubbled up inside her.

  How could something so simple, the sensation of Will's teeth and tongue, the heat of his mouth, his taste, make her feel too big for her skin? Or cause her hearing and sense of smell to become a hundred times stronger so that she was aware of each blade of crushed grass and the rise and fall of Will's breath?

  He caught her hand and pressed it to his, palm to palm, and finger to finger. "I wasn't alive until I met you," he said. "There's no woman to match you on the face of the earth." He kissed the tip of each pair of fingers, hers and his, mated as one. He teased and gently sucked, then slowly trailed caresses down the back of her hand to the wrist, and from there to the hollow of her elbow.

  "I want you," he said. His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened with passion.

  Had any words ever sounded so sweet? she wondered.

  "I want to show you the beaches of Barbados, the blue water off Jamaica, and the markets of Havana," Will said. "I want you to stand beside me on the deck of the Katherine with a fair wind filling the sails, and I want to make love to you beneath a Caribbean moon."

  She tried to tell herself that these were only words,
that they meant nothing. But, oh, how she longed to believe that they might be true... if only for this instant.

  Releasing her hand, he undid the top ribbons on her shirt. "Trust me, Angel."

  Trembling, she looked deep into his eyes. "I do love ye."

  In the silver moonlight, Will's skin was drawn tightly across his chiseled cheekbones. His muscles were taut, his hands more steel than sinew and bone.

  The ties parted, and he planted warm kisses on her throat and collarbone. "What happens might cause you pain the first time," he said. "But never again. I promise you."

  She gripped his powerful shoulders, shivering in the heat, struggling to breathe while passion's tempest rushed through her. She could feel his barely contained strength, like a ship in gale-force winds straining against a storm anchor, threatening to tear loose at any second.

  Will undid another ribbon. Angel moaned when she felt the touch of his tongue on her breast. Pushing back, she yanked the garment over her head and struggled out of her breeches. Then, naked as the Lord made her, she lifted a breast and begged him, "Kiss me here, Will. Please."

  He groaned. Swiftly, he stripped as bare as she. The sight of him, huge and male and dangerous in the moonlight, terrified her. Yet, she knew she'd come too far along this silvery path to turn back for lack of courage.

  She closed her eyes and waited, then cried out with joy when she felt him draw her into his hot, wet mouth. Something bright and wonderful stirred within her. Tension tightened. Golden ribbons of spun sugar linked the shivery sensations in her breast to her maidenhead.

  "Touch me," he said.

  Now it was she who trembled and she took his staff between her hands. His breathing quickened as she stroked the silken column until he pushed her back against the blanket.

  "No more," he rasped. "Lest I shame myself like a raw boy."

  Happiness swelled in her chest as he covered her with his body. Legs met and entwined. His hard sex, hot and throbbing, pressed against her thigh.

  She could not lie still. She tossed her head and arched against him. "Now, now," she cried.

  But he kissed her mouth and throat and breasts. He nibbled her shoulder and teased her belly with a warm, damp tongue while his long, lean fingers worked magic in her lower curls and lower still.