Falcon's Angel

by Judith E. French

  People were running toward them. Servants with torches spilled into the garden. Angel spied Lady Graymoor and called out to her: "Here! Over here!"

  "William!" Griffin shouted.

  "You stay here," Will repeated.

  Angel and Lady Graymoor followed close on his heels. Just inside the entrance to the maze they found Richard on his knees beside a woman's sprawled body. He was weeping and mumbling his daughter's name. A pistol lay beside him.

  "There's another body over there," someone said. "A man's. I think Richard must have shot him."

  "Somebody did," Griffin said. "He's got a bullet through his head."

  "That's Dyce Towser," Angel said. "He was leader of the Brethren after he killed Cap'n. Will knows him."

  Richard rocked back and forth. "Julia. I'm sorry, so sorry." He looked up at Angel. "He was supposed to break your neck," he said bitterly. "It was supposed to be you. Not her. Not my Julia."

  "Why?" Will demanded. "Why did you hate Angel enough to try to kill her?"

  "Because I saw the man Cap'n took orders from," Angel said. "The bigwig who sent the messages by pigeon from Charleston. And if I saw him, he must have seen me."

  "She's the only person who could identify me as their contact," Richard said. "So long as she was alive, I'd never be safe."

  "But you were," Angel said. "I never got a good look at his face. It was too dark. I never could have pointed you out as Cap'n's partner."

  Will stared at him. "Then it was you, all along. Not Mason who killed my father. You."

  But Richard paid him no heed. It took two strong men to pull him away from his daughter and drag him protesting down the brick path to the house.

  Will glanced at Lady Graymoor, and she nodded. "I'm fine, William. See to her. She needs you now."

  Quickly, he drew Angel away into the darkness. "I almost lost you," he said. "Again." He held her so close that she could feel the beating of his heart against hers.

  "I'm so sorry Julia's dead," Angel answered softly.

  "I've loved her for years. But she was more of a sister to me than someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I never felt about her the way I love you."

  "She said I wasn't good enough for you. That I'd ruin your life."

  "She was wrong."

  "Ye still want me, Will? After all the trouble I've caused ye, caused all of ye?"

  He kissed her, kissed her so sweetly that reason fled, and she found herself kissing him back. Soon she was weeping and clinging to him and kissing him over and over. "I don't want to ruin your life," she murmured.

  "You'll ruin it if you turn me down."

  "Your friends... other people. They'll blame you for my ignorance."

  He chuckled. "You're rich, Angel. You'd be surprised how money opens all doors. And if my friends turn their backs to you, I want nothing to do with any of them." He kissed her again. "Besides, I wasn't planning on making you part of my old life. I thought we'd build a new one together."

  "I wouldn't have to learn to be a Charleston lady?"

  "Absolutely not. But there's one condition. You have to marry me right away."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's been months since I've been to sea. I'm a deepwater sailor, love. I need to have a ship under me and a brisk wind filling my sails."

  "Ye want to me to wed you and have ye leave me?"

  He laughed and kissed her again. "Not a chance. I intend to take you with me. Would you do that, Angel? Would you be content as a captain's wife?"

  "Where will ye find a ship... with Richard... they will put him in jail, don't you think?"

  "They'll hang him. Unless he hires a very good lawyer and buys a dishonest judge. So, woman, will you or won't you? How often does a man have to ask for your hand?"

  She didn't tell him they were already well wed, that Nehemiah was a true man of God. That could wait until another day. If he wanted to marry her, he could do it up fine, with a gown, veil, and golden ring. "Will I be very rich?" she teased. "Now that I'm Lady Graymoor's heiress?"

  "Rich enough to buy me a fleet of ships."

  "Good." She kissed him again. "But ye must never leave me behind, Will. Unless... what if I give you a child?"

  "Then you can stay here on Nottingham. Hell, you can buy your own island and build a house twice as big."

  She snuggled against him. "We will sail with you, me and our babes, to see the places where the water is as blue as your eyes and clear enough to see twenty fathoms."

  "You'll marry me?"

  She'd never looked for so much happiness to come in three wee words. "Aye," she promised solemnly as she cradled his chin between her hands. "But I have my own one condition."

  "And that is?"

  "I get to name our first boy."

  He laughed, lifted her up by the waist, and swung her high. "Whatever you want, wench. Unless you plan to call him Dolphin."

  "Nay, husband." He kissed her again. And when she could speak, she said, "I'll call him Alexander."

  "Why Alexander?"

  "I can't tell ye why," she answered shyly. Tears of joy blinded her, and she fought to find the words. "So long as I can remember, 'twas always the lad's name I've loved best."

  The End

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  Want more from Judith E. French?

  Here's an excerpt from

  THE IRISH ROGUE

  ~

  St. John's Churchyard April 1820

  The earth seemed to crumble beneath Anne's feet. She stared at her betrothed in disbelief.

  "You said you loved me. You promised to marry me...." Rain dripped from the overhanging trees, soaking Anne's cloak and hair. "I believed you. "I'm carrying your child."

  "You were willing enough to be bedded. Don't take it so to heart. I would have married you if I hadn't met a better prospect".

  "Burn in hell, Stephen Preston!" Sickened, ashamed, Anne fled down the crumbling brick walkway out of the walled cemetery to a waiting carriage.

  Mist enveloped the high-wheeled chaise as Anne climbed onto the damp seat beside her sister. "What's wrong? You're not calling off the elopement?" Mary's tone took on an edge of hysteria.

  "It's over. Finished."

  "What will you do? The family will be ruined."

  Anne took the lines and slapped them over the horse's back. "We're going back to your house."

  "Papa will cut you off without a dime," Mary persisted, wringing her hands.

  Anne peered through the fog and reined the horse left.

  "Not that way," Mary corrected. "Take a right here, then left."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I've lived here for five years, haven't I?" She began to fret again as Anne reluctantly turned the horse's head to the right. "If you'd stayed at Gentleman's Folly, your innocence would still be intact."

  "Stop it, Mary. All I need to do is find a husband. And at this point, any God-fearing man without foul breath or nasty habits will serve." They were alone in the narrow lane. Mist blanketed the city, distorting sounds eerily.

  "You don't mean that."

  "Don't I? I'll do what many women before me have done." Anne made her plans as she spoke. "I'll make a marriage of convenience. I'll trade Papa's fortune for a man's name and protection. He'll gain the plantation, silver, and slaves, and my baby's name will be saved."

  "And how will you find a gentleman willing to trade his honor for your acres? Especially since the child must be claimed as his own and come first in all future inheritances."

  "Leave that
to me, little sister," Anne replied, trying to ignore the hollow ache in her chest. "I will find a proper husband."

  "You'd best do it soon, then. Mercy save us!" Mary cried as a burly sailor lurched in front of the carriage.

  Anne yanked on the reins as a second drunk staggered from a recessed doorway. The horse tossed its head as the seamen delivered a volley of blistering oaths

  "Look at that, would ya," a man said to his companions from a tavern doorway. "Easy pickin's?"

  Across the way, an entwined couple stood watching in the shadows of a brick house. "What makes me think those three are up to mischief?" An Irish lilt sweetened the deep timbre of the tall man's voice.

  "No good, 'tis certain." The scantily clad woman gripped his arm. "Stay here with me tonight, O'Ryan. Haven't you enough trouble of your own?"

  "Do I?" He flashed a devilish grin as he touched her rouged cheek. "Those three who followed the carriage, footpads, are they?"

  "Word on the dock is they're responsible for the floaters found Sabbath mornings with pockets and throats slit. Come back inside."

  "Ah, Peggy, you'd tempt a saint." The big Irishman kissed the crown of her head. "I heard a lass cry out from that gig. I've a mind to follow and see what those boys are up to."

  "You'll not listen to good advice?"

  He laughed. "When have I ever?"

  ~

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  THE IRISH ROGUE

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  Judith E French is the bestselling and award-winning author of nearly sixty novels, including historical romance, contemporary, mystery, and suspense. Her books are translated into a dozen languages and sold worldwide. She has written for Avon Books, Dorchester, Kensington, Harlequin, and Ballantine Publishers. Judith is the mother of bestselling novelist Colleen Faulkner, and the recipient of Romantic Times Magazine's Career Achievement Award for American Historicals.