“Well, someone has to!” Rosemary snapped angrily. “There’s a difference between being controlled by another and advice given out of concern – from someone who cares about you.” Tears filled her dark eyes. She turned her back to Angela, hastily dashing them away.
“Oh, Rosemary!” Angela cried, moving to her friend. Her arms encircled Rosemary from behind, her cheek resting against her back. “You are so dear to me. I love you like a sister. You are the only true friend and family I have ever had. I know you’re just concerned about me, but what else would you have me do?”
Sniffling, Rosemary placed a hand over one of Angela’s. “I could go with you, keep an eye out for trouble.”
“That’s a splendid idea! To be honest, I was a bit nervous about doing this by myself, but I didn’t want to involve you in something that might prove dangerous.”
Turning, Rosemary grasped Angela’s arms, her face beaming with excitement. “Count me in! A little danger won’t stop me from sharing this adventure with you. It will give us something to tell our grandchildren.”
Grandchildren. Angela’s mood was slightly dampened by the thought that she might not even have children, let alone grandchildren. If she didn’t marry, there would be no children. She could marry Ian. She was already half in love with him. He’d asked her once, would he ask her again? Would his mother approve? She needed to find out who she was first, and then let fate take its course.
They waited until the household had settled for the night, sneaking down the back stairway, and then down the block to the corner. Rosemary was given the task of hailing a hackney, the driver giving them a curious look. Angela supposed they presented a rather odd pair – a pretty young woman accompanied by an equally pretty young boy. She suppressed a giggle as they climbed in.
“GIVE ME A boost, I can’t quite reach the ledge,” Angela whispered. They were crouched among the hedges below the window to The Baron’s study.
“It’s a good thing I came along. You’re too short to even reach the window ledge. Why don’t you let me do it?”
“You wouldn’t know what to look for, and you certainly don’t want to get caught.”
“Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Not exactly,” Angela replied defensively. “I do know that I’ll be looking for anything referring to my mother, The Baron, or my real father. Maybe there’s some kind of document that proves who my real father is, something The Baron has kept hidden all these years.”
“That would be too easy.”
“I know, but I have to start somewhere. Now, lace your hands together and boost me up.” Angela placed her foot in the cradle of Rosemary’s cupped hands, which were linked together at the fingers to strengthen the bond.
As Rosemary straightened, Angela was able to grasp the edge of the windowsill, pulling herself up. Leaning forward, resting on her belly, she gently pushed at the window. Thankfully, it was unlocked and swung quietly inward on well-oiled hinges. She crawled over the ledge, landing on the soft carpet behind the closed curtains.
The room was so dark it made no difference whether her eyes were open or closed. She had to blink hard, opening her eyes wide just to reassure herself that they were, indeed, open. Cursing herself for not thinking to bring a candle, Angela drew a deep breath and parted the curtains. Deciding that crawling on her hands and knees would be better than cracking her shin on some unseen object, she slowly made her way forward. Even though she was familiar with the layout of the study, there was still the possibility that something had been moved.
If she could make her way to the desk, she could search for a candle. Hopefully, the light wouldn’t shine under the door, alerting one of the servants.
Hearing a faint sound, Angela froze in place, her ears straining to listen. All was quiet except for softly muted voices coming from another part of the house. The servants, most likely. She began to move again, her eardrums pulsing with the beat of her heart. She made slow progress as she inched forward, the inky blackness pressing all around her. It gave her an eerie feeling, as though no one and nothing else existed except her and the darkness.
She stopped, sensing a presence in the room, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. Suddenly a hand came over her mouth, aborting a shriek of terror. Her heart practically beat itself to death in her chest like a frightened bird’s as a muscled arm snaked around her waist, holding her tightly against a very hard, very large body.
“What do you think you’re doing, princess?” Ian whispered into her ear, the warmth of his breath caressing the side of her neck.
Angela sagged with relief. It was only Ian, and not The Baron, or someone else equally as dangerous. He removed his hand from her mouth, but stayed where he was, his arm still keeping her in a firm hold. The earthy scent that was so uniquely his invaded her senses as they remained locked together in the dark. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal pressing into her backside, and as inappropriate as the circumstances were, she felt a fissure of wicked pleasure ripple through her body, coalescing in her loins.
“What is this you’re wearing?” he asked with bemused interest. He explored her contours with wicked precision, feeling along her sides, her stomach, her hips and buttocks, then up to cup her breasts.
Angela knew the exact moment he realized she was wearing men’s clothing, no longer confined by the layers of material required in a gown. She could hear his breathing escalate as it became clear to him. Her own physical reaction had been instantaneous when his body had come into contact with hers.
“They’re Phillips’ castoffs,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t expect me to climb through windows, and crawl around on my hands and knees in a dress would you?”
“What I’d like to know is why you are climbing through windows and crawling around in the dark, which is oddly arousing, I might add.”
“Is that all you think about?” Angela asked, her voice tinged with annoyance.
“When it comes to you I do. Now, tell me, what are you doing here, hmmm?”
What was he doing here? “I’m searching for information on my father.” My real father. Angela decided now was not the right time for detailed explanations. His hands were on her breasts, softly kneading. It made coherent thought almost impossible. “And w-what are you doing here? You scared me half to death!”
“Apparently the same thing as you, searching for information.”
He hadn’t moved from his position, the heat from his body warming hers to a dangerous degree. “What kind of information could you be looking for?” Did he know something about The Baron? It was difficult to focus her attention on anything other than her body’s reaction to the proximity of his. She wriggled in his arms, snapping testily, “Could you kindly give me some room?”
He groaned softly, and then growled, “What’s the matter, princess—” He kissed the side of her neck. “—getting warm?”
Before she knew what had happened, Angela was on her back, Ian’s weight pressing down into her, and then his mouth was moving over hers. In the total darkness, her senses were more acute, amplifying every touch, every caress. She became completely consumed by the delicious sensations arousing her to a fever pitch, blocking everything else out but the primal instinct to give in to temptation.
“I never would have guessed a woman in boy’s clothing could be so arousing,” he said hoarsely.
He pressed himself between her legs, rocking against her in a rhythm that mimicked the act of mating. Angela moaned as he kissed her, his tongue delving into her mouth, plundering like a pirate seeking treasure.
She’d completely forgotten where she was, so captivated was she under Ian’s sensuous magic. The weight and hardness of his body over hers thrilled her. The way he rubbed and pressed against her body’s center ignited a white hot flame that seemed to radiate slowly from her core, outward to her extremities.
The rest of the world ceased to exist. There was only the two of them, locked in a wildly passionate and seductive em
brace. They were oblivious to anything but each other as lips connected, sighs were exchanged, and hands eagerly roamed.
Slowly, Angela became aware of voices, and the glow of a lamp in the outer edges of her vision, breaking the spell.
Someone was attacking them!
Ian’s grunts and defensive movements indicated he was receiving blows from behind, his body over hers protecting her from the threat of injury. Her concern for him rose like a phoenix from its ashes as she struggled to get out from under him, the panic building in her chest.
She would not let him be killed!
5
Villarreal / The Devil Rogue
Chapter 18
ONE MINUTE IAN was enjoying the sweetness of Angela’s lips and her soft curves beneath the thin barrier of the men’s clothing, and the next, someone was pummeling him from behind. They weren’t very hard blows, more of an irritation, really, than painful. He tried to maneuver himself over Angela in order to protect her, but she was wriggling about like a slippery fish. Rearing backward and onto his knees, he swung his arms, knocking his attacker off balance.
Suddenly there were shrieks and shouts coming from all directions. Faceless hands using various objects as weapons were bludgeoning his head and shoulders. “What the bloody hell!” Ian bellowed, rising to his feet.
“Everyone, please! Angela shouted. “It’s all right, he’s with me.”
“Oh, Miss Angela, we thought you were a goner, we did!”
When Ian was able to get a good look at his attackers, they turned out to be one aging butler, an elderly woman who looked like she would topple over in the slightest breeze, and a rotund woman of indeterminable middle years. It was no wonder their assault was less than impressive. “What in the bloody blue blazes is going on, and who are these people?”
Angela stepped in front of him, as if to prevent him from doing bodily harm to the three people, who, despite their years, each eyed him with suspicion and warning.
“Please, everyone, this is his lordship, the Viscount Blackridge, and he was not . . . attacking me.” Angela barely avoided choking on those last words. A bubble of laughter threatened to burst forth, but she was able to subdue it, until she heard Ian’s “humph” from behind her. Unable to contain it any longer, she giggled, and then began to laugh heartily at the whole situation.
“Oh, my!” the stout, middle-aged woman said. “We had no idea, your lordship! We’re terribly sorry!”
She, as the rest of them did, eyed Angela askance, as though any sudden movement might cause her to go madder than she already appeared.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Haversham,” Angela said between gasps. “There’s no way you could have known. I’m sure it looked as though I were being—”
“Ravished?” Ian said quietly into her ear, causing her cheeks to blush prettily.
“Murdered?” the butler supplied.
“By my word, it did look as though he was doing you harm, Miss Angela,” the old woman said in a scratchy voice.
“Well, I’m fine, as you can see,” Angela assured them gently. “Ian –er, my lord, I would like you to meet Viola, Mrs. Haversham, and Connors. Mrs. Haversham is the cook, Connors the butler, and Viola is, well . . . Viola is just . . . Viola.”
Ian presented them with a courtly bow, which pulled a giggle from Mrs. Haversham, and a gasp, followed by a smile from Viola. “I’m pleased to meet you, good people.”
A noise at the window drew everyone’s attention, as Rosemary burst forth from behind the curtains. “What the bloody hell is going on in here? I could hear you from outside the window. It sounded like a war going on. Mrs. Haversham, is that you? And Connors, and Viola? Miss Angela, what’s happened?”
“I’m fine,” Angela said. “Everyone’s fine. When I came through the window, Lord Blackridge was already in here, and then the servants came in and thought—” She cleared her throat. “—well, everything is fine now.”
Rosemary crossed her arms in front of her, giving her mistress a knowing look.
“Where are the other servants?” Angela asked, wondering why they hadn’t been drawn here by the commotion.
“They’ve all gone, Miss Angela,” Mrs. Haversham answered with a sad tone. “Your father could no longer pay them, so he dismissed everyone – everyone but the three of us, that is. Our age prevents us from gaining employment elsewhere, so we’re rather stuck here – pay or no.”
“But that’s horrible!” Angela cried.
“It’s a roof over our heads,” Mrs. Haversham said, “more than we could hope for on our own.”
“What about The Baron – my father? How does he treat you?”
“Oh, he’s a grumpy old bastard – beg pardon, Miss Angela,” Connors said. “Same as ever.”
“He sleeps most of the day, and goes out every night, much to our relief,” Mrs. Haversham added.
Angela had an idea, but wondered if Ian would allow it. “May I have a word with you, over there?” she asked him, pointing to a spot away from the three servants. When he made no move, just looked at her with a curiously blank stare, she took his arm, leading him there.
“Need I remind you, that we’re not supposed to be here,” he said in a low voice, “that we certainly don’t want the baron to come home and find us in his study?”
“It concerns me that they are alone here, subject to The Baron’s cruel whims – especially Viola.”
“What exactly does Viola do?”
“Naps most of the time. We keep her out of the way.”
“She serves no purpose?” Ian asked, incredulous. “Why is she kept on? I find it hard to believe the baron is so kind-hearted.”
Angela waved off his comment. “Oh, we hide her. We have for years. The Baron believes she was dismissed long ago, but she was old even then, and none of us had the heart to send her out into the streets, and most likely, to her death.”
“You– never mind. What are you thinking—” Suspicion colored his voice. “—to bring them with us?”
“Could we?” Angela said brightly. “But how kind of you to offer!”
Ian wasn’t fooled by the way she’d turned his words around. “They are not puppies or kittens.” He remembered her story about rescuing a kitten, and suspected it had been a fabrication to hide what the baron had done.
“No, they’re not, they’re human beings, and I don’t wish to leave them here in this house. I want to bring them with us.”
“And what will they do there? I already have a cook, and a butler. What I don’t have, however, is a woman old enough to have been alive during the Holy Wars.” Placing his index finger on his chin, he looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose every household should have one . . . a sort of mascot—”
“Oh, Ian, be serious! These people need my – our help and we are in a position to do so. It is our obligation to see to their well-being. I will take full responsibility for them, and when I leave they can come with me.”
If she leaves.
“All right, all right. Bring them. But we should look around for anything of significance while have the chance.”
That reminded Angela of her earlier question, which was why he was here in the first place. After she explained their plan to the servants, they went off to happily pack their belongings. Rosemary volunteered to help Viola, leaving Angela alone with Ian. She approached the desk where he was shuffling through some papers. “Why are you looking for information?” she asked.
“My mother told me about her acquaintance with your mother—” He cleared his throat. “—and the question of your parentage, which I already suspected, so I decided to do a little investigating on my own.”
“And did it not occur to you that the matter is none of your business?”
“I meant only to put your mind at ease. I wanted to help you.”
“So, again, it didn’t occur to you that I might not want your help?”
“Regardless whether you want my help or not, I believe the point is moot – for the
moment, that is. Since we are both here, in the baron’s study, we should do what we can while the opportunity is still available to us, don’t you agree?”
Angela realized what he said made sense, but was reluctant to admit it. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she said slowly.
They spread out in different areas of the room with Angela looking through the small drawers in The Baron’s writing bureau, while Ian continued to search the desk. There weren’t many other places to look where a document might be kept. Of course, there might not even be a document, or the truth could be found by way of something else altogether.
Disappointed that she didn’t discover anything, Angela straightened with a sigh and turned around, only to find herself in Ian’s arms.
“Your behind is quite fetchingly displayed in these men’s breeches you’re wearing,” he said, while his hands firmly cupped the area he spoke of.
Ian lowered his head, covering her mouth with his, and kissed her deeply. He groaned low in his throat as he pressed her lower body into the firm ridge of his arousal. He had to wrestle for control of the animalistic urge to mate with her, right here, right now. There was something primal within him that was unleashed whenever he was around her, whenever he touched her, kissed her. It was something he’d never experienced before. He couldn’t explain it to himself or anyone else.
When he finally lifted his mouth away from hers, she gasped. “I don’t think we should be doing this right now,” she said in a low, husky voice.
“I agree,” Ian said, “but I find I cannot keep my hands off you.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Did you find anything?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t. What about you?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid. It was a risk coming here, and a long shot to expect to find what we’re looking for. What are we looking for?”
“I haven’t the vaguest clue. I suppose I was hoping for something to jump out at me – not literally, of course,” she said with a laugh. She was probably remembering the way he had grabbed her in the dark.
The Devil Rogue Page 17