“Have you so soon forgotten my name?” he teased charmingly.
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten it. Perhaps I’ll say it, if asked in just the right way.” She was referring to the last time he’d requested she say his name, or rather passionately commanded it. The way his eyes darkened told her he knew what she alluded to.
Out of the corner of her eye, Angela could see they’d attracted an interested audience. Neither one of them made any effort to hide the current of emotions flowing between them, or the desire they felt for one another.
“I need a moment alone with you, Angela,” he said in a low voice. “I wish to explain my actions to you, and if what I’ve done is still something you can’t forgive, I promise I’ll not bother you again.”
“I’ve no need of an explanation, for I—”
“Please. I beg of you.”
“I forgive you.”
“You – you forgive me?”
“I already understand why you did what you did. It no longer matters how I came to be with you, except that I – except that I love you.”
“My God, Angela,” Ian said in a voice thick with emotion, “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you facing off Eberly in that attic, though I didn’t know it at the time.”
“Oh, Ian!”
And in the most shocking display anyone had ever witnessed before or since that night, Ian dipped his head and kissed her right there in the middle of the dance floor. Breaking apart, their lips still only a breath away, he said, “I’m about to do something that will either turn out remarkably well, considering the circumstances, or be so miserably disastrous I might be forced to flee the country.”
Angela realized several things at once: the music had stopped, the other couples who remained on the dance floor were looking at them as if she and Ian had each suddenly grown another head, and Ian was lowering himself onto one knee at her feet.
The entire room had grown silent, no one wanting to miss the spectacle taking place on the dance floor. The other couples quietly moved to the outer edges, leaving Angela and Ian as the center of attention.
“Ian, what are you doing?” Angela whispered harshly.
“What does it look like? I’m proposing. Now hush, and let me get on with it.” He took her cold, clammy hands into his own large, warm ones. “Angela Maria Yevdokia Fedorovich, Princess of Moldova—” His voice was loud and clear in the hushed silence. He must have memorized her new name. “—would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
No one in the entire building seemed to breathe or make a sound. As quiet as the place was, a feather hitting the floor would have made a racket.
Hesitating for only a moment in order to dislodge the lump in her throat, Angela answered in a voice just as clear, “Yes, Lord Blackridge, I accept.”
A thunderous applause, accompanied by cheers loud enough to wake the dead erupted when her answer was heard. Tears coursed down her face as Ian rose, taking her into his arms. The orchestra began to play, and they waltzed together in celebration.
“I’m so relieved I don’t have to leave the country, princess,” Ian said, chuckling.
Angela laughed with him, her cheeks glistening with moisture. “When we get a moment alone, there’s something I must tell you.”
Ian glanced around, looking for an escape route. As each dancing couple came within earshot, congratulations were offered with beaming smiles. “Come with me,” he said, grasping her hand, leading her away from the crowd.
He walked quickly, Angela trailing behind him, ignoring anyone who attempted to stop them for conversation. He halted when he found a secluded spot, out on the terrace, hidden in darkness. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her, his mouth covering hers with unrestrained passion. His lips were warm and firm, his tongue demanding as it delved inside to taste her.
He raised his head, giving her a much needed breath of air. “Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?” he asked, his voice husky.
“It would be most prudent to marry as soon as possible,” Angela began.
“I agree, most emphatically,” he said, placing little kisses over her forehead, cheeks, and nose.
“Because we wouldn’t want there to be any questions.”
“Questions, definitely not.” He continued kissing her chin, moving lower, to her throat.
“It should look like it occurred on our honeymoon.”
“Yes, of course,” to the tops of her breasts.
“Just for the sake of propriety, mind you.”
“Mmmm.” Her exposed nipple begged for his attention.
“Oh! My Lord . . . that feels—”
“Indeed.” His tongue circled the hardened point.
Angela gasped. “W-what were we talking about?”
“I haven’t a clue.” He released her other breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb, while continuing to suckle its twin.
Angela grabbed the thick hair on both sides of his head and pulled. “Ian!” she hissed. “There’s something important you must know.” Stuffing her breasts back into her bodice, she blurted, “I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father.”
Stunned, Ian asked, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Y-you don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind? My God, it’s wonderful!” Lifting her off the ground, he twirled her in a dizzying circle.
“Ian, please stop!” she begged. “If you don’t I’ll cast up my accounts all over you, I vow!”
With great gentleness and concern, Ian settled her feet back on the ground. “I’m sorry, are you all right? Is the baby—”
She laughed. “The baby’s fine. It’s me I’m worried about. Just about everything makes me sick these days.”
“Is it very bad?”
“Not so bad. Rosemary tells me it should pass in a couple of months.”
“And how does she know about these things?” Ian asked with skepticism.
“She comes from a large family. Besides, she was a servant, remember? She hears the very best gossip.”
“Is that where you learned your vocabulary?”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Angela inquired innocently.
“Never mind. It won’t bother you to become a lowly viscountess? After discovering you’re a princess, it would be a step down.”
“I don’t care if I were a scullery maid as long as I had you,” she said, kissing him tenderly on the lips.
“If you don’t desist with your wayward behavior,” he growled. “I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and ravish you like a scullery maid.”
“Are you saying you’ve ravished scullery maids?”
“As a matter of fact, I haven’t, so close that beautiful mouth, you vixen, or I won’t be able to wait until the wedding.”
“Why wait?”
With another growl, he kissed her with all the pent up emotions of the last weeks. Angela’s knees weakened and she melted into him, delirious from the intensity of his passion.
He broke away from her and said, “Let’s move to a more advantageous location.” The huskiness in his voice conveyed the tight control he held over himself.
Angela felt his urgency with an answering need to be with him, to feel his strength surround her, skin to skin, their bodies joining in the ultimate consummation of their love. “Yes, quickly,” she breathed.
He took her by the hand, leading her down the shallow steps, and onto the stone patio separating the house from the lawn. Picking her up, cradling her in his arms, Ian briskly walked through the thick carpet of grass.
“Why are you carrying me?” Angela asked, although she didn’t mind in the least.
“The grass is wet,” he said, and then grinned. “If you’re to return to the ball, the dampness of your hem will reveal a telling tale.”
“What about the guests? What about my father? Won’t they miss us?”
“There are so many people in there we could be gone for hours and no one would notice,” he replied, side-ste
pping around a row of low shrubs.
It was dark back here, the only light coming from the almost full moon peeking out from behind a thin string of clouds. Ian had no trouble finding the gazebo, set back in a secluded oasis of leafy trees and fragrant, climbing rose bushes.
He gently set Angela down on the bench, and then sitting beside her, pulled her into his arms. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said quietly. Running his hands up her back, one sliding up to cup the back of her neck, he looked into her eyes. “My life means nothing without you, Angela. I love you.”
They were simple words, but Angela felt the deep sincerity of them. Her heart filled and then soared to the heavens, so enraptured she was by this moment in time. She wished she could freeze it, put it in her pocket, to take out and cherish it when she was old and gray and her memory failed her. Blinking back tears of joy, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ian! I love you so much, and I’m so happy I could just cry it out to the night sky!”
“Don’t do that, sweet angel,” he said with a chuckle. “We don’t want all of London to witness our private reunion.”
“No, we definitely wouldn’t want that,” Angela said, feigning seriousness, but then ruined it by laughing.
Much later, they returned to the ball, Angela wearing a mysterious smile, and looking thoroughly kissed. Only the gently swaying trees and the singing crickets surrounding that deserted part of the gardens were witness to what had taken place.
5
Villarreal / The Devil Rogue
Chapter 24
IAN AND ANGELA stood together, circled by her father, his mother, Rosemary, and a few other acquaintances, when an approaching man caught his attention. At first he dismissed it as a trick of his imagination, but as the gentleman drew nearer, Ian thought for sure he was seeing a ghost.
The man walked directly toward their group, accompanied by a dark-haired woman. She was tall and slender, resting her elegant hand on his arm, and she was smiling with warmth. They were a stunning contrast, with his pale blonde coloring and her pitch-black hair.
“Blackridge!”
Ian turned his body to fully greet his friend. “John?” To say it was a shock to see John Winston back from the dead would have been an understatement.
Angela gasped, as everyone in their group slowly ceased conversing with one another to focus their attention on the newcomers.
Ian clasped John’s hand shaking it vigorously, and then damning convention, wrapped him in an affectionate bear hug. “Jesus, John, I though you were dead,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. His friend seemed thinner and paler than he remembered.
John stepped back, returning to the woman’s side. “It’s good to see you too, my friend,” he said, laughing. “There’s much to tell you, but first I want you to meet my wife, Blossom.” His grin reflected his happiness. “This is my closest friend, Ian Moreland, the Viscount Blackridge. Ian, Blossom Winston.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Winston,” Ian said, bowing over her outstretched hand. She nodded her head gracefully, and smiled at him with genuine pleasure. “May I introduce my fiancé, Angela, or rather, Her Royal Highness, Princess of Moldova.” Ian then introduced his mother and Angela’s father, along with the rest of their group.
“Mr. Winston,” Angela said. “I can’t tell you how incredibly happy I am to see that you’re alive and well.” He did look well, but there were shadows under his eyes, and a slight pallor to his complexion that revealed a recent illness – or injury. Could it be that her step-father was responsible?
“Dear Princess Angela,” John said, looking into her eyes with sincerity. “I can only say that if you’ve snared this rogue’s heart, than you’re more worthy than ten Baron Eberlys. But now isn’t the time for that discussion. Perhaps we could move to a more private location?” His eyes sought Ian’s, conveying much without saying another word.
Ian took Angela’s hand and placed it over his arm. “Let’s go, my dear, and find a quiet place to hear my friend’s tale.”
Together, the four of them maneuvered their way around the maze of people, forced to stop often so Angela and Ian could accept congratulations on their engagement. Either that, or John was confronted with an acquaintance who wished to express their pleased surprise that he was, indeed, not dead.
Finally, they made it to a small library located in a secluded wing of the mansion. To Angela, it seemed to have taken a day and a half, and as soon as they entered, she found a comfortable sofa, and plopped down on it with a sigh of relief. Since she’d become pregnant, she tended to tire easily, and after their tryst in the gardens, she was especially worn out. She wished, almost to the point of violence, that she could remove the tight-fitting corset pinching her ribs beneath her gown.
“My apologies, but I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment,” she said as an excuse.
“Don’t mind her, she’s just had too much excitement this evening,” Ian said with a wink in her direction. He adored the way she blushed in response to his words, proving that she was thinking of their interlude in the gazebo earlier.
“Quit flirting with your fiancé, Blackridge, and pay attention,” John said good-naturedly. He assisted his wife to a comfortable seat near Angela.
“Okay, John, tell us what the hell happened,” Ian said, suddenly impatient to hear the details.
“First of all, I owe the princess an apology,” John began.
“Please, call me Angela, it would be so much easier, and I’m still not quite used to the title.”
“Angela,” John continued. “I must apologize for the deception I played upon you.” At her startled look, he explained, “I was working under cover, investigating your father, or at least we all thought he was your father at the time.”
“Undercover?” Ian blurted. “You’re a spy?”
“Not really a spy, but I’ve done some investigative work for the Home Office over the last several years.”
“My God, John, why didn’t you tell me?” Ian tried to understand, but it still hurt that his friend hadn’t confided in him.
“I was going to tell you . . . eventually,” John said sheepishly. “The opportunity just never seemed to come up.”
“Can we hear the rest of the story?” Angela cut in.
Blossom sat quietly throughout their conversation, content, it seemed, only to listen.
John took a deep, fortifying breath. “Yes, well, anyway, I was investigating Eberly. We suspected him of a blackmailing scheme, and—”
“I was a suspect, as well,” Angela finished for him.
Ian jumped in. “She was completely ignorant of Eberly’s criminal activities.”
“I knew that,” John said. “It was obvious after spending time with her, that she had no knowledge of what her father – pardon me – Eberly was up to.”
“And how did you come up with this deduction so easily?” Ian asked with a spark of jealousy. How could he feel that way when his friend obviously loved and adored his wife, and he had no doubts that Angela loved him?
“It was her straightforward manner,” John said, “her lack of guile, and the way her servants treated her with such respect and affection.”
Ian’s expression turned stormy. “Is that so?” He couldn’t help but be reminded of the awful way he’d treated Angela when she’d first arrived at his house. He stood silent for a moment, brooding over his thoughts, and then looked over at Angela. For some reason, he needed her reassurance that she had, indeed, forgiven him. When she smiled at him with all the radiance of a woman in love, his chest filled with warmth.
Looking puzzled, John gazed from Ian to Angela. “How did you two meet, anyway? It’s not like you mingled at the same functions.”
“It’s a long story,” Ian said. “We’ve yet to hear the rest of yours. Eberly confessed to me that he’d sent a couple of ruffians after you, that they’d bungled the job.”
“He did send those two buffoons to try and persuade me to pa
y him,” John said, and then hesitated. “The whole thing turned nasty, I’m afraid. I was, well, stabbed several times.” It appeared he found it difficult to recount the incident. “Obviously they took my ring, leaving me for dead. I have no idea what happened to the one who was found in the river. Apparently he was mistaken for me.”
“How did you survive it?” Ian asked in amazement.
John’s expression showed his own amazement. “I really don’t know, or at least I don’t remember. Somehow, I made it out of the city and, miraculously, landed on Blossom’s doorstep.” He looked over at Blossom, giving her an affectionate smile. “She’s the one who saved my life. If it hadn’t been for her kindness to a complete stranger, I’d be dead.”
Ian turned to Blossom. “I thank you, madam, for saving my friend’s life.”
For the first time since they’d arrived in the room, Blossom spoke. “There’ve been moments when I’d wished I hadn’t been so kind.” She said this with a mischievous grin.
John laughed at her statement. “I know it’s hard to believe that I’m not always the charming gentleman, but she’s had a lot to put up with these last weeks.”
“Have you just arrived back in town, then?” Angela inquired.
“We arrived yesterday, only to discover the spectacular news of your true identity,” John said, looking at Angela. “An Inspector Krenshaw tracked me down, all the way to Blossom’s home, and filled me in on most of what had been going on during my absence.”
John proceeded to tell Ian and Angela how it was that Inspector Krenshaw was able to find him and solve the case. When the body had been pulled from the Thames, Krenshaw noticed, upon closer inspection, the ring on the unidentified man’s right hand. What had made that discovery significant in Krenshaw’s mind was the fact that it hadn’t been stolen.
That ring had been his only clue. It was a heavy, solid gold piece, and in the inspector’s way of thinking, too expensive for just your average, low-born citizen. But he had noticed one thing that would narrow his search considerably: a unique design bearing a deeply etched W, which had eliminated a large number of wealthy family names.
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