Alex's Angel

by Natasha Blackthorne

  This gentleman, while kind and patient, didn’t seem to be the type who wanted to sponsor an artist on a mission. He seemed to want a playmate to warm his bed and probably wanted a woman who would cater to him alone.

  Yet she craved his touch and his caring. And he had such force of personality—he had such power over her. How was she to resist, to maintain her self and sense of purpose?

  Well, obviously, it would be best to avoid finding herself beneath him again. She’d better be fully dressed before she faced him. She jolted from the bed, ran to thrust the curtains open wide and blinked as the bright light assaulted her eyes. Then she went to the mirror and saw her hopelessly mussed hair and kiss-bruised lips. She’d better get herself together, and soon.

  She splashed her face with cold water from the pitcher. Then she stumbled about the chamber, searching for her clothes and pulling them on. She brushed and braided her hair and coiled it at the back of her neck. Having done that, she gathered as much of her clothing as she could into her old valise. She’d have to leave everything else, even her precious store of books. Well, there was no help for it. Hopefully, this benefactor that Mr Jefferson had found her would have an extensive library and he might not mind her borrowing from it. She pictured a kindly old man, someone with jowls and a merry laugh. Or someone tall, lean and sober, like Grandfather.

  “What the devil do you think you are doing?” Alex’s deep voice cut into her thoughts.

  Chapter Seven

  Emily span around to face Alex, then sucked in her breath. Heavens, he was so handsome—every line and plane of his face washed in the stark sunlight was gorgeous. She’d be obsessed with sketching his likeness, every perfect part of him, for months, maybe years, trying to adequately capture on paper the perfection that nature had so effortlessly created.

  “It’s morning now. I should be getting on my way.”

  “Morning is long gone. It’s half past noon,” he said with a slight yawn. He approached her. “I have sent Zachariah for some hot water and some breakfast.” He stopped in front of her and reached out to grasp her waist and pull her close.

  At his touch, her whole body melted. By the time his caressing hand worked its way down to her bottom, she was practically jelly. No, no, this wasn’t the way to remain detached. She stiffened herself against the sensation and looked up at him.

  His eyes were warmer than the sunshine. “I have some business this afternoon and a damned supper party tonight but I could come here by two in the morning. And I have nothing to do tomorrow morning.”

  She forced a laugh and pulled away from him. “I can’t possibly stay here.”

  “Of course not. Not for any length of time. I can find you a little house.”

  A house. Temptation beat through her. A house of her very own. She would have comfort and security and she would make all the decisions— But no, that wasn’t how it worked, was it? No. Surely if he gifted her with a house that would come with all his rules and demands. All right, so some of those demands would be pleasurable—heavens, she feared that before long, she’d find it hard to deny him anything.

  No, no, no. That would be no good at all. If she let anything distract from the time and freedom she needed for her art and her mission—she flickered a glance at his handsome face—no matter how agreeable such a distraction proved to be. Having a handsome, charming, wealthy gentleman offer her protection—she’d never expected to be faced with such a dilemma! How to handle this? Best to pretend to have misunderstood him. She looked away to avoid his gaze. “I can’t afford a house.”

  “I mean to provide you with a house.”

  “Provide me with a house? Why ever would you do such a thing?”

  “Emily, I can’t help but feel you’re being deliberately obtuse here.”

  Caught, she glanced up at him.

  The irritation in his expression sliced right into her. “I am offering you my protection.”

  The last word had a ribbon of warmth winding through her. Warmth so seductive that for a moment she wanted to throw herself at his body. Let him wrap his strong, protective arms about her and never let go. This was dangerous business here. “Protection?” She forced another laugh and turned from his persuasive gaze. “I don’t need anyone’s protection.”

  “After last night, I have an obligation.”

  “You owe me nothing more than you would any other girl you met in the Blue Duck.”

  He touched her arm. “All right—let me say also that, after last night, I desire to offer my protection to you.”

  “And what would you expect in return?”

  “The usual things, Emily. Your time and your company—nothing more.”

  “Oh, yes, and when you snap your fingers, I shall be expected to strip off and fall into your bed or onto my knees as the mood strikes you.”

  Long wrinkles creased his high, broad brow. “It’s not like that at all. You shall share your person or not as the mood strikes you. I’ll never force anything. I simply want to make you comfortable, to spend time with you.”

  Don’t you believe him. He wants only to make you dependent on him, emotionally and financially. Once he has you used to luxury and his affection, when you can’t live without either, he will bring the crop down on you.

  She raised her eyes back to his. “No. I’ll not accept anything more from you than my one hundred and fifty dollars. And, Alex, I think I would like to have it now, if you don’t mind.”

  Alex stared down at her open hand. “Do you realise what you’re so casually tossing aside? I’ll give you a personal account in any shop in this town, your own carriage, your own house with servants.”

  She compressed her lips and her eyes narrowed. “I just want the money I have already earned and the liberty to go my own way.”

  This had not occurred to him. He hadn’t even imagined that she would turn such an offer down. God, she was going to flee into the city like the frightened, lost girl he’d first taken her for.

  He took a deep breath, then went to find his jacket and procured the money she was waiting for. He returned to her.

  “At least stay here until I can find you rooms of your own that you can afford.”

  “Mr Dalton,” she said in patient tones, as if speaking to a child. “I didn’t suddenly, by the loss of my virginity, lose the capacity to see to my own affairs. I can manage quite well on my own.”

  He flinched. Despite himself, her words stung. Who the devil was this thin scrap of a girl with the too-long nose to reject his protection? Did she have any idea how many other women would have jumped at the chance to be his mistress? “As of last night, you weren’t exactly doing such a capable job of maintaining your own affairs. You were penniless, turned out of your boarding house, everything you owned held hostage by a ragman and you had resorted to harlotry to sell the last remaining thing you held of value.”

  She straightened her spine, drawing his attention to her small, high breasts. Her nipples were like those of other women with such small breasts—quite prominent and seeming always to be half erect. Their sweetness had been like exotic fruit against his tongue. She’d been every bit as sensual as he’d suspected and he wanted more with a hunger that was pain.

  “Yes, well, it is my life to live, not yours,” she said in stiff tones, so obviously trying to be pretend to be indifferent. Yet her sherry-brown eyes shone with wildness. He should take care not to provoke her. He needed to remain in control.

  “I’ll have the money now, if you please.” Her expression hardened, her tone was cool, as if now that she’d earned her money, he was dismissed. As if that was all he had been to her, a means to a monetary end. As if they hadn’t shared the most earth-shattering, never-before-known pleasures and closeness the night before.

  His control snapped.

  “By all means.” He dropped the bills into her waiting hand. “Welcome to the world of harlotry.”

  The wildness in her eyes became flames.

  “You—you…” She closed
her mouth and pressed her lips so tightly together that the edges grew white.

  “You can’t accept the truth of the matter? Believe me, this is going to be the least of the insults you’ll be dealt in your new life.”

  “I hate you.” She spoke the words with deadly softness and the hand holding the bills began to tremble.

  She reminded him so much of a hissing, spitting little kitten that he lost his anger. She was inexperienced—the next thing to a virgin. He’d hurt her. He had her at an economic disadvantage. She was scared of him, and probably more of her own reactions, as all virgins were when having their first sexual experiences.

  And it was the worst of all signs. She really was a soft-hearted thing. He had no business tangling with her. But they were too deep into things now.

  She was volatile, her reactions would be unpredictable.

  He did not want to chance letting her walk out of his door. He shuddered inside thinking of what trouble she might stumble into unawares. But what else could he do? He couldn’t hold her hostage here. He suppressed a groan of frustration. He knew from past experience that if he only had more time with her, he could seduce her into letting him protect and take care of her. And at that point, he could make sure she was well set-up enough to take care of herself.

  But he had to have that time. He glanced at the stack of bills there upon her hand. He pictured Alicia McConnell, decking herself out like the finest French courtesan with Peter’s congé. Purchasing herself the best wines, opiates and God knew what else. Running wild among the elite of Philadelphia. Her expensive tastes bringing her to desperation to gain more funds to supply them. Becoming hardened, willing to do the most perverse acts…

  Money in the hands of one who had never had it before could be a very dangerous thing.

  On a rash impulse, he scooped the bills from Emily’s hand.

  “What the devil?” she cried.

  He took the money and counted out enough for decent lodgings and food for a month and a few items of clothing, and placed it in her hand.

  “B—but we had an agreement.” Her eyes shone with disbelief.

  “I changed my mind. You can stay with me and have your every whim answered. I shall provide you with your own rooms and a carriage. A wardrobe. But if you leave, you shall only have enough to get by in the near term.”

  Her lovely mouth dropped open, her lower, dark pink lip quivering. “Don’t you have any honour?”

  “I refuse to fund your ruin.”

  “Y—you’re a man of business—we had an agreement.”

  “If you want to play at being a harlot, then you’d better get used to having the terms change after the fact.”

  She stepped back from him, paling. His heart gave a pang. Christ, he wanted to relent. She was simply scared. This was scaring her further. But, no—he had to remain firm with her. He couldn’t let her just run out of that door. He wouldn’t fail. Not this time. Not Emily.

  “You’re doing this because I am poor, because I am a harlot—just because you can.”

  “I am doing this so you won’t make further mistakes.”

  Her face flushed bright red, her eyes sparking as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, you cannot manipulate me into staying—I won’t be forced into being yours.”

  Her eyes glittered, suspiciously wet.

  He closed the distance between them and touched her shoulders. She grew stiff, making it hard to draw her into his embrace. He embraced her anyway, rocking her resisting body gently as he pressed his hands to her back. “It won’t be so terrible, being mine, as you put it. You won’t even have to lie with me again, if that’s your wish. I just want to take care of you and help you.”

  She uncrossed her arms and pushed them against his chest, propelling herself away from him. “I don’t need your help. I just need the money we already agreed upon.”

  “I can’t do that, Emily. I won’t be responsible for your further ruin.”

  She opened the hand that still gripped the money and stared down at the crumpled bills. “I suppose I have no choice but to take this and leave, then.”

  She glanced up at him. Her eyes looked huge and devastated.

  He swallowed back the urge to relent. No, she had to come back. If he refused her the money, she’d come back. She would accept his protection. “Will you make me a promise?”

  Her mouth dropped open again. “You—you of all people now want a promise from me?”

  “Yes, I do. May I have it?”

  She crossed her arms back over her chest. “It depends on what it is.”

  “If you need money in the future, come to me. Don’t go to the Blue Duck.”

  Her features hardened. He held his breath, knowing what was coming.

  “I’d never come to you for anything. Not now.”

  Her tone was so scathing he almost winced.

  “Don’t say anything so rash, Emily. It is a very cold, cruel world out there. Don’t let pride keep you from asking me for help.”

  She stared at him with those large, hurt eyes. “You think I am nothing more than a strumpet from the Blue Duck.”

  “That’s not true, Emily.”

  “Yes, it is true. I can see it in your eyes. However, I am more than you imagine. I have a purpose in my life. I live to make the world a better place. I am going to make something of myself—I am going to change the world for the better.” She looked at the money in her hand again. “Well, I shall never forget you, the man who enabled me to keep a roof over my head and food in my mouth until I could find my way. But that’s all you shall ever be to me.”

  “You’re taking this all wrong. I—”

  She laughed softly and held her other hand up, as if to forestall him. “No, please. There’s nothing more to be said between us—except, maybe, for this. You threw away your chance at higher education. An education so many would have been grateful to attain. You ran away from your family. You use your wealth to gain whatever you wish. You seem to have no purpose in your life except for the pursuit of pleasure and you don’t care who you use or how you trample on them. You even command your slave to stand outside your door like some sort of sentry. You look down on me and think you can command me to your will because I am just a poor, pitiful girl from the Blue Duck. But the truth is”—she raked him with her gaze—“Do you want to know something, Alex?”

  He suddenly felt like a condemned man. Awaiting sentence.

  “What?” he asked, with all the reluctance he would experience if he were to stick his neck into a guillotine.

  She lifted her chin and such strength of character shone in her eyes, such determination and assurance of purpose, it took his breath. It dazzled him, holding him bemused. He stared at her, transfixed by her inner beauty and knowing all the while she was leagues above him. She was like a brilliant shining star. No…an angel.

  He still held his breath, hoping against all hope for mercy.

  For mercy from an angel might just be the thing to heal him.

  She opened her mouth and he felt a peculiar pinching in his chest. “I feel sorry for you.”

  She said the words so softly, so calmly, yet they hit him with gale-force impact. He flinched and staggered back a few steps. Maybe he even felt a bit ill. But she was turning and leaving.

  He let her go.

  * * * *

  It had only been a week since the day Emily had left and Alex still couldn’t get his mind off her. It made other business hard to focus on. Even his own inner demons had to take a secondary place to his new, all-consuming obsession. What was she doing? Was she feeding herself regularly? Who was she seeing? Would she ever come back to him?

  I feel sorry for you.

  Her words echoed in his head. He couldn’t stop hearing them. Oh, she was far more perceptive than Alicia had ever been. It had taken Emily only one night to discover the empty void beneath his façade.

  But still, he needed to be able to do something for her. To protect her against herself and her in
experience. She was all alone in the world and she needed guidance.

  He had someone take rooms in the boarding house where she was staying; it hadn’t been difficult to find her. But what if she took it into her head to leave the city? What if she couldn’t be easily traced once that happened?

  Christ. Had he misjudged her stubbornness and done the wrong thing by not giving her more money? He pictured her, going hungry, growing thinner. Forced to let men take her to their rooms—

  “I am soon to retire from my position. I am done with politics.” The red-haired Virginian’s drawl broke into Alex’s thoughts. He’d come to visit the Secretary of State, Mr Thomas Jefferson, here at his house on the banks of the Schuylkill River, for a teatime appointment. But he’d come early to discuss matters that concerned them both. The two men shared a deep concern about the fate of American mariners being held in Barbary since the vessels Maria of Boston and Dauphin of Philadelphia had been captured in the summer of 1785.

  Alex looked up just as the other man leant back in his chair and stretched his tall, lanky frame. “I cannot wait to return to Monticello and put all of this behind me. My daughters and my grandchildren need me more than this country does.”

  Jefferson gave a slightly wistful sigh. Alex nodded and gave the appropriate, polite response but, in Alex’s opinion, Jefferson’s withdrawal had more to do with the upcoming fight over what to do about the Barbary pirate situation. Just this October past, the British had made a truce with Portugal and the two Portuguese ships that had been guarding the Straits of Gibraltar had been called off.

  It left American shipping without protection in the Mediterranean and the easy prey of the pirates. Jefferson’s views on handling the Barbary situation and his belief in the need for a national navy were in conflict with those of the Democrat-Republican Party, to which he owed allegiance. The issue of a national navy promised to be one of the most contentious debates in the coming congressional session.

  “Last year, a young authoress asked for my help in contacting family members of the Dauphin’s captured crew who live here so that she could interview them for a book.”