Angel of Ash

by Law, Josephine

  Long moment before she was able to speak once more. “I hope this will hurry up so that I may have my child in my hands. Dratted women’s role. Why can’t the man be the one to go through this, yes, Gabe sit and groan in pain while I rub his shoulders and pat his back.”

  The image thoroughly caused both women to laugh in merriment before once again, regaining her composure; Hunter smiled, turning towards Angel. “Forgive me, Angel, for sending Asher to you; he was the last brother I would wish upon any unsuspecting female. He is an utter rake and with a mean streak. But tell me, I pray, was he respectful or did he thoroughly aggravate you as he does to me, so many times?”

  Angel paused, she thought of their shared kiss and then of Asher’s belligerent mood. “He was a gentleman, through and through, Hunter. Do not worry, I am here now and I shall stay for the next three months. I pray you Godspeed during your birth.”

  Hunter nodded, smiling as the two young women hugged once more. “I just cannot wait for you to fall in love and marry and to have your first child; you deserve that more than anyone I know.”

  “No matter,” she said, patting Hunter’s hand before standing up. “I shall speak to your husband and from the way he worriedly watched you he shall be here within five seconds, perhaps less.”

  “Alright, yes, bring that man to me, I so need my shoulders rubbed,” she bravely said, grimacing however as pain erupted in her stomach. “Oh, do hurry Angel and tell him I believe it is time for the doctor, and my mother, I want my mama.”

  Angel would have laughed at Hunter’s petulant comment, but she was too busy rushing to the door and opening it, where Hunter’s husband, Gabriel, waited for her immediately outside she did not have the time to indulge in her humor.

  “She believes it is time, sir,” Angel started, “She wishes for the doctor and her mother…and you,” Angel said, watching as Gabe’s eyes widened before he rushed in, she barely having enough time to scoot out his way where he was closely followed by what she thought to be the doctor, nurse and her mother, before the door was soundly closed behind the trio.

  “Ms. Barrett?” A masculine voice said, as Angel turned, noticing for the first time the many men in the room, there were six in all, including Hunter’s father and Asher, the rest unknown to Angel, but whom she rightly presumed were Hunter’s brothers.

  “Please, sir, do call me Angel,” Angel said, walking towards Lord Hawthorne, who smiled, yet looking slightly stressed. It would be his first grandchild.

  “Of course,” he said, holding her hand lightly in his and staring down at her with beautiful feline colored eyes, he was quite handsome and had passed upon his looks to all of his children. “There shall be no more formalities as I introduce you to the rest of Hunter’s brothers,” he said, before turning towards the one nearest him.

  “This is Caleb,” he said, the oldest and heir, who just over thirty would cause any female’s heart to race in trepidation at being chosen as the next duchess. Caleb bowed respectfully over her hand before straightening up and smiling deeply, his cheeks missing the dimples which Asher had in abundance.

  “Angel, I am glad to finally have a face, and such a pretty one at that, to finally go with the name Hunter has spoken of so fondly. How do you do, my lady?” He asked, politely, an interested gleam in his eyes.

  “Well, sir, thank you,” she said, curtseying.

  Ethan turned next to Asher, who had a decanter of brandy in his hand. “And, of course, you know Asher, the second oldest. I ascertain that he has been nothing except the epitome of respectfulness during your trip to the estate.” Ethan looked at Asher with a half raised eye brow, the similarities between them deep. “Am I not right?” He asked.

  “Oh, of course,” Angel said, interrupting, as Asher half lifted his decanter towards her in greeting. “Asher kept the trip here, quite interesting,” she returned, feeling heat, which she hoped no one would notice, once again engulf her face, before continuing with the introductions herself, turning next to Hunter’s twin brothers.

  “And Luke and Michael,” Lord Hawthorne said, as they both bowed over her hand, mirror images of each other. “And I believe, you are Luke,” she said, directing her comment towards one brother.

  “You are right, of course, how did you know?” Luke asked, she was a beautiful woman, lithe with a curvaceous figure and beautiful features.

  “Oh, Hunter tells me that you have the birthmark which Sir Michael seems to be missing,” she said, turning towards Michael, who also bowed over her hand.

  “You are correct, my lady,” Michael said. “And here, is David, our youngest,” he said as Angel turned towards David, a smidgen shorter than the twins, six feet tall, with ruddy cheeks like his father and dimples as deep as his brother, Asher. He smiled, even though his mouth seemed to be wan, and bowed low over her hand.

  “Ms. Barrett,” he said, all seriousness, much like his older brothers and which Michael and Luke seem to lack.

  “Please, sir, do call me, Angel” she replied, out of all the brothers, he looked most like Asher, in fact, if it wasn’t for the difference of age, and David’s eyes were more hazel than green, unlike Asher, the two could also rival for twins.

  “And do call me, David,” he said, before standing up and Angel did not miss the wince that marred his perfect, handsome features for one brief second.

  “Your brother tells me you have recently recovered from a bout with influenza, how do you do?” She asked, truly concerned over his health.

  “Well, my lady,” he said, while she watched him doubtfully, he appeared thinner than he should have his cheeks more prominent and hollow than the others, who were all in robust health, all of the men broadly muscular and tall. “As well as I should, my lady,” he said, smiling softly. “But I do believe the couch is beckoning me,” he said allowing himself to grimace self mockingly at his show of weakness.

  “Yes, I do believe I hear it also, sir, here, let me be your escort,” she returned, taking his elbow and helping him to the nearest couch which he gratefully sat upon.

  “Thank you,” David said, smiling at her, mesmerized by her beauty. Hunter had said many times that Angel was truly one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, but no one had truly believed her until they had all seen her face with their own eyes.

  She seemed to be a new specimen of humanity, her blood lines containing different ethnicities which all added something alluring to her face.

  He was mesmerized as all the brothers were but it was Asher, the one who ignored her, who seemed most entranced by her spell.

  As she sat beside David and his other brothers and father sat next to and around her, Asher could only watch from his retreat besides the window as they openly flirted with her, smiling, cuckolded by her exotic beauty and sweet nature. Asher watched in disgust as Angel openly asked, once again, after David’s health, the little bastard, and then in return, spoke to each of the brothers in a warm and caring manner.

  They could all go to hell, Asher thought to himself, as he drank the last of his whiskey, before heavily thumping it on the table beside him which they ignored and angrily turned towards the window towards the darkness of the sky.

  Good thing that Angel was there, however, she seemed to make light of the situation of Hunter’s birth, easing the tension in the room as the brothers and father waited for their beloved sister and daughter to birth the child in health. No later than ten agonized moans later, did Asher gulp down another decanter of brandy, far from being in his right mind as he thought about the pain in which his sister was going through and how much he hated Gabe right now for putting her in such agony.

  The grouping had long since dissipated, David and Angel still on the couch, talking quietly about nonsense, Asher thought sarcastically, as Michael paced in front of the right window, Luke in front of the left window, the two often meeting and purposefully striding around each other without touching. Caleb sat, no, more like slumped, over a seat next to Hunter’s bedroom door, flinching every and
any time he heard the slightest noise escape from the room, yet, daring not to leave from his station. Ethan was leaning against the wall, a still fully decanter in his hands, he had gone through this six times before with his own wife, and was now, praying, his lips moving silently, imploring God to take care of his only daughter, who after seven years of absence from his side, wanted nothing more than peace to forever be in his household.

  Asher’s eyes drifted back towards Angel, who’s head was awfully damn close to David’s, Asher wandering what the hell David was saying that could be so interesting that they had to almost touch. He gritted his teeth, trying to shrug in disinterest as he pretended nonchalance, but his eyes could not seem to leave her body for more than a moment at a time, against his will being drawn back to her beautiful and elegant form. David was an absolute bore, always sprouting on about societies of long ago and archeological digs and what not. No one, no one could take any interest in whatever he was saying, or at least Asher so thought.

  “I do believe I read somewhere that the eastern plain Indians, their women contain such strength that it is not unusual for them to squat in the fields and give birth. Did you find this to be true?” David asked.

  Angel nodded interestedly. “Yes, even though as the years flew by, more and more of the Indians were pressed further and further west by the government and the settlement of their lands by foreigners. It is a horrid tale that is being undertaken.”

  David nodded interestedly. “During my visits to America as the years went by I had begun seeing less and less of the Indians. A horrible predicament I would say? They are treated less than humans, along with the slaves that are kept.”

  “America is a land of such beauty and also horror. There is a distinct line between societies, between blacks, whites, Indians. Between Irish and Italian. German and Polish. My own father dealt with this, he was not allowed to marry my mother, an African because of the color of her skin, that she was a slave. It is a heavy subject; my father and I are both abolitionist.”

  “I am entranced, but the burden of societal norms reside heavily upon us also.” David said, sitting back slightly and taking in Angel’s story. “It would be, as if Caleb would marry, Anna, one of the maids who help polish. There would be a riot.”

  “But your mother is a foreigner,” Angel interjected.

  “She is, but my mother is still from aristocracy in her country. In fact, if it were my father who moved to my mother’s country, he would not have been deemed high enough in position to ask for my mother’s hand.”

  “I did not know that,” Angel said. “I would still think they would understand if any one of their sons would marry well below their station in life.”

  David laughed softly, not as weary looking as he was earlier, glancing over to his father, he shrugged. “Father has well told me that it does not matter, even though, I know privately it does. He took a great risk marrying my mother; the relationship with his some members of his family is still quite strained, because of it.”

  Angel looked gloomily at the floor. “I wish it did not matter, what color, or station in life one is at. As long as the two were in love, what does it matter if a duke marries a pauper, or a white man marries a black woman? This world would be a better place if people simply fell in love, without caring about what everyone else would think.”

  David nodded, smiling. “True, indeed, I believe I have found a likeminded soul, in you, Angel.” He said slowly, his dimples deepening.

  Angel glanced up, recognizing the look in David’s eye. He was unbelievably handsome, as handsome as Asher, but his looks were more relaxed, open. Her own eyes widened in surprise. A voice interrupted the exchanged glances.

  “And how would such a world be established, I wish to know?” Asher asked in a slightly rude voice, staring down at the two from his imperious height. “I could not imagine, let us take for example, the crown prince. As he is being escorted in his gold carriage, he happens upon a most beautiful woman…from China. He decides that this woman shall be made the next princess of England. But where, then, is this woman’s loyalties, not for England, I would dare say, but for her own native land. Such a world as you imagine, Ms. Barrett, could not possibly, ever be in existence, it would cause too much confusion.”

  Angel was highly offended. Her ruffles still rankled that she had allowed this deliberately obtuse man not one, but two kisses from her person, while David looked on knowingly. “And what of you, sir? Would you say that you were raised in confusion, seeing as how your mother, herself, is a foreign, woman? Would you say that you missed out on love and happiness simply because she is from another country?”

  Asher didn’t answer, gritting his teeth in annoyance. “She does have a point, dear boy,” David interjected. “I couldn’t imagine, another mother, think of one of those ice English matron’s, why, like our own dear grandmother.”

  Nearly rolling his eyes, Asher frowned at the two, before settling down in the seat across from them, leaning back and crossing his legs in a nonchalant matter, their better. “Let us take this for instance. Caleb, you shall marry, Anna, who polishes our downstairs furniture. Michael shall marry a druid priestess from years of old. And Luke, he shall marry Dinah, who was once a slave, who works in the kitchens of grandmothers’ manor. And David, well, of course, David, shall marry the groom’s daughter upon Gabe’s estate. Tell me, where is the honor of bloodlines, if this were to happen?”

  “Blood lines, should not matter,” Angel said, her eyes flashing. “It does not matter if you are the crown duke. What makes him so different from any one else. He wears pants like all men. Has hair and I am sure passes gas just as well as the rest of us. Strip his clothing away and put a shovel in his hand from birth and he will know no differently.”

  “Why, Ms. Barrett, you speak like a French revolutionist, are you saying that we need to revolt against the system in which we have lived with hundreds of years.”

  “Mr. Hawthorne, you seem to have me mistaken for a radical, I am not. I believe in the sanctity of marriage, religion and government, but I also believe in the basic rights of humans. There should be no one upon this earth to tell another soul, who they shall and shall not marry and especially on the basis of what color blood you have. As far as I know, our Creator has all given us the same color blood. If anyone bleeds blue, please let me know, and I shall stare at said monstrosity with something akin to horror at their difference.”

  There was a pregnant pause in the room, David biting back a smile at how well Angel put Asher in his place as the rest of the grouping looked on with something akin to amazement at Angel’s bold speech. But Angel had not meant to gain such an audience, but could not be stilled.

  “It is people like you,” Angel began, staring with daggers at Asher. “Who decided that my father could not marry my mother because the color of her skin was different? It was someone like you who decided that since she was a slave and without formal education, she could not be good enough for my father. And it is people like you…and my grandfather, who made it impossible for one man to love one woman in peace. Because of your rigid and narrow thinking, Mr. Hawthorne, I never knew my father growing up. Because of people like you, my father could not find my mother who felt beholden to the society’s thoughts about her proper place in this world. So don’t you dare tell me that people should not be allowed to marry, no matter what class citizen they are or if they are black, brown, yellow or red or white? It’s no one’s damn business but God’s.”

  “And so you believe, I, one man, can alone mind can make such a difference in other’s thought pattern? Come, now, Ms. Barrett, I called you idealistic, but I never thought you went exceedingly and beyond such unrealistic idealism.”

  “Really? One man, hmmm…can one man make a difference? Why, what about Abraham, or Moses, or Jesus or King David, Joan of Ark. What about Paul who single handedly brought Christendom to the infidels. What of Han, or Emperor Xuan Xuan? And what of, your very own, William the Conqueror? One man c
an make a difference, Mr. Hawthorne. For the better or for the worse. This child, Hunter is right now, delivering will make a difference in someone’s life. Everyone accounts for something, Asher, see if they do not. For the good or bad, everyone must make an account.”

  Angel seemed to be the only one not to realize that she’d used his first name. Asher had cocked an eyebrow at that, smiling slightly. She was a little spitfire, he thought to himself, and wandered how many times he would have to personally aggravate her, just so he could enjoy the view, as her eyes flashed brilliant silver and her breasts heaved with indignation. But, he was not the only one to take in the view and damned David and Caleb with their leering eyes.

  “I see we shall butt heads often on this subject, Ms. Barrett. Perhaps, your accounting on the day of your judgment will be about me and why I could not turn from such an outdated way of thinking.”

  “More like your loose morals,” Angel said spitefully, underneath her breath, David the only one hearing and bursting into fine merriment.

  “Let us call a truce, for now,” he interrupted, still laughing slightly. “Asher, I do believe you have met your match,” he added, before turning back towards Angel. “Asher, is the most opinionated man you shall ever likely to meet, Ms. Barrett. If it pleases him to aggravate any one person, he shall undertake such an occasion to do so, even though it is rare where he even cares enough to speak his opinion.”

  Angel blushed. “I had not meant to argue about such things, especially during Hunter’s time, please excuse me, dear sirs,” she said, apologizing to the men in the room.

  “Speak nothing of it,” Ethan said, pushing up from his placid place upon the wall to pour another glass of decanter.

  Angel was still extremely embarrassed, and thought ill of Asher who had riled her into such anger. She should realize, now, that he was good for naught. A consummate flirt when it suited him to pass the time, an arrogant and stubborn man at most other times. She decided then to not waste much of her time, nor energy on Asher and picked up her cup of tea, which a maid had poured, refusing to be drawn into conversation with Asher and David, Asher who simply stared at her with annoyance and David who smiled as if trying to unearth some delightful secret.