Angel's Devil

by Suzanne Enoch

  He held up a hand to silence her. After a moment she heard Brutus's distinctive howl and then screams. Angel fell in behind James as he charged off the trail. He bellowed for Hastings to follow them, and dimly she heard the groom answer.

  They cleared the trees at the edge of the lake, and she gasped. Helen and Jeremy were on shore screaming for help and pointing, while Brutus paced up and down the edge of the water, barking and yowling. Out in the water a small form thrashed, vainly trying to reach the remains of a half-sunken rowboat as it slowly drifted away.

  The shore was marshy, and James dragged Demon to a halt when the horse began to fight him. He jumped down and headed for the water at a run, throwing off his jacket as he went. Helen and Jeremy flung themselves at Angel, sobbing something about finding the boat and wanting to go fishing. James dove into the water and began swimming strongly for Henry. As he reached him the boy went under, and James dove after him.

  It seemed like an eternity before they surfaced again, but must only have been seconds. James had Henry tight against him, holding his head up out of the water. He stroked for the shore, Henry coughing and gagging in his grasp. Hastings appeared, and waded out toward them. When James could stand, he swung Henry up into his arms and pushed through the reeds until he reached the groom.

  Hastings took Henry and carried him up to dry ground. As the groom laid him on the grass, Angel extricated herself from the children and threw herself down beside him. "Henry, are you all right?"

  In answer her brother turned on his side and coughed up half a lungful of lake water, then began gasping for air and sobbing. James knelt quickly on his other side. He slapped Henry sharply between the shoulder blades, and after another gasp the boy's breathing became more even. He sat up and flung himself at the marquis's chest.

  James hugged him tightly, water dripping off his dark hair and into his eyes. "Henry, I think we'd best teach you how to swim," he panted shakily.

  Henry looked up at him. "Not today, please." His teeth chattered.

  "Fair enough," James answered.

  Steam was rising from both of them, and Angel realized they must be frightfully cold. Hastings donated his overcoat to put around Henry's shoulders. "Let's get you back to the house and dry, lad," he said, and scooped the boy up to bring him to his horse.

  "Helen, Jeremy, go with them," Angel instructed, and the children ran after the groom.

  In a moment they were gone. Demon and Pharaoh grazed, oblivious to the goings-on. She looked at James, soaked to the skin, his shirt muddy and steaming as the water evaporated in the warming sunlight. "Thank you," she whispered, near tears.

  He started to answer, then with a startled look pulled his shirt from his breeches and then yanked it off over his head. As he threw it aside she saw the reason for his consternation. Two leeches were fastened to his skin, one on his right side over his ribs and the other on his left shoulder. With a curse he plucked them off and flung them away. They left twin bloody streaks across his skin. "Damned bloodsuckers," he cursed, then turned his back on her. "Any more?" he asked, trying to look for himself.

  There was one on his back, and with shaking fingers she removed it, shuddering as she dropped it into the water. "That's all."

  A deep, scarred gash puckered the skin across the back of his shoulder. She reached out to touch the wound, and felt him jump beneath her fingers. Slowly she traced the length of the scar, while he stood unmoving. Finally he turned around, his eyes glinting. James reached out both hands to cup the sides of her face, then leaned down and captured her lips with his own.

  Angel's hand, still outstretched, slipped around his shoulder. His skin was cool under her fingers, but his lips seemed to burn her mouth. She shut her eyes and pulled herself up against him to meet his embrace. A shivering tingle ran down her spine. This was what she had wanted, she realized dazedly as he continued to kiss her roughly. This was what she had wanted from James Faring from the moment she had found herself in his arms on the Dover pier. She reached her other arm around his bare back, not caring what anyone would think if they happened upon her in the embrace of the half-naked Devil, but only that he would continue kissing her.

  After a last fervent kiss he released her and stepped back. "Sweet heaven..." he muttered, staring at her as he continued to back away.

  While her own face felt flushed, his was white.

  "James..." she said slowly, wondering what in the world they were going to do now.

  He shook his head. "No. This never should have happened." He backed up until he reached Demon, then turned and swung up into the saddle. "It never happened," he said fiercely, urging the stallion up beside her. "Do you understand? It never happened."

  "But—" she stammered, looking up at his horrified expression.

  "No. You are going to marry Simon. I will not step between the two of you. Not for anything." With that he wheeled Demon and kicked the stallion in the ribs. The two of them disappeared into the trees.

  "Angel!" She jumped as Simon rode into sight on Admiral. "Are you all right?" he asked, dismounting.

  "I'm not the one who almost drowned," she snapped, then took a breath, trying to gather her thoughts.

  "I...know that," he answered. He scanned the glade around them. "Where's James?"

  "He... um... had to leave," she answered slowly, half her thoughts still on their breathless embrace.

  "Well, come on," Simon urged, and helped her up into her saddle. He mounted beside her. "I can't believe he rode off and left you here alone," he scowled.

  "No, it was all right," she replied.

  But it wasn't all right. From the Marquis of Abbonley she had just learned two things. The first was that he was no longer the blackguard he had the reputation for being, for he had been more unsettled by their embrace than she. The second thing she had learned was that she was not in love with Simon Talbott. She was in love with the Devil.

  ***

  Angelique was not in love with Simon. James had suspected it earlier, but after their kiss he was certain of it He shouldn't have kissed her at all, but he had been wanting to touch her, to hold her, for so long that he had been unable to resist. It would have been easier to stop breathing.

  When he finally rode up to the stables all his guests and most of the household staff were waiting there for him. The Grahams were practically beside themselves with gratitude, though what they would have thought had they seen him kissing their daughter, he didn't know. The attention made him uncomfortable, and he ducked away as quickly as he was able.

  After he changed into some dry clothes, he summoned Algers and made immediate arrangements for the dock to be repaired and for three sturdy rowboats to be constructed. If he had taken care of it a week earlier, as he had intended, none of the morning's events would have happened. And that would have been best for all of them.

  He had no intention of doing anything more about his attraction for Angel. Just because the chit had caught him off guard when she had touched him, caressed him, it didn't mean he had fallen for her. The Devil had no intention of falling for a woman ever again. Especially a copper-haired spitfire who only remembered her manners half the time.

  Two mornings after the incident by the lake, he returned home from a trip to the village as Simon and Angel were preparing to go out. "Good morning, my lady, Simon," he said stiffly, as he swung out of the saddle and handed the reins over to one of the grooms. "I again offer you the loan of Pharaoh," he told Angel, "as we never finished our outing the other day."

  "Pharaoh?" Simon repeated, frowning. "Why don't you simply let Angel ride Demon? Neither is appropriate for her."

  It was Angel's turn to frown. "I'm certain I could handle either of them."

  "I ride Demon," James said firmly. "No one else. Ever."

  "That's a bit selfish, don't you think?" she queried, obviously primed for an argument.

  "Not selfish," he stated flatly. "Practical. So don't get any ideas—Demon would eat you alive." He saw the stubborn light in
her eyes, and frowned. The stallion was notoriously bad-tempered, and she could be hurt. "I'm serious, Angelique."

  "Really, cousin. We weren't in earnest. Heaven is quite enough. Why would Angel ever wish to do such a thing as to ride that bad-tempered beast?"

  Angel was bristling at Simon now as well, and James raised an eyebrow at her. She started to snap something, then with visible effort subsided. Simon turned away for a moment, and from behind his back Angel mouthed, "Beast." James chuckled.

  "Care for some company?" Grandmama Elizabeth asked Simon, as she arrived from the manor. "I thought I might ride Pharaoh this morning, if you've no objection, Jamie."

  "You want to ride?" James queried, lifting both eyebrows.

  "I'm not dead yet, you know," she retorted. "Hastings? Saddle Pharaoh."

  "Yes, milady," the groom bowed with a grin, and went to comply.

  The viscountess glanced at Angel, then turned her intrigued expression on James, who turned away. His grandmother could damn well keep her curiosity to herself.

  Before they managed to leave, Lily appeared, and as Simon brightened at having an ally along, another horse was saddled for her. Watching the foursome head off toward Esterley, James was unable to refrain from laughing. It seemed that Angelique was beginning to realize what being married to a proper gentleman like Simon would entail. It served her right for making such a poor choice.

  "Something amusing, milord?" Hastings asked as he reappeared from the stables.

  "Oh, very, Hastings," James chuckled. "Very."

  He wasn't nearly as amused half an hour later when Simms came to inform him that he had callers. "Callers with luggage, my lord," the butler said dourly.

  "Who?" James asked, heading for the main hallway and extremely curious about who might want to drop in uninvited at Abbonley.

  "I was told to announce to you that the Alcotts had arrived," Simms reported grimly as he fell in behind.

  "The Al—good God," James enunciated, missing a step and nearly causing Simms to run into him. "Both of them?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Good God," James repeated feelingly. Arthur Alcott was bad enough, but Percival... Slowly he smiled. No one seemed able to get under Angel's skin, with the exception of himself, more quickly than Percival Alcott. Now they would see who rattled whom. He flashed a grin at Simms, who for a moment actually lost control enough to look startled. "This could be fun."

  Chapter Ten

  The nasal squawk of Percival Alcott's voice sounded distantly through the passages as Angel and her riding companions entered the manor. From the noise, he was highly agitated about something. "I knew that was his coach outside," she chuckled.

  "I suppose we should go see," Lily sighed.

  They found the source of the noise in the drawing room. Percival stood defiantly in the middle of the floor, while the recipient of the dandy's onslaught sat in one of the chairs before the fireplace, reading and ignoring his visitor.

  "Don't just sit there, Abbonley. I won't be put off," Percival fussed. "I'll know where you have her or I'll set the law on you."

  The marquis looked up. "Beg pardon?"

  Percival crossed his arms. "Where is Miss Stanfred?" he demanded.

  The marquis caught sight of Angel through the doorway. Hooded eyes twinkling, he stood. "All right, Alcott, it's no use trying to get away with it," he said dramatically, walking to the fireplace. "She's locked in the tower. They all are."

  Percival blinked, then turned bright red. "Don't try to make a fool of me, Abbonley," he sputtered.

  "That's quite all right. It's no effort at all," James responded.

  Angel was enjoying the play, but Lily had never had much tolerance for anyone being teased, and she freed herself from Angel's arm and walked into the room. Angelique followed behind her.

  "Ah," the marquis said, coming forward, "I see you've escaped again."

  "You must remember not to leave the key in the lock," Angel reprimanded him, and he grinned.

  "Angel," Lily admonished, and gave a look of rebuke at the marquis.

  Percival grabbed Lily's hand. "Oh, my dear Lily, you are all right? I have been so worried."

  Angel started to make a sarcastic retort, but as Simon and Lady Elizabeth came into the room she changed her mind. James reseated himself, but his dancing eyes were on Lily as she extracted her hand from Percival's. For the first time Angel wished her friend didn't look so like a doll of fine porcelain.

  "For heaven's sake, Alcott, what did you think had happened to her?" Simon growled, stepping between Lily and Percival.

  "Who could tell, with her in the very den of the Devil?" Percival declaimed. "I had to come to see that her parents' folly in journeying here caused her no scandal."

  "Ah," James murmured, less amused now at the mention of his nickname. "You've come to lend an atmosphere of propriety to my dubious household."

  "Yes," Percival responded bravely.

  "Well, it wasn't necessary," Simon snapped. "Miss Stanfred is perfectly safe."

  Angel turned to look at Simon. Despite his bluster Percival was rather harmless, and Simon's fierceness seemed out of place. Especially when it was in the defense of someone else. It had been difficult, these past two days, since she had realized that her feelings for him weren't as strong as she had thought. Simon rushing to Lily's defense hardly made things any easier. Sometimes he was simply too chivalrous.

  "Simon, if you don't mind, would you show our... guest to a room?" James suggested. His sharp eyes watched as Simon shrugged, glanced at Lily, and then guided the dandy to the door. The quick look James sent Angel was full of secrets and barely disguised passion, and she blushed and turned toward the window before anyone else saw.

  The viscountess stood there looking from one of them to the other, a preoccupied expression on her face. Angel quickly turned around again, while Lily smiled and stepped closer to James.

  "I'm so sorry he's come," she said, putting a hand out to him and making Angel want to do something unladylike.

  "Not your fault, Miss Stanfred," James responded, smiling back at her. "Don't trouble yourself. The more the merrier, I suppose."

  Lily sighed and smiled. "I'd best go tell Mama and Papa who's arrived so they'll be prepared for the onslaught," she said, and with a curtsy left the room.

  "Percival Alcott?" Lady Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

  James nodded. "And his brother, Arthur, is currently walking through the garden and presumably making my flowers wither."

  "My lord?" The butler's voice came from the doorway.

  "What is it, Simms?" the marquis said.

  "Mr. Algers is in your office, my lord. He's brought the post." He held up a silver tray containing several letters.

  "Splendid. Let's have it. This one's for you, Grandmama," James said, handing a letter to the viscountess. Abruptly he froze and his face paled. He stood, dropping the other letters into his vacated chair, and stared at the missive in his hand.

  His grandmother straightened. "What is it?" When the marquis didn't answer, she took a step closer. "James, are you all right?"

  James started and looked up at her, then glanced over at Angel. "Quite."

  “Who is it from?” Elizabeth asked.

  The marquis looked down at it again. "Desiree."

  "Jamie..." the dowager viscountess began, warily watching her grandson's face. Angel couldn't put a name to the marquis's expression, but was glad to know she wasn't the cause of it.

  "Excuse me." He strode out of the room, the letter clenched in his fist.

  Elizabeth walked over to the window. "Five years," she muttered.

  "Beg pardon?" Angel ventured.

  The viscountess turned around. "I said it's been five years, and that witch still won't pull her claws out of him." She opened her own letter, then set it aside. "He and Geoffrey Pratt were friends, you know. They went to school together." She sighed. "And then, on holiday in London they attended the same ball, and met the same girl making her deb
ut."

  "Desiree," Angel supplied, wondering why she had come to dislike Desiree Kensington so strongly over the past few weeks.

  “Yes. For the rest of the school year they fought over her. Almost got sent down for it, once." Elizabeth shook her head. "James was always so spirited. Very like his mother."

  "What happened?"

  "From the beginning Desiree played them against one another. Drove them both half mad, and they ended up hating one another. After he graduated, James proposed to her. From what I've been able to get out of him, she told him that Geoffrey had already asked for her hand, and that she couldn't decide between the two. She did point out that as Geoffrey had already inherited and was a viscount, he was of course the one her relations favored." She shook her head, her light green eyes full of regret. "I think everyone knows what happened the next morning."

  Angelique looked at her. "But Desiree?"

  "James's father recommended that James leave the country. He went to France, stayed for nearly a year. Four weeks after he left, Desiree married Lord Kensington. When James heard about that..." Elizabeth stopped and cleared her throat. "When he came home, he was so different I barely recognized him. His reputation kept growing worse and worse, and believe me, he continued to earn it."

  "He doesn't seem so terrible to me," Angel offered in a small voice. And his touch, his kiss, had been anything but terrible.

  Elizabeth looked at her. "You know," she said slowly, "since he came back from Belgium, James has seemed more like he used to be. The way he was before Desiree, I mean. Happier, and less angry."

  "Why do you think he's changed?"

  Lady Elizabeth gave a short smile and headed for the door. "Oh, I have my suspicions."

  James paced the library for a long while before he opened the letter. In Desiree's perfect handwriting was a short note saying she realized the time had come to explain her reasons for marrying Kensington, with the intimation that she was certain he would understand. It closed with a request to see him, and was signed, "Love, Desiree."