by Rachel Blake
Jane reached the end of the nearly dark passage and found herself at the top of a narrow, steep staircase. She contemplated the descent for a moment and reminded herself that she’d taken the walk for a bit of adventure. Her ill-fitting boots nearly slipped over the slick surface of the first step and there was nothing but smooth walls on each side, no railing or wainscot to brace a hand on. She managed the rather harrowing feat without so much as a twisted ankle and then proceeded to smack her toe on the legs of marble table that stood along the wall in the shadows of a small room. It was an odd little room and seemed to have no real function except that it contained three doors.
As she stood, contemplating whether to try a door or just return back up the way she came, she breathed in the faint scent of tobacco smoke. It seeped beneath one of the doors and curiosity encouraged her to open it. She reached for the knob and turned. It was not locked. She opened the door slowly, assuming she was going to come upon a servant stopping to have a secret tobacco break, but as she opened the door wider she was nearly blinded by the flood of light. She stepped inside the massive glass-paned conservatory and looked around in awe.
Tables were covered in pots that at one time must have held warm weather plants but now stood sadly with dead stems jutting from parched soil. The floor was littered with plant debris as if she was standing in the forest. And the room which must have been warm and rich with moisture at one time was now bitterly cold and dry.
“My mother grew lemons, oranges, and strawberries inside this room when I was young.” Angel followed the white puffs of smoke out from behind a dead potted tree. His dark hair was loose and wild and several days of dark stubble covered his chiseled jaw. He dropped the cheroot and smothered it with the bottom of his boot. “She would spend hours in this room.”
Jane looked around at the glazing. Daylight filtered through the grime and snow encrusted panes of glass. “I think if I had a grand room like this, I would spend a great deal of time here too.”
Angel stepped closer and instantly she could feel heat radiating from him. “Are you feeling better?” His gaze seemed to focus on her lips as he spoke.
“I am. And you?”
He nodded. “Better.”
“Ellie tells me that Zander has been peacefully entertained by sorting silverware. I feel badly for your father.”
“My father? Why is that?”
“He has generously taken Zander into his home and he’s now repaid with ill behavior.”
Angel laughed but it was not with humor. “I fear you overestimate my father’s generosity just as you underestimate Zander’s ill behavior.” The angry sarcasm in his expression disappeared as he seemed to sense her hurt. He reached for her hand but she pulled it away. “Forgive me, Jane, but you have no idea what either man is capable of.”
“No? Was I not there when Zander threw you into the fountain as if you were a mere piece of parchment?” Her words broke but she held back tears. “Was I not the person who was nearly crushed to death in Zander’s arms?”
He stepped forward and once again attempted to take hold of her arm. The look on his handsome face made it difficult for her to pull away from him but she did. She walked to a table and fingered the dead leaves of a plant to regain her composure. Several brown leaves fell from the stem the moment she touched them. “I seem to be the cause of Zander’s dangerous behavior. As soon as I’m able to remember where my home is, I shall leave here and then your household can return to normal.”
“There is nothing normal about Greystock Manor, and believe me it has nothing to do with you.” Angel moved without sound but she could sense that he was standing directly behind her now. “And what if you have no safe home to return to?”
She closed her eyes against the threatening tears then spun around to face him. “Then I will wander all of England until I find a place to belong.” She skirted past him but he caught her arm. She struggled to free herself from his grasp but it was impossible.
He dragged her against his hard chest. “You belong here, with me.”
The tension in her body dissolved and she crumpled against him as his arms encircled her. “It is so hard not knowing my past,” she mumbled as her face pressed against his chest. “When I do remember something it is always something wretched as if I’d survived a horrid existence just long enough for someone to try and kill me.”
“You are safe here,” he said quietly.
His fingers stroked her back and she felt nearly helpless beneath his touch. She peered up at him. His lids were heavy and his eyes dark as he gazed down at her and then without warning his mouth came down hard on hers. She clutched at his shirt, struggling against his kiss at first but as his tongue caressed her lips her willpower betrayed her and she opened her mouth wider to his kiss. Lightheaded from it all, her head dropped back and his tongue probed deeper to meet hers. Soft moans floated from her throat and her hands reached up and circled his neck.
He lifted his face and looked down at her. “My Jane,” he breathed against her parted lips. Then he leaned his face down and his mouth pressed against her neck as his rough fingertips found the top of her chemise. He dragged it down taking the décolletage of her dress with it. She sucked in a breath as her breast was exposed to the frigid air of the conservatory. Deep down she knew she should protest his intimate advances but she could not. She’d been alone, abandoned, and left for dead, but none of that mattered when she was with Angel.
His hot mouth continued its delectable trail down the skin of her throat to the top curve of her breast. Then his tongue skimmed lightly over her erect nipple, and she felt an instant rush of heat between her legs. It radiated through her most intimate parts but she didn’t shy away. Instead she pushed her nipple harder against his teasing mouth. He groaned softly against her as he took her entire breast into his mouth, all the while his tongue danced tantalizingly around her taut nipple.
As his mouth fondled her breast his hands worked their way to her bottom. His long fingers clutched at the thin fabric of her dress and inched her hem up higher. Cold air circled the bare skin of her legs and she felt drunk with the pleasure of it. The long hard ridge of his manhood pressed against her belly and his obvious desire spurred something deep inside of her. With each passing moment, her need for his touch increased as if she would break apart any moment from the intensity of it. Inexplicably her sense of urgency spiraled wildly out of control and she knew if he stopped she would die of agony.
“Every inch of you, Jane. I need to touch every inch of you,” he growled deeply. The icy air now caressed her naked bottom then her seemingly insatiable need was met as his fingers massaged the small nub of her nether lips.
“My slick, beautifully wet, Jane,” he groaned in her ear as his fingers plunged deeply inside of her. She gasped in shock, her fingers clutching at the sleeves of his shirt. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “I knew you would feel this incredible.”
She writhed against the movement of his fingers with a dire need to feel him deeper inside. Her hips moved faster as this phantom need for something unfathomable built in the heat between her legs. He plunged in two more fingers and she screamed out as waves of pleasure enveloped her and she shuddered against the exquisite feel of it before collapsing in his arms. Tenderly he continued to kiss her forehead and nose and she nearly wept from the overwhelming emotion of it all.
“As I told you earlier, you belong here with me, Jane.”
CHAPTER 20
Angel had known the risk he’d taken with his own sanity by allowing himself the pleasure of tasting Jane’s lips and touching her intimately. But he had not realized the full consequences from his loss of willpower until now. Thoughts and visions of Jane filled his every waking hour . . . and sleeping hour. Her fragrance had lingered on him long after they’d left the conservatory and he was shocked at the drugging effect it had had on him.
For two days he watched his violet-gazed, tender-curved elixir flit around the house seemingly unaware of his h
ungry stares and seemingly unaffected by the intimacy they had shared. Her nonchalance irritated, hurt, and unhinged him all at once. She’d returned to her reading and music sessions with Zander, and it seemed to soothe the beast greatly. Angel had found only torment in watching her sit demurely at the piano with her thin white fingers flying over the keys and the sweet curves of her breasts rise and fall with the rhythm of the music. It was too much for Angel to bear. He’d spent most of the bitterly cold afternoon outside searching out tasks that were heavy on labor and light on thought. At least for that part of the day the physical exhaustion had given him some relief.
Ellie and Lettie walked out of the house dressed for a trip to the village for dry goods. John had hitched the horses to the wagon and would drive them along the precarious, frozen path to town.
Angel helped both women onto the wagon seat. Ellie clutched a list of goods in her gloved hands. “We’ll be back in several hours. Dr. Van Ostrand gave Zander a sleep tonic to stop him from walking circles—” Ellie stopped when she sensed Lettie go rigid next to her. “Well, anyhow, he is sleeping. There is some cold turkey and cheese on the sideboard in the dining room. I knew you’d be hungry after laboring out here for so long. Your father needs me to stop at the apothecary’s shop as well.” Her face flattened beneath hood of her cloak. “I worry about him. He had not regained his strength from this last bout of illness. He spent less than an hour in his lab and then took to his bed again.”
“The less time he spends in his lab the better,” Angel said. “Perhaps if he left off of the laudanum for a spell, he would feel more himself,”
“But he needs it for the pain,” Ellie insisted.
“I’m sure he does,” Angel said darkly and patted the side of the wagon. “Off with you, and stay alert, John.”
“Aye, Sir, I will.”
The house was quiet as Angel walked inside to wash. He’d worked up a grand sweat and the labor had cooled his thoughts temporarily but the moment he passed Jane’s door, the insatiable need returned.
Angel stripped down to his breeches and leaned over the basin of water. The water inside was clear and cold, just what he needed. He finished washing, threw on a new shirt, and decided to head down to eat the turkey Ellie had left him when he heard a faint knock at his door.
Jane stood in the shadows of the hallway staring up at him, her eyes were glossed with emotion and her lips were parted as if she’d wanted to speak but could not.
Angel stepped toward her. “Jane, forgive me if . . .”
She hopped up on her tiptoes, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him wildly. Without leaving her lips, Angel dragged her into his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them. Her small tongue met his hungry mouth as he half-carried her to the center of the room where rays of daylight poured through his bedchamber window.
His mouth lifted momentarily. “I want to see all of you, Jane. I want you naked in front of me.” He groaned against her mouth as she pressed her belly against his throbbing erection. Then without warning she reached for the fall of his breeches and her fingers fumbled nervously with the buttons. His mouth moved from her lips to the silky skin of her shoulders and his hand slid up her waist and cupped her breast. His concentration was all but shattered as her warm, slim hand wrapped around his hard shaft. She stared down with curious innocence obviously not understanding the power and control she had over him at this moment. Her thumb ran lightly over the moist tip and Angel moaned inwardly. Reluctantly he reached down, took her hold of her hand and brought her palm to his mouth.
“Was I hurting you?” she asked.
Angel drew her against him. “On the contrary, my sweet.” He kissed her again until she felt frail and vulnerable in his arms. The long, thin fingers that had moments before stroked his erection so enticingly now clutched at the fabric of his shirt. He reached up to the small strip of buttons on the back of her dress and deftly opened them. His fingers slid the dress from her shoulders and down over her hips and thighs to her feet. She’d had no stays or petticoat to contend with and stood now in only her sheer chemise.
He stepped back and held her hand as she stepped out of her dress unable to draw his gaze away from her supple curves. Natural light illuminated every tender inch of her and her ivory skin glistened pink with desire. He needed to see all of her.
She seemed to sense his thoughts and while she blinked up at him with the innocence of small child, she reached up and brazenly pushed the straps of her chemise from her shoulders. It slid to the floor and she stood completely naked before him.
He clutched his fists wanting badly to touch the taut, rose colored nipples that puckered beneath his gaze. He wanted nothing more than to plunge his fingers and then his aching manhood into the soft dark mound of curls between her legs but first he would take in her delectable naked body. He wanted to memorize every curve of the ethereal vision standing before him.
“Hold out your arms,” he commanded. His tone was so thick with need he barely recognized the sound of his own voice.
Jane glanced down as a blush rose over her breast, neck, and face. Slowly she outstretched her arms lifting her supple breasts higher. She was the essence of passion. Even the scar marring her otherwise flawless skin, intrigued him.
“Turn around, my love.”
Her arms still out at her sides, she turned around. Her perfect, round bottom jutted out so enticingly he could no longer keep himself away. He stormed toward her and wrapped his arms around her belly and breasts. The cleft of her sweet bottom pressed temptingly against his erection. His fingers teased her hardened nipples as his mouth trailed along the back of her neck. His other hand slid over her taut belly and his fingers found the curls of dark hair. Her head fell back against his chest as his fingers found the hot, wet nub between her nether lips. Instantly he felt her push harder against the strokes of his fingers while at the same time pushing her bottom against him. His shaft throbbed with need and he wanted nothing more than to thrust inside of her.
“My wanton little wench,” he whispered, “I will have all of you or die from want.” Her hips moved faster, her moist petals swallowing his fingers as he spoke. Then she clutched at the arm that held her and arched her back in ecstasy. With her free hand she covered her mouth to muffle the scream then she collapsed like a rag doll against him. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed.
She lay stretched out before him still flushed with desire and more beautiful than he could have imagined. She was a devastatingly bold contradiction of coquettish innocence and lustful passion. Never could he have imagined that any woman could have such an effect on him.
She watched intently as he removed his shirt and his breeches. Playfully she reached for his hard arousal and her fingers glided along the length of it. Angel grabbed her wrist roughly before he risked spilling his seed in the palm of her hand. He climbed onto the bed between her legs. With his hands he spread open her velvety thighs. She glistened with moisture and the scent of her arousal filled his senses.
He leaned down over her and kissed her mouth lightly. “Are you sure, Jane? Are you sure you want this?” He knew her refusal at this point would be excruciating but he had to know.
Her round violet eyes looked up at him with a longing that he would never forget. She touched the side of his face and smiled faintly. “I’ve thought of nothing else since you kissed me in the conservatory,” her voice trembled as she spoke. “I was discarded and left for dead. I have little knowledge of any prior existence. It is almost as if was born here just a few days ago. I feel as if I was meant to be here . . .” Her fingers trailed down his face, throat and chest. Even the light touch of her fingertips stirred him. “. . . with you.”
He lowered his mouth to her breast and kissed the nipple before moving his mouth and tongue along the curve of her breast. She arched her back and eagerly lifted her supple breasts toward him. As his tongue stroked her skin he felt a small indentation running beneath her breast. He lifted his face an
d looked at it and it felt suddenly as if someone had struck him in the chest with a barrage of bullets.
Jane seemed to sense his abrupt change in mood, and she lifted onto her elbows to see what had caught his attention. “It is strange, I know, but aside from the knife wound in my side, I’d woken on your father’s table with two small incisions beneath my breast. They healed quickly, but I’ve never figured out how they got there.”
Angel lifted himself off of Jane and he rolled over onto the bed next to her. What was he about? Had living in Greystock Manor made him equally depraved as his father? Or had his desire for this girl been so strong, he’d pushed the nightmarish reality from his thoughts. Worst of all, he wondered if he’d given himself moral permission to take advantage of this innocent beauty because of what she truly was. Had his own lascivious longings surpassed any shred of decency he once had? Had he sunk so low to think that what he was doing was not wrong?
Jane leaned up over him. Her eyes were wet with tears. “I’m sorry. I had no idea my scars would be so revolting.” Her voice broke and she wiped at her eyes.
“Jane, you are exquisite from head to toe.” He covered his face with his forearm. “This isn’t right. Please go.”
She hesitated a moment then slid off the bed. He could hear her sniffling as her petite feet scampered across the wooden floor. She grabbed up her clothes, got dressed, and slammed shut the door behind her.
Angel lay there on his bed staring up at the ceiling as if he’d just been buried in black ice. Never had his mood been darker.
CHAPTER 21
Jane splashed cold water on her tear-streaked face but it did little to relieve her misery. Every part of her ached with sadness and embarrassment. She’d thrown herself at the man, certain he was as attracted to her as she was to him. But now the horrible reality of it all sliced through her like glass blades. He had no interest in her. Quite the opposite, in fact. It seemed he was repulsed by her. Her fractured mind splintered with confusion. How could she have misinterpreted his actions so fiercely? In the conservatory and even just moments ago in his bedroom, the way he’d looked at her, spoken to her, made her confident that he desired her. His abrupt change in demeanor left her feeling both bewildered and distraught. But mostly it was the shame she now felt for throwing herself so brazenly into his arms. There was no way she could ever face Angel Van Ostrand again.