Angelina

by Janet Woods

  This kiss was not like the others. It was a bruising force of possession. He invaded her mouth, forced it apart and used it for some devilish pleasure his tongue seemed to enjoy. The caress was an insult, and she struggled against him.

  He merely pulled her closer. His mouth became a crushing implement designed to rob her of will. She couldn’t respond, couldn’t move - couldn’t even breathe. She panicked a little, a small, protesting sound strangled in her throat. Abruptly, he let her go. When she gazed at him wide-eyed, he smiled and his finger traced the outline of her mouth. His voice was a whisper of silk across her nerves. “I’ve changed my mind, you may disrobe, my Angel.”

  “I...I beg your pardon?”

  “Remove your gown.” Slowly, his fingers reached out to loosen the laces at her breast. His smile was strangely seductive.

  “What are you doing, Rafe,” she whispered clutching the edges of the bodice

  together. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Hooded eyes flicked to hers. “You offered me the use of your body, I believe.”

  She clutched desperately at his hand as he moved to slip inside the bodice. “And you turned me down.”

  “I’ve had a change of heart, I haven’t debauched a maiden for some time.” He followed her when she edged back against the table. “I’m glad you come to me willingly, Angel.”

  A sob tore from her throat, and her hand groped around on the table. It closed around a hard object. She waved it threateningly at him. “Stand back, or I’ll addle your brain.”

  Amusement filled his eyes. “With a loaf of stale bread?”

  Her eyes narrowed and she wanted to howl with fury at the sardonic amusement in his eyes. “I offered you something precious, Rafe and you choose to mock and insult me. I’ll never speak to you again.” Dropping the loaf to the table, she buried her head against his chest, and began to quietly weep.

  “Yes you will, Angel.” He tipped up her chin, and the kiss he placed on her mouth was an apology of softness. Tell me you love me again, so I can carry the words in my heart.”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “Forgive me for what I must do.”

  He cuddled her close. “I’ll never forgive you for breaking my heart. You’re mine, Angelina, you were mine from the minute I saw you. I cannot bear the thought of life without you.”

  “Yet you must live without me.” Her eyes came up to his, dull with despair. “Perhaps Nicholas will release me if I appeal to him. He’s not without sensibility. I’ll tell him I love you.”

  Rafe kissed her again, his long, slow, tender caress demonstrating exactly what love felt like. Afterwards he said, “When will you tell him, Angel?”

  “Early Friday morning before...before...” She bit down on her tongue for a moment, “Before Rosabelle and I go to see the rector about her wedding.”

  She was a poor liar, he thought. The elopement coincided with Frey’s trial date. If the lad was to be found innocent, a courier would have to take the retraction to London immediately after the wedding took place. That meant Nicholas would have it on him when he went to the church. If he could be induced to part with it beforehand it would solve the problem.

  Rafe smiled. He’d need an accomplice, and James was still absent. William? He’d always been a dark horse, yet he seemed fond of Angelina. He smiled. He’d have a word with him and see what could be done.

  The river dropped sufficiently for Angelina to be returned to Wrey House the next afternoon. The water was belly deep, and swift flowing, as Rafe guided his horse across. As her skirt was already covered in mud, the soaking didn’t bother her much.

  Her sense of loss at leaving Ravenswood, was acute. She’d enjoyed spending time alone with Rafe and if she’d had freedom of choice, would have stayed there with him for ever.

  Rafe seemed just as reluctant to take her home. Now and then she gazed up at him and he grinned. She was being made deliciously aware of the love between them. She reached out to it, drawing his spirit to hers in an empathetic contentment of soul.

  Sometimes his breath stirred against her hair, sending a shiver of delight trickling down her spine. Leaning into his body, she experienced his movement against her back, the strength of his thighs against her hips and the living, breathing essence of him. Love swept through her like a warm, flowing river.

  “I would like this journey to go on forever,” she whispered.

  He placed a kiss against her ear. “I will make you my queen of the forest, build you a castle of clouds and place a circlet of stars about your brow. You will shine more brightly than the moonlight, and all will envy this man you made king, even though you intend to tear his heart asunder.”

  The slight catch in his voice made Angelina gaze up at him. There was a tender smile playing about his lips and his eyes were filled with love.

  Her body was charged with an elixir of longing. She revelled in it, in the wild female urge to take him for her mate. Convention seemed a mockery when faced with such loving spirit nature had endowed her with. The feeling between them was nothing to be ashamed of. She closed her eyes, refusing to think otherwise. “Kiss me, Rafe,” she whispered.

  His lips were like wild, sweet honey. Her own clung to them in delight, offering him the total gift of her love as she murmured his name over and over again.

  How can I resist her? Rafe thought, as her magic wove a potent spell upon him. Why should I resist her when she owns my heart? The gentleman in him was vanquished by a healthy surge of male lust. Damn Nicholas Snelling! He’d used Frey’s life to gain control of Angelina and her fortune, but Rafe wouldn’t allow him to rob her of her innocence. That would be his.

  Not a word passed between them when he slipped from the saddle and led the horse into the forest. The quiet glade he brought her to was a palace of jade light,

  carpeted with soft, green moss. Spreading his cloak on the ground he drew her down beside him.

  “Hush, my Angel,” he whispered when she opened her mouth to speak. He covered it with his own, sweetly, tenderly, and she melted against him in an agony of shivering anticipation.

  Rafe knew he should have resisted the urge to take advantage of her innocence. In the normal course of events he’d have courted her in a most circumspect manner, keeping her intact until the night of their wedding.

  Even as he caressed the sweet buds of her breasts and felt them respond against his fingertips, he knew she’d be changed, this day. Her eyes would hold the knowledge of him in their depths, of her power to take his love and make it her strength. As he kissed her lips the chaste purity of them stole the sensuality from his own. She turned it against him, making him weak.

  Dear, God! Her flesh was like silk under his hands, and moulded over bones so fine he could have crushed them between his fingers had he not sensed the resilience of them. Her body was firm, but softly rounded in her femininity. Her pale slenderness was unblemished except for a tiny freckle at the curve of her waist. She shivered when he pressed his lips against it and he drew his cloak around them.

  Her eyes were dewy soft when she gazed at him, her smile dreamy. She reached out to tentatively trace the contours of his face with her fingers. “Do I disappoint you, Rafe?”

  “God, no!” His smile contained a thread of shame. How could she think such a thing when his reaction was so apparent against her thigh. But in her innocence she would not know of man’s baseness, he reminded himself. She’d be unaware of the inevitable incursion into her body that would change her from maid to woman. That would be his joy, and her downfall.

  Tenderly, he took her lips within his own, caressing her mouth into trembling acquiescence. Slowly, gently, he gradually explored the secrets of her body - and how eagerly she learned them.

  There was tension in her, but gradually her body opened to him like a flower to the morning dew. When he gazed upon her dear face he saw her eyes closed in rapture, and felt her moistness.

  He could have taken her then. She would have never known what she felt was no
thing to what lay ahead. Her consciousness of her sensuality was just below the surface, he wanted her submerged, unable to think, only to experience the sublime eroticism of the moment when he stole her maidenhood. Then she would remember it in the years to come as a loving exchange of gifts, not a ritual of pain.

  Slowly, he tasted her perfection, his eyes alert for signs of distress. Only once did she display shyness, her hand covering herself in a fluttering movement. She did not resist when he gently nuzzled under her hand. Her defeated fingers moved slowly and caressingly into his scalp, allowing him access in the most intimate of ways. It was not long before she uttered a long drawn out ecstatic, shuddering gasp

  Moving above her he slid against her, felt her give to him and was enclosed within the sweet musky well of her, pulsing in the cradle of her sweetness. She pulled him closer, arched herself into him, accommodating his more muscular shape and making them one. Her eyes opened to gaze straight into his. They were luminous, and deep. “I love you, Rafe,” she whispered, her voice seductive with her passion. “I will always love you.”

  He experienced the strong, hot urges of his body and moved inside her. A small sound came from her throat, a tiny ecstatic growl. She arched her head back, her hair spread like the shafts of silken sunlight. He took a strand of that hair and wound it about his fingers.

  Blood pounded in his temple when he moved within her, slowly and carefully at first. Her calves slid sensuously around his waist, making him prisoner to her body - such a sweet surrender. Her action was a catalyst, turning his control into a pulsing rapture of ecstasy. Abandoning his pretence of noble feelings in the primitive urge to conquer this women, he drove deep into her, felt her body rise to accommodate his driving frenzy. There was a shuddering climax, as if the world had come to an end about them. They were one body, one heart, one mind.

  After today, I may never experience such complete union again, he thought, sadly gazing on the one he loved.

  A short time later, Angelina slowly opened her eyes to gaze with delighted wonder at Rafe. His expression was a mixture of anxiety and shyness. “Now I know what it is to love,” she murmured. “I have never experienced such pleasure, and will cherish this moment between us forever.”

  “Angelina, my dearest. If I hurt, you I will never forgive myself. “

  She placed a finger over his lips, making a tiny shushing noise as one would do with a child. “There was no hurt, only joy. This is a gift we have given each other. None shall ever diminish it in my eyes.”

  He drew her into his arms. “I love you, Angelina. God, how I love you.”

  She felt like weeping at the blow fate had dealt her. She’d finally experienced the perfection of love, now it would be denied her. If only they could lie in each other’s arms forever, die together in this spot. She felt no remorse at what she’d done, no shame. Only those who’d never experienced such a sublime union would regard it as a sin. If anything, she loved Rafe all the more for his weakness.

  After a while her hand tangled in his hair and she brought his lips down to hers. The body lying against hers aroused most powerfully to the action, and she chuckled, delightfully aware of it.

  Rafe gazed down at her, eyes alight with laughter and love. “You, witch,” he murmured. “See what you have done to me.”

  Her eyes rounded with innocence. “I do not know what you mean, sir.”

  “Like hell you don’t,” he growled.

  She couldn’t stop her blush, and softly giggled. “See how you make the colour rise to my cheeks, Master of Ravenswood.”

  “It’s too late to blush, My Lady.” His mouth trailed over her bare shoulders, over the swell of her breast and teased the glowing buds of her nipples into life again. “You’ve unleashed the beast in me, there’s only one way to tame him.”

  The beast was a delightful revelation to her, and when he was, satiated, she felt extremely loved and well satisfied.

  They came into the grounds of Wrey House at dusk. William had been watching out for them. He gazed from one to the other, noting the loving glances they exchanged.

  Angelina gave him a carefree smile as he lifted her down from the horse, but she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She enveloped him a hug. “Hello, Will.”

  The perfume of loving clung to her. Gently, he plucked a leaf from her hair, saying dryly. “You’d best go and tidy yourself up before you present yourself to your mama.”

  A faint blush tinted her skin, but her eyes were clouded when she glanced at Rafe. “Thank you, Rafe.”

  “Angel?” Rafe’s grin held a degree of intimacy as he blew her a kiss.

  They’d become lovers. William could feel the thread of tension vibrating between them. He hadn’t thought Rafe to be a man who would violate his best friend’s sister, nor Angelina the type to give herself lightly.

  William saw Rafe’s eyes fill with pain when he watched his sister walk away - as if he’d never see her again. The adoration in his eyes was plain to see, but what of Angelina? When she turned to give Rafe one long, lingering glance, he was shocked by the anguish in her eyes.

  If these two are in love there’s nothing to stop them marrying, he thought…except the question of Frey Mellor’s innocence. “The situation between you is as plain as the nose on my face,” he growled. “There had better be a good explanation.”

  “Rest assured, William. If God permits, Angelina will become my wife. First, there’s a small problem to overcome. In an attempt to save Frey from the noose, she intends to secretly marry Nicholas Snelling. I intend to stop her, but need your help.”

  William nodded.

  “Let there be no misunderstanding between us, William. I believe you know the identity of the highway robber, and I think Angelina knows who it is. If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll not stand by and allow you to sacrifice Angelina and Frey to protect another.”

  William gave Rafe a sharp look, wondering how much he knew. He shrugged, what did it matter now. “I have no love for my bastard brother, but I’ve been thinking of late. It will do me no honour to let him die.”

  “And you cannot let Rosabelle hang either, can you?”

  The fellow was astute. He gave a mirthless grin. “I’d willingly strangle Rosabelle with my bare hands, but no, I couldn’t let her hang on a public gallows for what was little more than a craving for excitement. She didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Then you’ll help?”

  “I’ve been wrestling with a plan in my head for days.” He began to walk towards the stable. “First, I must take you to my stud. If anything should happen to me in the execution of the plan, some things need to be destroyed.”

  When they reached the village, he led Rafe to the cottage he used as a tack room. Lifting a trapdoor, he lit a candle and started down a flight of stairs.

  Rafe whistled when they reached the cellar below and saw the goods stacked to the ceiling. There were bolts of richly woven cloth, crates of the finest French brandy, perfume, and in one corner, cases of duelling pistols with intricate designs in silver.

  “This village has always been used for smuggling,” William explained with a

  shrug. “I decided to carry on with the tradition when I discovered a tunnel leading down to a cave in the cove. A fishing vessel brings the goods over from France. The trade has been lucrative, but I’m leaving for America shortly and have brought it to an end. The remaining goods will be picked up a week hence. If anything happens to me in the meantime, I would have it destroyed.” He indicated a keg of gunpowder. Just lay a powder fuse down to the cave and put a spark to it. The village will collapse on top of it.”

  “And the gold stolen from Rosabelle’s victims…where is that, for it must be returned.”

  ‘It’s hidden in the forest, inside a fallen log. With it is a list of what was stolen from whom. I’ve not yet devised a plan of returning it. I thought that I might get Rosabelle to hand it over to George Northbridge and confess, after they’re married. Although he’s a magistrate, he would n
ot allow his new bride to be implicated.”

  Rafe smiled at William’s deviousness. “And George has got a sense of humour, so will appreciate the irony of it.”

  ‘Quite.” Picking up a bottle of brandy William surveyed the label with a certain amount of satisfaction. His voice was ironic when he said. “This is the finest to come out of France, and the last of my own private stock. It would be a shame to waste it. Will you share it with me while we plan the rescue of my sister?”

  Rafe wondered what James would make of this brother of his if he knew. “I’d be honoured. It will help to ease the conscience of our dishonesty.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nicholas Snelling was garbed in lavender brocade. A profusion of lace frothed at his wrists and flounced at his throat. In a black cloak lined with purple silk, he imagined he cut a fine figure.

  They’d left the Inn as soon as the look out brought news that Angelina and her sister had left Wrey house together. Barely ten minutes behind the pair, the wheel marks of the Wrey carriage were plainly visible in the dust of the road.

  Constance was peevish in the extreme. She was suffering from a headache, which the early hour and bright sunshine worsened. Her malady was exacerbated by the cart she rode in. It lacked any comfort whatsoever and jolted uncomfortably through every pothole on the road.

  She cursed the fact that the horses in both the hire stables and at the inn, had all succumbed to an overnight stomach gripe brought on by a surfeit of molasses, mysteriously added to their bran.

  To add to her discomfort, she’d discovered that the gown she intended to wear still contained creases from travelling, and her maid seemed unable to dress her hair to her satisfaction. Not that it mattered, she thought sourly. Nobody but herself and Rosabelle Wrey would witness the wedding, and she doubted if her future daughter-in-law would cut a bride-like figure.