Angel in Black

by Fela Dawson Scott

  “Blake, we named her Laura Ann.”

  Grinning, Blake exclaimed, “Laura? You named her after Mother. She would be so proud, Ryon. Thank you.”

  Suddenly solemn, Blake turned to Ryon. “How is he? Can I see him?”

  Blake studied his brother who sat beside his wife. Ryon resembled Blake in build and height, but his hair darker, his eyes brown. There was still a youthful innocence in his features, a quality having disappeared from Blake’s own face long ago. But Blake saw the pain in Ryon’s eyes and understood how difficult it must have been for him.

  “Grandfather is dying. The doctor says he hasn’t long to live, but what time he does have left will be happy and content with you home again.” Ryon’s voice broke and Blake turned to stare silently out the window, overwhelmed by guilt and grief. After taking a moment to compose himself Ryon whispered hoarsely, “He’s asleep, but you can see him as soon as he awakens.”

  Blake turned to his brother, his own emotions reflected in his eyes. “Ryon, I’m so sorry you two have had to bear this alone. I should have been here with my family; instead I made business my number one concern. Now I have so little time to be with him.”

  “No, Blake, you shouldn’t feel guilty in any way. You’ve always handled everything. You carry all the responsibilities of this family on your shoulders so we can live here in comfort. I know how much you love Grandfather, how hard you worked to make him proud of you. You have always protected and cared for me, and for the first time, I have been able to carry some of the responsibility, and hopefully save you some pain. You could have done nothing more than has already been done — you couldn’t protect him from death. He’s old, Blake, and ready to die. He is happy and well cared for, and now his eldest grandson is with him for his last days. Truly, it could not be better.”

  As they grasped each other in an unusual display of tenderness, the love between the two brothers filled the room. A tear slipped down Rebecca’s soft cheek as she witnessed their affection. She knew now, she liked her brother-in-law.

  WANTING TO BATHE BEFORE seeing his grandfather, Blake went up to his room. Elegantly furnished in dark and light blue, his bedroom was warm and pleasing to the eye. A huge four-poster bed with dark blue coverlet and hangings, an elaborate closet, and a dresser with matching nightstands were arranged neatly about the room. A large stone fireplace with huge ceiling-to-floor windows on either side covered with heavy velvet occupied one entire wall. When the drapes were pulled aside, sun poured into the room and the view was breathtaking. A pair of fine, winged leather chairs and ottomans sat comfortably in front of the hearth, and a large writing desk occupied one corner.

  Blake pulled off his damp shirt and shucked his boots. As he crossed through to the adjoining room, he rid himself of his dusty breeches. The air was steamy from the tub of hot water waiting for him, and he smiled, pleased at his manservant’s preparations. He had had the private bathing chambers added several years before, modeled after those he had seen in Constantinople, and found them to be the best improvement he’d made at Windsong. A huge marble tub was built into the floor with a rim wide enough to sit on, and piped-in hot and cold water made it easier to bathe often.

  Sliding into the bath, Blake felt the warmth soak into him and a tired, yet content, sigh escaped his lips. Once he touched English soil, he was anxious to get home and rode hard from London, the exercise exhilarating after six weeks at sea.

  He relaxed and allowed the heat to massage his sore muscles, bringing beads of perspiration to his forehead. His eyes closed and thoughts drifted from his grandfather, to his brother and sister-in-law and niece.

  Unexpected, a pair of seductive blue eyes floated into his mind. Visions of the untamed girl on the black stallion teased him. He remembered how her shirt clung to enticing curves and her breasts rose and fell when she rode by. The daring breeches she wore molded to her slim hips and in no way detracted from her femininity. Blake easily recalled her sensuous full lips, the color of roses, soft and ready to be kissed.

  Desire spread through him like fire. If mere thoughts of her could arouse him, imagine what she would do in the flesh. He smiled with anticipation, grabbed a sponge and soaped up, thinking of the delight this woman could provide. Blake rinsed, stepped from the tub and wrapped a towel about his waist. When he entered the bedroom he found a fresh suit of clothing had been meticulously laid upon the bed. As Blake finished dressing, a knock sounded on the door and a small, thin man entered.

  “It’s good to have you home, sir,” said the servant, his usually grim face giving way to one of his rare smiles.

  “How are you, Jacob?” Blake reached out a hand to take the one extended to him. Jacob had been with the family for Blake’s entire life, and from the looks of his withered face, perhaps several more lifetimes.

  “Very well, thank you. Your grandfather is awake and anxious to see you.”

  Blake pulled on the jacket of dark gray silk and nodded. He solemnly followed the old man out the door into the long hall. When they reached Lord Roberts’ private chamber, Jacob knocked, and opened the door for Blake to enter.

  The room was gloomy, the smell of illness thick in the air. His grandfather sat up in bed, his face pinched and drawn. Blake grew alarmed by what he saw. Eyes glazed with fever were sunk back into his head, thin, bloodless lips and skin a deathly shade of gray. Death hovered over this man, so different from what Blake had always known his grandfather to be. Lord Roberts had been healthy and strong, with only a touch of gray sprinkling his dark head and eyes of gold sparkling with intensity and life.

  Lord Roberts’ face lit up with joy when his gaze fell upon his eldest grandson. He held out his frail, shaking hands to embrace him and Blake felt like a boy again as he pulled his grandfather into his strong embrace.

  “Blake. Oh, my boy. I’m so happy you have come home. Now I can die with all my family about me.”

  Blake pulled a chair near the bed and grasped the older man’s hand. “Grandpa, let’s not talk of dying.”

  “And why not? I am dying and no one can keep Death from my door. It’s best to face it now. I’ve never been one to avoid the truth and neither should you. Now sit and let an old man rattle on for a while.”

  Pausing a moment, as if to collect his thoughts, Lord Roberts patted the hand holding his. “I’ve loved you two boys with all my heart. Blake, you have done well and made me proud. You’ve taken care of us the best way you knew how, and I know you’ll continue to do so in the future. Ryon has made me a proud great-grandfather; Rebecca has brought him great joy and happiness. Perhaps someday you will find someone, I only wish I could live long enough to see it.”

  Lord Roberts gripped Blake’s hand tightly, tears of joy coursing unheeded down his wrinkled face. “It will take an exceptional woman to suit you, son, and only one comes to mind. I pray to God you will not be blind when you find her. You are stubborn with a temper that would try a saint. Now, I realize you’ve had a bad experience in the past, but heed an old man’s advice. All women are not the same; your mother and grandmother were wonderful ladies.”

  “Yes, they were. If you have someone special in mind, Grandpa, you’d best let me know who she is,” Blake answered wryly, not caring for his grandfather’s topic of conversation.

  “No,” He stated emphatically, lips pursed, his face determined. “If you don’t find her on your own, you certainly won’t deserve her. You are on your own, Blake. If you’re obstinate and willful, you will end up living your life alone and empty. You will never know the pleasure of love and the true happiness you would find in sharing your life with someone special. You will never know the joy of having a son, and a grandson as I have. But I will tell you the woman for you will not bend to your will; she will allow no man to rule her. Do not try, or you will lose her. Respect her and, most important of all, treat her as your equal. If you do this, she will love you to the end of time.”

  Blake listened to his words but could not agree with them. Love was not somethi
ng he gave easily, especially to women. All this talk of respect and equality was strange, laughable, but he said nothing.

  “I see from the look on your face you do not believe me, perhaps you think I am getting senile. Well, maybe someday my words will make sense to you, and I hope it will not be too late. Ah, I hear the dinner bell, my boy, so you had better go. Maggie runs a tight ship and will wait dinner on no one. Will you return and read to me before you retire?”

  “I will be here.” Blake stood and crossed to the door, but paused to look back at his grandfather. “I love you, Grandpa.” The words came out a hoarse whisper when his throat tightened and his eyes blurred from the ache attacking his heart. How could he bear to lose this old man who meant the world to him?

  “And I love you, Blake. You must remember I am going to a much better place than this. I will be with your mother and father, and most of all, the one I loved more than life itself, your grandmother. I have been so long without my dear wife’s company, and I want to be with her again. I hope you can understand my wanting to go, dear boy. You are young and have your whole life ahead of you, but I have lived mine and I am ready to die.”

  “I shall miss you terribly.”

  “Go now — we will have time to talk later.”

  THE DAYS ROLLED BY languidly, Blake spending most of his time with his grandfather, content to see the joy his homecoming gave him. On the fourth day after his return, while enjoying a ride at sundown, Blake spotted the small gypsy camp. As he rode Hera nearer the small band of wanderers cheerfully greeted him. They invited him to share the warmth of their fire and gaiety of their music. For more than fifteen years the nomadic people were welcomed to camp on the estate as they passed through, traveling north with their stock. Blake happily accepted their hospitality.

  The sun slid below the horizon and darkness settled about the gay revelers. He and his gypsy companions watched the orange and red flames of the campfire leap into the air, hungrily consuming the dry, brittle wood. It cracked and popped, spewing hot embers onto the bare ground, casting its warm glow on the circle of people. Though the day had been warm, night brought with it a cool crispness making the fire welcome.

  The strong wine worked its heady magic, and the bitterness of the cheap brew faded as Blake drank, lost in the gay music and dance. A pretty young gypsy girl swayed seductively to the beat, twisted and turned, holding Blake’s gaze. Absorbed in watching her, he did not notice the approaching black horse, much less its rider.

  Rina slid off Blackstar and greeted her friends joyfully. Dressed like the gypsy women, Rina wore a full skirt and peasant top, her feet bare and hair tucked into a colorful scarf. Proud, she showed off her outfit, a gift of the camp when made an honorary daughter of the Roma people. An older man, the king of their clan, grabbed Rina in a powerful bear hug. Laughing, Jaco swung her high into the air as if she were a small child, delighted she came to their gathering.

  He smiled fondly at her, letting her feet settle to the ground. It had been three years since Rina first arrived at their camp, when a fever ran rampant among them. It was a dark time and none dared help — no one, except this amazing little girl.

  Jaco stared into Rina’s laughing, gentle eyes and remembered. Her knowledge and dedication surprised the older man and his people. Rina stayed for seven weeks, caring for the sick, living in the back of a wagon, unable to return to her village for fear of spreading the sickness. Her work was exhausting, yet she never tired. Some died under her care and Rina faithfully buried them, her own words their only epitaph. Finally, the fever ended, thanks to the Lord and this good woman. They owed her their lives, and yet she asked for nothing in return. Jaco was proud to consider her one of their family.

  “Rina, I am so glad you are here. Now we can celebrate!” Grabbing her small face in his large hands, he kissed her soundly on both cheeks and pulled her into another mighty hug, this one leaving her breathless. The gaiety and joy lightened her spirits and her laughter joined with theirs. As she sat sipping the wine, all problems clouding her mind disappeared with the wisps of smoke rising from the fire.

  Slowly, the music wove its spell, its beat coursing through Rina, causing her pulse to quicken. Intent on the jubilant dancers, she felt someone’s eyes on her. Uneasy, she looked about for the source. Rina’s heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat. Unprepared for her physical response to the stranger on the hilltop, Rina’s world tumbled in confusion; the dark, red drink she consumed garbled her thoughts further.

  Golden eyes locked with deep blue ones.

  Blake clearly saw the bewilderment his presence caused her, but considering his own reaction to seeing her again, he failed to completely comprehend either. His physical attraction to the woman was undeniable, but deep inside he felt there was something more. She was different — she was special. How he knew this was a total mystery. Like a drowning man, the dark blue pools he stared into drew him deeper and deeper into their depths; he was unable to save himself from what lay ahead.

  Rina remained silent and still, hypnotized by the blazing gold eyes containing more heat than the fire reflected in them. They consumed her, bold and intimate, leaving her strangely excited. A strong sensation stirred deep within and warmed her blood. The wine, the thrill, the desire, all worked on Rina’s defenses, weakening them dangerously, making her feel wickedly wanton.

  “Hey, little girl — will you honor us this night? It has been a long time since we last saw you dance.” Jaco’s hearty laughter filled the air and he pulled Rina from her place on the ground, not giving her the chance to deny him. The others shouted encouragement and the violins began a rhythmic wail; inviting her, beseeching her to the music. Rina’s head filled with the sound and she began the romantic, passionate steps so familiar to the gypsies. She slowly swayed, the beat taking over, willing her to do its biding.

  Hungry eyes followed her every move as she sensuously twisted to the violins haunting sound. Aware he watched her, Rina felt pleased and dared move closer to the danger he represented. Her skirts swirled up daringly around her thighs to reveal the long length of her legs to his scrutiny. Her blouse slid off one shoulder and bared her skin to his ardent gaze. The scarf came untied and her hair tumbled down into a cascade of gold, the fires light bringing the curls to life.

  Rina found herself dancing for the stranger, seeing only his among the faces. No one else existed but the man with the fire in his eyes. Faster and faster she whirled until the music finally reached a frenzied climax and ended.

  Everyone stilled, mesmerized, entranced by the sudden silence. All at once, they broke into applause and laughter, the camp showing their appreciation for her talent. One of the younger men bewitched by Rina’s seductive moves pulled her into his arms. Before he could steal a kiss, the flicker of steel stopped him, the cold blade put to his throat. The passion in his eyes fled, as did his daring.

  Rina twisted from his grasp and spoke to him softly. “Do not try this again, or you may regret it.”

  Cautious, yet confident, she removed the knife. She tucked it back into its hiding place and walked away. He shrugged his shoulders at her fickleness and the would-be seducer soon forgot Rina, replacing her with a willing young woman who was eager to please.

  Across the way, Jaco shook his head at the encounter; the young man should have had better sense than to take on the high-spirited Rina. The little girl had grown into a beautiful woman and certainly would not be so easy to tame. Jaco envied the man she allowed into her bed and supple arms.

  Blake also watched her encounter with the amorous gypsy and could not keep the smile from his face. His interest piqued, he tried to work his way over to her. He found himself attracted to this slip of a girl who could handle a knife so well. But when he reached her, a group of jubilant dancers swept her away, and Blake found himself surrounded by the women, diverting his attention from his golden girl.

  The evening flew by as the wine flowed generously and the gaiety filled the night. Rina said he
r good-nights to Jaco and the others. A touch light-headed from the wine, she started for Blackstar, anxious for home and sleep. It had been a long day, and she was weary. Perhaps she would sleep well tonight, undisturbed by haunting nightmares. Swaying slightly, Rina steadied herself against Blackstar, unaware of the man who approached her from behind.

  Blake silently slipped an arm around her, careful to grab her wrists before she could reach for her knife. He pulled her into his strong arms and Rina gasped at his sudden, bold move. Before she could speak, Blake flashed a charming smile, disarming her as he whispered in her ear, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

  A chill passed through Rina, his breath warm, tickling her neck. The pleasant smell of him filled her senses; her mind fuzzy from drink. His mere presence excited her, clouded her reason. His lips brushed against her neck, the caress leaving a trail of fire that caused her breath to catch in her throat.

  “I am Blake Roberts.” His voice remained soft, sensual.

  Rina’s mind dissolved into a mass of jumbled thoughts, yet, to her own amazement, she managed to reply, much calmer than she felt, “I am Rina.”

  “Rina,” he repeated, “you are so beautiful. I have been unable to get you from my mind since seeing you four days ago. You have haunted me — bewitched me completely. Are you a witch, or a woman?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Blake brought his lips to hers, stealing a passionate, demanding kiss. Desperate, she tried to fight the feelings spreading through her like a wild fire. Her erratic heart thumped so hard within her chest, it was painful. A battle between her body and mind played out inside her. When Blake released her wrists, without understanding or logical thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips clinging to his, her hands cradling his head in an intimate way.

  Blake drank deeply of Rina’s yielding, sweet mouth, feeling her form mold itself to his, her curves soft against his hard muscles. She trembled and when he pulled away, he read the uncertainty in her eyes. In that brief moment, she looked frail and alone, so unlike the spirited, knife-wielding vixen he had witnessed earlier.