Angel in Black

by Fela Dawson Scott

  “Oh, little one — I have missed you, more than I can ever admit.”

  Blake ran the tip of his finger over her soft, full lips, wishing fervently he could possess them with his own. With a tortured moan, he turned and left, the overwhelming temptation leaving him shaken.

  KATRINA DIDN’T OPEN HER eyes until late morning. Rising from the bed, she crossed over to the large window and pulled the heavy velvet curtains aside, allowing the bright sunshine to penetrate the darkness.

  She stood by the window and gazed out it, deep in thought. Her eyes saw nothing, her mind sorting out the events of the past few days. Everyone knew now she was Katrina Easton, and she hoped the story created believable as to why she had not come forward with the truth long ago. Katrina smiled — it all fit together well.

  Turning, Katrina walked to the dressing table mirror and picked up a brush. Hard, cold eyes stared back at her. A cruel smile curved her soft mouth as the irony flitted across her mind. How fitting Langsford’s own cruelty caused her fall, thus giving her the chance to come forward as an Easton. Once Camray was hers, she would be able to plan his death. For years she yearned for revenge, but never knew how she would accomplish all she had promised. Now it all fell into place and fate made the plans for her.

  A knock sounded at her door and Katrina pulled on a robe as Blake casually entered the room. When Katrina shot him an angry look, Blake knew she was feeling better.

  An eyebrow raised in amusement. “I heard a noise and thought you would be up. You look to be your old self again, little one.”

  Quickly, Katrina brought her emotions under control and smiled at her host. “Yes, I seem to be remembering everything clearly now. I’m sorry to be so much trouble. I’ll try not to impose long.”

  A frown creased his face as he noted the uneasy formality in her voice. “There is much I wish to talk to you about, Rina. I guess it is Katrina, isn’t it? I must say, it was a shock to find out who you really are — that you are not dead after all these years.”

  He walked over to where Katrina stood, stiff and uncomfortable, and gently touched her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Katrina Easton?”

  Blake’s question brought Katrina’s eyes to meet his. It hurt him deeply to think of the lie she lived, the truth she kept hidden from him. Now he was going to give her the chance to save what was left of any bond they may have shared.

  “I … I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t know myself who I was.”

  Blake’s mood darkened and Katrina looked away, as if she found it difficult. His temper flared, his attempt to keep it under control failing miserably. Did she think him a fool? “Don’t lie to me. I’ve been with you when the nightmares plagued you. You remember the night your parents were murdered as if it were yesterday. You’ve never forgotten for one single moment you are Katrina Easton. Now tell me — why the amnesia story? Why have you kept your identity secret all of these years?”

  Katrina turned away from him and sought the right words to say. She could think of none. “Believe me, Blake, I have my reasons.”

  “What? What are those reasons?” he demanded, not able to leave it alone.

  “I can’t tell you,” whispered Katrina.

  Her deception and lies betrayed him, each one like a dagger driven into his heart.

  “Damn it, Rina — Katrina. Why? I would know the truth!”

  “Please, I beg you — no one must know anything but what has been told. Don’t you see, Blake? I can’t explain my real reasons for what I have done. It would put me and others in danger.”

  Blake saw the urgency in her eyes and her voice trembled with emotion.

  “What kind of danger?” Blake asked, but before Katrina answered, he recalled words she had spoken at the inn, the reason now clear.

  “You know who killed them — he is the danger. You have hidden from him all of these years, but now …”

  Katrina nodded and tried to explain. “Yes, but if I pretend I have suffered amnesia all this time, it explains my disappearance. I now remember what happened, but I do not know who killed them. Don’t you see? Now is my chance to get Camray back.”

  “Is it so important you would risk your life to be Katrina Easton again?”

  “Yes,” she shouted. “Yes, it is damned important. Langsford is cruel and greedy — you’ve seen what it has been like for my people since he inherited Camray. If it were mine, I could right all his wrongs.”

  Blake remained silent for a moment, contemplating everything she told him. There were still unanswered questions. “Who killed your parents, Rina?”

  “This is none of your affair, you must stay out of it.”

  “What games do you play at, little one?” Blake’s voice grew fierce.

  She heard the note of warning, but she did not heed the danger. “I do not play games, Blake. What I do is dead serious. And it does not concern you.”

  Frustrated, he grabbed Katrina. “You little fool, tell me. Tell me so I can help you.”

  “No,” she pulled away, her own irritation flared again. “Vengeance is mine, and mine alone. Do not ask again.”

  “Is that what this is truly all about? Vengeance?”

  Katrina did not answer, there was no need.

  Blake clinched his fists and shouted, “You are determined to get yourself killed, aren’t you? What about the Angel in Black? What of her?”

  “She no longer exists,” she snapped, rubbing her temples and wishing the questions would end.

  Blake threw up his hands in exasperation and exclaimed, his tone sarcastic. “Well, I’m glad you have enough sense to give up your foolish antics.”

  Hurt by his snide remark, Katrina muttered without thinking, “I had no choice.”

  “No choice?” he asked, a cloud passing over his features.

  Annoyed she said anything, Katrina turned away, but Blake pulled her back around.

  “What happened?”

  Blake’s voice remained firm and she knew it would be best if she told him rather than hear it from someone else. “Lieutenant Greerson knows I am the Angel in Black.”

  Katrina’s statement caused Blake to physically pale. Not expecting his reaction, she quickly explained. “He agreed to say nothing if I stopped, so a month ago we retired from our night riding.” With deliberate intent she left out certain details.

  “After my accident, I discovered I had revealed my true identity in my delirium. I made up the story about having amnesia, and Jake and Jenny went along to protect me. Now I have the opportunity to be who I was born to be. Please, give me this chance, Blake.”

  “I’ll say nothing.” Blake conceded this one thing to her. A strained silence filled the room with tension. “Who was chasing you before you fell?” Blake asked abruptly.

  The sudden change of subject caught Katrina off guard and she hesitated, the deadly glint in Blake’s eyes ominous. “I — don’t know who it was,” she lied, and winced when he continued to stare at her, clearly not believing her.

  Aware of her discomfort, Blake did not press any further. It hurt him, but he knew she would continue to keep things from him. “Once you have Camray back, then what?”

  There was no answer, but he read it clearly in her eyes. Her cold, deadly words haunted him — I intend to kill the man. Yes, he knew exactly what she would do next. Saddened, Blake whispered, “Forget the hate inside you, Katrina. It will destroy you.”

  Katrina drew a long, ragged breath, his words hitting a sensitive nerve. When her eyes met his again, Blake saw the venom in them.

  “Forget? You make it sound so easy, but it is not. You cannot expect me to forget something that has burned in me for years.”

  Her words echoed with a sad weariness, none of the fire he saw in her eyes in her speech. “Blake, you can never truly understand this hatred I carry. Can you understand the feelings of a child who watched her parents cut down in cold blood? Could you forget the fear, the loneliness? But most of all, could you forget the face of the man who l
aughed at the brutal carnage he’d created? No, I think you would not forget. As I cannot for it consumes my soul — it gives me my reason for living. Hatred helped me endure each back-breaking day; to live with hunger and cold. It gives me the strength I need to face death without fear, to live each day, no matter what.”

  She paused, as if drawing on the silence to ease her anguish. “That bastard took everything from me, to forget is impossible. Vengeance is mine — I’ll not share it with anyone.”

  Katrina paced back and forth in front of Blake, torment exploding from her. Blake reached out, pulled her into his arms to stop her frenzied pacing. His own anger gone; he wanted only to assuage the suffering she experienced.

  She looked up into his eyes. “I must kill him, Blake. Not only will I avenge the murder of my mother and father, but I will also kill the evil hatred I carry in my heart. Then, and only then, will my future be my own, free of all promises.”

  Katrina’s words struck a chord in Blake’s heart. “And what about us, little one? Is it so easy to forget what is between us?”

  Pain filled the eyes he studied. “What about us, Blake? It seems whatever there was between us was destroyed at Windsong.”

  “Perhaps,” he ventured, “we could start anew?”

  “I … I don’t know,” Katrina whispered, her head aching fiercely. “Oh, Blake, there is no tomorrow for us. Can’t you see the truth of it? I cannot forget and I cannot forgive. I warn you now, do not stand in my path, for I’ll stop at nothing to fulfill my promise. The need for vengeance is firmly planted within me, and if forced to choose between it and my feelings for you, I would choose the hatred. I cannot deny it.”

  Blake pulled Katrina to him and buried his face in the mass of golden curls. Finding her slender neck, Blake kissed the scented flesh tenderly. Katrina’s senses came alive as his hands roamed over her back, caressing her rounded hips to pull her closer.

  “And you be warned, little one, I’ll not give up easily. God, I hate your stubbornness and independence. You confuse the hell out of me, and still, I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  Katrina pulled back so she could look into Blake’s eyes again; the tenderness and passion she saw touched her. “I need some time to sort out my feelings, Blake. Let’s not think of what tomorrow may bring, but only of the moment at hand. We must not speak of the future or make demands we cannot keep. What matters is today — only today.”

  Katrina stood on her toes and pulled Blake down to her, her lips pressed gently against his own, as if sealing the words with a kiss.

  BLAKE SAT QUIETLY WITH Ryon and Rebecca as they waited for Katrina to come down for dinner, only responding when needed to something said directly to him, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Katrina. He had been tempted a dozen times to rush up the stairs and burst into the rooms she now occupied. His desire to make love to her overwhelmed him, but he knew he must exercise caution. After all, she still suffered from the concussion, and he promised to give her time to sort out her feelings.

  He heard the faint rustle of satin in the hall and his heart literally stopped. Blake found himself unable to move, his eyes fixed on the beautiful woman coming toward him. He did not see his brother’s amused grin, or hear Rebecca’s whispered comment to her husband about Blake’s obvious distraction before she rose to greet Katrina when she entered the room.

  Dressed in a blue silk gown, the exact shade of her eyes, Katrina presented an elegant picture. Her hair had been painstakingly curled and pinned into a becoming style, with matching blue ribbons entwined among the gold strands. The gold chain hung about her neck, the heavy signet ring lying between the gentle swells of her breasts as they rose enticingly from the fashionably low-cut bodice. When Katrina neared Blake, the soft scent of roses drifted to him and caused him such longing he came close to giving in to impulse. It took every bit of will he possessed to not pull her into his arms; the need to feel those soft lips against his own about to overpower all caution.

  Katrina offered her hand to Blake. He brushed his lips over its softness and a shiver of immense pleasure swept over her, the simple gesture causing a slight blush to warm her cheeks.

  “Good evening, Blake,” she acknowledged with a nod of her head. She pulled her hand from his grasp and witnessed his look of dismay.

  Blake guided her to a chair and helped her to be seated and leaned close to whisper into her ear, “Ah, little one, you are truly a vision of beauty. How am I to fight against your charms?”

  The warmth of his breath was like a shock, the delight of his words bolting through Katrina, leaving her breathless, speechless. His nearness shattered all defenses erected in an instant. He was dashingly handsome and virile, the musky scent of him like an elixir to her senses. How could he destroy her will so easily? Why was there a tremendous knot in the pit of her stomach? Good Lord — she trembled like a leaf caught in a storm.

  No words formed in Katrina’s dazed mind, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room. She knew they could not have heard but when she glanced at Blake, his look was unmistakable. Finally, Ryon coughed loudly and the noise released Katrina from the spell of Blake’s heated gaze, and she stared at her hands nervously twisted in her lap.

  During dinner, Blake continued to play the charming host to his beautiful guest, which brought a smile to her lips and warmed his heart. After the meal, they all sat in the drawing room, the women enjoying a cup of tea while the men savored a glass of port. Laura slept soundly in a nearby cradle, her mother rocking it gently back and forth.

  “Katrina,” started Rebecca hesitantly, “I was wondering about something. I hope you don’t think I’m intruding, but there is something I cannot get from my mind.”

  “What is it, Rebecca?” asked Katrina, concerned by her frown.

  “During the time you were ill, you called to your father and in your delirium you thought Ryon was him. Once you asked him to forgive you for selling his gift and you begged him to understand your reasons. Katrina, my dear, you were hysterical. I can’t forget how important the necklace and earrings were, and how distraught you felt selling them. Were they special?”

  Katrina sat silent for a moment, looking away to hide the pain she experienced. “Yes — they were, Rebecca. The sapphire-and-diamond jewelry was a present from my mother and father, given to me the day they were killed, my birthday. After I was found, I couldn’t remember where I had gotten them, but I felt they were special. Jenny kept them safe for years, but I had to sell them recently. It saddened me to do so, but the need was great.”

  Blake sat stock-still, unable to move. When Katrina looked up, his eyes locked with hers and he felt her sorrow. The jewelry had been a gift from her parents.

  “Oh, dear,” cried Rebecca. “Is there no way to get them back?”

  “No, Rebecca.” Katrina smiled and tried to lighten the somber mood. “What’s done is done.” The smile was forced, for she grew tired and her head again ached.

  Blake noticed the fatigue in her eyes and suggested she retire. Neither spoke as he escorted her upstairs. Katrina’s hand rested on his arm and he could feel the warmth beneath the coat’s fine fabric; even the slightest innocent contact disturbed him.

  He struggled to maintain control over his desire — he had no wish to strain their uneasy peace. Yet, he longed to hold her in his arms, to ask forgiveness for his blunder, but he could not. She had asked for time and he would give it. He owed her that much.

  They halted in front of her door. Blake took the delicate hand from his arm and brought it to his lips. After kissing the back of it lightly, he turned it over and touched the palm. Katrina gasped and he raised his eyes to her. Her face flushed and her rapid breathing matched the strong beat of his heart. Bright eyes met his, and Blake saw how his small gesture aroused her. A groan escaped him.

  “God, little one, you shall drive me mad.” He pulled her nearer, brushed her lips with his, turned and left. He knew if he stayed one second longer, he would lose control.

>   Still fairly early, Blake left for the sanctuary of his favorite club. He did not think he could bear being in the same house with Katrina and did not trust he could stay away from her.

  IT WAS LATE WHEN he finally made his way back to the townhouse, and everyone had long since retired. The house was dark and still. Blake walked up the staircase, his coat casually tossed over his shoulder. He undid his vest and unbuttoned his shirt to the waist. When he past Katrina’s door, he could not help but pause, the temptation to go in great. He stood there, indecisive, when soft sounds from within drifted to his ears. He eased the door open. Katrina struggled in her sleep and Blake realized she faced the horrors of a nightmare. Concerned, he entered the room and crossed to her bed.

  Her golden hair lay tangled across the pillow; her blankets were kicked to the floor, revealing her thin nightgown, twisted in her sleep about her hips. Blake’s pulse quickened as he stroked her forehead and felt the moisture dampening the small tendrils of hair around her face.

  “Katrina, little one … wake up. It’s only a dream. Wake up, Katrina.”

  Blake tried to awaken her with a shake. She struggled, fighting him, still deep in sleep. Finally, she awakened; her eyes wide with fright. He pulled her into his arms, cradled her and smoothed the hair from her face as she trembled from the remembered terror.

  “Shhh … it’s all right … there’s nothing to be frightened of anymore.”

  His soft words comforted, lulled Katrina back to reality. Blake kissed her head, tender and sweet, his voice kind and reassuring. “Shhh … it’s all right.”

  Total awareness was slow in coming; what happened and who held her finally dawning. Embarrassed, she pulled away and tried to cover her exposed legs. In her attempt to regain her modesty, the strap of her gown came loose and slid off one shoulder. Katrina fumbled with the ribbon in an attempt to retie it.