Angel in Black

by Fela Dawson Scott

  Blake put his hand over hers to stop her futile attempts at making a bow. “Never mind it.” He lifted Katrina’s delicate face with a finger so he could look into her eyes. Unable to resist, he pulled her to him and kissed her as he’d yearned to all day. He felt her shiver, his kiss demanding, causing her senses to come alive beneath his touch.

  His arms tightened about her and Blake’s hand slid up her leg to caress her hip. Katrina moaned from his touch. He fell back on the bed, rolled her beneath him, her soft curves molded against his hard ones. He buried his head in her hair and his senses reeled from the sweet smell of roses, his passions driven to the brink.

  Katrina felt her own desires overwhelm her, consuming the last fragments of reality. Desperate, she fought for control, her plea a slight whisper. “Please — Blake.”

  He rolled away from her, reluctant, yet dismayed. “God help me, I fear I cannot control my need for you, little one. Please forgive me.” Blake’s voice shook as he fought to master his desire for her.

  “I’m sorry.” Katrina felt so confused, so shaken and weak. She touched Blake’s cheek, and when he looked at her, he saw all in her face. It tore at his heart — she desired him but could not forget the pain he always inflicted.

  With great tenderness, he kissed the palm of her hand. “Good night, Katrina.”

  The door clicked shut and Katrina stared into the darkness. Loneliness filled her, strong and overbearing. Her lips still tingled from his kiss, and she fought to hold back the impulse to call after him.

  THE NEXT DAY PROVED sunny, bringing promised warmth to the streets of London. At breakfast Blake remained courteous, seeming to watch his every move around her. He asked if Katrina would like to go for a ride. He thought the fresh air might bring color to her cheeks.

  Anxious for a day in the sun, she accepted and Blake escorted her to the waiting carriage. Katrina’s excitement and wonder grew as they toured the busy city. On her previous trips, she had seen little of the beauty London offered. Blake turned out to be an excellent tour guide — never before had she seen so much in a single day. They stopped for a light lunch at a most charming cafe, and she could not remember when she’d experienced a happier day.

  Rebecca had been delighted to discover the two women were close to the same size. The young woman provided Katrina with a beautiful wardrobe, including the blue silk she had worn the night before. Any alterations needed were done quickly. Today Katrina wore a lovely caraco jacket and skirt of rose-colored silk damask with a delicate floral design. Chantilly lace spilled from her throat and sleeves and a becoming broad-brimmed hat trimmed in fresh flowers completed her outfit.

  Blake wore a silk jacket of dark gold, bringing out the intense color of his eyes. Breeches of the same rich color clung snugly to his muscled legs, and brown leather boots gave him a trim, elegant look. Never one to wear a hat long, Blake let the wind tousle his hair. Katrina could not help but notice the looks cast their way everywhere they went.

  By the time Blake and Katrina returned to the townhouse, she felt tired. She had slept little and went upstairs for a nap before dinner. She undressed and sat at the dressing table to pull the pins from her hair. She brushed the long tresses as her mind wandered through the day spent with Blake. With a long sigh, she stood, stretched and walked to the large, canopied bed. She crawled beneath the warm comforter and within minutes exhaustion conquered her.

  Katrina slept sound, feeling refreshed when she finally opened her eyes. It was dark now and she knew it must be near dinnertime. She jumped from the bed and lit a lamp on the side table. She ran a brush through her hair and panicked when the clock in the hall chimed the hour. Why hadn’t she been awakened? She selected a simple, light woolen gown of pale gold from among those she’d been given and hurriedly put it on. There was no time to do anything with her hair, so she decided to leave it free.

  Closing the door behind her, Katrina hurried down the hall. As she descended the stairs, Blake’s deep voice drifted to her, and she warmed at the sound. When she entered the room, Blake stopped midsentence, his concentration seemingly lost as he stared at her. In several long strides, he stood at her side, his eyes devouring her. Katrina saw Ryon, his amusement and pleasure as he watched apparent.

  Blake excused himself soon after dinner, explaining he must attend to business. Katrina felt strangely empty after he left, though Ryon, Rebecca, and the babe were pleasant company. When she returned to her room, Mary, one of the servants, waited for her. A hot bath stood ready, and the young girl explained her reason for not helping her dress before dinner.

  “Lady Rebecca said you might want t’ sleep through dinner, so I didna’ come earlier. I thought you might like your bath now, mum.”

  Katrina smiled gratefully at the girl, still feeling awkward to have servants seeing to her needs. “Thank you, Mary. Perhaps it will relax me. I seem to be anxious. I think I slept overly long this afternoon. I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

  “Well, miss, Lord Roberts has lots of books in his library. I’m sure you could find one you would enjoy readin’. I’ll see a fire’s set so you can go down after your bath, if you wish.”

  “Yes, I think I’ll need something to help me sleep. Thank you.”

  After removing her gown and undergarments, Katrina piled her hair on her head and pinned it in place. She sank into the fragrant water and felt the heat sooth the tension from her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, allowed her mind to drift. Visions of Blake teased her, eyes filled with desire as a roguish smile played on his lips. Wide shoulders with strong arms and a bare chest, bronzed by the sun, took shape in her thoughts. The massive shoulders tapered down to a small, flat waist and long, well-muscled legs flexed when he moved. His whole being emanated the controlled power of a jungle cat. Yet, she knew him to be a gentle lover, a skilled lover, who made her feel like a whole woman. Blake was the man who could fill the emptiness in her.

  Her eyes flew open when she realized where her thoughts had taken her. She blushed, despite being alone. “Damn,” she muttered. “Why can’t I keep you from my thoughts?”

  She grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed, determined to blot out the image of Blake branded into her mind. After rinsing, she dried herself with the soft towel Mary left and slipped into the silken nightgown and robe laid out for her. She still wasn’t sleepy, so she picked up a candle and made her way downstairs to the library.

  A cozy fire burned in the grate, just as promised. The house remained quiet — everyone retired to their rooms. Katrina held the candle up and examined the fine volumes lining the shelves; she found it difficult to choose. Finally she settled on something and started to leave.

  “Don’t go.” A low voice startled her. Blake stepped from the shadows into the light of the fire. “Don’t go, Katrina.”

  “Blake, I didn’t see you. I couldn’t sleep and —” her words faded, so she held up the book in her hand, strangely tongue-tied. Finally, she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “On the contrary, little one, you are always a delight to see and I don’t think it’s possible for you to disturb me. Except — in a different way.”

  His voice grew deep and sensuous, the tone sending shivers over her. When Katrina met his golden gaze she saw the fire in them and understood his meaning clearly. She stood mesmerized, unable to look away, unable to move.

  “I’m sorry you cannot sleep.” Blake continued to watch her.

  She finally glanced away, nervous, uncertain what to do. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long this afternoon; now I find sleep evades me.”

  Silence filled the room and Blake walked over to her, each step deliberate and slow. Standing before her, he lifted her chin to look up at him. “You are so beautiful. Do you know what torture it is to have you so close — and yet so far?”

  Nervous, she licked her lips; an innocent gesture she could not know caused a sudden tightening in Blake’s gut. He turned away, unable to gaze at her any longer,
but the scent of her filled the air, making it impossible to ignore her presence.

  Katrina turned him to face her. “Don’t be angry with me, Blake.” Confusion clouded her face and it was clear she misunderstood his actions.

  Blake closed his eyes a second, to gather his strength and still his overwhelming passion. When he opened them again, he read the myriad of emotions on her face. “I’m not angry, little one, but I must know one thing. Does the desire still burn in you as it does in me?”

  “Yes,” whispered Katrina honestly.

  The relief and joy rushed in, destroying all caution he may have had. “God, I’ve been a fool. Can you ever forgive my —”

  Katrina put her hand up and touched Blake’s lips, silencing him. “Please — say no more; it doesn’t matter now. I could not sleep last night after you left. I felt an emptiness I do not understand, and desire only you can quench. Blake, in my heart, there is love … inside me, there is an aching need … in my mind, there is still pain … but tonight, it does not matter.”

  Blake’s hand slipped behind Katrina’s neck and he kissed her, devouring the sweetness she offered, igniting the embers into a fire. His lips moved from hers, down the curve of her neck to her silky shoulder, and back to her supple mouth.

  Katrina clung to him as the last of her doubts fled and only a tremendous longing remained. Blake’s hands caressed the delightful contour of her back, slid lower to the softness of her hips. Gently, he lifted her closer and she could feel his manhood hard against her. A moan of pleasure escaped as a delightful madness shot through her. Blake took her into his arms and carried her up the stairs, the book forgotten upon the floor where it fell.

  Once in her room, he laid her on the bed and started to undress. Katrina’s watched his every move, her eyes dark with yearning, unembarrassed at the sight of him naked before her. He removed her gown, kissing each inch of her flesh as he exposed it to his eyes and lips. His tongue tormented her, sending wave after wave of sensation sweeping through her, lips burning a trail everywhere they touched. Loving and tender, Blake took Katrina to a place where only the tremendous need to have him fill her existed, to drive deep within her moist center and bring her ultimate ecstasy. Katrina’s hips rose in the rhythm of lovers and together they spiraled and shattered in splendid rapture. After, entwined in each other’s arms, they slept.

  WHEN KATRINA WOKE THE next morning, she found the place where Blake slept empty. For a brief sleep-muddled moment, she wondered if it had been a dream, but the imprint of his head still creased the pillow and when she moved, the slight soreness reminded her she had been ardently loved. Content, she stretched and got up from the bed, the rug warm beneath her feet. The room was cast in darkness; the heavy drapes kept the light from the room. She crossed to the large windows and pushed them aside to allow the bright morning sun to enter. When she turned, she froze in mid-motion, her mouth falling open in surprise. Red roses filled the entire room.

  She gasped in delight. How had they gotten there? Had she really slept so soundly she did not hear anything? Walking from one bouquet to another, Katrina examined each one, amazed at the perfection of the delicate blossoms. When she reached her dressing table, she found nestled among the flowers a familiar, worn leather pouch. With trembling fingers, she picked it up, treasuring the feel of it. Katrina dumped the contents into her palm, her throat tightened at the sight of her sapphire-and-diamond jewelry. A small note fell out, and she unfolded the paper carefully, uncertain of the emotions inside of her. It read simply: “Forgive me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  KATRINA HELD HER BREATH from excitement as their landau rambled up the lane toward Windsor Castle. The great stone blocks formed endless walls dominated by the great round tower, an unbelievable eighty feet high, with four other smaller towers rising from the walls to flank it. The mighty Thames reflected the structure’s magnificence in the ever-flowing waters that gave life to the large city. West of the central tower, in the lower ward, was St. George’s Chapel, its belled steeples and spirals standing guard over all worshipers who entered its resplendent haven. Stained-glass windows, arching into domed ceilings, stood out brightly against the weathered gray stone, colored light etching the floors.

  Blake helped Katrina from the carriage, and they were escorted inside past huge, double doors of hand-carved oak. As they walked through the spacious rooms with tall graceful windows, finely ornamented doors, painted ceilings, and delicate plasterwork, Katrina felt as if she were in a whirlwind of color and texture.

  Once in the great hall, Katrina was questioned thoroughly by the King’s advisers, and now they awaited word from the King himself. Blake watched her as she stood by the large window, her attention focused on the trimmed parterres and terraces of the palace gardens. She studied in wonder the sunken gardens with their immaculate flowerbeds and hedges, winding walkways, and sparkling ponds and fountains. Pavilions and gazebos with statues of gleaming marble pleased her eyes, and a smile touched her lips as she watched the ducks, geese, and swans wandering freely about.

  Blake could not help but stare at Katrina. Dressed in a gown of smoky, blue-gray velvet, she looked stunning. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned to meet his warm gaze, a smile touching her lips as she gracefully came to sit beside him. How calm she was, thought Blake as he reached out and laid his hand on hers in a loving, possessive manner.

  He knew how crucial this meeting was for Katrina. The King and his advisers must decide if she was the true daughter of William and Virginia Easton. But Blake’s presence was requested first and he was led to the adjoining room, leaving Katrina to sit alone.

  “Ah, Lord Roberts, it is good to see you again.”

  Blake crossed the room and bowed elegantly to his King, who impatiently waved away his advisers who hovered nearby.

  King George III was not a handsome man, but fifty-two years had lined his face with character, and he commanded attention. Of medium height, he had a rounded chin, full lips, and eyebrows forming a half circle above hooded eyes. A long, straight nose with nostrils that flared out slightly completed his regal face, and a white periwig framed it.

  “Yes, yes, dear boy. My court needs a handsome rogue like you to keep all the women swooning. It’s been years since you attended a season here — always off somewhere, I hear.”

  “I must admit it is good to be home, Your Majesty.” Blake smiled.

  “Good, good. Now, tell me, what of Katrina Easton? I’ve been told your family has known her as Rina for several years. Is she who she claims to be?”

  Nodding, Blake answered, “Yes, she is Katrina Easton.”

  The King was thoughtful for a moment then made his decision. “My advisers are convinced she is the daughter of William Easton, a man several of them knew well. So, before I meet the Lady Easton, I have just one more question.”

  A twinkle sparkled in King George’s eyes and a smile spread across his face. “Is she as beautiful as I remember Virginia Easton to be?”

  Blake’s laughter filled the room. “Yes, Your Majesty. I believe so.”

  “I should like to see the lady — alone.” The older man winked conspiratorially.

  Clearing his throat, Blake considered his next words carefully. “My Lord, may I be honest with you?”

  The seriousness in Blake’s voice gave the King a moment’s concern, but he nodded his consent.

  “Katrina Easton is an independent, willful woman. I hope you will give consideration to what life has been like for her the past nine years.”

  The King drew his eyebrows together in a frown, and his lips pursed thoughtfully. “Has a sharp tongue, does she? Well … I’ve been warned and I’ll take my chances, young man.” With a smile and another wink, he waved Blake away.

  Katrina entered the large room and crossed to where the King stood, seemingly interested in an object on a nearby table. Falling gracefully into a low curtsy, Katrina bowed her head humbly. Under lowered lids, King George had watched her entrance and now looked openl
y at the delicate head before him.

  “Rise, my child, and sit. We have much to talk about.” His hand indicated a chair for Katrina.

  Though she presented an outwardly calm exterior, she flushed with excitement and her heart raced inside her breast. This man had the power to grant her everything she desired — the right to be called Katrina Easton and to claim her inheritance. Would she finally fulfill one of her promises? Would Camray be hers? Or would King George deny her?

  As her worries continued to vex her, Katrina determinedly brought her mind to the matter at hand. She met her King’s eyes, feeling encouraged by the gentleness she witnessed in their depths.

  King George found himself looking at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Magnificent eyes, he thought, then expressed another out loud. “When your mother, Virginia, was your age, I thought no one could surpass her beauty, but I must say her daughter has done so.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” whispered Katrina, taken aback by his praise.

  The King smiled at the pink staining her cheeks and her flustered, downcast eyes. How unaware she was of her own beauty and grace. Delighted by her honest reaction, he continued. “I arranged for this private meeting to find out if you were truly Katrina Easton. I believe you are who you claim to be. Others may doubt it, but I do not. You can now return to your previous life, so horribly torn apart by tragedy. I assume this is what you want?”

  “Yes, it is my wish,” answered Katrina.

  “Well, word has been sent to your uncle and he should arrive soon. I’m sure he will gladly welcome you in his home and act as your guardian.”

  Katrina stiffened and her eyes turned cold and hard. “No, Camray is my birthright and I claim it as mine.”

  The King put his hands behind his back and walked about the room, deep in thought. “What you say is true, Katrina, but when it was thought you were dead, Camray passed on to your only other living relative. For nine years, Lawrence Langsford has run the estate and increased its profits tremendously. He has proved to be a valued and loyal member of my court. Do you suggest I strip him of his lands and wealth for the claim of a woman?”