Angel in Black

by Fela Dawson Scott

  “I am so sorry if I misled you, Trevor.”

  “It was not your doing, but mine,” sighed Trevor. “Please, I need you to tell me why he thinks you were dead.”

  Katrina’s eyes darkened with a sadness that tore at Trevor’s heart.

  “What is to explain?” answered Katrina, her voice strained. “Blake believes I am so wicked and depraved I arranged my own kidnapping, agreeing to murder an innocent woman to take my place among the dead. All to be free of a husband and marriage I detest. He’s convinced I am a sluttish whore who sleeps with his friends and brother, or anyone else I wish to coax into my bed. He thinks you are my latest lover and perhaps the father of my bastard child. Blake and I were lovers, but now he seems to loathe my very existence, and I fear nothing I can say or do will possibly change his feelings. He will never believe Jason is his son.”

  Katrina laughed strangely, but to Trevor it was a sad and bitter cry of pain. “It’s funny, Trevor — for I have done nothing but love him, when I know I shouldn’t. I fought against all odds, against death itself, just to be with him again. I tried to convince myself I didn’t need him complicating my life, and yet, life without Blake would be empty. Now, when I should return the hatred he feels, I cannot. I love him, and I will never stop. I can no more remove him from my mind than I could my heart and soul from my body. There is no hope for us, but there can never be another man in my life. My only solace is that I have Jason, who is a part of Blake.”

  Trevor stood and paced back and forth with angry steps. “How can he believe those things about you? You are all that is good and kind; never have I seen you otherwise.” Kneeling before Katrina, he took her hand into both of his and kissed her palm tenderly. “He must be blind not to see you as you really are. You are perfection.”

  Katrina removed her hand, lifted his face to look at her, her reply soft, urgent. “No, I am not perfect. I make mistakes — as we all do, but you and Blake have no right to judge me, one way or the other. There is much neither of you know; secrets I cannot tell.”

  “No,” Trevor rejected. Exasperated, he threw his hands up in the air and stood again. “I see tremendous love in your heart for the lowest of persons.”

  “I also carry a vile hatred you cannot begin to understand. I thirst for revenge like a person thirsts for water. It drives me, it possesses me. Do not burden me with your angelic talk, for I cannot live with it. I am me — good and bad. And until you or Blake accepts both parts of me, you do not know me.”

  Katrina’s nerves were shattered and she could no longer control her emotions, feelings of angry despair scorching her.

  “I love you, Katrina,” Trevor confessed. “Stay with me, I’ll can give you everything you’ll ever need in life. Stay, please.”

  Standing, her anger subsided in light of his tender declaration. Katrina took his face into her hands and looked up into his startlingly clear, green eyes. “I cannot stay, I cannot love you as you love me. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, for you have been nothing but kind to me and my son. But Blake is a part of me, he is in my mind, he is in my blood, he is in my heart. Blake Roberts is my very soul — he is my very life.”

  “You are right, Katrina,” Trevor agreed sadly. “It just would make things so much easier if you could forget him.”

  “Life is never simple.” Katrina’s hurt and pain overwhelmed her. “I want to leave for England, Trevor. I want to go home.”

  Startled, he started to object but decided it would be unwise. “When?”

  “Tomorrow, if possible.”

  Sighing, Trevor nodded. “There is a ship leaving from a nearby island tomorrow evening. We will leave in the morning.”

  “Thank you,” mumbled Katrina. “I had better see to my packing. I will see you at dinner, Trevor.”

  BY THE TIME EVENING came, Katrina felt weary from head to toe, yet she knew sleep would be difficult to come by. If only her mind would cease reliving every moment of what happened. If she could but blot out her memory, if only for one night, so a peaceful sleep could overtake her. Desperate for relief from the turmoil within, her eyes fell on a crystal decanter sitting on a small table across from where she sat.

  Why not? Katrina thought, rising from her chair. She filled a glass with the sweet, red wine and quickly drained it. She took the bottle and glass and walked from her sitting room into the bedroom and sat on the bed. It was a beautiful room, done in lavender and blue, but it held no appeal for her tonight. Her only thoughts were of Blake and how he had looked. Had his shoulders always been so broad, his waist so narrow and lean? His muscles rippled beneath the linen shirt he wore and she ached to touch the fine brown hair revealed by the open front of his collar. Katrina remembered every inch of his sun-bronzed face. It had been so long since she gazed upon it, she wanted to caress it, to feel every line, to feel his eyes, cheeks, and lips. To touch his neatly trimmed mustache and soft brown hair curled at the back of his neck. Despite his violent reaction, he still caused feelings to stir deep within her, the long dormant heat instantly aroused.

  “Dear God,” mumbled Katrina, “as he attacked me with his vile accusations and his eyes showed me his hatred, I desired him.”

  As she drank, Katrina shouted questions to the silent walls. “What manner of woman am I to feel passion when I should feel anger? Why must I love him? Why can’t I hate him instead?” There were no answers and she chuckled darkly at her own foolishness, setting the empty decanter aside. How easily the fiery liquid had gone down. When she stood, Katrina felt light-headed and giddy. Feeling warm, she crossed the room, weaving slightly, and flung open the double doors to her balcony. A cooling breeze filled the room, soothing her warm skin and gently blew her hair from her flushed face.

  She closed her eyes and the liquor slowly relaxed her, her anxiety gone. Katrina removed the silk robe and gown she wore, lifted her heavy mane from her neck to allow the wind to flow over her naked skin.

  Silently, Blake stood in the shadows of the balcony, his eyes drinking in the sight of her nakedness. The lamplight cast shadows about the room, bathing Katrina’s flawless skin in gold and bringing out flashes of red and copper in her long tresses. She was perfection. As he watched her a scorching heat flowed through him, stirring his desire, the sudden tightness undeniable. Despite the large amount of whiskey he had consumed, it did not dampen the passion she aroused. Since seeing Katrina, Blake could think of nothing but her, and nothing could stop him from seeking her out.

  “I see having a child has not ruined your beautiful figure, little one.” As he stepped forward into the room, Katrina opened her eyes, startled by his sudden appearance. “If I am not mistaken, you are lovelier than before.”

  His words were soft and husky, leaving no doubt in Katrina’s mind his reason for being there. Blake’s eyes burned like liquid fire as they roved boldly over her and she made no effort to cover her nudity.

  “What do you want?” The question was posed from irritation, but the ferocity was lost when the words came out slurred, the wine numbing her lips and impairing her mind.

  With deliberate slowness, Blake closed the doors, his eyes never leaving hers, giving her an answer without words.

  Katrina raised an amused eyebrow and shrugged. “I would offer you a drink, but it seems I am out of wine. You will forgive my rudeness, I’m sure.”

  “Ha,” laughed Blake, the sudden noise causing Katrina to jump. “You are drunk.”

  “As you are, sir.” A giggle escaped and she tried to stop it by covering her mouth with her hand. Turning serious, she glared at him. “I repeat, what do you want?”

  Blake moved toward Katrina, pulling off one boot, then the other and tossing them aside. “You know what it is I want.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do,” Katrina conceded as he moved closer. “Didn’t you get enough satisfaction in hurting me this afternoon? Or do you wish to twist the knife you plunged into my heart some more?”

  He shook his head. “No, that is not what I have in mind at
the moment.”

  “Please, go away,” she whispered.

  “Katrina, I’m sorry. I tried to stay away, yet I find myself here.”

  When Blake stood before her, strong and virile, she thought she might actually swoon from the overpowering maleness of him. A slow wicked smile crossed her lips and she looked up into Blake’s lust-filled eyes. Slowly, seductively, she removed his shirt.

  “No matter how much you hate me, no matter how loathsome you think me to be, you still come to me. You want to kill me, and yet, you want to love me. You are mine, Blake Roberts. Mine.”

  Her deep voice purred with sensuality, the sound more intoxicating than the whiskey. But the words she spoke angered him and he grabbed her hands in a brutal grip, muttering through clenched teeth, “I don’t belong to anyone, especially not you.”

  Katrina’s laughter filled the room. “You know I am right. Tell me, did you forget me when you thought I was dead? Did other women ease your passions as I have?”

  The wine made Katrina say things she would not have said had she been sober, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered but the longings inside her. From the look on Blake’s face, she knew the answers. “Yes, Blake, you will always be mine, just as I am always yours. We are both slaves to the heat we stir in each other — enslaved to each other forever.”

  “You are a witch. A witch who casts spells a normal man cannot fight.” His hand snapped up and wrapped about her slender neck, the temptation to break it overpowering. As the pressure increased, Katrina only smiled and stared into his golden eyes. Her hands quickly released his hardened member from the confines of his breeches, and a low moan escaped him as she slid his pants down his muscled buttocks. Stepping from them without releasing his painful grip on Katrina, Blake now stood as naked as she was.

  “You are mine, as I am yours — say it,” choked Katrina, uncaring of the pain, only aware of her overwhelming need. “Kill me — love me — it doesn’t matter. You are mine.”

  Blake closed his eyes, trying to fight against the reality of her words. Slowly, his hold on her throat eased, and without realizing it, his hand caressed her cheek, gentle and tender. Blake pulled her to him and leaned down to kiss her, but paused, his lips barely touching hers. “I am yours, you witch.”

  His lips took hers, possessing, passionate and desperate. He devoured the sweetness they offered, his tongue tasting the wine she had consumed earlier. Like animals, they were fierce in their passion as the loneliness of the past year descended upon them.

  He crushed her to him, bruising her tender flesh, but it didn’t matter to Katrina, it only added to her uncontrolled desire. An all-consuming fire exploded between them, taking their near-frenzied lovemaking to heights neither dared dream of.

  Blake lifted her easily to him and Katrina wrapped her strong legs about his waist. As he carried her to the bed, her fingers ran through his hair and moved to feel his face, leaving no feature untouched. When Blake’s lips left hers, Katrina bit and nibbled, driving him mad as he tortured her in return. His tongue teased her sensitive nipples, and the fullness of them made him wild. She arched her back in order to get closer to him, pleading for him to take her, his hard shaft rubbing along her delicate flesh, arousing her beyond endurance. Katrina pulled Blake to her, her desperate need for him unbearable.

  Unable to hold off any longer, Blake plunged deep within her soft moistness, the warmth of her sending shivers through him, the tightness nearly causing him to lose control.

  As Blake’s hardness filled her completely, Katrina gasped; the sensation beyond description as she raised her hips to bring him closer, plunging him deeper within. Nothing in the whole world existed to them but each other. Blake’s rhythm increased as he drove further and further into her, bringing her to the point of fulfillment.

  Katrina’s nails dug into his back as she exploded with delightful rapture. Wave upon wave of pleasure shattered through her, causing her to moan in ecstasy as every part of her trembled from the ultimate passion.

  When Blake felt her climax, his own release flowed from him, his whole being shaking as he strained against Katrina, filling her with his seed.

  They lay weak and shaken in each other arms, the ultimate lovemaking they had just experienced beyond words. Violence, desperation, hate, and anger, combined with passion, love, tenderness, and desire, created a joining neither of them would ever forget.

  “Oh, God — I love him. How can I face a life without him?” Katrina’s silent plea floated across her mind before sleep overtook her, still tucked in Blake’s arms.

  IT WAS STILL DARK when Blake woke up, his mind muddled by the drink he had consumed, but somewhat clearer than it had been earlier. He quietly slid from the large canopied bed. He looked down at Katrina, still sound asleep. His lips curled in distaste and he mumbled bitterly, “You look like an angel, little one, with your hair spread about you in a golden halo, your face so sweet and innocent. But we both know different, don’t we? Tonight you played the whore so well, I find it difficult to leave, but I must.”

  After he dressed, Blake started to leave but paused at the balcony doors. Instead, he walked back to the table by the bed and tossed a generous amount of coin onto it. He hesitated then removed the ring Katrina had given him and laid it next to the money. “Goodbye, Katrina. I pray we never meet again.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  TREVOR WALKED INTO HIS bedroom, loneliness already descending upon him. The vision of Katrina waving good-bye was imprinted vividly on his mind; the feel of her soft lips still lingered on his own. Trevor wanted to go with them, but she insisted she must return to England alone, with Li her only companion. He conceded; he had no right to interfere in her life any more. Because he loved her, Trevor let her go and hoped she could find the happiness she deserved.

  He poured himself a drink and wearily crossed to his bed, its comfort inviting. It would be dawn soon and he needed some sleep. When he set his empty glass aside, he spotted the note sitting on the nightstand. Trevor picked it up — it was from Chin Li. Curious, he read the carefully penned note.

  “Oh, my God,” Trevor muttered out loud, “What have I allowed you to return to, my dearest Katrina?”

  It took him several minutes to read the pages and with each line he read, Trevor felt more afraid. Li wrote of all the things Katrina confided to her during their voyage, explaining Katrina’s tortured past. He understood now the hatred she spoke of, and the revenge she sought. Now he knew of the secrets Katrina could not tell.

  He reread the last lines of the letter, running his hand worriedly through his hair.

  You must find Blake Roberts and tell him what I have told you, Trevor. Make your friend understand how wrong he has been about Katrina and how much she needs him. Katrina may never forgive me for betraying her confidence, but if it keeps her from danger I will have no regrets. Please, I beg you, go to Blake — Katrina and her son need him.

  — Katrina’s friend and yours, Chin Li

  Carefully, Trevor refolded the letter and placed it inside his shirt. Grimly, he stood and left to find Blake.

  BALMY AND CLEAR, STARS flickered bright and shiny against the night sky. The moon pale, colorless, lit the darkness with a soft glow. Trevor rode up to the tavern nestled among the buildings making up the small village on the island. He reined his horse in front of the inn and slid off.

  When Trevor entered, several men hailed him merrily and invited him to share some ale with them. He declined politely and searched the busy pub. He stopped when his eyes clashed with Blake’s hard gold ones. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and sat down across from Blake, who appeared at ease as he puffed on a cheroot. But Trevor was more than aware of the smoldering anger swirling about him, much like the smoke hanging heavy in the crowded room. He saw from Blake’s glazed look he had been drinking heavily and when he spoke, his words were slightly slurred and clumsy.

  “If you know what is best, Trevor, you will leave.”

  “I have come
to speak with you, and I’ll not be leaving until I do so.” Trevor replied, calm in the face of his friend’s threat. Despite Blake’s drunken state, Trevor remained cautiously aware of the other man’s barely-controlled fury.

  Blake sneered, “I have nothing to talk to you about.”

  “Well, I do,” growled Trevor, his patience gone. “I have some important facts you’re going to listen to whether you want to or not, you bastard.”

  Blake let out a furious howl and leapt across the table at him. He tackled Trevor and everyone turned alarmed, yet curious eyes toward the sudden display of violence. Both Blake and Trevor fell heavily to the floor, table and chairs thrown about like pieces of kindling as they scrambled about for their footing.

  Blake landed a hard blow to Trevor’s chin and he staggered backward. Regaining his balance, Trevor charged like a bull, all his anger now released. He caught Blake in the midsection with his shoulder, lifted the taller man from the floor and slammed him against the wall with force. They hit so hard everything hanging upon it tumbled down with a clatter about them. Blake and Trevor fell together and rolled about on the dirty, rough planking.

  The patrons of the bar saw how evenly matched the two men were, despite the stranger’s generous consumption of ale before the fight started, it made him reckless, dangerous. On the other hand, all knew of Trevor’s occupation as a pirate, his reputation fierce and well-deserved. Bets placed, each rooted for his favorite, enjoying the fracas interrupting an otherwise boring evening of drink.

  Blake grabbed Trevor, hefting him over the bar headfirst into the barrels of ale and wine lined against the wall, scattering them in every direction. Trevor picked himself up and, all reason gone, climbed up on the bar and lunged at Blake. The cruel words Blake yelled at Katrina echoed in his mind, adding fuel to his fire. Trevor remembered the pain in her eyes, and each time his fist struck Blake, he experienced a wave of pure joy and satisfaction.