Angel in Black

by Fela Dawson Scott

  They all nodded solemnly, tension filled the room with an unspoken fear. Walking over to Li, Blake lifted Jason from her arms. “He is absolutely beautiful. Katrina has given me more than I ever dreamed of.”

  Kissing the soft golden curls, Blake whispered to himself, “The first … of a half-dozen.”

  He handed him back to Li and said, “Thank you.”

  Li nodded, instinctively knowing the thank you was for much more than letting him hold his son. It was Blake’s way of acknowledging the letter she left for Trevor.

  DAVID WAITED IN THE library, impatient, his curiosity driving him mad as his imagination worked overtime, his mood somber by the time Blake arrived.

  “David, I am glad you are here.” Blake closed the door behind him, his riding clothes on.

  “So you’ve come home. I must admit, I was surprised to receive your message.”

  Blake noted the stiffness in his voice and could not blame him for his cool reception. “I need your help, David. Katrina is in trouble.”

  The expression on Blake’s face told David the seriousness of the situation. He did as Blake suggested and sat in the leather chair, accepting the drink offered. Blake sank into the matching seat opposite him and relayed the entire tale.

  When he finished, David was astounded, numbed by all he revealed. “Where is she, Blake?”

  David dreaded the answer, wanting desperately to hear she was upstairs and safe. But the look in Blake’s eyes said he had more bad news to tell.

  “Katrina has gone to Tattershall. She left yesterday morning.”

  David blinked and tried to think clearly, to not let panic set in as he was trained to do. “As long as Langsford is here in London, she will be safe.”

  “Langsford left for Camray about the same time Katrina did. He knows she is alive, I’m certain of it. I would guess Catherine Ramsey is somehow involved; she left with Lawrence and Randolph.” There was a note of desperation in Blake’s words; filled with silent suffering.

  David stood. “We had better go. How long will it take you to get ready?”

  “Everything has been prepared; I have horses waiting.”

  David shook Blake’s hand. “Thank you for calling me, Blake. We’ll find her and she’ll be all right. Katrina’s one tough little lady.”

  “Yes, I know,” muttered Blake. “We must go.”

  THE NIGHT WAS CLEAR and warm, the stars sprinkled across the sky in random patterns, their brightness sparkling against the blue-black backdrop. The moon hung just above the horizon as the two men began their trip across country, and as the hours raced by, it climbed higher into the heavens. It was near dawn before they stopped to eat and allow the horses to rest. A splash of soft pastel colors spread across the eastern sky and they shared a moment of peace, their thoughts of Katrina keeping them company.

  David remembered the night, long ago, when he discovered the Angel in Black was Katrina Easton. He had devoted his life to his career in the service, loyal to the King of England. But he had gone against King and country by allowing her to go free, and he still marveled at how easily he had done so. And, David knew without a doubt, he would do the same if it were to happen again. He recalled Katrina speaking of an ugliness and hate inside her — now he understood.

  He wondered what he would do in her shoes; asked himself an important question: Wouldn’t he want to kill Langsford?

  The answer resounded in his mind, no hesitation to his self-imposed question. Yes — he would hunger for revenge. It would be a pleasure to see Langsford die by his blade. Could they deny Katrina the very thing they themselves would seek, simply because she was a woman? His thoughts turned to the danger she was in, and he no longer considered what she might want or need. They must find her before Langsford and Randolph did.

  David glanced at Blake, who sat with his back against a large oak tree. Would he and Katrina ever resolve their differences and be happy together?

  Blake noticed the curious look David gave him and wondered at his thoughts. It would have amused him to know how much his thoughts were like his own.

  He watched the sun make its way into the grayish sky and longed to have Katrina by his side, safely watching the new day arrive. But she was not and he prayed for her safety. She would not expect Langsford to know she was alive and in England, and this terrified Blake. The wily bastard would definitely take advantage and surprise her. Katrina had escaped his murderous attempts twice; Langsford would take no chances this time. Blake shuddered.

  “Dear God — what kind of sunrise are you facing this day, little one? I have this dreadful feeling you need me and I cannot be there to help you. Lord, I pray you do not forsake her now.”

  With this last thought, Blake rose, and grimly the two men mounted their horses. With renewed determination they rode like madmen, untiring, unbending in their mission.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  KATRINA OPENED HER EYES to a room shrouded in darkness. Something roused her from a deep sleep and her mind slowly cleared as she listened to the silence around her. She tensed when she heard it again — the sound of horses and they were close.

  She slid from the bed, crossed to the window and pulled the worn curtain back to look out. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she knew they were coming before they came into sight. Down the darkened street a large group of men rode, headed straight for her cottage. A cloud passed over the moon, the faces of the figures cloaked in black shadowed.

  “It couldn’t be,” whispered Katrina. But she knew the answer to the nagging question inside her, and quickly ran to her bag. She withdrew a pistol from it and jumped when the door downstairs crashed open. Without hesitation, Katrina went down the ladder to the bottom floor. Jenny’s scream echoed in the small house as she and Jake were dragged from their bed. Jake’s curses mixed with Jenny’s frightened cries as he knocked one of his captors to the floor, prepared to take on the rest.

  Katrina saw one of the men raise his pistol to club the old man and halt his stubborn resistance. Before he could strike, Katrina’s own pistol barked, dropping him where he stood. Reacting as quickly as his aging bones allowed, Jake grabbed the gun from the dead man and tossed it to Katrina as she laid her empty pistol aside. She then placed herself between the men outside and her family while Jake tended to the terribly frightened Jenny, trying to quiet her sobbing, knowing Katrina needed no distractions.

  “Katrina,” Lawrence Langsford’s voice rang out. “It is best you come with us now. People will get hurt if you persist.”

  Anger coursed through her like a fiery potion, giving her strength and courage to face them all. Yet, love of family left her torn between logic and her need for revenge.

  “This is between you and me, Langsford. Do you always hide behind your hired help?”

  Lawrence’s jaw twitched as he watched the town wake up around him, the curious starting to gather. Damn! He had hoped to ride in, catch everyone asleep, and take Katrina without alerting the whole town. How the hell had she known he was coming?

  A sleepy-eyed Father Murray shoved his way through the crowd, scowling with disapproval at the sight before him. “What is going on here?” he shouted. When he recognized Lawrence and Randolph Langsford his face showed his surprise and he sputtered, “Sir, I demand an explanation for this intrusion.”

  Lawrence moved forward in an attempt to maintain control of the situation. “There is no need for concern, Father. It is a simple matter — we have come to take my son’s wife home.”

  Father Murray’s knees threatened to buckle beneath him and he struggled to comprehend the man’s statement. “But, I …” He swallowed hard and started again. “Katrina is dead — you will not find her here. Y-you know this.”

  Randolph stepped forward and replied, calm and matter-of-fact, “Katrina is alive and inside the cottage, Father. The reasons she is not dead are still unclear, but she is, indeed, inside.”

  Taking advantage of the crowd gathered about them, Randolph played the hur
t husband to his audience. “It seems my wife was not happy with the marriage the King himself arranged, so she sought a way out of it. I have learned her kidnapping and so-called death was her own evil duplicity. Her depravity put us all through much sorrow and grief, just so she would be free to satisfy her whorish desires. All know of her sinful affair with Lord Roberts, blatantly flaunted before the King and all his court and, most distastefully, before me. It is not enough she cuckolded me, but now she has returned from God knows where, with a bastard son, bearing no shame or remorse for her actions. Father, it is my right, as her husband, to deal with her as I see fit, and there is no one here who has the right to stop me!”

  Father Murray turned livid with rage, his round face red as a beet as he stuttered unintelligibly. The people watching argued angrily, their contempt for the two men and their accusations obvious.

  “I have the right to stop you, you bastard.” John stepped out of the crowd, a pistol in each hand, leveled at the two men. Katrina’s mouth went dry as she watched John face all of Langsford’s men. And, to her horror, Tom and Charlie moved forward to back him up.

  Someone broke the windows at the back of the cottage and drew her attention for a split second. Her world abruptly fell apart. John fired when he heard the noise inside, one ball barely grazing Randolph’s arm, the other missing Lawrence as he dove for cover. Katrina fired, killing one man whose pistol was aimed at John, but another got off a shot and John crumpled to the ground, grabbing his side. Other shots were fired to ward off the crowd, sending people scurrying for cover. Tom and Charlie’s actions were quickly halted by several pistols aimed at them.

  “No,” Katrina cried in disbelief. Jenny’s scream diverted her attention from John who lay unmoving. She whirled about to find three men in the room and Jake lying face down on the floor, moaning, bleeding from a blow to his head. Jenny sat on her knees beside him, wailing as she hugged him to her full bosom. Katrina threw the empty pistol at the intruders, her fury overwhelming her. She pulled her knife and ran out the door, insane with hatred.

  “You gutless bastard! You never had the nerve to face me alone. It seems to be your style, having others do your dirty work.”

  Lawrence and Randolph slowly inched toward her, their eyes on the knife she brandished. Father Murray mumbled in shock as he watched Katrina, her eyes filled with hatred and fury, waiting like a wild animal, surrounded by violence and death. Those villagers who had not fled crossed themselves, fearing the sight before them was a ghost.

  Randolph walked in front of her, drawing her glassy blue eyes to him, but careful to stay out of reach of the blade she wielded with menace. Crazed beyond control, Katrina hissed her contempt.

  “You are just like Lawrence — evil and cowardly.”

  “Drop the knife, Katrina,” ordered Lawrence, drawing her attention back to him. “Drop it or I will kill him.”

  Going numb, she stared, horrified, as Lawrence stood over John, his foot cruelly laid on his bleeding wound. She watched as he applied his weight, making John scream out in agony, the noise ripping through her like a jagged bolt of lightning. Lawrence lifted his pistol and aimed it directly at John’s head.

  “Drop it, or he is dead.”

  Katrina blinked, unable to think. Only one thing made its way through the confusion and horror of her mind — John would die if she did not go with them. She made her choice, the knife dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

  Father Murray finally got his tongue and called to Langsford. “You have no right to take Katrina. She will remain with me until this is settled — without further violence and bloodshed.”

  Turning toward his voice, Katrina muttered, her words unfeelingly and dazed, “No, Father, you must not interfere. I will not be responsible for anyone else being harmed. Go, and take care of John and Jake. I beg you, do as I say.”

  Seeing him hesitate, she pleaded with him. “Please, Father, you must see to John … now.”

  Reluctant, he did as she asked, not knowing what else to do. They had no means of stopping Randolph from taking his wife. Carefully, they lifted John and took him to his cottage, and to Katrina’s immense relief, Jake wobbled along with Jenny’s help.

  Slowly Langsford’s men surrounded her.

  “I knew your compassion for these people would get you to come willingly. But remember, fight us and I will change my mind and burn this whole damn village and the people in it to the ground.”

  Katrina said nothing and allowed Randolph to tie her hands in front of her. He pulled the rope so tight it cut into her skin.

  “Now, that isn’t tight, is it?” Randolph asked sarcastically, giving the ropes a cruel jerk. His laughter stopped and changed to anger when the pain he inflicted elicited no response from his captive. It infuriated him to see her shoulders pulled back and her chin tilted arrogantly as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  “You will change your tune when I am done with you. You will show fear, I guarantee it, dearest wife.”

  Katrina only smiled in response to his threat, aggravating him further. He struck her full across the jaw, knocking her to the ground.

  Pain shot through Katrina as her head snapped back from the brutal blow. She tumbled to the ground, the rocks bruising and scraping her tender flesh. Fighting off the threatening blackness, she dragged herself to her knees and squatted on all fours, trying to regain her balance. When her world stopped crashing about, she managed to get to her feet, her lip split and bleeding.

  “Get her on a horse,” bellowed Lawrence to Randolph, pleased at the sight of her bloodied and bruised. But it quickly turned to displeasure when he met her icy, hard gaze. Kicking his horse, Lawrence headed for Camray, the vision of her hate-filled eyes imprinted on his mind, and it made him uncomfortable.

  Mounting his own horse, Randolph hauled Katrina into the saddle in front of him and followed. He took immense delight in telling her exactly what he planned. His hands prodded and pinched her freely, but Katrina put it from her mind. She allowed none of his sick words to penetrate her wall of numbness, allowed no fear or desperation to seize control. Pure concentration put her into a world Lawrence and Randolph could not enter, could not touch with their evil.

  The distant, vacant look in Katrina’s eyes chilled Randolph, making him determined to elicit a response from her. Yet, Katrina remained meek and uncaring; she did not struggle, giving him leeway to continue his assault of her. As they rode on, Randolph took his time touching his wife, feeling each and every curve he had been denied on their wedding night. He shoved his hardened member against her, vulgar words whispered into her ear as his hand slid up her inner thigh in search of her softness to violate crudely.

  Katrina made her move, surprising her captor. She brought her elbow back with tremendous force into his ribs, knocking the breath from him. His yell caused his already nervous horse to rear, and in his attempt to stay in the saddle, let go of Katrina’s waist. In a flash, she leaped from the horse, landing nimbly on her feet, despite her hands being tied. Confusion erupted at their sudden and abrupt halt, the other horses stamped about tensely, one bumping into her as she fought her way out of the fray. Quickly, she dashed into the cover of the woods and ran as fast as she could. Stones and brush cut her feet and legs, tearing exposed flesh, but Katrina continued on, ignoring the pain.

  In the distance, she heard Lawrence shouting and riders came after her. The mounts and men quickly covered the short distance she had managed to gain. One man tried to catch Katrina, but just as he leaned down to capture her, she stopped and turned, ducking out of reach.

  Close behind, Randolph pursued his wife, who turned and ran in yet another direction. But his horse finally overtook her and Randolph slid from his saddle and tackled her, throwing her roughly to the hard ground, his own heavy weight slamming on top of her.

  Katrina’s flimsy nightgown shredded as twigs and rocks scraped her exposed arms and legs. Randolph rolled off her and stood, pulled her up by a handful of hair, her head yanked ba
ck dangerously.

  “I should kill you now,” yelled Randolph, breathing heavily from exertion and anger. “But it would be a shame not to enjoy your charms before I send you to the afterlife, wife. It is my right as your husband!”

  His free hand shot up to caress her scraped chin, but Katrina bit it and held on. She could taste the blood as it filled her mouth. He yelled in pain and struggled to free his hand from her fierce grip, but, like someone possessed, she refused to release him. Randolph pulled back farther, forcing her head to so painful an angle, she was forced to let go.

  Calm and still smiling, ignoring the blood running from her mouth, Katrina spat, “I do not consider you my husband, and no power on earth can make you so.”

  “Randolph,” drawled Lawrence watching them, impatience clearly reflected in his voice. “Do you think you two lovebirds could stop your quarreling long enough to reach Camray?”

  Randolph reddened but said nothing. He dragged Katrina to his horse and to make certain she did not try to escape again, he tied her to the saddle horn. The ropes burned and cut into her wrists until she could feel the trickle of warm blood running down her fingers.

  As the group of men and one woman entered the long drive to Camray, Katrina experienced a twinge of sadness, thinking it a strange homecoming indeed. When she glanced to the east, she witnessed a beautiful sunrise, colors, awe-inspiring and tranquil, spreading across the dark sky. Her thoughts turned to Blake, his face clear in her mind. Suddenly, she was certain Blake thought of her.

  Randolph dismounted, untied Katrina and jerked her off the horse. She fell to her knees and a smile twitched Randolph’s thin lips when he looked down at her, anticipation lighting his eyes for what was to come.

  “It is time you learn where you belong, bitch — on your knees or beneath a man.”

  “I suppose,” began Katrina, a smirk on her face, “since there are no men here, I will just have to stay on my knees.”

  Randolph’s face shaded to a dark red at her blatant audacity, the muscles in his neck distended and his teeth clenched. A low growl escaped from deep within and he brought his hand up to strike, but she continued to stare, bold and unflinching. He hit her hard across the face then backhanded her in turn.