Angel Of Windword

by Maggie Dove

Lucas’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Marriage? Who said anything about …”

  Nicholas stared at his little sister, and then looked back to Lucas. “On second thoughts, you’d better forget the tennis match and get on that ship to Boston. We can work out the details of the venture at a later date.”

  “Not before I set her straight,” Lucas muttered under his breath. “I’ll make certain that after this evening Annie will change her mind about me. Damn it, where’s my escort? I want your sister to meet Amanda, the woman who has just this instant stolen my heart.”

  Her heart beating wildly, Anna turned to Angelique. “There he is—he is even more handsome than ever! Tell me, quick, how do I look?”

  “You look très magnifique, chérie. And so does he.”

  “Hush!” Anna whispered frantically. “I don’t want them to hear us. Do not stare at them. Pretend we don’t see them. There isn’t a single woman in this ballroom whose eyes are not glued in their direction.”

  Angelique chuckled at Anna’s discomposure. “Calm down, chérie. Do you want me to pretend I’m blind? You were not fooling when you described him—a Greek God.”

  “I know,” Anna replied with a wicked smile. “Oh, Angelique, I can’t wait to dance with him.” Anna’s smile faded, and her excitement turned to displeasure when she noticed the striking redhead walking toward Nicholas and Lucas. “Who is that woman who has just attached herself to Lucas? Look at the way she is staring at Nicholas.”

  They saw Lucas whisper something in the woman’s ear and introduce her to Nicholas, who in turn, burst out laughing. Angelique could hear her husband’s boisterous chuckles as she wondered what could be so funny and why this redhead had become such a diversion to him all of a sudden.

  “Angelique, she’s stunning—I think I hate her!”

  “Be quiet, chérie. They are coming our way.”

  Within seconds, they found themselves standing face to face with the handsome duo. Between them stood the amusing redhead, holding each possessively by the arm and flaunting a wily smile upon her face.

  Lucas embraced Anna and smiled warmly at her expectant, upturned face. “Little minx,” he said tenderly. “I would like you to meet my betrothed, Miss Amanda St. John.”

  “Did you say Amanda St. John—the writer?” gasped Angelique, not able to suppress her surprise at coming face to face with her favorite authoress.

  Smiling, Lucas turned to Angelique. “You, my dear lady, must be Nick’s wife. I envy my cousin, Madame.”

  Angelique returned the smile graciously. However, she was barely able to extend her hand to Nicholas’s cousin when Amanda St. John interrupted with a purr. “Aah—my dear Kent, I’ll have you know that I have based many books on your famed escapades and peccadilloes.” After haughtily appraising Angelique from head to toe, the authoress turned to Nicholas with a catty smile. “I only hope the woman who has finally conquered your untamed soul can keep your interest. Have you found an excellent chef? Or will your roving appetite soon wander off to other kitchens for different meals?” Ignoring Angelique’s sharp intake of breath, she gave Nicholas a little wink. “Take Gerard Mustelier, a character in one of my novels …”

  Mon Dieu—the woman’s boldness held no boundaries! Longing to scratch the redhead’s eyes out, Angelique was about to retort, when she recognized the familiar name. Mustelier! Why, oh why, would this woman bring up Mustelier now? This could not be happening! she thought, her eyes widening in mortification at the look of recognition on Nicholas’s face.

  Nicholas took Angelique’s hand and squeezed it tight. “I’m flattered, Miss St. John, but I don’t see how my past could merit such … such flowery words. Come dance with me, darling,” he said, giving Angelique a tender smile. “Excuse us.”

  They made their way toward the dance floor, holding hands, their fingers entwined, his thumb caressing her palm. The feel of the rough pad of his thumb rubbing against her skin sent a shiver through her. Steeling herself against his sensual assault, she managed to say, “About Mustelier …”

  His eyes lit with humor. “I must say it was very ingenious of you to borrow an ex-beau from one of those ridiculous novels, especially one who has the nerve to throw himself off a cliff. You’re very resourceful, Angelique. But, if you ever do it again—”

  “I will never read another St. John book. Oui—I shall have Janie burn the ones she’s saved.”

  She looked up into his laughing cobalt eyes and knew he was enjoying himself—highly enjoying himself!

  “Maybe she can enlighten us on how her characters walk panther-like and not fall on their faces,” she spat, glaring over her shoulder at her once-favorite authoress. “Maybe she can enlighten me on how many others have shared your—”

  Nicholas was no longer smiling. “My past is my own, Angelique. It does not concern us. No one else matters now, “ he spoke in a husky whisper.

  Mon Dieu, should she believe him? Emotion swelled in her chest as they began to dance. Unlike their first waltz, this dance was magical. Every fiber of her being told her this was where she belonged—encircled within his strong embrace. Unfortunately, the moment the music ceased, they heard Miss St. John calling them, and to their irritation, saw her waving for them to join her.

  As they approached the group, Amanda challenged, “My dear viscount, please clear something up for me. Lucas insists my latest hero is not true to life.”

  “I’ve had enough. It’s time to go,” Nicholas insisted firmly. Showing no outward sign of emotion, he took his wife by the arm and led her across the ballroom toward the balcony, leaving a very perplexed trio behind them. He ignored Angelique’s futile attempts at discretion and her soft protests when she looked around to find all eyes on them.

  Amanda watched them leave, juggling her single string of pearls against her bountiful décolletage. “Well Lucas, darling. Are you satisfied now? He’s crazy about her. Look around, the crowd is still whispering about their hasty exit. Your cousin and his new wife will never live this down.”

  Lucas grunted. “I seriously doubt Nicholas gives a damn at the moment.”

  Smiling smugly, Amanda added for Anna’s benefit, “Your appetite is as voracious as your cousin’s, my darling. So tonight, I shall have to cook up a new recipe for you. I cannot wait, my dear man.”

  Anna’s cheeks turned bright pink, her eyes misty. “I must go now. Please excuse me,” she burst out before turning abruptly and rushing out of the ballroom, disappearing into the powder room.

  “The sting of jealousy surges through her veins,” commented Amanda with a shrug.

  “Damn it, Amanda! Did you have to be so callous?” Lucas demanded shortly.

  “Look here, Lucas Alexander Spencer,” Amanda protested. “First, you want me to attend this ball and provoke Kent just to see how he feels about his new wife. Next, you expect me to pretend to be your fiancée without a moment’s notice. Now, you have the audacity to snap at me for doing exactly that—I swear, if we weren’t such good friends!” She paused to catch her breath. “Do you mind telling me what our sudden betrothal is all about? Oh, never mind.”

  She pursed her lips, already forming ideas for a new book, her imagination racing wild with vivid images. Dismissing the surly Lucas from her mind, she turned her thoughts to a certain young Frenchman to whom she had recently been introduced, and how wonderful it had been to initiate him in the basics of lovemaking. Suddenly, she wanted to leave the ball. The night smelled of love and the idea of that lusty Gaul waiting for her in her bed made her tingle with anticipation. “Let’s leave, Lucas.”

  “Suit yourself,” Lucas snapped. “I’m doing my damnedest to keep from running after Anna and taking her in my arms. I wish I hadn’t hurt her.”

  Once outside, his face still void of emotion, Nicholas took Angelique by the shoulders in a firm grip.

  “What are you doing?” she muttered breathlessly up at him. “Nicholas, you completely ignored her. You were rude. You cannot drag me …”

  “Shut
up,” he said flatly, bending his head to her, his mouth taking hers in a crushing kiss.

  Angelique felt as though she were spinning around in circles. It had been so long. She knew she had wanted him, but not until this very moment had she realized just how desperately she had longed for him. The feel of his strong, manly hands on her back as his blazing lips molded to hers was almost too wonderful to bear.

  She pressed herself against his hard length and placed her arms around his neck, entwining her fingers through his hair. “Nicholas,” she whispered against his mouth, giving herself freely to the passion of his kiss.

  The dark look of desire in Nicholas’s eyes left her weak as he tore his lips from hers. “Let’s get out of here,” he said hoarsely. “I need to be alone with you, Angelique.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Nicholas, stop—someone is calling you,” Angelique urged as Nicholas pulled her along down the balcony steps away from the Canonbury ball.

  “Ignore them,” he said flatly.

  “Nicky!” The voice sounded muffled, but faintly familiar. “Nicky, wait!”

  Nicholas swore under his breath. But his irritation was short-lived once he looked over his shoulder and saw Anna running after them, her tear-streaked face red and swollen. The heart-wrenching sobs that escaped from her throat nearly undid Nicholas as he caught her in his arms and noticed the lonely figure of Lucas etched at the top of the steps.

  “Annie,” he said gently. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

  “Chérie, tell us what happened,” prompted Angelique, her eyes wide with concern.

  Nicholas motioned Angelique to keep silent then quickly ushered them into the carriage. Once inside, his wife sat across from him, while Anna, cradled in his arms, buried her head in his chest. He stroked her hair and awkwardly attempted to calm her.

  “Don’t cry, darling,” he repeated over and over, as the carriage clanked over the cobblestone pavement. After a few minutes, Anna’s sobs slowly lulled to soft whimpers. All he could do was rub her cheek with the back of his fingers.

  Nicholas’s eyes found Angelique’s, and for a moment he was taken aback by the emotion he saw in them. Their gaze never wavering, they rode home in silence until the carriage finally reached the stone steps leading to the Kent townhouse.

  “Please don’t leave me,” Anna begged, reaching out and gripping Angelique’s hand once the carriage came to a halt. “Come to my room. I can’t bear to be alone right now. Oh, no!” she cried. “Here comes Father’s coach. They can’t see me like this.”

  “They won’t,” Nicholas promised.

  Helping the women out of the carriage, he watched as they climbed the steps and entered the townhouse. Instead of following them in, he waited for his parents’ coach to drive up.

  Moments later, Lady Marguerite reproached him as he assisted her onto the sidewalk from the coach, “Why are you back so soon, Nicholas? I had hoped you could endure the festivities a bit longer.”

  Smiling, Nicholas placed a kiss on his mother’s cheek before turning his attention to the earl. “I have good news, Father. Lucas is interested in joining our venture. It is as we thought. We can discuss this further tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll bid you both goodnight.”

  The Earl and Countess of Windword watched their son’s tall, elegant form as he disappeared into the townhouse.

  “Really, Edmund, our hostess was livid. The party dispersed right after they left. Don’t you think it rude to run off like that?” Marguerite grimaced. “I must have a talk with him, Edmund. First, he abandons Angelique for two months, and then, tonight, he returns only to drag her from the ball. It is barely midnight, and I know she was looking forward to dancing until the wee hours. She is young, Edmund. Well, no doubt tomorrow Nicholas will have to apologize to our hostess and to Angelique for leaving the party so abruptly.”

  “Now, Meggie.” Edmund smiled. “I doubt that sour-faced duchess will understand. It is common gossip her philandering husband has not slept with her for over thirty years. But Angelique,” he said, giving his wife a lusty wink, “will need no apology.”

  Angelique was beginning to worry. Anna had not uttered a syllable since her sobs had subsided into silence, and that was well over an hour ago. Lying facedown on the bed with her head buried deep in her pillow, the miserable girl had not reacted to Angelique’s futile attempts at comforting her.

  “You’ll see, chérie, all will seem better in the morning.”

  Mon Dieu, how empty those words sounded! As if mere sunlight could possibly mend Anna’s broken heart. She knew from experience that empty words held no solace for heartache.

  Could Nicholas still be waiting or had he gone to sleep? she wondered, recalling the sudden disappointment on his face when Anna had requested her company earlier.

  Her cheeks warm, Angelique suddenly remembered how his fingers had lingered purposely by the sides of her breasts as he lifted her from the coach. A faint smile had touched his lips. “Don’t take too long,” he had whispered huskily.

  Tingling from the desire which raced through her before he finally put her down, she had hurried after Anna into the townhouse, looking back only once to give her husband a hesitant smile.

  She had sworn she would never allow him to touch her again. Now, after spending only an evening with him, her resolve had completely diminished. She knew Nicholas intended to bed her tonight, and she longed for him to do so. At the moment, she was not concerned with the motives behind their marriage, nor did she care about Clarissa Blake. Presently, her need for him surpassed all other thought. But now, she needed to concentrate on her sister-in-law. Nicholas could wait a little while longer.

  Attempting to snap the girl out of her silence, Angelique blurted out her most guarded secret. “Anna, there is something I want to share with you. I don’t want you to think ill of me, but I had planned to leave your brother at the altar.”

  Anna raised her head from the pillow. “What?” she asked, looking at Angelique as if she had suddenly grown another head. “You were going to leave Nicholas at the altar? But why?”

  “Because I plotted and schemed to elope with my beau. Oui, chérie, I was going to marry Henri Bertrand, and no one, not even the Earl of Windword, was going to interfere with my plans. Or so I thought—”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “You really did not want to marry my brother?”

  “Marrying Henri was all I had dreamed of since I was a child.”

  “Well, why didn’t you run off with him … if you loved this Henri so much? Never mind, Angelique, if you hurt Nicholas—”Anna warned, her eyes narrowing into angry slits.

  “Relax.” Angelique smiled, taking Anna’s hands in hers. “The night I was supposed to elope with Henri, I realized that I couldn’t bear to leave Nicholas. So I waited for Henri, determined to break off our engagement.”

  “How did Henri take it?” prodded Anna.

  Angelique’s heart sank at the thought of Henri. She knew she would soon hurt him terribly. Henri deserved the truth. The sooner he knew it, the sooner he could commence his life without her. She would not make him wait a year to learn she did not love him.

  During the past two months, in Nicholas’s absence, she had repeatedly asked her father-in-law to bring Henri to her. A week had passed since she had last requested his visit. Initially, the earl had simply refused her request. He had informed her Henri was to leave for the States on an urgent business matter and that seeing her again would only distract him. “The young lad needs his wits about him, my dear,” he had insisted firmly, refusing to be convinced.

  Angelique had not given up, and after much urging, Lord Edmund had finally relented. He agreed to set up a clandestine meeting between them upon Henri’s return to London. “Regardless of the fact you wish to set Bertrand straight, should Nicholas ever find out about the meeting, he’ll be quite angry, my dear,” Edmund had warned her. “Nicholas has specifically ordered that you not see Bertrand until the year is over. My son will be furiou
s with you for disobeying his orders and disgusted with me for allowing you to do so.”

  “Angelique, what happened to Henri? How did he take it?” Anna repeated, her dark brown eyes wide with interest, as if wanting to take in every last detail.

  Angelique forced a weak smile for Anna’s benefit. “It’s a long story, and one which I don’t wish to pursue any further. I’ve only told you this so that you can apply it to your situation. I thought I loved Henri, but I know now, it was only child’s play.”

  “I wish that were true. But my feelings for Lucas are very strong. I’ve wasted years pining for him,” Anna replied with a dejected shrug of her shoulders. “I only hope when he marries the redheaded witch that her cooking causes him a terrible case of indigestion.”

  Angelique laughed, more than a bit relieved. “Why, chérie, you are beginning to sound like yourself again!”