Broken Angel

by Nona Mae King

  Rachel pressed him back and retrieved her hand from his, amazed when his continued insistence didn’t incite her temper. “Normally, I would agree with you, but the time we have is three months. Then the wedding holiday, which is another subject we will need to broach over dinner, and then our life together.” Rachel faced ahead and absently opened her fan to tease the air near her face. “I’m certain it will be time enough.”

  Dreams and fantasies of romantic courtships and long and wonderful engagements had long since been replaced by business plans and thoughts of profit margins. Three months would be enough time to confess and admit what drove each of them. If not, as he said, marriage was a lifetime investment.

  Robert released a quick breath and sat back to scrub at his scalp with one hand and shove his other deep into his beige trouser pocket. “I announced an intention to court to prevent the forced wedding, Rachel. Not impose my person upon you in place of a milk-toast.”

  Rachel smirked, hiding the smile with a slight lift of fan as she sent his amazingly handsome and strong profile a sidelong glance. “It wasn’t an imposition,” she countered. “In fact, if memory serves, I invited you to visit. You simply accepted.”

  A chuckle sounded, giving rise to a surprising tingle, and then Robert stretched his long legs out in front of him while tucking his other hand into his pocket. “Yes, I suppose it did happen that way. Didn’t it?” He sent her a wink. “Be sure to tell my father this was your idea. He might just believe you and take me back.”

  “Do you want to be taken back?”

  Robert’s gaze focused ahead as he pursed his lips to one side in consideration. “Hm. Good question. Stay within the clutches of the Samson family power or be taken back by my father to be constantly treated as if I were in a constant state of ‘twelve-years-old’.”

  Rachel laughed. “Oh for goodness sake, Robert. I doubt it’s as bad as that.”

  “Oh? Then why do you always suppose your father sees you as the same adorable and mischievous fourteen-year-old that traveled abroad?”

  Rachel’s smile vanished as she looked at him in stricken shock.

  The impish smirk disappeared as he paled. “Rachel, I’m sorry,” he said, voice rushed.

  Rachel looked away, blind gaze staring outside as she clenched her now closed fan in white-knuckled hands. “Touché,” she said blandly.

  Robert glanced heavenward with an expression of ‘Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?’ and a slight lift of his hands before looking again toward Rachel and adjusting his position more toward her. “Rachel, I apologize for that. It was uncalled for.”

  “It was the truth as you saw it,” she reminded, thoughts and tone both distant.

  “Truths shouldn’t always be spoken aloud.”

  Rachel lifted her shoulders, still feeling his scrutiny though she felt nothing else.

  Finally, he sighed deep and faced forward, adjusting his hands within his trouser pockets as he again stretched his legs in front of him. “Well, so much for a romantic carriage ride with the laughing Miss Rachel Samson, old man. Must you always be so blasted free with your words?” he grumbled. “Damon would be rolling on the floor laughing hard enough to wake the dead, as rightly he should. You’re about as graceful as a blind bull at a tea party.”

  Much as Rachel fought it back, the silence within was nudged aside for a slight quirk of lip and a bit of an arched eyebrow. She adjusted her hold on her fan.

  “Why don’t you further insult her by referencing the flowers in her hat and whether or not she mills her own?” he groused.

  Rachel felt his sidelong glance but didn’t relinquish another hint of the amusement that threatened.

  “Better yet, kowtow and agree with her father every blessed minute of the day and be done with the entire relationship altogether.” Robert scoffed. “I’d sooner agree to wear a corset.”

  That drew a laugh and her attention as she smacked his arm with her fan, freeing his own laughter as he flinched away from the strike, withdrawing his right hand from his pocket in the process.

  Rachel froze and arched an eyebrow at the appearance of the burgundy velveteen box within his grasp. “What is that?”

  Robert flushed as he shoved the box back into his trouser pocket. “Nothing.”

  “It’s a jeweler’s box.” She tugged at his arm to free his hand from his pocket. He resisted, face growing even more red. “For heaven sake. Why are you so embarrassed by having a jeweler’s box in your pocket? Pull it free and let’s have a look.”

  “Rachel, stop,” he protested. “This is entirely the wrong place.”

  “Wrong place for what?” she asked, still attempting to pull his resisting hand free from his pocket.

  Robert let out a quick breath and finally retrieved his hand. “Oh all right.” He offered forward the box. “But I’m still insisting this is both the wrong place and the wrong time.”

  Rachel accepted the box and opened– She gasped, finding the shining brightness of the most beautiful ring ever seen. Miniature diamonds set upon a band of pale gold surrounded a small, heart-shaped ruby. The ruby seemed on fire in the sunlight and the diamonds reminded Rachel of delicate tears yet unshed.

  “La,” she whispered as she retrieved the ring from within. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  Rachel looked up, but his gaze focused ahead. To her surprise, his jaw muscle twitched. “Was it your mother’s?”

  He shook his head.

  “Grandmother’s?”

  Again, he shook his head, but this time he sent her a quick glance and a softly spoken, “No.”

  Then Robert lowered his gaze to the ring within her fingers before almost hesitantly reaching forward to retrieve it. The expression on his face as he examined it was different than any she’d seen before; almost wistful. If Rachel hadn’t seen it for herself, she wouldn’t have believed it. Then Robert took her hand and slipped the ring onto her middle finger, voicing a hushed “Finally,” that caused a tingle brighter and more powerful than any others.

  Rachel arched an eyebrow as she continued to examine his face. After a moment, he seemed to force himself to meet her gaze. “Whomever did you have create this for you?” she asked. “It’s a wonder in craftsmanship and design.”

  The red of Robert’s ears darkened, if possible, and his hold on her hand briefly tightened. “A friend of the family crafted it.”

  “And the design?” She lowered her gaze to the ring again, this time pulling her hand from his to delicately move her finger and hand within the light of the morning sun. It danced within the gems. “Never have I seen a ring so lovely. Look. The ruby seems to be on fire - my birth-stone, did you know? - and the heart shape is quite the romantic statement for an engagement ring. And the small diamonds within the band? They look very much like tears. I wonder if they are of joy or sorrow?”

  Robert smiled as he watched her enjoy the ring. “Both,” he admitted softly. Rachel focused on him, and he looked away with a seemingly embarrassed clearing of his throat. “I designed it.”

  Rachel blinked. “You?” Then she laughed, looking again to the ring. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. But how on earth did you know my ring size?”

  “I used my mother’s.” He reached out to take her hand yet again, gently twirling the ring on her finger as he smiled down at it. “She and I were always close. She helped me through many rough times.” Robert met Rachel’s curious gaze and smiled. “It seemed appropriate. You remind me of her.”

  Rachel regarded him with that same curious expression before reaching up with her free hand to touch his face-- Rachel! She pulled back before contact was made and lowered her gaze to the ring, retrieving her hand from his grasp as she leaned slightly away from him. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

  There was a moment of contemplative silence before he quietly said, “I’m glad you like it.”

  Rachel wiggled her fingers in the light, again causing the dance of sun within the gem. “But why on ear
th do you have an engagement ring in your pocket?” She forced herself to look toward his profile. “Certainly you didn’t intend to propose today over lunch?”

  “No. I…” Robert cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I’ve… I’ve had that box in my pocket since I was sixteen.”

  “What?”

  Again Robert cleared his throat, sending her a sidelong glance. “I told you, I’ve known I was to marry since I can remember. That became my reminder to pray for her and myself.”

  “But sixteen? Robert, that’s unheard of.”

  Robert smirked. “I’m not as old as that.”

  “Robert, don’t make light. Such a showing of responsibility, I…” Rachel lowered her gaze to the ring. To be entrusted with it seemed so much more than a simple act of engagement.

  His hand covered hers, causing a twitch and a sharp movement of focus to his face. He smiled and gently enfolded her hand. “Thank you for finally allowing it an escape,” he said softly, his breath teasing a loose curl at her forehead.

  An escape. Hadn’t he provided the same? An escape from a cold future in a house surrounded by the reminders of a child she would never be. An escape from someone she had come to hate and fear… herself.

  “To be honest,” he continued, voice still as soft as before, “I had come to dread the moment I would present it to my betrothed.” Robert leaned a little closer, his thumb softly stroking the skin of her hand to the rhythm of her heart and her breathing. “I didn’t believe she would measure up to my dream of her.”

  That confession caused a shift within and a tingle without as she could only stare into his brown eyes while wondering what came next. She rode alone in a carriage with a man who had confessed attraction and a desire to kiss. Now that he admitted he had dreaded a previous betrothal while at the same time expressing thanks at wearing his ring… she found herself only able to stare and analyze the expression in his eyes and the reaction it caused while somewhat coldly wondering what it would feel like for him to kiss her.

  Robert released a soft sigh before touching her lips with his, quieting the questions while feeding them at the same time. When he kissed her softly again, her mind rejected what her heart so greedily clung to. Acceptance. Gentleness. Being handled with care and quiet. Treated as a woman and yet not feeling as if she were minimized because of it.

  Then he raised his head, eyes showing that emotion she didn’t recognize. He smiled - he always smiled - and Rachel felt a slight change deep within as he brought first one wrist and then the other to his lips, his gaze still holding hers. Rachel lowered her scrutiny to her hands he held. She could still feel his lips upon her wrists; the softness of the touch and the moving it caused… She had never been kissed in such a tender and yet intense fashion. Not even when Todd had given her the very first one. Neither had she been so… moved by something that seemed as if it should have been so simple.

  Another soft sigh was heard as Robert continued to hold and caress her hands. “Did I risk too much?”

  Rachel looked up to meet his gaze, and she couldn’t help but notice another change. A slip. A shuffle and tumble. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt it there. It seemed almost an invitation to something else-- Rachel accepted its invitation and leaned forward to retrieve another kiss from his lips, the warmth of them… welcoming hers and making it easy to ignore the shudder and groan of the wall she had taken so much care in building.

  Robert’s hands released hers to hold and caress her face as he accepted her touch and returned another, speaking to that portion of her that had no power. No strength… Rachel could only sit still and silent as the warmth attempted to burn through the numbness. Like a candle through a glacier, melting to the response that waited beyond. The response that hesitantly and cautiously ventured forward at a third caress of his lips upon hers. The response that sparked something to life. The response that caused her lips to hesitantly move in a soft and gentle caress against his.

  Then Robert very slowly drew his lips away, hands still cupping her face as she slowly opened her eyes. He smoothed her cheeks with his thumbs, his lips tilted upward in a soft smile as he somewhat gruffly said, “And the Angel had mercy on this mere mortal.” Then he relinquished his tender hold of her face to a secondary gathering of hands and palms to lips.

  His focus lowered to the action, leaving Rachel to watch, silent and oddly entranced by this… this beautiful man and his action of wooing her. Examining her inner reaction and the warmth and the intensity of… something so very deep within that the prospect of revealing it burned almost terrifying.

  “Look away,” Robert pleaded suddenly in an oddly moving whisper, “lest I be lost within the depth of emerald eyes.”

  Rachel blinked, a shift unlike anything before causing a slight jolt. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, cheeks flushing.

  A soft smile tilted his lips upward as his thumbs continued their caress of her wrists or palms. “And for what do you need to apologize? For being entrancing and desirable?” Robert finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. “For trusting me when I don’t trust myself?”

  The continued stroke against her wrists caused a deeper struggle, a spark beginning within and fanning outward. Warmth pressing aside the cold calm. Attraction forcing aside the numbness with such power that Rachel swallowed hard in an attempt to return it.

  “And why would you not?” she asked, fighting with the desire to free her hand with the coming of the realization that she enjoyed his touch.

  Robert smirked. “That subject will need to be saved for a later time,” he admitted. Then he leaned back away from her, tucking her hands into her lap before submerging his deep into his pockets. “Instead, I will count my blessings that you haven’t taken offense at my forward nature. Father would be horrified.”

  Yet the forward action intrigued Rachel. Intrigued her into wanting to know what came next in a relationship such as she never had. Different even than the close friendship she had shared with Todd. An outward attraction. An inner interest. A confessed desire and then the desire acted upon. Risks taken and… enjoyed.

  Robert sent her a sidelong glance, his eyes momentarily meeting her gaze. “It seems the Angel seeks to understand the mortal.”

  Rachel arched an eyebrow, her fan beginning an almost absent motion that teased the hair at her temples. Do I? Or did she seek to understand her own reactions?

  His smile widened a bit as he rested his head back against the velvet seat and fully looked over at her. “Does the Angel have a question?”

  “Why did you kiss me?” The unexpected question brought a blink and a slight pause of her fan’s motion.

  Robert chuckled, but he didn’t look away from her face or her eyes. “Because the moment fairly screamed for it. Because I’ve been wanting to do so since I can remember. Because now was the first free moment without prying eyes that would tattle the stolen moment to your father. Choose the answer you like best, for they’re all true.” Then one side of his lips twitched and he asked, “Why did you kiss me?”

  Rachel’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t release his gaze. “It seemed the proper reaction.” That and she hadn’t been able to believe her intensity of response to his simple and soft action. She had needed to prove the truth of it with another.

  Another of his velvety chuckles sounded. “That seems rather dangerous. For me, at any rate. If I acted upon what seemed proper for the moment, I would need to travel separately from you. The twitch of your lips begs for kisses.”

  A reluctant smirk replaced her serious expression as she turned her face away and slightly lifted her fan to shield a great portion of her face. “I doubt another could be persuaded so soon after the first.”

  “Oh? And why is that? You doubt the power of my persuasion?”

  “I doubt the second would hold the… intrigue as a first.”

  “I see,” he said slowly. Yet the slowness of his response caused a tingle and a sidelong glance to catch his continued
regard and the mischievous quirk of lip. “Don’t you know that the second can be just as intriguing as a first due to the many different types of kisses to be had? Then there are also the different strategic locations for a caress of lip. Such as a rebellious curl at the temple; an incessant arch of a left eyebrow…” Then he added, “From what I’ve heard, of course,” punctuated by a slight wave of hand.

  “Oh, of course.” She sent him another sidelong glance to make sure his position in the seat beside her hadn’t moved. Rachel hated to admit her curiosity at what he said. Yet another portion of her felt a surprising bit of fear that he might indeed prove the truth of it.

  “It’s much like the handshake shown previously,” Robert continued, the same tone of mischief heard in his low baritone voice. “Soft. Firm. Gentle. Tender,” he listed, a poignant pause between each word. “Different levels of each conveying a very different emotion.”

  Rachel briefly clasped her hand in her lap as she focused her attention on the continued gentle and rhythmic pulse of her fan. Her heart wasn’t so easily quieted as she found her mind doing its best to imagine the possibilities. “From what you’ve heard… of course,” she said, her voice sickeningly calm.

  A soft caress of a chuckle sounded in her ear, causing a twitch and a tightening of her hold on the fan as she just kept herself from meeting his gaze. “Of course,” he said, his breath tickling her skin.

  A slight breeze made the decidedly masculine scent of him flare her nostrils as she struggled with the effort of keeping her breathing as well as her fan at a normal pace. However, the scent drew a deeper breath from her, heightening the terror at the intensity his presence caused within. The more rapid beating of her heart. The fact that his soft and laughing voice made her feel more woman than business--

  Rachel shoved it all away - the warmth and the terror, the tingle and the shift that rumbled within - pressing it all aside and under the calm and control, struggling to step behind it before turning to face him. The twinkle in his brown eyes beckoned her back, but she refused it, continuing the gentle pulse of her fan and slowly arching an eyebrow.