Angel's Devil (17 page)

"If you like," he responded.

"I would."

He sent Demon into a canter, and the hunter smoothly matched them. They
kept to that pace for several miles, and as predicted, Hastings dropped out of
sight through the trees behind them. The morning air was fresh, and the lake
through the trees glittered with the reflection of the early morning sun. When
the marquis glanced over at her he had a smile on his face, and she returned
it.

"This is wonderful," she laughed, tossing her head. At that
her hat came loose and, before she could grab it, fell to the ground. "Oh,
drat," she muttered.

The marquis pulled up. "Allow me," he offered, and yanked
Demon around to head back up the path. They reached the hat, and without
slowing he swung over to hang halfway out of the saddle. He scooped it up
without pausing and turned to bring it back to her.

It was a spectacular piece of horsemanship, particularly on an animal as
spirited as Demon, but she wasn't about to tell him so. "Show off,"
she said instead.

"You have rather a lot of trouble with your hats, Angelique,"
he grinned, and handed it back to her.

"Only when you're present," she returned, trying to pin the
thing back over her windblown hair.

"That's the first time I've been accused of causing a woman to lose
her
hat,"
he responded immediately. "Perhaps things are
looking up for me."

She understood the insinuation and blushed, but was distracted from
making a reply by her uncooperative chapeau. "Blast," she grumbled.

"Do you need assistance?" he asked, urging Demon closer.

Before she could respond he had taken the pin out of her hand and was
fastening her hat back to her hair. A tingling shiver ran down her spine at his
touch, and she held still so he wouldn't pull away.

"There, I think that'll do," he said after a moment. He
chuckled. "In fact, you may never be able to get it off again."

She laughed and he grinned at her, his eyes merry. Her heart gave a
queer flop, but then he abruptly stiffened and looked toward the lake.
"What is it?"

He held up a hand to silence her. After a moment she heard Brutus's
distinctive howl and then screams. Angel fell in behind James as he charged off
the trail. He bellowed for Hastings to follow them, and dimly she heard the
groom answer.

They cleared the trees at the edge of the lake, and she gasped. Helen
and Jeremy were on shore screaming for help and pointing, while Brutus paced up
and down the edge of the water, barking and yowling. Out in the water a small
form thrashed, vainly trying to reach the remains of a halfsunken rowboat as
it slowly drifted away.

The shore was marshy, and James dragged Demon to a halt when the horse
began to fight him. He jumped down and headed for the water at a run, throwing
off his jacket as he went. Helen and Jeremy flung themselves at Angel, sobbing
something. about finding the boat and wanting to go fishing. James dove into
the water and began swimming strongly for Henry. As he reached him the boy went
under, and James dove after him.

It seemed like an eternity before they surfaced again, but must only
have been seconds. James had Henry tight against him, holding his head up out
of the water. He stroked for the shore, Henry coughing and gagging in his
grasp. Hastings appeared, and waded out toward them. When James could stand, he
swung Henry up into his arms and pushed through the reeds until he reached the
groom.

Hastings took Henry and carried him up to dry ground.

As the groom laid him on the grass, Angel extricated herself from the
children and threw herself down beside him. "Henry, are you all
right?"

In answer her brother turned on his side and coughed up half a lungful
of lake water, then began gasping for air and sobbing. James knelt quickly on
his other side. He slapped Henry sharply between the shoulder blades, and after
another gasp the boy's breathing became more even. He sat up and flung himself
at the marquis's chest.

James hugged him tightly, water dripping off his dark hair and into his
eyes. "Henry, I think we'd best teach you how to swim," he panted
shakily.

Henry looked up at him. "Not today, please." His teeth
chattered.

"Fair enough," James answered.

Steam was rising from both of them, and Angel realized ·they must be
frightfully cold. Hastings donated his overcoat to put around Henry's
shoulders. "Let's get you back to the house and dry, lad," he said,
and scooped the boy up to bring him to his horse.

"Helen, Jeremy, go with them," Angel instructed, and the
children ran after the groom.

In a moment they were gone. Demon and Pharaoh grazed, oblivious to the
goings-on. She looked at James, soaked to the skin, his shirt muddy and
steaming as the water evaporated in the warming sunlight. "Thank
you," she whispered; near tears.

He started to answer, then with a startled look pulled his shirt from
his breeches and then yanked it off over his head. As he threw it aside she saw
the reason for his consternation. Two leeches were fastened to his skin, one on
his right side over his ribs and the other on his left shoulder. With a curse he
plucked them off and flung them away. They left twin bloody streaks across his
skin. "Damned bloodsuckers," he cursed, then turned his back on her.
"Any more?" he asked, trying to look for himself.

There was one on his back, and with shaking fingers she removed it,
shuddering as she dropped it into the water. "That's all."

A deep, scarred gash puckered the skin across the back of his shoulder.
She reached out to touch the wound, and felt him jump beneath her fingers.
Slowly she traced the length of the scar, while he stood unmoving. Finally he
turned around. his eyes glinting. James reached out both hands to cup the sides
of her face, then leaned down and captured her lips with his own.

Angel's hand, still outstretched, slipped around his shoulder. His skin
was cool under her fingers, but his lips seemed to bum her mouth. She shut her
eyes and pulled herself up against him to meet his embrace. A shivering tingle
ran down her spine. This was what she had wanted, she realized dazedly as he
continued to kiss her roughly. This was what she had wanted from James Faring
from the moment she had found herself in his arms on the Dover pier. She
reached her other arm around his bare back, not caring what anyone would think
if they happened upon her in the embrace of the half-naked Devil, but only that
he would continue kissing her.

After a last fervent kiss he released her and stepped back.

"Sweet heaven . . ." he muttered, staring at her as he continued
to back away.

While her own face felt flushed, his was white. "James . . . "
she said slowly, wondering what in the world they were going to do now.

He shook his head. "No. This never should have happened." He
backed up until he reached Demon, then turned and swung up into the saddle.
"It never happened," he said fiercely, urging the stallion up beside
her. "Do you understand? It never happened."

"But—" she stammered, looking up at his horrified expression.

"No. You are going to marry Simon. I will not step between the two
of you. Not for anything." With that he wheeled Demon and kicked the
stallion in the ribs. The two of them disappeared into the trees.

"Angel!" She jumped as Simon rode into sight on Admiral.
"Are you all right?" he asked, dismounting.

"I'm not the one who almost drowned," she snapped, then took a
breath, trying to gather her thoughts.

"I . . . know that," he answered. He scanned the glade around
them. "Where's James?"

"He . . . um . . . had to leave," she answered slowly, half
her thoughts still on their breathless embrace.

"Well, come on," Simon urged, and helped her up into her
saddle. He mounted beside her. "I can't believe he rode off and left you
here alone," he scowled.

"No, it was all right," she replied.

But it wasn't all right From the Marquis of Abbonley she had just learned
two things. The first was that he was no longer the blackguard he had the
reputation for being, for he had been more unsettled by their embrace than she.
The second thing she had learned was that she was not in love with Simon
Talbott. She was in love with the Devil.

Angelique was not in love with Simon. James had suspected it earlier,
but after their kiss he was certain of it He shouldn't have kissed her at all,
but he had been wanting to touch her, to hold her, for so long that he had been
unable to resist. It would have been easier to stop breathing.

When he finally rode up to the stables all his guests and most of the
household staff were waiting there for him. The Grahams were practically beside
themselves with gratitude, though what they would have thought had they seen
him kissing their daughter, he didn't know. The attention made him
uncomfortable, and he ducked away as quickly as he was able.

After he changed into some dry clothes, he summoned Algers and made
immediate arrangements for the dock to be repaired and for three sturdy
rowboats to be constructed. If he had taken care of it a week earlier, as he
had intended, none of the morning's events would have happened. And that would
have been best for all of them.

He had no intention of doing anything more about his attraction for
Angel. Just because the chit had caught him off guard when she had touched him,
caressed him, it didn't mean he had fallen for her. The Devil had no intention
of falling for a woman ever again. Especially a copper-haired spitfire who only
remembered her manners half the time.

Two mornings after the incident by the lake, he returned home from a
trip to the village as Simon and Angel were preparing to go out. "Good
morning, my lady, Simon," he said stiffly, as he swung out of the saddle
and handed the reins over to one of the grooms. "I again offer you the
loan of Pharaoh," he told Angel, "as we never finished our outing the
other day."

"Pharaoh?" Simon repeated, frowning. "Why don't you
simply let Angel ride Demon? Neither is appropriate for her."

It was Angel's turn to frown. "I'm certain I could handle either of
them."

"I ride Demon," James said firmly. "No one else.
Ever."

"That's a bit selfish, don't you think?" she queried, obviously
primed for an argument.

"Not selfish," he stated flatly. "Practical. So don't get
any ideas—Demon would eat you alive." He saw the stubborn light in her
eyes, and frowned. The stallion was notoriously bad-tempered, and she could be
hurt. "I'm serious, Angelique.”

"Really, cousin. We weren't in earnest. Heaven is quite enough. Why
would Angel ever wish to do such a thing as to ride that bad-tempered
beast?"

Angel was bristling at Simon now as well, and James raised an eyebrow at
her. She started to snap something, then with visible effort subsided. Simon
turned away for a moment, and from behind his back Angel mouthed,
"Beast." James chuckled.

"Care for some company?" Grandmama Elizabeth asked Simon, as
she arrived from the manor. "I thought I might ride Pharaoh this morning, if
you've no objection, Jamie."

"You want to ride?" James queried, lifting both eye-brows.

"I'm not dead yet, you know," she retorted. "Hastings?
Saddle Pharaoh."

"Yes, milady," the groom bowed with a grin, and went to
comply.

The viscountess glanced at Angel, then turned her intrigued express-ion
on James, who turned away. His grandmother could damn well keep her curiosity
to herself.

Before they managed to leave, Lily appeared, and as Simon brightened at
having an ally along, another horse was saddled for her. Watching the foursome
head off toward Esterley, James was unable to refrain from laughing. It seemed
that Angelique was beginning to realized what being married to a proper
gentleman like Simon would entail. It served her right for making such a poor
choice.

"Something amusing, milord?" Hastings asked as he reappeared
from the stables.

"Oh, very, Hastings," James chuckled. "Very."

He wasn't nearly as amused half an hour later when Simms came to inform
him that he had callers. "Callers with luggage, my lord," the butler
said dourly.

"Who?" James asked, heading for the main hallway and extremely
curious about who might want to drop in uninvited at Abbonley.
          
 

"I was told to announce to you that the Alcotts had arrived,"
Simms reported grimly as he fell in behind.

"The AI—good God," James enunciated, missing a step and nearly
causing Simms to run into him. "Both of them?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good God," James repeated feelingly. Arthur Alcott was bad
enough, but Percival . . . Slowly he smiled. No one seemed able to get under
Angel's skin, with the exception of himself, more quickly than Percival Alcott.
Now they would see who rattled whom. He flashed a grin at Simms, who for a
moment actually lost control enough to look startled. "This could be
fun."