Dark Angel (15 page)

Gerard’s response was immediate. He practically devoured me, his mouth ravenous, his tongue stroking mine, his rich, dark flavor weakening my knees and stealing my breath until spots floated in front of my eyes. Oh, God, I wanted to breath him in, absorb him like a sponge in water, but abruptly, he pushed me away, his expression horror-struck. Admittedly, it was not the reaction I had expected.

“What in
hell
do you think you are doing?” He wiped the palm of his hand over his mouth, clenching his fingers as if to capture the sensation within.

“Kissing you,” I panted, my mind jumbled with the passion his kiss had evoked.

“
Why
, for God’s sake?”

“B-because our first experience was so memorable?”

He stared as though I had sprouted a limb from the top of my head. “You’re mad. I nearly destroyed the drawing room last time we kissed. I do not know when it can be made useful again.” He took a wary step back when I moved closer. “We have already proven I have little control where you are concerned. Do you wish to bring this entire house down around our heads?”

I lifted an eyebrow, curious now. “Could you really do that?”

He took a deep breath, a muscle working in his jaw. “That is beside the point, is it not? We are far too volatile together for safety’s sake. You have to give me time to nail the picture frames down first, bolt the furniture. Reinforce the ceiling beams.”

“Is that what we are after?” I folded my hands before me, regaining some semblance of control. “Safety, I mean? Perhaps I have had too much of safety, and it is time I kicked over the traces and ran free.”

“Spoken like a woman who nurses soldiers in a war zone.”

“We did not fare badly this time. Maybe it simply wants for more practice.” I moved closer, determined to keep him off-balance, but he sidestepped me.

“I promise, little cat, I’ll have a special room outfitted where you may kiss me to your heart’s content without fear of injury, but for now…” He pointed a finger at me. “Let it be known I will not be distracted. It is high time for someone to take you in hand.”

I arched my eyebrows. “Do
you
want to take me in hand, Gerard?”

“
Someone
,” he persevered, “with more sense than to let you run about unsupervised, flinging yourself into dangers unknown.” Blowing out an exasperated breath, he asked, “How did your husband ever manage you?”

I had tried to make peace with my memories of Jonathan, but they still raised a complex whirl of emotions—sadness, regret, and lost chances. “He claimed to treasure me for who I was, not for whom society wished me to be.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “And that sounds like it was spoken by a besotted swain. Well, while you reside in my home, Catherine, you are under my protection. I told you when we first met I will take care of you now. Whatever troubles you becomes my trouble, too.”

“I do not recognize your authority over me,” I said, bristling. “Only a husband has those rights, and I no longer have one.”

His gaze softened. “It does not mean you must make your way through life alone. Do you never grow tired? Do you never desire someone to shoulder your burdens, to look after you? To stand by your side, no matter what?”

An unexpected swell of sentiment clogged my throat. Of course, I wanted that. Who would not? But I had lost the right to be taken care of when I had lost my child. It was my weakness that had led to her untimely end in the first place. I could not allow myself the luxury of weakness again.

I had been so tired that night. I had not gone to her when she called.

I turned from Gerard, blindly reaching for an abandoned cravat lying crumpled on a velvet-covered footstool. “I do not require taking care of,” I said, my voice quavering. I smoothed out the fabric, matched the corners together, and cleared my throat. “I am perfectly capable of seeing to myself.”

I lowered my head, staring hard at the gray cloth in my hands as its image blurred. “But sometimes,” I admitted softly, folding the square into quarters, “I think it might be nice to be looked after.” I set the cravat aside, blinking to clear my vision. “Every now and then.”

I felt his strong hands grip my shoulders. “Then
let
me.”

I wavered, leaned back against him for just a moment. I felt the cool links of the chain around my neck, the press of the oval cameo between my breasts, and I stiffened my resolve against his gentle persuasion.

“You are very kind to offer,” I said, “but no, I couldn’t possibly.”

His hands fell away from me. His disappointment covered me like a cloak.

“That is rather too bad. For you shall have my service, Mrs. Briton, whether you wish it or no.”

I turned and noted the stubborn tilt of his head, the formidable expression on his face.

He gripped the lapels of his dressing gown, one eyebrow haughtily arched. “Now, having delivered this pronouncement, I could make a grand exit, but I am forced to acknowledge I am neither coiffed nor clothed, and these are, after all,
my
rooms. Therefore, I must ask you to leave so I may summon my cowardly valet and finish dressing for dinner. I understand Cook is making a meal she insists will tempt even you to overindulgence, and timing is critical.” He paused meaningfully. “Consider yourself forewarned.” With that, he strode to the door to bellow for his valet.

His final warning had nothing to do with Cook’s meal. He had flung the gauntlet down, and yes, I would consider myself forewarned.

I do not think he noticed he never received the promise he sought from me.

If this was to be a test of wills, the master was about to discover he had met his match.

Chapter Thirteen

While Gerard, pretending to eat, eyed me across the table during a meal which was indeed so sinfully delicious it would have made the archangels weep, I broached the subject that had been on my mind since leaving Matthew.

“I wish to visit with a Mrs. Blackpot from the village, Gerard. Could you arrange an interview with her for me?”

He halted the ascent of the spoon containing kippered cod’s roe to his mouth. “The midwife? Why?”

“Well, it is a delicate matter. Not appropriate for dinner conversation.”

He frowned. “Then why did you bring it up at dinner?”

I shifted in my seat. “It simply occurred to me at the moment. I had no intention of discussing the particulars with you.”

Setting his spoon down, he drilled me with a hard stare. “If you intend to visit the midwife about a delicate matter, I damn well want to know what it is. You haven’t been here long enough to get into
that
sort of trouble.” He squinted at me. “Unless you were enceinte when you arrived?”

“Oh, for goodness’s sake, no, Gerard. It concerns—” I pursed my lips, knowing how sensitive he was on the subject of the stillbirths.

“Yes?”

“Well, I understand she counsels the women here on
intimate
matters.” Lowering my voice in deference to the footmen standing against the wall, I whispered, “Her advice must not be working, given the number of unfortunate incidents that still seem to occur.”

His mouth tightened. “I see. And what good would speaking to her do?”

“In my professional experience, I have encountered women who engage in behaviors that can put them at risk for unwanted consequences. I happen to know there are reliable devices to prevent such consequences.”

His expression went blank.

“You are so troubled by the—the stillbirths here.” I lowered my gaze to the delicate china on the table, fiddling with my fork. “Matthew explained what you endure for the sake of the laboring women.” At his sharp intake of breath, I rushed on. “If I could help them to prevent conception, there would be no more heartbreak, either for the women or for you.”

He clenched his spoon in his hand but finally relented. “It is not necessary for you to attend Mrs. Blackpot at her home. I will send for her.” Catching a footman’s eye, the silent order was given.

“Thank you, Gerard,” I murmured and applied myself to my meal once more.

He was quiet for a long time, but I knew he watched me. I finally met his gaze. “What?”

His expression troubled, he said, “The life you have led. What you have endured. I admire you, but at the same time, you bring out such conflict in me, such protectiveness. I want to—” He broke off, gripping the stem of his wineglass so hard, I feared it might snap. “No, it is too pathetic,” he said beneath his breath, then pushed his glass and plate away. A footman immediately removed them.

I leaned closer to him, placing my hand over his on the table, and spoke softly. “What is it, Gerard? You can tell me anything; I hope you know that by now.”

A muscle flexed in his strong jaw, and he glared at me, heated emotion shimmering just below the surface. His words came out clipped and low, as though he had no desire to speak but could not help himself.

“I have all this power, and yet before you I am helpless. I want to take care of you. I want to protect you, to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve never had. I want to keep you safe. I want to keep
you
. But I am the last person in the world who should do it.” He slammed a fist on the table, and the silverware jumped. “
God
. What a wretched fool I am.”

He shoved his chair away from the table with a scrape of the wooden legs and bolted, leaving me gaping at his back while he strode from the room. His declaration astounded me. He was possessive of me, even attracted to me, but I’d had no idea to what depth.

It seemed he was always running from me, or I from him, and I had grown tired of the game.

Pushing away from the table, I pursued him outside, into the gardens. The white tuber roses, which had been barely flowering buds the last time I’d seem them, now crowded on either side of the winding path, their heavy stalks burgeoning with trumpet-shaped blossoms in defiance of the season and the climes. Sweet autumn clematis hung from the trees and lent their vanilla-like aroma to the tapestry of scent. It was as if everything flowered excessively by magic here, and I did not doubt that might be the case.

“Gerard, wait for me.” He startled me when he abruptly stopped on the garden path and I almost ran into him. “Oh!” I exclaimed, stumbling.

He turned and gripped my arms to steady me. Something in him must have wanted me to follow him, or I would not have been able to catch up.

He gazed down at me, a smile of self-derision on his mouth. “I have waited for you forever, it seems. But will you wait for me?” Drawing me inexorably closer, he slid one hand around my back and rested the other against my cheek, staring at me as though he might read my very thoughts.

His bewildering intensity unsettled me. “What do you mean, Gerard?”

“You will leave me if you can.” He said it with a flat certainty.

“If I can, I would leave this place, yes. But I would not be leaving
you
, only going home to what I have left behind.” I rested my hands on his chest. “When I find a way home, you could come with me,” I offered tentatively.

His hand slid down to the tender skin of my throat, his thumb stroking over my pulse, sending shivers through me, gauging my reaction.

“I cannot leave. But you will find a way to go because you are stubborn and persistent and ruthless, even in your compassion. I will be alone again. It is only a matter of time. It is my destiny, my
punishment
.”

His grip on my back brought me flush against him. His hardness pressed against me, making me quake down to my knees. “You have come to show me what I might have had if I had chosen differently. I cannot bear it. I might have done so, once, was prepared to. But now,” he said roughly, “now I will risk anything to have you.
And you must not let me
.” His hold on me became almost painful, his voice harsh and low. “Run from me, Catherine, for your own sake.”

He frightened and confused me. I did not understand him. No one had ever looked at me the way he did, not even Jonathan. Gerard consumed me with his gaze every time he turned my way.

But why did he think he was being punished? “Why are you bad for me, Gerard? What have you done?”

“Nothing.” He released me abruptly. “
Go.
While you still can.”

I stumbled back, knowing I should heed his warning,
knowing
I should run, but he was man in such pain I could not bear to turn away. I could not bear to see his anguish. I could not bear to leave him alone.

Slowly, I reached out and touched his face, my fingers trembling. He closed his eyes as though my touch was unbearable to him, but when he opened them again, I saw gratitude and fury and resignation mixed into a potent brew.

“You see,” he whispered, “I have done my duty to you. I have warned you for the last time, and now you have no excuse. I vowed to protect you, but I am not strong enough to protect you from
me
.”

He dipped his head and captured my mouth. The sweet longing of his kiss tempted me even more than his fierce passion could have. The flower bushes rustled; a strange wind kicked up the tree branches overhead. Petals showered us, landing in feathered caresses on his black hair and my flushed cheeks. He moved back, pulling me with him until we bumped against a secluded stone bench away from the garden path, then settled down upon it. He drew me onto his lap, never letting go, never breaking the kiss, his deft fingers roaming over me, leaving trails of fiery heat in their wake.

I lifted my head, gasping as his mouth pressed against the hollow of my throat, at the feel of his hard thighs beneath me.

“You are seducing me,” I said stupidly.

“Yes.” He gently bit my earlobe. “I am.”

“Don’t…” But I gripped his head, kissing his warm temples, threading my fingers through his thick hair, the need to hold him, sooth him, comfort him with my body overwhelming me. His woodsy scent, tantalizing and persuasive, mingled with the floral bouquet and enveloped me. “It would be wrong.”

“I know,” he rasped. “I am a dark devil. But you are my angel of light, soft as a raindrop, sweet as morning dew…” He murmured his absurd and beautiful poetry in my ear.

I nearly submerged beneath the tide of his emotions when, intoxicating me with pleasure, he turned his head and licked his way into my mouth as though I were a dish of cream.

Somehow I found the strength to pull away, panting softly. “I am no angel. I have done terrible things.”

“Nothing you could do would ever be terrible,” he whispered. “You’re perfection. You’re brilliant.” His hand slid down my hip. Whatever momentary attack of conscience he’d had seemed to have left him. His fingers moved lower, stroked over my stocking-covered calf, then wrapped around my ankle. “I’ve waited so long for you, only for you.”

His passion bewildered me. “Why me, Gerard? What possible interest could I hold for you?”

His deep chuckle flowed over me. “Don’t you know?” He nuzzled my ear. “You are my equal. You’re independent, loyal to a fault, and so stalwart in the face of danger. ”

I stared at him, not able to believe his description of me. “So is a good hunting dog, but I am the one in your lap.”

He burst into laughter. “Oh, Cat, you make me smile when nothing else can. You please my soul. And unlike a good hunting dog, you have lips that were made for kissing.”

Petals floated off his hair and landed between my breasts where the cameo hid, burning my skin with its presence.

I smiled, ignoring its message, for once, and Gerard’s wicked tongue was my reward. He kissed me, teased me, liquefying my resolve, heating my response while his fingers sought warm flesh, while his mouth roamed across my cheeks and over my eyes and against my lips.

After all these years as a somber widow, I should have been ashamed to lie across his lap with my skirts rucked up to my knees while he crooned his admiration, but instead I felt desperate and treasured and not at all inclined to stop my slippery descent into sin.

I pulsed with desire and squirmed on his lap until he grew hard beneath me.

A low vibration emanated from his chest, a sound of luxury and approval somewhere between a growl and a purr. He pressed his cheek to mine. “Are you trying to tease me?”

I nodded.

His smile deepened.

“I will teach you how to do it properly,” he rumbled, “to withdraw and tempt and take away what I want, only to give it back again at your whim.”

“Later.” I hungrily turned his face to mine.

“Later,” he agreed and kissed me so thoroughly I forgot to breathe.

He did not have me then, although I do not know how he found the strength to restrain himself. I had no notion of doing it, God knows. Instead, he kissed me once more, smoothed my skirts down, and rose with me in his arms as though he were a pirate about to carry me off like newfound treasure.

However, as fate would have it, Jeffries interrupted us. He could not have seen us in our secluded spot, but the entire household probably knew where we had gone. He called out from the door set into the garden wall.

“Master? Mrs. Blackpot has come at your instruction. Shall I tell her to wait or to return tomorrow?”

Gerard dropped his forehead against mine with a groan. “Damn my efficient minions to a fiery and everlasting hell. I’d already forgotten about that woman.” He looked at me, his gaze sparking with heat. “I will tell him to send her away.”

I bit my lip, my arms clinging around his neck. “It would be rude. They probably roused her from a dead sleep as it was. I had no idea they would bring her here
tonight
. Most decent people are in bed at this hour.”

“Which explains why we are out here,” he quipped.

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose it does.” Still, I did not think it would be right to send her away. “Jeffries,” I called, “do tell Mrs. Blackpot we will see her in a few minutes, won’t you?”

Jeffries hesitated a long moment before speaking again. “Very good, madam. I shall put her in the Blue Room.” I heard the door close, indicating he had left.

Gerard cocked an eyebrow. “Now he is taking orders from you. You are masterful in your own right, little cat. I sometimes feel the strongest urge to obey you myself.”

He set me on my feet. My knees wobbled but held.

“Go meet your Mrs. Blackpot.” He took a steadying breath. “I, however, am forced to demur. I am in no condition to receive company.” He pressed a kiss to my brow and whispered into my ear. “I will come to your room later and ravish you. Do not say no, because I will not listen. I have quite decided, and I always get my way.”

Gazing at him steadily, I suspected I would regret this—but not tonight. The lure of a night of passion with Gerard was too strong. I had a new understanding of the mistakes Jonathan had made when he had turned to another woman and why. But I was with Gerard now, and his smile was brilliant in the moonlight.

My heart stuttered to a stop and tumbled headlong at his feet.

“Wait for me,” he called softly over his shoulder as he disappeared into the night.

I had no idea if we had any future together, but I would not dwell on that shadowy unknown for now.

Tonight, I intended to be with the enigmatic man I was already half in love with.

But first I had to deal with Mrs. Blackpot.