Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Shortly after Christopher’s exit, Will had stalked off into the dark, telling Angelika only: “Don’t.”

An afternoon spent drinking had loosened the cork on her emotions, and she desperately needed an ear, but Victor’s bedroom door was closed. Angelika knocked and called softly, “Lizzie?”

“Fuck off, Jelly!” Victor yelled breathlessly from within. “I am showing Lizzie something very, very, very important.”

“Disgusting,” Angelika replied, then cried at various points of the hallway: slumped on the railing, at the top of the stairs, then underneath her mother’s portrait. Receiving absolutely no sympathy there, she slithered snail-like on her trail of salt water to rest against Will’s doorjamb.

The thought of Lizzie becoming mistress of Blackthorne Manor did not specifically bother Angelika. She had no great affection for this house and had spent too much time in it. But Larkspur Lodge was like a forgotten sapphire in a drawer, and the prospect of losing it, even to someone she loved, pricked at her heart.

She thought: Please, Lizzie, if I could have anything, it would be Larkspur.

After more cathartic tears and a cold soapy rinse of her more urgent areas, and once she’d picked the numerous leaves out of her hair (Victor had been right as usual; how terrible), she remembered she was on Will Watch tonight. Given that he was now prone to walking all over the house and his penchant for books, she had earlier volunteered to sleep downstairs in the library.

“He will avoid me, even in sleep,” she said to herself, dressing in one of her mother’s silk gowns, plus a robe and slippers. “Poor Angelika, sleeping on the lumpy chaise,” she grumbled as she went downstairs, dragging a blanket and pillow. “Poor Angelika, after the day I’ve had—”

She was startled by a dark shadow at the foot of the stairs.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said when she recognized the silhouette.

“It is I, your brother’s colleague. Did I hear you correctly just now? Poor Angelika?” Will’s tone was plain: he thought her ridiculous. She passed without a word, the blanket sweeping across his feet like a bridal veil.

He followed. “Poor Angelika? Don’t make me laugh.”

“You’ve finally come to ask me if you are a married man. I’m amazed you’ve restrained yourself this much.” She went into the library and began to make her bed. “Well, go on, then. Ask me if you have a wife called Clara.”

Will closed the door, then added fuel to the dying fire. “That’s not at the top of the list.”

Angelika sat on the chaise and crossed her legs. “Ask your burning question, then.”

He turned his face to her. “How do you expect me to sit through a dinner with him looking at you like that?”

For the first time, Angelika felt afraid of him. She had no idea who he really was, and right now, he had fire in his black eyes. His hair curled into horns. He was demonic, and it was a further contrast to Christopher’s angelic blondness. But he had the gall to ask her this, when he was actively trying to return to his original life?

“Victor hates formal affairs. Knowing him, we’ll end up eating sausages in the garden, sitting on apple crates.” The next reflexive thought surprised her: What would Christopher make of that?

Will read her mind, and his stare was blade sharp. “Poor Angelika. The woman who always has a ready replacement.”

“Poor old Will, lounging around in a manor house. You don’t even care how I might be feeling today after what I’ve uncovered.”

He put a hand into his hair, raked it into a more civilized shape, and turned on her. “Yes. Poor Will, or whoever I am. Dragged back from hell to have to sit through a dinner and watch you be slowly seduced by that flawless man.”

“I will make your excuses.”

“Imagine how I’ve felt as the day wore on and you did not return. But you’ve had a fine afternoon, haven’t you? I could hear you screeching with laughter long before your arrival. Christopher Keatings must be a funny fellow.”

“He is.” (And she’d drunk a lot.) “Come and kiss me until you do not feel angry anymore.”

“Believe me, it is my first impulse. You’re fortunate I didn’t pick you up over my shoulder off the front stairs. But I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.” Will braced a forearm on the mantel and stared into the fire. “When I heard you laughing in the distance, my first thought was that you had not met my wife today.”

“So, what actually happened was—”

He continued, speaking over her. “Then a new thought occurred. After confirming she is my wife, you had a half hour of hurt feelings. Then you decided to move on with your next option.”

“I will tell you everything. Clara Hoggett is—”

Again, he stopped her. “Just let me be yours awhile longer.”

The anger blew out of the room like smoke, leaving them both in tired silence.

When she’d found him on the morgue slab, he’d still had fight in his brown eyes. When she’d dragged him naked up the staircase, he’d declared that he might be dying but still had that stubborn tightness in his jaw. Tonight, staring into the fire, he looked utterly defeated. Unbreathing, and unblinking.

Perhaps, in this one moment, he could not face a life without her?

“You’re still mine.” She watched him absorb her meaning. “Is that good news, or bad?”

“Good news. I should feel terrible for admitting it.” He sat down heavily beside her on the chaise. “Angelika, I am at my limit tonight. My head aches. My hands ache. My heart feels even worse.”

“Lie down,” Angelika urged him, and after some coaxing, he did, with his head on her lap. She combed her hands through his dark hair, admiring the coppery glints, thinking that if she could have moments like this, she would be happy to never see daylight again.

“Is Clara all right?” Will asked.

“No, Clara isn’t all right. But I will send her a crate of groceries each week, and her fat little baby Edwin has found himself a new benefactress. You should see his red hair. I’ve mentally designed an entire wardrobe for him.” She reached for his hand, and he submitted to her tender rubbing of his fingers.

“You do get a lot of pleasure from spoiling people rotten. I should know. He’s a lucky baby.” The first hint of a smile touched his mouth. “I like when you spend your money on good things. Was this your first time visiting a villager? How was it?”

“I felt like a marginally better person. And now we know you aren’t from the military academy, unless Christopher didn’t meet you. But don’t despair, I’ve got a new angle for us to follow, and it involves the church.”

He glared up from her lap. “I never imagined you’d start actively searching for my origin. Would you like me to leave this house now, or in the morning?”

“Oh, stop these sulking theatrics. You know full well that if I had my way, you’d never leave my bedroom.” She felt relief when he smiled again. “You’re just overtired, my love. What have you been doing today?”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy.”

She inspected his hand closer. “You’ve got some scratches.” His skin was still so cool. She mentally added a new pair of goatskin gloves to her shopping list. “What has kept you so occupied?”

“I worked in the garden all day. Don’t look so outraged. Today has been a sort of epiphany. I think I worked outdoors in my old life. I knew how to prune roses and move a beehive. I mixed a paraffin spray for aphids without even thinking of it. I’m hiring some local boys to help get this place under control. Who knows, someone may even recognize me. I have been making discreet inquiries as best I can.”

“But you do not need to earn your place here. You’re not my groundskeeper.” She pressed kisses upon the damage to his hand. “You’re my special one. Please do not hurt yourself.” She tilted his hand toward the firelight and noticed two dots on either end of the wound, done with her brother’s purple ink. “What did he do this for?”

“You notice everything.” Will was irritated, and he took his hand back from her. “He’s measuring the wound and the healing rate. Your brother has ordered that special new microscope, by the way. I am no longer a man, just a science experiment.”

Angelika winced. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“Better than dead, I suppose. The sleepwalking is something new to worry about. Some mornings, I wake with dirt on my feet. What am I searching for?” He asked this of himself. “No wonder I’m so tired.”

“I think you are searching for a book. That’s why I am sleeping in here tonight. Please don’t walk off and get lost.” Angelika was alarmed at the thought. “Should I tie you to my bedpost?”

“It was only a matter of time until you suggested that,” he replied, with a glance that flipped her heart clean over. When they made eye contact, each thought about the sheer possibilities of a few lengths of silk cord. Then, he sobered. “I’ve asked him to swear to keep anything to do with his studies of me confidential from you.”

She scowled up at the ceiling, in the direction of her brother’s bedroom. “I thought we’d just established that you’re mine.”

“Being of scientific interest to him is difficult enough. But to you? I couldn’t tolerate it.” He sighed, long and deep. “And yes, I am yours. For one more night, at least.”

She searched his face for signs of illness. He looked very tired. “Are you unwell?”

“I am fine. Promise me, Angelika, that you will never look in Victor’s files.”

The way he repeated it made her nod, though it hurt to be left out. “I can’t read his shorthand. He deliberately made it Jelly-proof. But even if I could, I would allow you your privacy. I know you haven’t had much.”

She traced her thumb down his throat and had a vivid flashback: asking Victor his opinion on the best way to reconnect these pounding arteries. They’d argued, insulted each other, roared with laughter, and she’d gotten on with it. It hit her anew. This breathing, blinking person was a miracle. This feeling of awe and appreciation was so overwhelming, all she could do to express it was to cup his cheek in her hand.

But he was looking up from her lap like he understood completely.

“You look beautiful today.”

“Did you miss having me around the house?” She grinned when he huffed in exasperation and sat up. “You actually noticed my absence and wished to gaze upon my beautiful face. Pray, tell me exactly how lonely and jealous you were. Did the minutes drip by like treacle?”

“You are prone to overexcitement.” He was gruff but smiling as she put a knee over his lap and sat on him. Inches apart, they regarded each other as the fire crackled and the world faded away. His expression grew serious again as he ran his thumb down her jawline. “I cannot imagine ever preferring another face to yours.”

“I feel the same.”

“Please know that you are more than beauty. You’re . . . energy.”

It was the best compliment Angelika had ever received. Her eyes filled with tears and her throat closed up, preventing any reply.

He continued.

“I watched from the window as you rode up to the door. You tipped this perfect face up to the moon and I’d never seen you as happy as that moment. You were free of the worry and sadness that you feel whenever you are with me. And yes, I am hiring people for you and trying to address some maintenance issues of this old house so that you can live easy. This is all I can do for you, and you should let me.”

“Before you leave?” When she blinked, tears overflowed. She knew the answer.

“Before I find out what my next chapter is.” He tilted his head, watching the tears run down her face. “Believe me, Angelika, I wish the rest of my story could be written with you.”

In spite of the tears on her cheeks, she replied flippantly. “I’m sure there’s enough projects at Larkspur Lodge to occupy you for the next fifty years. It has a very overgrown rose garden, riddled with thorns, but there are some rare varieties. It needs someone hardworking.” Hope flared when she saw that the prospect tempted him.

“I thought it was Lizzie’s wedding gift,” Will reminded her.

“I was trying to play our make-believe game. The place in our imagination where we can be together, forever.”

She tried unsuccessfully for a kiss.

He wiped her tears with his thumb.

“Did Christopher tell you about his life?” When she nodded yes, he continued: “His childhood? A few terrifically funny things that have happened around the academy? What he likes and is good at? How many times he presses his shirt in the morning?” Will put his mouth on her throat. She anticipated a bite, but only gentleness followed.

“Yes, he told me all sorts of things. But I only thought of you.” Guilt pinched; several times this afternoon, she had only thought of herself.

In between kisses on her pulse, Will finished: “He is everything I want to be: A single, independent man of good standing. An uncomplicated being who knows himself. He is a good match for you, and he intends to find out all about me at this dinner.”

“Tell him to mind his own business. More,” she begged, and she felt his mouth smile on her skin.

“I will not have a single answer to any of the questions he will ask me. He will be inquiring with colleagues and acquaintances, attempting to find out who this mysterious stranger is at Blackthorne Manor. I will be gossiped about and closer to being exposed. I may have to leave quickly. You will need to prepare yourself for any possibility.”

“We’ll cancel it. I don’t know why Victor is planning this.”

“He’s doing this to push me toward a decision,” Will said, shifting her off his lap. He laid Angelika down on the chaise and tucked the blanket around her. “Maybe I can endure the dinner, remembering that you look at me like this.”

She bit her lip. “Yes.”

“And you want me like this.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth. She managed one taste of his skin, just one scrape and lick, before he retreated with a groan in his throat.

As he turned to leave, she said, “Your self-control is what I like least about you.”

“I don’t know how I have any left.” He switched to a different topic as he leaned on the closed door. “What did I say to you, the night I was in your father’s study? I know it was something so terrible, even Victor won’t tell me. I wish to apologize for it.”

“You told me you will never ever marry me. That is what you believe, to the very core of your being. And I am beginning to think I should listen to you. But please know this. You are my perfect match. Every inch and every stitch. Trust me, I made sure of it.”

He looked like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry.

“I suppose you did. Good night, Angelika.”