Angel of Ash (22 page)

She noticed for the first time, Anthony, within the group of people speaking. His mouth opened and closed but yet, Angel could hear no words. She felt sick, dizzy and shook her head. God, no, please, do not allow me to faint, not here, not with him…not with him here.

She twirled from the crowd, it was so hot, and she had to get air, the doors beckoned towards her, the curtains calling towards her. She did not hear the exclaimed shouts as she pushed people out of her way, did not hear Anthony calling her name. She made it outside, breathing in heavily, running down the granite steps towards the dark solitude of the gardens beneath. Still, too near, she ran until she found a hiding place, far away, the music, the lights, the conversation a dim blur. Heaving in great breaths tears broke upon her eyes, a dam undone as she tried in vain to stifle them, one hand pressed tightly upon her mouth, the other fisted upon her breast, where the pain refused to recede.

Instead, it felt as if bricks had become implanted in her heart, so heavy she felt, she dropped brokenly to the cobble stoned pavement next to a small stone bench, her shoulders shaking. He did not love her…he did not love her…she had been nothing more than another conquest to Asher…a deceitful game among his kinsman…she’d whored her body for a man who’d thoroughly destroyed her dreams, her hopes…her pride.

The consequences of her actions, added to the horrible ache deep within her. Her exhaustive tears, how could she go home, how could she face her father, how could she change back to the once innocent and carefree daughter she had once been.

Long minutes passed, Angel regained her composure, but knew she would not be able to walk back inside the ballroom. There were so many things she’d have to attend to. Asher’s rejection was final, now. Laughing in near hysteria, her breath caught on a sob, remembering Hunter’s words of not too long ago.

Hunter had known; Hunter had tried to warn her, Hunter had been so right
.

He will break your heart.

“
It is done, then,” she whispered to herself, staring into the dark night sky, the stars twinkling so merrily against their velvet backdrop.

She wanted to go home, to America, to hide, from the world, from Asher and his family, especially his family. A deep shudder of shame caused her to tremble at the thought of his brothers’ knowing every intimate thing that had occurred between Asher and herself. The pain, the embarrassment caused a physical sickness to overcome Angel, who struggled to stand, struggled to retain on to the little composure which she had left. It hurt to love someone so much and to have that love shunned in return, decimated. As she rubbed a shaky hand against her face, her hands shook, they trembled like fine rose petals in a harsh wind. There was that great part of her that wanted to run back inside, demand Asher’s love, demand that he be hers' forever. But all fools knew, love was not something to demand but should be given freely, without question. She loved Asher that way, even now as her heart lay in tatters; she loved him, too much.

The rejected part of Angel won out, the rejected part of Angel heard footsteps too close and escaped, heard Anthony’s voice calling her name. Fear, humiliation and anger all were incentives to give Angel’s feet flight, as she ran swiftly from the gardens, from the ball, from Asher. She’d leave now, right at this minute.

“
Angel, no, wait!” A voice called after her.

Angel glanced back wildly, watching as Marco raced towards her, she shook her head, waving him away, as tears still sped down her golden cheeks.

“
Leave, me!” she cried, turning away and pulling her skirts up, running from the darkness of betrayal.

Yet, Marco refused, he matched her pace, pulled at her arm once they’d left the private lawn, and held her still, his face urgent. “Do not leave, my lady, what is amiss? What did he say to you to make you hurt so much?” He asked, studying her beautiful silver eyes rimmed with the thickest black lashes God had ever graced upon a human soul.

“
Please, sir, you do not know-” Angel began, wiping away the tears while pulling her arm out of his reach. “Just leave me, I need time, alone, please,” she began.

“
No, I know a lady in distress and I refuse to leave your side, confide in me, and trust in me, I feel as if I have known you for more years than I have lived upon this earth.”

Angel shook her head, her body shaking with sobs as Asher’s words cursed darkly in her head. “Please, I cannot…” she cried, managing to pull her arms out of Marco’s grasp.

“
I will not leave you alone, in the dark, when it is so obvious that you are in pain. I won’t take advantage of this moment, my lady, and I will not abuse your person as another has already done so. Shall I call for your aunt?”

Shaking her head, Angel turned from Marco, wrapping her arms tightly around her body to still the hurt, keep it from escaping, better this way, she thought to herself as her dreams died upon the soft, fervent green lawn, her delicate shoes sinking into the grass as the stars cast lights upon her face, her gown. “Please, don’t…I shall be fine, in a moment.”

Marco paused, daring not to leave, his hands wanted so badly to comfort her, touch her shoulder, her neck, her waist as he fisted them at his thigh. It would do no good; he saw the look she’d passed to that arrogant bastard, a peer of the realm. Yet, the soft luminous glow from her eyes, the delicate shell of her ear, and the perfect bow of her mouth called to him. He felt out of control, no longer himself, as he breathed deeply, concentrating. He would not leave her here alone because he wanted to know her secrets, wanted to understand her deepest thoughts, wanted to know what had caused her to run.

“
My lady,” he said, walking towards her to stand in front of her, his hand lifting and in it a silk handkerchief in his hand.

She took the proffered item, the tears were stilling upon her cheeks, her eyes slightly red. “I must look a fright,” she offered, as she wiped her face before dumbly holding the napkin in hand, not knowing if she should give it back, her mind blank with hurt and shame and humiliation.

“
Keep it, my lady, a small offering,” Marco offered and with his words a gentle smile tugged upon his lips. “My mother always warned me that whenever I am in pain…or need, or have thoughts contrary to my nature, to seek out a companion in such dark times. For the heart, the heart would have you do things as it should not do; it wars with the mind, does it not?” He asked.

Angel was thoughtful and quiet at his words. Marco was right, her heart wanted so badly to flee from this ball, to never see Asher’s face again, to take the pain and hate far, far away, and in the end, what it would prove. Nothing, her mind, told her, absolutely nothing. “Your mother, I believe, is a very wise woman.”

Marco smiled softly, a hint of hidden sorrow deep in his eyes. “Was a very wise woman. She died when I was a child of twelve.” He said.

Angel could understand his pain; understand the pull of emotions to a grave that no longer housed a soul to speak to. “My mother, also, died, when I was twelve, sir. I am sorry at your loss.”

“
And I yours.”

He stared at her, as her eyes lifted towards the sky, taking in the night, the full moon and the bright stars, so close she felt as if she could reach with one hand to touch them. “Beneath these stars there are so many people, so many lives, so many stories being told and so many as of yet, told. But, why then, do I feel as if my story is so important, the only one in the world at this moment when I know, there are so many people out there…in pain, in happiness, in need, in tears? I feel sickened at my own self-importance and ego and yet, cannot unleash this ego and feel for another, not at this moment, not right now.” A sob escaped from her mouth, as she quickly stifled it. “Forgive me, sir, I am not fit company. But you are right, your mother is right. I feel out of control and know that if I was alone, I would do something I would regret til the end of my days. Please, stay with me; do not leave me with my dark thoughts, alone to do battle against my heart. I beg of you, do not leave me.”

She needed this, human comfort, a touch of another not riddled with deceit, or an opportunistic view point of how best to end her innocence. Marco nodded, and held his elbow for her hand which she gently placed, the tears calm for the moment.

“
I will admit to knowing no knowledge of your heart or what has recently passed. But I do know this, do not let him see you suffer; do not let him allow this power over your soul. Come with me, we shall dance the night, and ease your burdens, leave them here in these dark gardens. Join the light again, my beauty. You deserve so much more.”

She followed, she had no choice. He was right; she’d not appear weak, not in public, not for Asher who had castrated her love in public. Never for him, never again.

They strode through the glass French doors, the curtains wrapping them in silken flesh for all to brief a moment before once more they were upon the ball room floor, Marco sweeping her in his arms, protecting her…lifting her…falling for her. “Brave a smile, for me, my lady, none forced…and live again.”

She did, only because the enticing music gave ease to a pain filled soul.

Marco returned her smile, sweeping her away, until finally, Angel began to forget to remember to breathe, to live. Her thoughts began to recede of Asher and his hurtful words and the woman upon his side. Her lips trembled briefly, but Marco would not let her resort to self-pity.

“
Be not of drear, I will lift you up…” he said and did just that to Angel’s surprise, swinging her in the air to the astonishment and pure delight of not only Angel but to others close to them.

What a splendid couple, the guests commented.

Beauty doubled, some were heard to say.

They must be lovers look how they dance together, they were heard.

If not now then soon, others returned.

Asher turned, he’d missed the whispered words of a couple of beauty upon the floor, until he heard Love’s name also mentioned. He turned from the woman next to him, his eyes swiftly seeking, searching for her which was not hard. The floor had emptied all except a lone couple still dancing to the enticing sounds of the waltz, everything else forgotten except each other.

Red shone over his eyes, he felt his heart stop before starting again, and blood rushing to his heart, his mind…rage shook him. How quickly she’d forgotten her words, love, the bitch, she knew nothing of love. Deceit was her game. Jealousy burst through his veins as Angel was twirled in the air upon the dark arms of another.

Asher did not know what came over him, only knew that one moment he was standing still, the glass of wine in his hand slicing through his palm and the next moment he was moving swiftly towards Angel and him, hate in his every footstep.

Gasps were heard among the crowd as Asher walked menacingly towards them, he’d not be made the fool of, never again as he tore Angel from Marco’s arms, one hand fisted, wrapped around her slight upper arm as the guests looked on with open horrified curiosity.

“
I see you have already whored yourself for another, my lady, when moments ago, your wide tear filled eyes asked for my sympathy,” he gritted out to the utter horror of Angel as she gasped in shame, struggling from his vise.

“
How dare you!” Marco interrupted, breaking Asher’s contact with a swift move of his arms and hand. He noticed Asher’s look; the man was coldly drunk, hanging to sanity by a thin thread, swiftly unraveling. “Apologize to the lady, immediately, you bastard, or you shall pay with your life!”

Asher laughed, coldly, as Angel looked with angst between the two men. “She was good, but not that good. Definitely not worth pistols at dawn.” He said, smirking at Angel, his eyes roving over her body in a disgusting way. “My apologies of course, never let it be said that my mother raised a bastard. I apologize to the whore of the year, the best actress this side of the hemisphere.”

Anthony looked up from the beauty at his side, as her gaze, along with others, drew to the small trio standing in the midst of the vacantly empty ballroom floor, more than forty feet away from others, but the ballroom carried sounds, as it was meant to do, and their words, such harsh, bitter words carried to every single person upon the floor. Anthony groaned in despair, racing towards the trio, and managed to arrive just in time to see Angel smack Asher upon the face, so hard the slap carried and echoed through the room, well after she’d yanked her hand back.

“
How could you?” She uttered to him in a fierce whisper in shock at his words as the embarrassment ate away at her. “How could you do this, Asher?” She asked in growing hurt, turning away from him, from Marco, from the faces of the crowd.

But it would not be so easy for her, as Asher grabbed her arm once more, to swing her towards him. “And how could you?” He yelled back at her, in his drunken state he cared not for anyone, not even for the woman before him. “You are just like the rest of them, aren’t you? Promising words of love in bed, but so soon you find another, a damn black widow. Act the innocent, for you do it well, but we know we both know how quickly you spread your legs within days of meeting me.”
“Asher!” Anthony cried in horror at his words as the entire ball room floor fell to an achingly void silence, his words ringing through in everyone’s ears.

A shudder ripped through her body as cold sweat beaded upon her forehead, a deep red flush of shame escaping to her cheeks as she shook in dread.