[Samuel Barbara] The Black Angel(Book4You) (29 page)

For a long time Adriana drifted in a wilderness of sensation. Tynan's sleek body pressed against hers, the smell of his hair against her face, the weakness of her muscles, all trembling. He moved away long enough to pull the coverlet over them and held her close, his big hands smoothing her arms and back, his cheek against her hair.

And somehow there was no need of words. When her body ceased its shivering, he slid down to kiss her gently. And again. Kissed her softly, kissed her expertly. Sometimes it was only their tongues, sliding between relaxed mouths in the most delicate of dances. Sometimes he suckled at her lower lip, then her top, inviting her to do the same. Some were tiny brushes of their mouths. Some held teeth.

And while they kissed, their hands moved, exploring, learning the contours of the other's body. She trailed her palm down his side, over his hip, over his shoulder, loving the supple heat of his skin. His hands skimmed over her breast, her hip, her leg. And after a time his fingers slid between her legs, and his mouth plied hers, and he coaxed from her another orgasm that nearly equaled the first. At which time she rose and came back with a cloth to wash him and showed him that she, too, knew a little of this game by pleasing him with her mouth.

She loved the look of his long limbs, the taut belly and scatters of hair. His legs and chest were covered with dark hair as silky as that on his head, and his member lived in a nest of curls she liked almost as well. His hips were high and firm, as she had expected, and when he left her once to tend to nature, she greedily admired the long back and hips with a new level of arousal and knowledge. It seemed to her, looking at him, that the heavens had been very kind to create this thing called man.

At some point she lay lazily against his shoulder. "Tell me about your home, Tynan. You speak little of Ireland."

He stroked the curve of her elbow. "I try to think of it as little as possible."

"Why?"

"I am not truly at peace anywhere else," he admitted. "I was thinking this morning of the clean fog that comes off the ocean, not this yellow cloud that chokes the breath from a man."

She smiled, somehow pleased that at least one small portion of her original vision of him had been correct. "So you are a country man at heart."

"Aye." Absently, he brushed his toes over her foot. "You'd not believe how lovely it is, how wild. Sometimes it seems possible to see the old kings ride over a hill, or glimpse a fairy dancing in the shadows of the forest." He turned his blue-green eyes on her. "I sometimes think my blood comes from that ground, and when I'm too long from it, I begin to weaken."

She frowned. "Are your people Irish all the way back? How are you my cousin, then?"

His smile was wry. "Ties go in both directions, love. 'Twas some connection between your father's father and mine. I don't know what. My own family has been on this same land for two thousand years." One side of his mouth lifted into a teasing grin. "And sure, I'm the son of Aonghus Og, you know."

"And who might that be?"

His big hand curled around her breast, and his teeth flashed in his dark face. "The god of love, who has four birds around his head that are his kisses. Haven't you seen those birds flying around me?"

She laughed. "The god of love is Dionysus."

"That's my name, too." He yanked her hips close to his. "Sure and the women faint in me arms, breathless for want of me."

Her lids fell to half mast as her own desire rose again. "And maidens tear away their clothes to dance with you on the light of the full moon."

"I've no patience for maidens," he said, bending close to her lips. "I've a gift with the rest."

She loved him for that, and met him eagerly when he showed her, thoroughly, and there was no need for more speech. Only hands and kisses and flesh and limbs, moving one against the other, drunk on the pleasure and sensual alignment that had been brewing between them since that first night.

Somewhere in the darkest part of night, they fell asleep entwined. Adriana slept deeply, somehow safe in the circle of his arms. She dreamed she was in a garden of exuberant flowers, where birds sang freely, and it was this image in her mind when she awakened to find him gone.

There was light in the room, the yellowish light of a foggy dawn, so thin and ghostly she did not see him immediately. A little confused, she looked around and finally spied him, sitting in a chair in the gloom, his head bent into his hands. It was a posture of such abject despair that she did not immediately speak, alarm lighting in her heart. He wore only his breeches, and his hair spilled down over the hands that held his head.

When he shifted, making a soft sound like a groan of regret, she closed her eyes to pretend sleep once more, but her heart raced with worry and regret. What had she done to give him that expression? Where was the joy that had lain on his beautiful face last night?

She heard him move, and the bed bent under his weight. It seemed natural she should awaken at such a disturbance, and she tried to appear as if it happened naturally, slowly blinking open her sleepy eyes.

He bent over her with a grave expression, and without a word, bent down to kiss her fiercely, enveloping her with arms and lips and legs, her body still wrapped in the coverlet. "What is it, Tynan?" she whispered, wanting to comfort him.

"Nothing," he said roughly. "Everything. Let me hold you."

And she did, gave herself up to his mute sorrow. But unlike the playful and joyful ways they had joined through the night, this time there was deep soberness, a hunger that went far beyond the simple need for physical pleasure. It was as if he meant to bind her to him, bind her with his kiss and his excruciatingly gentle hands, and when he was in her, when they were as close as it was possible to be, he raised his head and looked at her with those shattered eyes. Adriana, her breath held, lifted her hands to brush and hold his hair from his face, offering silently her promise that she would do what she could, no matter what burden he carried. And as if it broke his heart, he made a broken noise and kissed her, and his movements grew intense, and they were lost, splintering together into whatever the future would hold for them both.

For good or ill.

In the morning, Tynan left to make calls. Adriana found herself moving more slowly, and her thoughts returned again and again to the moment when she'd awakened to see Tynan, obviously aggrieved, with his head in his hands. And when he came to her after that, there'd been an almost desperate flavor to his embrace, as if they would not have much time together.

It did not make any sense. What was he hiding from her? She did not suspect him of lying, but at the same time, he was careful about what he revealed, and this morning Adriana felt she urgently needed answers. She thought Gabriel knew some of it, but he had not come home the night before, and she didn't relish the idea of waiting around all day for him. Though before last night she had begun to care about Tynan Spencer, now her heart was in mortal danger, and if she needed to pull away, it was best that she should know as soon as possible.

Julian, she thought. He'd spoken of writing to someone in Tynan's village; perhaps he knew something.

She recognized the guard at the Tower gates and gave him her best smile. To her surprise, he blinked as if dazzled and waved her through.

The morning was dark with autumn, and fog clung to hollows within the walls, but Adriana did not let the atmosphere distract her this time. She walked quickly and climbed the stairs to Julian's cell with a sense of purpose.

"Good morning," he said without surprise when the guard let her in, and then poked his head into the package she carried. "Ah! You're a gem."

"You don't seem very surprised," Adriana said with a smile, untying her cloak. His hair was neatly combed back from his face, and there was soap left on his jaw from shaving. Fondly, she reached up and wiped the last of it away.

"I saw you coming across the green." He took her cloak and set it on the bed, only then turning to her with a frown. "What's different about you this morning?"

She looked away, the night's journey swelling in her memory. "I don't know what you mean." Settling in the second chair at his rude table, she took out a loaf of freshly baked bread and buttered a slice. "You look well," she commented.

One side of his mouth lifted, one of the quirks of expression she had missed. In many ways, he'd always been terribly sober, and this slight wryness was as twinkling as he ever got, but she welcomed it. "You've a glow, sister," he said, and winked. "Your husband must be wooing you well."

To her amazement, Adriana blushed, and the blush made her chuckle. She batted his hand away when he would have touched her neck. "You've your secrets. Leave me to mine."

"All right, then." He broke off a hunk of cheese. "You must all be quite worried about my state of mind. I saw Gabriel last night, and your husband departed only an hour ago. Now you." A faint frown crossed his forehead. "Is it so worrisome? The pair of them will sidestep direct questions. You'll tell me the truth. Is it bad?"

"I don't honestly know, Julian. Only what they've told you." She inclined her head. "We'll be attending a ball at the Duchess of Sherbourne's at the end of the week. I suspect Ty—that my husband has plans for that."

Julian examined the cheese with narrowed eyes and took a bite, his body loose and calm. "They won't hang me, Riana. Our father commanded too much respect."

"But transportation? Surely you've had enough banishment."

A shadow crossed his face. "It does not matter. If I am transported, Gabriel can see to the girls as well as I, and I have faith in your husband's goodwill."

That lingering despair plucked at her. "What did you lose in the colonies, Julian? Or is it
who
?"

He shook his head, that pensiveness making a mask of his whittled clean face. He nearly spoke, then lifted a shoulder and leaned back in his chair. "No one. Nothing."

Clad as he was in a simple shirt, untied at the throat, his chest showed, and Adriana glimpsed a mark at his collarbone. In surprise, she leaned forward. "Have you a tattoo?" she said, half delighted, half surprised.

He put a hand to the collar, as if to pull the shirt together, then gave her one of his rare smiles, and instead pulled the sides apart. A strangely appealing zigzag ran from shoulder to shoulder, just below his collarbone. "I also pierced my ear, but Gabriel seemed to think a gold earring was too much the pirate if I meant to stand trial in the House of Lords."

She laughed heartily. "I am quite jealous, you know. I was thinking the other morning what life I'd have chosen if fate had made me a man, and it was a life of adventure I would have liked."

"Yes," he agreed. "It would have suited you." He sobered suddenly and put down his cheese. "Tell me, Adriana, how you like this husband of yours."

She took a breath, folded her hands in her lap. "Actually, it is Tynan who brings me here. I have begun to wonder if there are secrets about him that I should know."

"Secrets?" Julian spoke as if the word bewildered him, but Adriana knew her brother well, and he could not hide that sudden intensity that lit his eyes, turning the pale gray to a hard silver. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."