Wrong Kind of Paradise (17 page)

Angel shook her head. “I don’t want it slow.” With her legs entwined around him in a vise and her

hands gripping his buttocks, he plunged to the hilt inside her.

The slightest twinge of discomfort tore through her but vanished. She squirmed, seeking something

she could not name, and Blac groaned. He moved inside her, streaks of fire rushed from her hot center and

radiated through her body.

She opened eagerly and the shock of discovery disappeared, giving way to the thrill of sensation.

He thrust and his hard body brushed against her, accompanied by her frantic plea.

Both of his hands sought her breasts as he pumped within her and tension coiled in her core. She

rose off the mattress in a taut arch, her body straining like a bow. Frantically she clawed at his shoulders

and then his hips. He growled against her mouth before seizing her lips in a shattering kiss.

Angel crested some unknown precipice as her eyes fluttered closed. Brilliant lights exploded

behind her lids as he wrung every drop of ecstasy from her flesh. He lifted her hips to change the angle of

penetration and Angel found herself seeking that unnamed peak once again. Her body clenched and

contracted, eliciting a roar from his lips. He pounded against her. Trembling and senseless, she could

only hang on until the convulsions ceased.

He sank onto her, his back drenched in sweat and lay against her body, unable to draw a deep

breath. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, engulfing him in the sweetest warmth she could offer. She

smiled.

He belonged to her now. Would he realize this?

She kissed the top of his head and closed her eyes. Contentment washed away the doubts. She

glanced down at him and chuckled. He brought his eyes to her face. “What is it?”

Her fingers traced the blackened ink smeared across his cheek. “I believe I marked my territory.”

He grinned and reached up to her cheek. “It’s all right. I returned the favor.”

She smiled. “So we’re a matched pair?”

He kissed her and traced her mouth with his tongue. “Haven’t we always been?”

Twelve

Twilight gave a lavender haze to the landscape and the swish of gentle waves against the hull

provided a serenity to the moment. Angel stretched languidly and found Blac standing before the gallery

windows. Bare-chested, with his arms crossed, he peered out at the incredible picturesque scene beyond.

He was so handsome.

Blac faced her and ambled to the bunk. He leaned over with one hand on either side of her hips to

kiss his way from her chest to her neck. She smiled deliciously and wrapped her arms around his neck,

dragging him on top of her. How perfectly he fit.

Angel traced the now dried ink smeared across his cheek and chuckled. He smiled and rubbed their

matching smudged cheeks together. “Do we look so horrible?” she asked.

“Does it really matter what anyone else thinks?”

She grinned. “No.”

He eased to the side and cupped her face in his palm. “Then I wouldn’t worry my pretty head over

it.” She leaned into his hand, and warmth spread through her.
This feels so right.

“Did you sleep well, my angel?” His deep tone soothed her.

She nodded. “Did you?”

He sighed. “Better than I ever have in my life.” He rose and sat on the edge of the mattress. “But

we’ve little time to ready for your grandfather. He should be here late this morning.”

Angel gasped and sat up. “What do you mean?” She scrambled up onto her knees. “You can’t mean

to send me with him after—”

Blac swiveled to face her. “After last night? Why not? I told you nothing would change.”

A quick stab of pain and disbelief shattered her composure. Tears filled her eyes and her lip

quivered. She clamped her jaw tight to keep from crying in front of him. He still meant to send her away,

even after everything they’d shared. How could he say nothing had changed, when everything had changed

for her?

Blac shoved to his feet, anger mottling his features. “This is the best place for you to be during this,

Angel. I won’t have to worry about you if you’re with your grandfather. This discussion is over.”

Stunned, Angel placed a hand over the ache in her heart as he stomped out the door and slammed it

shut. Seconds passed and she couldn’t move. Then she crumbled to the bed and sobbed. All her visions of

growing old with Blac vanished, shattered like a million shards of crystal.

Two hours later, a knock on the door brought her off the bunk.

“Your grandfather is here, Miss Angel.” Rigo’s voice came from the other side.

Pain spliced her heart in two. She would be leaving Blac without even saying goodbye.

Angel dragged herself from the bed and changed into her wrinkled clothes from the day prior.

Glancing into the mirror, her red-rimmed eyes blinked back at her and she reached up to finger the ink-

smudged cheek. Briefly, she traced the mark, and memories of the night before assaulted her. Bitterness

furrowed her brow and wiped the memory from her mind. She refused to cry over him again.

Combing her fingers through her hair, she headed top-side. The crew scurried across the planks,

performing their chores, and barely glanced at her. Rigo stood by the gangplank to help her down.

The sun glinted off the black, lacquered carriage on the dock. The door stood open and revealed the

blue velvet seats inside, as well as the well-tailored legs of her grandfather, who sat inside the vehicle.

Blac stood at the bottom of the gangplank with both hands propped on his hips. As handsome as ever. But

this time she must ignore that. He faced her but she walked right by him with a cursory glance.

He spoke her name but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Angel,” he said. “I don’t know if you should go...he hasn’t even given the courtesy of leaving the

vehicle.”

“Then you won’t mind when I join him there.”

It’s a little late for second thoughts now. Even if I wished to stay, you’ve made it clear I’ll never

have what I truly desire from you. There is no place for me here now.

She reached the carriage and the footman helped her inside. She leaned back out, catching sight of

Blac. His brows were drawn together, his jaw set hard, and his mouth tightened into a firm line. His anger

was a palpable thing.
Too little, too late for regrets, Blac.

She blew him a kiss from the doorway just as she’d done so long ago aboard the Serpent’s Lady.

His eyes widened before they narrowed. He started forward, but she slammed the door shut, tapping the

top of the vehicle to let the driver know she was ready.

They lurched forward and she sat back, her eyes finally resting on her grandfather. Piercing blue

eyes met her gaze and she frowned. He stared raptly at her, but there was little emotion on his face. A

long white periwig covered his head and both of his hands settled stiffly atop a gold-handled cane. White,

billowing sleeves protruded from the coat sleeves and a single, jewel-encrusted ring glinted on his finger.

A nervous flutter in her stomach alerted her to something being amiss. She attempted a smile to ease

the tension. “Grandfather.”

“Angel.” He paused. “You look like your mother.”

She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. “So I’ve been told.”

He frowned at her attire. “Of course, she wore proper dresses and didn’t bandy about, half-dressed

with ink smudged on her face. You’re a mite filthy, dear girl.” His tone boomed across the coach and

battered her self-confidence.

Angel glanced down at her wrinkled breeches and shirt. Raising her chin, she would never change

who she was. This may have been what her father wished for her, but he didn’t always know what was

best for the best. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here. Her grandfather would accept her for who she was, or

he wouldn’t. It was up to him.

She smiled tightly. “Indeed.”

The rest of the ride went by in silence, broken only by the rhythm of the clomping hooves on

cobbled stones. They didn’t arrive at her grandfather’s home until well after dusk had fallen. Midnight

hues coated the sky in a multitude of different shades. Swirls of sapphire set against the navy backdrop

and enhanced the brilliant profusion of stars.

Angel had slept most of the way and yawned as she entered the front door of the house, behind her

grandfather. The heavily-carved oak door opened to reveal the high-ceilinged majestic entryway. The

domelike ceiling was painted with murals of cherubs and angels, along with a detailed artwork of the

planets. Thick, heavily carved molding traced the ceiling edge, and the front round-table was topped with

an incredible display of lilies. The arrangement was so large, it dominated the area.

Angel had never seen such luxury before. Her grandfather instructed his staff to care for her, just

before he turned to her. Those piercing eyes studied her. “This was one of your mother’s favorite rooms.

She used to lie on the floor to study the paintings on the ceiling. The angels were her favorite.” He

coughed into his hand and headed for the carved stairwell. “It’s probably why she named you Angel.”

An ache settled deep in her chest as she imagined her young mother lying on the floor, daydreaming.

She almost smiled.

He turned on the bottom stair. “She was a delightful child who grew into a headstrong young lady.

She betrayed her family and left behind everyone who ever loved her. Your grandmother died from the

grief of her loss. She never forgave me.” He moved up one more step. “I see that you are much like your

mother. Perhaps one day you can tell me how she lived so that I may learn to forgive her.”

The white-haired man climbed the stairs and a mix of confusion and empathy for him assaulted her.

He’d loved her mother. She could tell. But having lost both women in his life had soured his disposition.

The maid ushered her up the stairs to her room. It wasn’t as lavish or beautiful as the rest of the

house, but it was pretty. Dark-panels lined the bottom half of the walls and the top half was covered by

blue-flowered paper. Comfortable. Even the white and blue coverlet beckoned her to get cozy.

She settled on the cobalt settee and leaned back, propping her feet up. She had no baggage, no

clothes other than the ones she wore, and no money to get more. She sighed. She would be completely

dependent on her grandfather if she stayed here.

Melancholy set in, and she wondered how her father was. Was he even still alive? How had she

failed so miserably? Being here in this house reminded her of her mother. The image of blue-green eyes

and soft hands came to her again. Her mother would stroke her hair every night till Angel lay soundless,

asleep. It was the only memory she had left. She’d just turned five when her mother had contracted the

fever from childbirth and died. Along with the child she had born.

From that day forward, her father had taken her mother’s place for her. He’d stroked her hair each

night until she’d fallen asleep. He’d nurtured and cared for her. It was hard to imagine such a large man

being so gentle. Her own gentle giant, and she missed him dreadfully.

Angel stood and looked about the room. Refusing to wallow in her misery, she opened the drawer

of the dresser. Rummaging through it, she found a multitude of old letters, an old, dried-up quill, and a

letter opener. She shut the drawer and opened the next one, only finding a few old cravats.

She leaned back against the drawer and closed it. There was trunk at the foot of the bed and an

armoire. She closed the distance and opened the double doors. Two hands reached out of the hanging

clothes to wrap around her throat.

Desperate, she clasped the hands and together they moved backwards until they reached the wall.

The cloaked figure was taller than her, and his hands squeezed her neck until the air completely closed

off.

Who the hell wants me dead?

She blinked as spots danced before her vision, and she brought a single knee up into the man’s

groin. He groaned and leaned forward. She slammed his head into the paneling, splintering the wood.

Searching for a weapon, she ran out of time as he regained his footing and crashed into her. They

landed on the floor with a loud thud and he attempted to pin both her arms down. His hood had long since

come free, and she stared into coal-black eyes. Angel reared up, smacking the bridge of his nose with her

forehead and put a foot into his stomach to fling him off.

She scrambled to her feet, heading for the dresser. One of his hands clutched her ankle and yanked

her down. She fell, kicking out with her other foot and struck him in the nose again. He howled, blood

spattering across the floor.

Angel made it to the dresser and opened it. But the force of his weight as he slammed into her, took

the breath from her. A dagger appeared at her throat. She stalled. Her breath rushed out of her lungs, and

she swallowed. Fear inched its way up her spine to settle deep into the pit of her stomach.

“He said ye wouldn’t fight back. I was supposed to kill ye quiet-like.”