Dark Angel (Lescaut Quartet) Read online

  Caroline wrenched her hands away. "How dare you." She was breathing rapidly, her face hot with shame because her body, against all reason, had responded to his touch.

  "Give over, Caro." She heard the weariness in his voice. "I cannot protect your husband."

  "For God's sake, why not? He is innocent, you know that, and if he is not, he is only weak. What will it serve you? What do you have to gain?"

  "You would have me abandon my honor?"

  "You would have me abandon mine." She hurled the words at him, a bright empty flourish, knowing she had lost. There was nothing more she could in honor do for Jared, and honor satisfied, she must now take her leave.

  Caroline felt empty and dissatisfied and suddenly she knew that it had nothing to do with her husband. The knowledge that Adam had moved some place beyond her dominion brought her close to despair. For the first time she understood what she had been too blind to see at eighteen. In losing Adam, she had lost a part of herself and she would never feel completely whole again. Her tears welled up and spilled down her face in a seemingly ceaseless torrent.

  "Why do you cry? For Jared?"

  "For us," Caroline burst out, her voice stripped of pride and artifice. "What's happened to us, Adam? Why are you so unforgiving? Why am I so cruel?" The tears would not stop. She heard Adam move, and then suddenly his arms were round her and he pulled her to him, holding her gently, as a friend.

  "I don't know, Caro," he said in a soft voice which brought back heartbreaking memories of a time when everything was simpler. "I don't know."

  Caroline felt curiously reluctant to leave the safety of his arms. In time her tears passed and she became aware of the warmth of his body, not as comfort but as something more. Disturbed, she pulled away. He held her still, but lightly, and the face bent down to hers showed nothing but concern. "I would not hurt you, Caro," he said, "not for all the world."

  Caroline looked into Adam's eyes and knew that he had given her something far more important than her husband's safety. They were bound together, she and Adam, in a way that was beyond understanding. A few moments ago, she had thought that bond irrevocably broken, but now, to her joy, he had reclaimed it. Trembling with happiness and relief, she moved closer into his arms.

  Without thinking, Adam drew her to him. It was a moment of reconciliation, no more, but it was a reminder that something enduring stood between them, something he thought he had lost. The knowledge was bittersweet, but to be prized for all that. He might never see her again.

  He should let her go. This brief moment of accord should be enough. But it was not. Adam felt his body stir against her own and knew he must be careful. He kissed her gently where the hair feathered away from her temple, then kissed each eyelid, and then, to make it clear that this was not to be taken seriously, kissed the tip of her nose and put her from him.

  Even in the candlelight he could tell that her skin was glowing with the first flush of pleasure. He felt a stir of triumph at the knowledge that she had responded to him.

  Caroline's eyes widened and in their depths he saw surprise and a kind of wonder. "Adam?" she whispered, and the fragile sound beat like a drum in his head.

  Adam's breath caught in his throat. He was conscious of the scent of her hair and skin, the warmth of her breath. There had never been another woman for him. Caro was his sun. Only she could make him whole again. He closed his eyes, blinded by her light, then opened them to drink in her warmth. He was a moth beating out his life against her brilliance. He could not retreat. He would die, but he would possess her. With a great cry of longing he seized her and drew her to him, his mouth seeking her own.

  Caroline froze in his arms, paralyzed by shock. This was not the gentle kiss of friendship. Adam had changed the rules. She was being swept away by a force she did not understand, a force that surged within her in response to the touch of his hands and the pressure of his mouth. She wanted to run from the terrifying welter of feelings that coursed through her. And she wanted even more strongly to lose herself in his arms.

  She found it suddenly hard to breathe. Her skin burned from his touch. As if compelled by the hunger in his eyes, she moved closer and opened her mouth to his. His kiss deepened and she knew it was her own hunger, raging with a force that would not be denied. She put her arms around him to still the sudden trembling of her treacherous body, astonished by the depths of her longing.

  Adam drew back from a heady exploration of her mouth and looked down at her with a longing that was the twin of her own. "Caro," he said, his breathing ragged, "it's not too late."

  Late? Of course it was too late. She would die if he left her now. "It is, my love," she said, "oh, it is."

  "Dear God in heaven." For a moment Adam stood absolutely still, her face held between his trembling fingers. Then with a groan he pulled her to him, his lips taking her own again, his hands roaming frantically over her body, as if he feared she would melt away if he did not claim every inch of her with his touch.

  Any lingering fears Caroline had of the force of his passion were swept away by her own need. Once she had fled from Adam's arms. Fool, why hadn't she known that she had fled from paradise? She had come home at last.

  Stumbling and laughing, they found their way to the couch. Adam fumbled with the laces on her bodice, and Caroline drew him to her, cradling his head on the haven of her breasts, feeing a great wave of protectiveness for the man in her arms. If I had a child, she thought, I would hold it thus. But in the next instant his mouth found an aroused nipple and his tongue, warm and skillful, chased all thoughts of children from her head.

  When Adam had given her breasts their due, he kissed her wrists and the curves of her elbows and the hollows beneath her arms. Caroline held him close, running her fingers through his thick hair, her mounting excitement mingled with tenderness for the urgency of his need. His mouth found her throat and the space between her breasts and the swell of her belly, but when he would have gone farther, she stopped him, breathless, and pushed him back. "No more, Adam," she said, her hands fumbling with the folds of cloth round his neck. "Not till you remove your cravat."

  Adam's eyes gleamed with laughter, and for a moment he looked no older than his twenty-five years. He stripped off the offending cloth while she worked at the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, and when those too were removed he would have pulled her to him again, but Caroline stayed him. "No, let me look at you. I haven't seen you like this since you were fourteen." She reached up to touch him as she would not have dared to do in the past, tracing the line of his ribs, one by one, brushing her hands over the hard nipples half hidden in the dark hair of his chest, feeling the breadth of his shoulders. "You've grown."

  Adam smiled. "I would venture you've grown, too, though you have the advantage of me. I've never seen you thus." The smile vanished suddenly and he grasped her hands and pulled them down to her sides, his eyes filled with an unbearable longing that went beyond desire. "Oh, Caro," he murmured, "you could teach torches to burn bright." As if the intensity of the moment was more than he could endure, he pushed her back against the couch, his mouth and hands eager for her once again. Matching his urgency, Caroline let her own mouth and hands do their work. And when that was no longer enough she lifted her hips so he could pull down her dress while she struggled with the fastening of his breeches. When their clothes lay tangled on the floor, Adam stood above her, feasting on her nakedness with wonder in his eyes. Caroline felt a great pride that this beautiful man, this man so breathtaking in his arousal, should want her so. With something like reverence, Adam leaned over her and ran his hands slowly down the curve of her hips, then parted her legs and traced the sensitive skin on the inner length of her thighs.

  The touch of his hands was a flame, and she would be consumed. Caroline seized his hand and helped it find the burning source of her desire. Adam. The name repeated itself over and over in her head. Or perhaps she was saying it aloud, a prayer, an invocation, a demand. It was suddenly more than she could b
ear. She pushed his hand away and drew him to her, wanting him inside her when she climaxed. This was where she belonged, where she should have been years ago if she had not been young and foolish and afraid of her own desires; if she not allowed herself to be swayed by the wishes of her family; if she had not been dazzled by the life Jared could offer her. As Adam joined his body to hers, Caroline gave a cry of joy, and then she was lost in a dizzying spiral that went on and on and on and mingled with the awareness of his own cresting.

  Adam shuddered and groaned and at last was still in her arms. Caroline lay quiet beneath him, savoring the weight of his body and the feel of him inside her. When, slowly and reluctantly, he began to withdraw, she pulled him back, laughing and kissing his face till he was still once more. After that she must have slept, for when she opened her eyes, feeling a drowsy contentment, she saw that he had left the couch.

  She sat up suddenly, conscious of her nakedness, feeling frightened and very much alone. She longed for Adam to come back and make her safe in his arms. But when Adam appeared, all he offered was a dressing gown and a candle. "You can wash in the next room," he said gently. "I'll find you a hackney."

  It was not quite a dismissal, but it was a reminder that the world was larger than this darkened room. Feeling awkward and curiously bereft, Caroline gathered her clothes and made her way into the room he indicated which contained not only a washstand but a bed. Adam, she thought as she wrung out a cloth and removed as best she could the evidence of their coupling, Adam, why don't you take me to your bed.

  But he could not, of course. It was late and she would have to return home.

  Or else she would have to leave her husband.

  For a moment, Caroline stood irresolute, trembling at the thought, wondering if she dared. But even as she allowed herself to imagine what life with Adam might be like, she knew it was impossible. Adam had no powerful name or family to help him survive a scandal. His career would be destroyed and, whatever he said, Caroline would feel herself responsible. And then there was Jared, who needed her to stand beside him now more than ever. She dressed hastily and pinned up her hair, cursing her husband and his folly and her own folly in choosing as she had four years ago.

  When she returned to the sitting room, she found Adam putting coals on the fire. He looked up, his face so filled with longing that she could not resist going to him once more. She could stay forever in his arms. Even now, after their spent passion, she felt desire for him again. She could not bear to leave him. This was the man who should have been her husband.

  But he was not. She was bound to Jared, and she could not abandon him. Nor could she stand witness to his ruin. Caroline gave Adam a light kiss and pulled away. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. "I must go."

  "Of course." Adam found her cloak and set it carefully round her shoulders.

  There was so much Caroline wanted to say, and all of it dangerous. She could not talk of what had passed between them and she dared not talk of the future. In the end she fell back on her duty and her honor.. "About Jared," she began. "He'll be all right now, won't he?"

  She looked into Adam's eyes and knew her words to be disastrously wrong.

  Adam stared down into her lovely face, unwilling to believe the import of her words. This woman, the center of his universe, the core of his being, had given herself to him in freedom and joy and in that act had erased four years of bitterness and regret. And now, at the moment when his thoughts were filled with nothing but her and what had passed between them, she told him it had all been for her husband. She had lied when she came to him, she had made a mockery of what he had offered her. Oh, Caro was a fair witch. What she could not get with her claws she would get with honey.

  He saw she was waiting for him to speak, her expression surprised and uncertain. She had doubts of her powers, did she, or did she read the answer in his face? With anger and despair Adam forced himself to meet her eyes. "I do not pay for favors, madam, I pay only in kind. Surely you have no cause for complaint."

  "Adam," she said, her voice so broken he was almost taken in.

  "It has been a pleasant interlude, Caro. I trust you have enjoyed it as much as I. But as for your husband, he must take his chances." Adam tore his eyes from the devastation on her face. Caro, he knew, did not take kindly to disappointment. He opened the door, breaking the chill silence between them. "There's a hackney waiting outside. I will see you downstairs."

  Caroline followed Adam out of the room, sustained only by her pride. Down the two flights of steps and out the front door and up the steps of the waiting hackney while Adam gave the address to the driver. Then Adam withdrew without a look in her direction and the carriage was set abruptly in motion, throwing her back into a corner where she huddled, her cloak drawn tight about her for warmth. She had never felt so cold. Nothing warmed her save the hot tears coursing down her face. What had gone wrong? Could Adam not bear to hear her husband named? Dear God, why not? It had nothing to do with what had passed between them. Surely Adam knew that.

  Caroline brushed her tears away, her growing anger heating her body. Adam had treated her like a rutting whore. She had misread him from the start. She had looked into his eyes and seen not his need but the reflection of her own. He had not taken her out of love nor desire nor affirmation of the bond that joined them more closely than any marriage vow. He had broken that bond long ago and she had not had the wit to know it. What he had taken tonight was a paltry revenge, a petty triumph unworthy of the man she had thought he was.

  Caroline closed her eyes in weariness, her tears long since spent. It was a hard lesson, but she had learned it well. She would never trust herself to Adam Durward again.

  Chapter One

  Spain, March 1813

  Subduing an instinctive panic, Caroline let her gaze roam over the harsh, arid landscape, listening for sounds of danger. No ominous specks on the horizon, no chilling echo of hoofbeats on the hard-packed, still-frozen ground. The air was sweeter now she was away from the cramped decay of the village, but the apparent tranquility did not deceive her. Danger was part of the fabric of life in Acquera. She ran forward, the rough ground cutting through the worn soles of her shoes, and only stopped when she reached the trees, a scraggly line of pines misshapen by the wind which could sweep so harshly across this barren plateau.

  She could hear a trickle of water now and high-pitched voices which filled her with relief. Caroline pushed between the trees, heedless of the underbrush that caught at her skirt. Her breathing finally slowed when she stared down the steep bank into the narrow streambed. Three small girls stood ankle-deep in the water: one fair-haired, her pale skin reddened by the sun; the other two dark and olive-skinned; all three barefoot and oblivious to the icy cold of the newly-melted snow.

  Caroline's relief gave way to anger. "Emily!" Remembered fear sharpened her voice.

  The fair-haired girl looked up, and Caroline felt a stab of guilt as her daughter's childish joy vanished. "I'm all right Mama." Emily was not yet four, but she had mastered a reassuring tone that usually belonged to much older children.

  "That's not the point," Caroline said in a more moderate voice as she picked her way down the bank. She spoke in Spanish, as had become her custom unless she and Emily were alone. "You know you're not to go beyond the village without an adult. None of you are," she added, glancing at Juana and Beatriz.

  "Our mother doesn't mind." Juana, at seven the elder of the two dark-haired girls, sounded defensive, but Caroline sensed an undercurrent of hurt because their own mother had not come running after them as Emily's had done.

  "That's not true," Caroline said quickly. Adela Soro worried about her children just as much as Caroline did, but with two younger ones to see to she could not always keep an eye on all of them. "She would have come after you, but I came instead. Put your shoes on. We're going back to the village."

  Juana and Beatriz climbed out of the water, but Emily looked up at her mother with large, wistful brown eye
s. "Couldn't we just stay five minutes longer?" Small-boned and delicate, with hair only a shade or so lighter than Caroline's own, she was almost a miniature replica of her mother save for those eyes. Every so often the expression in them was so hauntingly familiar that it was more than Caroline could bear.

  "No! How many times do I have to tell you? It isn't safe." Even as she spoke, Caroline felt contrite. Her anger had noting to do with Emily, and it was not the child's fault that her expression stirred memories of events that had occurred before she was born. For a moment, Caroline was tempted to relent. The children were amazingly resilient, but there were so few pleasures left for them, and she too could feel the stream's allure.

  If Caroline closed her eyes she could almost imagine she was standing in the wooded hills of Staffordshire, with lush green grass beneath her feet instead of coarse earth. England had faded to a distant memory, yet every so often a sight or sound brought it vividly to mind. But to linger, to let the children play and indulge her own recollections, would put them all at risk. If they were set upon by brigands or marauding soldiers, her own presence would give the children little protection.

  "I'm sorry, querida," Caroline said more gently.

  Emily, recognizing the note of finality in her mother's voice, clambered onto the rocks beside the stream and reached for her shoes and stockings. The children were subdued as they picked their way back toward the village. Juana and Beatriz exchanged uneasy glances when they neared the door of the Soro cottage. Emily tugged at Caroline's sleeve. "It was my idea to go to the stream," she whispered. "Tell Aunt Adela."

  Beatriz, who was walking a little ahead with her sister, heard this and turned back. "No, it wasn't," she said softly. "It was mine."

  "I'm the eldest," said Juana, reminding Caroline that older sisters were remarkably alike, whether in English manors or Spanish villages. "I should have known better."