Angel in Black (12 page)

The hand on her throat tightened its deadly grip and he lifted her into the air. Holding her against the wall, he continued to wrench the life from her, the room growing dim as Rina desperately kicked and clawed. The giant remained unmoved by her struggles.

Just then, the door crashed in and Blake faced the fourth man when he lunged at him. Rina saw them scuffle across the floor through blurry eyes. Blake locked his forearm around the man’s neck and twisted; the awful cracking loud as the bones in his neck snapped under Blake’s unyielding pressure. He crumpled to the floor, dead.

In the next second, Blake flew through the air and crashed into the giant, breaking his hold on Rina. She fell to the floor, choked and gasped for air, each breath burning with pain. When her vision cleared, she saw Blake’s fist smash into Ralph’s face, the loud crunch leaving no doubt his nose broke beneath the blow. He staggered backwards, his clumsy weight causing him trip and lose his balance. Ralph shattered the window and fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Immediately, Rina heard a piercing cry as people rushed into the room, the scene about her gruesome. Two men lay dead, one in a pool of blood, the other with his neck twisted at a horrible angle. Mack had disappeared, a trail of blood leading out of the room.

In a numbed trance, Rina walked over to the window, her knees shaking weakly as she looked out beyond the shattered glass. Expecting to see the giant, twisted and mutilated, she was shocked to see him gone. A chill passed over her.

Strong arms pulled Rina away from the cold window, rain dampened her face and gown. People crowded into the room and down the hall, staring in horror and morbid curiosity, their voices a loud hum in Rina’s ears. Blake gathered her into his arms and carried her out of the room, away from prying eyes and questions. He barked orders at everyone, pushing his way through to his own room. He kicked the door shut behind him to give them privacy.

Carefully, he put her down. Rina did not move, merely stared at her reflection in the mirror. Blood covered her white linen nightdress; the torn shoulder already revealed blackened bruises on her neck, her wrist swelling and red. She could feel the sticky warmth of blood in her hair from the cut on the back of her head. Her glassy eyes stood out from her pale, bloodless face. She looked into the mirror, horrified, and remembered another time — another place. Her dress had also been stained with blood — her father’s blood.

The innkeeper knocked and entered the room, the sheriff right behind him. Their eyes were immediately drawn to Rina. Blake crossed the room agitated, impatient to tend to her. He had noticed the unnatural look in her eyes and the extreme paleness of her skin. She didn’t move; she merely stared at the mirror as if unsure of the reflection before her. Briefly, Blake explained what had happened to the sheriff and assured the innkeeper he would pay for all the damages.

“Do you know the young lady, Lord Roberts?” the sheriff questioned, shifting uncomfortably beneath Blake’s angry glare.

“Yes, I do.”

“Lucky for her — she probably would have been killed if you hadn’t heard them.” The man noticed Blake’s look of aggravation and cleared his throat nervously. “So, the two men in the other room, you killed them?”

Blake held a tight rein on his anger, knowing the sheriff was doing his job. “No, I killed the one with the broken neck. The other Rina killed before I broke into the room. There was another man she severely maimed, but he got away during the scuffle. The large man who crashed through the window seems to have walked away — I doubt you will find either of them.”

Amazement entered the man’s voice. “It seems the woman can hold her own. Looks a mite pale, though, is she going to be all right?”

Blake did not reply and the innkeeper finally found his tongue. “I’ll send a girl up to tend to her.”

“No, I’ll see to her myself.” Blake’s voice was firm, brooking no argument from the two men. Seeing their hesitation, he added more gently, “I assure you gentlemen, I have no intention of harming her. She’s in shock and I will see she is cleaned up and put to bed, but most of all, I will make certain she comes to no harm.”

“Whatever you say, Lord Roberts,” the innkeeper agreed readily.

“Are you certain she doesn’t need a doctor? She is so quiet … most women would be hysterical. She doesn’t even weep.” The sheriff watched Rina closely, his words drawing the other’s attention back to her.

“If she needs a doctor, I’ll send for one.” Blake was near to tossing them out physically, but instead, said, “I’ll take good care of her, you needn’t worry.”

This satisfied them, and they left. Rina still did not stir. Gently, Blake pulled the bloodied nightgown over her head. She did not protest, uncaring she was nude beneath. When he moved her arm, she winced — dark bruises starting to show from the beating she took.

Blake lifted her and placed her into the hot tub of water and tenderly washed the blood from her. He knew she was in shock, for she never objected to his personal ministrations. He washed her hair, heedful of the injury to her head. Finished, he wrapped her in a warm, soft towel and sat her before the crackling fire. Pouring her a brandy, Blake made Rina drink it, hoping it would revive her from her stupor. As if he tended a child, he combed the tangles from her wet hair.

With uncharacteristic patience, he brushed the long strands of gold until the heat from the fire dried it. Blake watched as the ends curled about his fingers, soft and silky, shimmering like a fine fabric. For the first time, he allowed himself to think of how close he had come to losing this woman. He found he could not bear the thought and pulled her silent form into his strong arms. Mysterious warmth filled him when she curled against his chest, comforted by the security he provided. He spoke tender, loving words to Rina, feeling the need to take away her pain and make her better again. She never spoke and the liquor soon made her drift off to sleep. After tucking her into his bed, Blake stripped down and washed himself, never taking his eye from her all the while.

He silently slid into bed, careful not to disturb her. For a long time he watched her, noticing how fragile and delicate she looked, yet wondered at the strength and determination making her capable of facing four men alone, in a fight for her life.

Sleep finally overtook Blake, but he abruptly woke some time later when Rina thrashed about violently. He tried to hold her down, but she fought him. When she awoke, Blake clamped his hand over her mouth in time to muffle her terrified scream.

“It’s all right, little one. Everything is all right and I’ll not let anyone hurt you.”

Blake pulled her to him and cradled her in his arms, soothing and reassuring her. It was strange to see Rina vulnerable, and somehow he knew it did not happen often. It pleased him to know she needed him, if only for tonight. They both fell asleep, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, Rina’s head resting against Blake’s chest.

W
HEN
R
INA AWAKENED THE
next morning, she was still in his arms. A small gasp escaped when she fully realized where she was and with whom. She shyly peeked at Blake to find his golden eyes looking down at her. For a long moment, Rina remained paralyzed, unable to look away from the heat in them. But when she realized she lay naked in his arms, she pulled away and color flooded her face. She stuttered in embarrassment and tried to wrap the sheet around her but found it awkwardly pinned beneath him.

“There is no need to be shy, little one. Please come back. You seem to fit so perfectly in my arms.” His words were a soft whisper, his face reflecting the desire he felt.

Rina finally found her voice, though it came out hoarse and barely audible. “It was you … you have been following me?”

“Yes, I was asked to make sure you came to no harm. If I had known how difficult a request it was, I would have declined.”

Her temper flared and she retorted, “I had no way of knowing I would be attacked — I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.” As soon as the words were out, Rina realized he teased her. “I
am
sorry, Blake. I owe you my gratitude, and instead, I snap at you.”

“You were foolish to come alone, Rina. I am thankful I was here.”

“I owe you my life — I’m afraid I have no way to repay you.” Rina drew a deep breath to steady her nerves and she looked straight into Blake’s heated gaze. “I have only myself to give.”

“Oh, little one, you make a tempting offer, but you owe me nothing.”

She could not help the look on her face.

“Don’t look so surprised,” chuckled Blake. “I want you, little one — dear God, I want you so much it hurts. But I don’t wish for you to come to me because you imagine you owe it to me. No, I want you to come to my bed when your desire is as great as my own.”

Rina stared in confusion at her hands, grateful yet disappointed. “Thank you,” she whispered, uncertain if she truly was thankful or not.

Chapter Eight

T
HE COUNTRYSIDE HAD TURNED
into a colorful mélange of fall colors as bouquets of gold, orange, rust, brown, and red burst forth. Morning fog still clung to the earth and swirled eerily about Blake, creating isolation from the rest of the world. The air was chilly and damp, but the rain had stopped for the moment. Blake inhaled deeply of its crisp freshness; a hint of smoke clinging to it from the homes he saw in the distance. His mind drifted back to the two days he had spent with Rina after the attack on her.

A smile crossed his face and he wondered what Ryon’s reaction would be if he knew Blake spent two days and two nights with a beautiful woman and did not make love to her. Instead, they spent their time talking and learning more about each other. It amazed Blake how well educated Rina was, her intelligence beyond expectation. She even managed to trounce him at chess, and when he asked where she had learned to play, she confessed his own grandfather had taught her.

Nothing Rina did reflected the people she lived among, yet all the people she dealt with were at ease with her. Blake realized she could sit at court with a room full of high-society ladies and no one would suspect she was a poor country girl. But put one of those well-bred women in a room with the working class — well, it wouldn’t be done. Most aristocratic ladies wouldn’t lower themselves to talk to the poorer class of people, let alone socialize with them.

Blake saw how sore Rina was and painful headaches plagued her. He noticed her put some herbs in her tea, but she never once complained. She laughed and talked, though her voice was crackly and raw, acting as though nothing untoward had happened. Every once in a while a shadow passed over her face and she paled slightly, and Blake knew she remembered the violence. Neither talked about it, but when she slept, night terrors disturbed her. He sensed something other than the attack bothered her. Perhaps a memory from her past — a past she never talked about, a secret Rina chose not to share.

His thoughts brought a strange feeling of contentment. He held her as she trembled in her half-sleep, clinging to him in the aftermath of her nightmare. It was the only time he saw Rina’s vulnerable side, and it pleased him considerably to be the one who comforted her. A notion overwhelmed him and he wished to be the only one to give her solace when frightened; the thought of any other man doing so angered him — immensely.

Jealousy stabbed Blake and he cursed himself for being so foolish. Rina was strong and independent; she would never admit to needing him. The quiet calmness she possessed disturbed him. After all she had been through, she never cried. She would awaken from a nightmare, terrified, shaken from horrors he could only imagine, haunted by ghosts he could not protect her from. Her eyes would be filled with fear and pain, but no tears were shed. Blake found it unusual, for most women he knew cried easily. When he mentioned it to Rina, she merely shrugged her shoulders.

“The last time I cried was over eight years ago, when my mother and father were taken from me. There have been no tears since.”

The words sounded hollow to Blake’s ears, and he saw her pain. He found himself wanting to share her anguish and he asked, “How did they die, little one?”

Rina stared in silence for a long moment at Blake and he thought there was a flash of anger in her blank eyes. “They were murdered.”

Her voice remained cold and unfeeling, her eyes devoid of any expression. Unknowingly, she grasped the ring hanging from a chain about her neck, as if it comforted her. Blake did not have to see or hear her pain; he sensed it and said no more. When she wanted him to know more, she would tell him. He remembered the death of his own parents, only a year apart, and the hurt he had felt at the age of six. Perhaps this was the source of the terror she experienced each night. Blake put his arms around Rina, but she remained rigid and tense.

“Is that why you learned to use a knife, to defend yourself?”

“It is one reason — but not the main one. You see, I made a promise, and I intend to kill the man who took them from me.”

The statement came out calm and matter-of-fact, but emotionless and empty. The hatred and anger was there, as it had been for eight long years, but, for the moment, Rina was too tired to feel anything. Her head ached and every part of her hurt. She leaned her head against Blake’s shoulder and closed her eyes in weariness.