Angel in Black (39 page)

When Blake stood before her, strong and virile, she thought she might actually swoon from the overpowering maleness of him. A slow wicked smile crossed her lips and she looked up into Blake’s lust-filled eyes. Slowly, seductively, she removed his shirt.

“No matter how much you hate me, no matter how loathsome you think me to be, you still come to me. You want to kill me, and yet, you want to love me. You are mine, Blake Roberts. Mine.”

Her deep voice purred with sensuality, the sound more intoxicating than the whiskey. But the words she spoke angered him and he grabbed her hands in a brutal grip, muttering through clenched teeth, “I don’t belong to anyone, especially not you.”

Katrina’s laughter filled the room. “You know I am right. Tell me, did you forget me when you thought I was dead? Did other women ease your passions as I have?”

The wine made Katrina say things she would not have said had she been sober, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered but the longings inside her. From the look on Blake’s face, she knew the answers. “Yes, Blake, you will always be mine, just as I am always yours. We are both slaves to the heat we stir in each other — enslaved to each other forever.”

“You are a witch. A witch who casts spells a normal man cannot fight.” His hand snapped up and wrapped about her slender neck, the temptation to break it overpowering. As the pressure increased, Katrina only smiled and stared into his golden eyes. Her hands quickly released his hardened member from the confines of his breeches, and a low moan escaped him as she slid his pants down his muscled buttocks. Stepping from them without releasing his painful grip on Katrina, Blake now stood as naked as she was.

“You are mine, as I am yours — say it,” choked Katrina, uncaring of the pain, only aware of her overwhelming need. “Kill me — love me — it doesn’t matter. You are mine.”

Blake closed his eyes, trying to fight against the reality of her words. Slowly, his hold on her throat eased, and without realizing it, his hand caressed her cheek, gentle and tender. Blake pulled her to him and leaned down to kiss her, but paused, his lips barely touching hers. “I am yours, you witch.”

His lips took hers, possessing, passionate and desperate. He devoured the sweetness they offered, his tongue tasting the wine she had consumed earlier. Like animals, they were fierce in their passion as the loneliness of the past year descended upon them.

He crushed her to him, bruising her tender flesh, but it didn’t matter to Katrina, it only added to her uncontrolled desire. An all-consuming fire exploded between them, taking their near-frenzied lovemaking to heights neither dared dream of.

Blake lifted her easily to him and Katrina wrapped her strong legs about his waist. As he carried her to the bed, her fingers ran through his hair and moved to feel his face, leaving no feature untouched. When Blake’s lips left hers, Katrina bit and nibbled, driving him mad as he tortured her in return. His tongue teased her sensitive nipples, and the fullness of them made him wild. She arched her back in order to get closer to him, pleading for him to take her, his hard shaft rubbing along her delicate flesh, arousing her beyond endurance. Katrina pulled Blake to her, her desperate need for him unbearable.

Unable to hold off any longer, Blake plunged deep within her soft moistness, the warmth of her sending shivers through him, the tightness nearly causing him to lose control.

As Blake’s hardness filled her completely, Katrina gasped; the sensation beyond description as she raised her hips to bring him closer, plunging him deeper within. Nothing in the whole world existed to them but each other. Blake’s rhythm increased as he drove further and further into her, bringing her to the point of fulfillment.

Katrina’s nails dug into his back as she exploded with delightful rapture. Wave upon wave of pleasure shattered through her, causing her to moan in ecstasy as every part of her trembled from the ultimate passion.

When Blake felt her climax, his own release flowed from him, his whole being shaking as he strained against Katrina, filling her with his seed.

They lay weak and shaken in each other arms, the ultimate lovemaking they had just experienced beyond words. Violence, desperation, hate, and anger, combined with passion, love, tenderness, and desire, created a joining neither of them would ever forget.

“Oh, God — I love him. How can I face a life without him?” Katrina’s silent plea floated across her mind before sleep overtook her, still tucked in Blake’s arms.

I
T WAS STILL DARK
when Blake woke up, his mind muddled by the drink he had consumed, but somewhat clearer than it had been earlier. He quietly slid from the large canopied bed. He looked down at Katrina, still sound asleep. His lips curled in distaste and he mumbled bitterly, “You look like an angel, little one, with your hair spread about you in a golden halo, your face so sweet and innocent. But we both know different, don’t we? Tonight you played the whore so well, I find it difficult to leave, but I must.”

After he dressed, Blake started to leave but paused at the balcony doors. Instead, he walked back to the table by the bed and tossed a generous amount of coin onto it. He hesitated then removed the ring Katrina had given him and laid it next to the money. “Goodbye, Katrina. I pray we never meet again.”

Chapter Twenty-three

T
REVOR WALKED INTO HIS
bedroom, loneliness already descending upon him. The vision of Katrina waving good-bye was imprinted vividly on his mind; the feel of her soft lips still lingered on his own. Trevor wanted to go with them, but she insisted she must return to England alone, with Li her only companion. He conceded; he had no right to interfere in her life any more. Because he loved her, Trevor let her go and hoped she could find the happiness she deserved.

He poured himself a drink and wearily crossed to his bed, its comfort inviting. It would be dawn soon and he needed some sleep. When he set his empty glass aside, he spotted the note sitting on the nightstand. Trevor picked it up — it was from Chin Li. Curious, he read the carefully penned note.

“Oh, my God,” Trevor muttered out loud, “What have I allowed you to return to, my dearest Katrina?”

It took him several minutes to read the pages and with each line he read, Trevor felt more afraid. Li wrote of all the things Katrina confided to her during their voyage, explaining Katrina’s tortured past. He understood now the hatred she spoke of, and the revenge she sought. Now he knew of the secrets Katrina could not tell.

He reread the last lines of the letter, running his hand worriedly through his hair.

You must find Blake Roberts and tell him what I have told you, Trevor. Make your friend understand how wrong he has been about Katrina and how much she needs him. Katrina may never forgive me for betraying her confidence, but if it keeps her from danger I will have no regrets. Please, I beg you, go to Blake — Katrina and her son need him.

— Katrina’s friend and yours, Chin Li

Carefully, Trevor refolded the letter and placed it inside his shirt. Grimly, he stood and left to find Blake.

B
ALMY AND CLEAR, STARS
flickered bright and shiny against the night sky. The moon pale, colorless, lit the darkness with a soft glow. Trevor rode up to the tavern nestled among the buildings making up the small village on the island. He reined his horse in front of the inn and slid off.

When Trevor entered, several men hailed him merrily and invited him to share some ale with them. He declined politely and searched the busy pub. He stopped when his eyes clashed with Blake’s hard gold ones. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and sat down across from Blake, who appeared at ease as he puffed on a cheroot. But Trevor was more than aware of the smoldering anger swirling about him, much like the smoke hanging heavy in the crowded room. He saw from Blake’s glazed look he had been drinking heavily and when he spoke, his words were slightly slurred and clumsy.

“If you know what is best, Trevor, you will leave.”

“I have come to speak with you, and I’ll not be leaving until I do so.” Trevor replied, calm in the face of his friend’s threat. Despite Blake’s drunken state, Trevor remained cautiously aware of the other man’s barely-controlled fury.

Blake sneered, “I have nothing to talk to you about.”

“Well, I do,” growled Trevor, his patience gone. “I have some important facts you’re going to listen to whether you want to or not, you bastard.”

Blake let out a furious howl and leapt across the table at him. He tackled Trevor and everyone turned alarmed, yet curious eyes toward the sudden display of violence. Both Blake and Trevor fell heavily to the floor, table and chairs thrown about like pieces of kindling as they scrambled about for their footing.

Blake landed a hard blow to Trevor’s chin and he staggered backward. Regaining his balance, Trevor charged like a bull, all his anger now released. He caught Blake in the midsection with his shoulder, lifted the taller man from the floor and slammed him against the wall with force. They hit so hard everything hanging upon it tumbled down with a clatter about them. Blake and Trevor fell together and rolled about on the dirty, rough planking.

The patrons of the bar saw how evenly matched the two men were, despite the stranger’s generous consumption of ale before the fight started, it made him reckless, dangerous. On the other hand, all knew of Trevor’s occupation as a pirate, his reputation fierce and well-deserved. Bets placed, each rooted for his favorite, enjoying the fracas interrupting an otherwise boring evening of drink.

Blake grabbed Trevor, hefting him over the bar headfirst into the barrels of ale and wine lined against the wall, scattering them in every direction. Trevor picked himself up and, all reason gone, climbed up on the bar and lunged at Blake. The cruel words Blake yelled at Katrina echoed in his mind, adding fuel to his fire. Trevor remembered the pain in her eyes, and each time his fist struck Blake, he experienced a wave of pure joy and satisfaction.

A different emotion ruled Blake as he struggled with the man he had always considered to be a good friend. Since he discovered Katrina alive, ugly visions haunted him, visions he could not cope with in a rational manner. In his mind, he visualized Trevor and Katrina, their bodies entwined as they made love. The worst form of torture, it tore at him, ripped and clawed like a vicious animal, shredding his vulnerable heart into pieces to be slowly, agonizingly devoured. With each blow struck, he cursed the lying whore who possessed him, as if in some way this burst of violence would exorcise her from his mind.

The two men grew weary, their movements slow and clumsy, both breathing heavily as they labored to stay afoot. Trevor faced his opponent and he grabbed hold of Blake, reason beginning to return as his fighting anger eased.

“You’re as stubborn as you are foolish. I should just leave you here and go after Katrina myself.”

Blake paused; Trevor’s words seeped through the haze of pain and fury, a feeling of dread now surfacing in its stead. “What do you mean, go after her? Isn’t she at your place?”

Trevor shook his head, ending the fight. “I think we should go there now. We have some talking to do, Blake. It’s time for you to listen and, for a change stop jumping to unfounded conclusions like an idiot.”

Without waiting for an answer, Trevor turned and walked away. Blake followed him home in sullen silence.

Trevor walked inside and barked orders to the servants who waited for his return. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the second floor landing before Blake burst into the hall, his annoyance apparent. When Blake reached Trevor’s room, he found two tubs set up. Already half-stripped, Trevor struggled with his leather boots. Something akin to a growl erupted from Blake, making the servants scatter nervously and disappear from the room.

“You had best start explaining yourself, Trevor. My patience has run out.”

Seeming not to have heard him, Trevor tugged his breeches off and stepped into the tub of steaming water. He settled back allowing the warmth to ease his strained and bruised muscles. With a long sigh, Trevor motioned to the other tub.

“You are filthy, Blake. I will explain as we wash.
The Sea Hawk
will be ready to sail by dusk.”

A sudden tiredness crept over Blake and he ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration. Seeing Blake’s uncertainty, Trevor spoke again. “You trusted me before, old friend, so trust me now.”

Blake stood for a long moment. Perhaps Trevor was right — he had to trust someone. The least he could do was listen, he owed his long-time friend this much. So, he stripped down and climbed into the second tub and waited for Trevor to continue.

“Katrina is on her way back to England. It seems she kept secrets from both of us, but Chin Li had the good sense to write and tell me everything. Katrina
was
kidnapped, Blake, and by the men you believed had taken her. It seems they were paid by her uncle, Lawrence Langsford. He intended they kill her.”

Confused, Blake demanded, “Langsford? Why the hell would he do such a thing?”