Angel in Black (48 page)

He refused to leave her and continued to nurse her through the long days and nights, never ceasing to speak comforting words of love. During the long vigil, she relived old memories, and Blake’s heart broke as he listened to the agony she had kept inside of her for so long. Blake’s blood ran cold when Katrina’s screams filled the silent room.

Never before had Blake understood Katrina’s feelings and thoughts so well, her fevered mind taking them both into her private world of dread and dreams. He now understood how delicate a balance there was between love and hate in her difficult life.

To Katrina, time did not exist; only the endless pain held any reality. Faces floated before her exhausted eyes, she couldn’t tell reality from imagined memories. She was a child again … no … it was hard to remember.

“Papa,” cried Katrina. “Papa —”

Blake roused from his fitful sleep and stroked her cheek. “Shhh — little one, I am here.”

Relieved, she smiled and muttered, “Papa … I am so tired.”

“Sleep, little one, I will not go anywhere.”

Katrina closed her eyes again and fell into a disturbed slumber, visions and memories clamoring about her fevered mind. Blake closed his eyes and listened to her incoherent mumbling.

“Oh, Katrina, I should have known the first time I laid eyes on you I would lose my heart to you.” His mind wandered back to the time he first saw her riding Blackstar, the two of them leaving Windsong, horse and rider like a whirlwind on the road. Anger and mistrust touched so much of their past, but there were moments of happiness and immense passion as well. Never before had a woman aroused him so, the power she wielded over him leaving him helpless to her will.

A low moan brought Blake from his reverie. When his eyes flew open, he saw Katrina as she was now, feverish and near death, bruised and slashed from Randolph’s brutality. Anger filled him again when he thought of what that bastard did to her. Had he not been dead already, Blake would have moved heaven and earth to kill him.

Revenge — hadn’t Katrina wanted the same? Hadn’t she been willing to move heaven and earth to see Lawrence destroyed?

Thoughts continued to resound in his mind, colliding with one another as he stared at her sleeping face.

“You would have faced the devil himself to see Langsford dead,” breathed Blake, understanding shattering through him. “You did fight the devil, little one, and because of my interference, you lie here, near death. You took the bullet meant for me.” Tears choked Blake, misting his eyes until he could not see. “Katrina, don’t die.”

Katrina’s eyes opened; a faraway look in them as she spoke in her dreamlike state. “We live in fear of the pain in death, but we were born to die.”

She stared into Blake’s tear-filled eyes and continued, “I am not afraid, so you needn’t be, my love. Do you think they were afraid?”

Confused, Blake asked, “Who, Katrina? Who was afraid?”

She spoke with a strange calmness, but he could tell she was still in a fevered delirium. “The men I have killed. Do you think they were afraid to die?”

Not expecting an answer, she kept talking, more to herself than to Blake. “I killed the first at the inn. They were going to hurt me and I had no choice — I couldn’t bear to have them touch me.”

He closed his eyes, reliving the horror of it with her.

“The second man … his name was Willy.”

Blake listened quietly as Katrina chattered on. “I felt nothing when I shot him, no regret … nothing. But, the third, Randolph, my
husband
… he deserved to die.”

Her eyes widened and she grabbed at his shirt. “When I struck him with the poker and he fell dead, I experienced pleasure. I was glad he would never beat and rape another woman again.”

Something gripped Blake’s heart, fear creeping into his weary mind, his voice speaking the thoughts he had been terrified to acknowledge. “Did he rape you, Katrina?”

She shook her head, “No … he tried … he beat me … whipped me … b-but he did not make me his wife.”

Katrina started to shake, violent chills wracked her. Her teeth chattered, yet her face perspired heavily from the fever still burning within. “I k-killed … Langsford … the only o-one I had … I had w-wanted to kill. He is dead … isn’t he?”

A look of panic crossed her haunted eyes but disappeared just as quickly. “Y-Yes … I remember … d-dead … yes.”

She continued to babble hysterically as Blake wrapped blankets around her to stop her shivering. “Papa … I … k-killed him … just as … I p-promised.”

Katrina shook so hard, Blake feared her wound would start bleeding again. He crawled into bed; hoping he could warm her. He held her close and slowly, the violent chills eased. They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

S
UNSHINE FILTERED THROUGH THE
small window pane, shedding light onto Katrina’s face. She blinked her eyes open and her vision adjusted to see Blake slumped in a chair next to her bed, his face unshaven and ragged. The fever broken, her mind cleared. She made no sound but continued to watch him sleep, realizing he had remained by her side during her recovery. Lost in thought, it took a second before she realized his eyes were now open and he returned her gaze.

Smiling shyly, Katrina whispered hoarsely, “You look exhausted — and in dire need of a shave.”

A sigh escaped Blake and he closed his eyes in a moment of relief. He grasped her hands and touched his lips to them sweetly. “Oh, little one, you have had me scared to death for over a week. Thank God the fever is gone.”

His soft lips sent shivers through Katrina, and her heart beat faster. Unable to think of anything else to say, she muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Surprised, Blake glanced up. “Sorry? My God, Katrina — because of me, you were shot. You saved my life.”

“You saved my life once … I owed you.”

“You have never owed me anything, Katrina,” Blake said, kissing her again. “You have given me so much and I have given you nothing but pain in return. Can you ever forgive me my foolishness?”

Confusion welled up inside of her, choking her. “Forgive you? No … I cannot. There is too much pain inside of me, so much I cannot forget.” Katrina’s voice grew strained, her eyes reflected her turmoil. “I love you — I always have, I cannot deny it, no more than I could deny the hate I felt for Langsford.”

Stunned, Blake pleaded, “You say you love me, yet you can’t forgive me. What do you want from me, Katrina? I’ve admitted how wrong I’ve been. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” she declared. “No, it’s not enough. You must show me you care — you must prove you are worthy of my love.”

A sudden surge of frustration shook him and Blake looked away. “What is this? A test? What the hell must I do?”

“It is all so simple to you.” Katrina’s head pounded fiercely and she closed her eyes tiredly. Weakly, she pulled her hands from his and whispered, “All I have to do is say
I forgive you
and everything will be all right again. No, Blake, there is too much separating us, too much unhappiness. Three simple words will not make it right again. It is for us to do by actions, not words, and only time will heal the wounds you have inflicted.”

Immediately contrite, Blake changed the subject. “You should rest now. I’ll bring you something to eat — you must be starved.”

Before she had time to answer, Blake left, and Katrina experienced twinges of regret. “Why couldn’t I just say the words he needed to hear?” she asked herself, but her exhaustion won out and sleep overtook her before she could consider an answer.

D
URING THE NEXT TWO
days, Katrina spent most of her time sleeping and eating. It wasn’t until the third day she had the strength to sit up in bed.

“You are looking much better today.”

Katrina turned a happy smile to David who stood in the doorway to the room. Patting the side of the bed, she said, “Come, sit and visit a while. Everyone else seems to be occupied.”

David laughed, happy to see the color in her cheeks, and the sparkle light her eyes once again. “How can I resist such a tempting offer?”

The sound of Katrina’s laughter drifted to Blake when he entered the small cottage. He thought it nice to hear her laughing and crossed to the bedroom door anxious to see her. But he halted before entering, the door ajar enough to see David sitting close to her.

“Tell me, David, what have you been doing in the last year?”

The lieutenant gave her a handsome smile and answered, “I have what I consider to be wonderful news. I’ve been waiting until things calmed down to tell you.”

David’s words were lost on Blake as he chided himself for the jealousy springing up inside of him and turned away from the tender scene.

“I have met a wonderful woman, Katrina, and we plan to be married soon,” David announced.

Surprise lit Katrina’s face. “Oh, David,” she exclaimed happily, her hand caressing his face tenderly.

Katrina’s soft cry caused Blake to turn back, and as he witnessed her loving gesture, his gut tightened into a painful knot.

“Married — when?”

Delighted by Katrina’s reaction, David took her hand into his. Blake stood mesmerized by what he heard.

David answered, “We will be married as soon as you are well.”

A sudden roaring in his ears kept Blake from hearing further.

“You will come, won’t you?”

“Yes,” she said joyfully. “Yes, I will.”

David leaned forward and kissed Katrina ever so tenderly on the lips and whispered, “You showed me there are times we must allow our hearts to rule our actions. Had I not met you to learn this, I might not have listened to my heart when I met Elizabeth. I would not know the happiness she has brought into my life and is yet to bring to our future together. You are a special lady, and I will always love you as my friend.”

“And I will always love you as mine,” replied Katrina.

Blake could not hear their soft words, but he could certainly see the gentle kiss and Katrina’s words still echoed in his mind. “Yes. Yes, I will.” He turned and left the cottage, slamming the door behind him.

It couldn’t be, he thought. Katrina said she would marry David.

Anger and pain flooded over him, choking Blake as he walked to Hera. It was true — he had seen and heard it with his own eyes and ears.

It was true.

Chapter Twenty-nine

F
IVE WEEKS HAD PASSED
since Blake’s sudden and unexplained departure. Katrina tried to hide her turmoil, but no one could help but see her pain and confusion. David had corresponded with the King and explained everything that had happened to Katrina. His generosity was unending and he returned Camray and all other properties to her; Katrina Easton was now a wealthy woman. She had finally achieved what she promised her father, but there was no joy in it.

David remained with her during her convalescence and finally consented to her returning home. But Katrina remained at Camray only one night, taking care of the most urgent matters at hand, leaving Jake, Jenny, and John in charge. It was late when she and David arrived in London, so they got rooms at an inn, waiting until morning to go to the townhouse.

The next morning she insisted David go see his fiancé, she could manage the short trip on her own. When the carriage pulled up to the house, Katrina grew nervous from excitement, emotional from longing; she’d missed Jason so much. She had been told Blake remained at Windsong, so Katrina knew she would not see him — though she could not tell if she was thankful or disappointed by the reprieve. For the moment, her thoughts remained on Jason. She wanted to take him home — home to Camray. Perhaps later, when settled, she could think about Blake Roberts.

When the door opened, a smiling butler led her into the large sitting room and left to tell Lady Rebecca of Katrina’s return. Large double doors stood open and allowed a gentle breeze to fill the room. Delicate scents from the garden teased Katrina’s senses as her eyes took pleasure in the well-groomed flowers and shrubs outside. She stepped out onto the patio to examine the beauty close up, but was distracted when the front door opened and slammed shut.

When Blake entered the room, Katrina froze, unprepared for his presence, her heart racing wildly in her chest. Unaware she stood just outside the patio doors; Blake walked across the room and poured a cool drink from a pitcher sitting on the table. He was dressed handsomely in brown doeskin riding breeches and jacket, and a snowy white shirt open in front. It was apparent he had been riding; his hair mussed and eyes sparkled like the sun. As he stripped his jacket off and tossed it on the settee, Katrina caught a hint of his masculine scent. The realization the mere sight of him aroused her brought a blush to her cheeks.

Her thoughts were interrupted when someone pounded on the front door. The butler came down the stairs to answer and Catherine Ramsey rushed in, also dressed in riding clothes, her face flushed and angry.

“Where is he?” she asked impolitely.

The butler remained stiff and aloof. “To whom are you referring, Lady Ramsey?”

Her temper flared and Catherine narrowed snapping green eyes and snipped, “You know damn well to whom I am referring, and don’t tell me he is not here, because I followed him on his morning ride.”