Angel in Black (6 page)

The strong wine worked its heady magic, and the bitterness of the cheap brew faded as Blake drank, lost in the gay music and dance. A pretty young gypsy girl swayed seductively to the beat, twisted and turned, holding Blake’s gaze. Absorbed in watching her, he did not notice the approaching black horse, much less its rider.

Rina slid off Blackstar and greeted her friends joyfully. Dressed like the gypsy women, Rina wore a full skirt and peasant top, her feet bare and hair tucked into a colorful scarf. Proud, she showed off her outfit, a gift of the camp when made an honorary daughter of the Roma people. An older man, the king of their clan, grabbed Rina in a powerful bear hug. Laughing, Jaco swung her high into the air as if she were a small child, delighted she came to their gathering.

He smiled fondly at her, letting her feet settle to the ground. It had been three years since Rina first arrived at their camp, when a fever ran rampant among them. It was a dark time and none dared help — no one, except this amazing little girl.

Jaco stared into Rina’s laughing, gentle eyes and remembered. Her knowledge and dedication surprised the older man and his people. Rina stayed for seven weeks, caring for the sick, living in the back of a wagon, unable to return to her village for fear of spreading the sickness. Her work was exhausting, yet she never tired. Some died under her care and Rina faithfully buried them, her own words their only epitaph. Finally, the fever ended, thanks to the Lord and this good woman. They owed her their lives, and yet she asked for nothing in return. Jaco was proud to consider her one of their family.

“Rina, I am so glad you are here. Now we can celebrate!” Grabbing her small face in his large hands, he kissed her soundly on both cheeks and pulled her into another mighty hug, this one leaving her breathless. The gaiety and joy lightened her spirits and her laughter joined with theirs. As she sat sipping the wine, all problems clouding her mind disappeared with the wisps of smoke rising from the fire.

Slowly, the music wove its spell, its beat coursing through Rina, causing her pulse to quicken. Intent on the jubilant dancers, she felt someone’s eyes on her. Uneasy, she looked about for the source. Rina’s heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat. Unprepared for her physical response to the stranger on the hilltop, Rina’s world tumbled in confusion; the dark, red drink she consumed garbled her thoughts further.

Golden eyes locked with deep blue ones.

Blake clearly saw the bewilderment his presence caused her, but considering his own reaction to seeing her again, he failed to completely comprehend either. His physical attraction to the woman was undeniable, but deep inside he felt there was something more. She was different — she was special. How he knew this was a total mystery. Like a drowning man, the dark blue pools he stared into drew him deeper and deeper into their depths; he was unable to save himself from what lay ahead.

Rina remained silent and still, hypnotized by the blazing gold eyes containing more heat than the fire reflected in them. They consumed her, bold and intimate, leaving her strangely excited. A strong sensation stirred deep within and warmed her blood. The wine, the thrill, the desire, all worked on Rina’s defenses, weakening them dangerously, making her feel wickedly wanton.

“Hey, little girl — will you honor us this night? It has been a long time since we last saw you dance.” Jaco’s hearty laughter filled the air and he pulled Rina from her place on the ground, not giving her the chance to deny him. The others shouted encouragement and the violins began a rhythmic wail; inviting her, beseeching her to the music. Rina’s head filled with the sound and she began the romantic, passionate steps so familiar to the gypsies. She slowly swayed, the beat taking over, willing her to do its biding.

Hungry eyes followed her every move as she sensuously twisted to the violins haunting sound. Aware he watched her, Rina felt pleased and dared move closer to the danger he represented. Her skirts swirled up daringly around her thighs to reveal the long length of her legs to his scrutiny. Her blouse slid off one shoulder and bared her skin to his ardent gaze. The scarf came untied and her hair tumbled down into a cascade of gold, the fires light bringing the curls to life.

Rina found herself dancing for the stranger, seeing only his among the faces. No one else existed but the man with the fire in his eyes. Faster and faster she whirled until the music finally reached a frenzied climax and ended.

Everyone stilled, mesmerized, entranced by the sudden silence. All at once, they broke into applause and laughter, the camp showing their appreciation for her talent. One of the younger men bewitched by Rina’s seductive moves pulled her into his arms. Before he could steal a kiss, the flicker of steel stopped him, the cold blade put to his throat. The passion in his eyes fled, as did his daring.

Rina twisted from his grasp and spoke to him softly. “Do not try this again, or you may regret it.”

Cautious, yet confident, she removed the knife. She tucked it back into its hiding place and walked away. He shrugged his shoulders at her fickleness and the would-be seducer soon forgot Rina, replacing her with a willing young woman who was eager to please.

Across the way, Jaco shook his head at the encounter; the young man should have had better sense than to take on the high-spirited Rina. The little girl had grown into a beautiful woman and certainly would not be so easy to tame. Jaco envied the man she allowed into her bed and supple arms.

Blake also watched her encounter with the amorous gypsy and could not keep the smile from his face. His interest piqued, he tried to work his way over to her. He found himself attracted to this slip of a girl who could handle a knife so well. But when he reached her, a group of jubilant dancers swept her away, and Blake found himself surrounded by the women, diverting his attention from his golden girl.

The evening flew by as the wine flowed generously and the gaiety filled the night. Rina said her good-nights to Jaco and the others. A touch light-headed from the wine, she started for Blackstar, anxious for home and sleep. It had been a long day, and she was weary. Perhaps she would sleep well tonight, undisturbed by haunting nightmares. Swaying slightly, Rina steadied herself against Blackstar, unaware of the man who approached her from behind.

Blake silently slipped an arm around her, careful to grab her wrists before she could reach for her knife. He pulled her into his strong arms and Rina gasped at his sudden, bold move. Before she could speak, Blake flashed a charming smile, disarming her as he whispered in her ear, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

A chill passed through Rina, his breath warm, tickling her neck. The pleasant smell of him filled her senses; her mind fuzzy from drink. His mere presence excited her, clouded her reason. His lips brushed against her neck, the caress leaving a trail of fire that caused her breath to catch in her throat.

“I am Blake Roberts.” His voice remained soft, sensual.

Rina’s mind dissolved into a mass of jumbled thoughts, yet, to her own amazement, she managed to reply, much calmer than she felt, “I am Rina.”

“Rina,” he repeated, “you are so beautiful. I have been unable to get you from my mind since seeing you four days ago. You have haunted me — bewitched me completely. Are you a witch, or a woman?”

Without waiting for an answer, Blake brought his lips to hers, stealing a passionate, demanding kiss. Desperate, she tried to fight the feelings spreading through her like a wild fire. Her erratic heart thumped so hard within her chest, it was painful. A battle between her body and mind played out inside her. When Blake released her wrists, without understanding or logical thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips clinging to his, her hands cradling his head in an intimate way.

Blake drank deeply of Rina’s yielding, sweet mouth, feeling her form mold itself to his, her curves soft against his hard muscles. She trembled and when he pulled away, he read the uncertainty in her eyes. In that brief moment, she looked frail and alone, so unlike the spirited, knife-wielding vixen he had witnessed earlier.

“I have to go,” whispered Rina, confusion as to what she truly wanted in her voice.

Blake, on the other hand, knew what he wanted, and it was
not
to let her go. He wanted this woman with so much ferocity and passion it disturbed him. Yet common sense prevailed; he knew he could not take her here.

“You should not be out riding alone, little one,” he answered, already regretting his decision. “I will take you home.”

Gently, he rubbed a finger down her lovely cheek, her eyes fluttering closed at his touch. With a sigh, he mounted Hera and lifted Rina in front of him. She said nothing, but his body immediately reacted to her warmth snuggled close against him. He gritted his teeth and thought how unbearable the ride would be. Resigned, Blake grabbed Blackstar’s reins and started in the direction she pointed.

Sounds of the night drifted to them as the horses clomped down the road to Tattershall. Rina tried to think clearly, but the wine still dulled her thoughts and she could not still her reaction to the closeness of Blake Roberts. Unwillingly, she relaxed against his wide chest; strong arms wrapped tightly about her waist making her feel safe. It surprised Rina how comfortable she was, and immediately chided herself for trusting a total stranger. She should not have allowed any of this to happen, and she wondered what he would do when they reached Tattershall.

Her eyes widened in apprehension and she furtively glanced at Blake, thinking, “Surely, he would not …” All too soon, they reached the small village, Blackstar loyally following his mistress. Once they were inside the horse’s small shelter, Blake gently kissed her again.

“Another time,” Blake said, sending her inside to bed. She looked more like an innocent child than the wild, enticing woman she had been earlier. He watched her disappear into her home and immediately wished to hold her in his arms again. With a deep sigh, Blake tended to the stallion and headed for his own empty bed, to dream of his dancing, golden girl.

B
LAKE ENJOYED THE TIME
he had left with his grandfather, each moment spent together savored. But, when alone, his thoughts would fixate on the lovely Rina. A beautiful, sunny morning, Blake rode out on Hera, not having a destination in mind. Somehow, he found himself staring out into a field, watching Rina as she worked. Concealed by the trees, he spied on her and wondered what compelled him to do such an odd thing. He had no idea; he only knew he needed to see her again.

As he looked on, Blake noticed a big, blond fellow, not much older than Rina, but a man who never left her side. He observed the way she touched his arm and smiled tenderly at what he said. The longer Blake watched the two young people, the angrier he became. Like a poisonous snake, jealousy twisted inside his gut, the serpent’s venom so potent he could no longer bear to watch them. He turned Hera back toward Windsong and rode like a madman with hope of ridding himself of the insane rage consuming him. To purge himself of this unrealistic need for a woman he barely knew, a woman who meant nothing to him.

When he arrived at the estate, Ryon met his brother and told him their grandfather was asking for him. Blake rushed upstairs and entered the room quietly. Lord Roberts lay still as Blake pulled the chair closer to the bed.

“How are you today? Didn’t you sleep well?” Concern filled Blake as he watched his grandfather’s irregular, shallow breathing.

“I am tired,” said Lord Roberts. “Stay with me, Blake. It’s the last time we will have to spend together.”

Blake took his grandfather’s hand and tried to control the overwhelming emotions inside of him. He lost the battle as tears filled his eyes and he choked back a sob.

“I don’t want you to grieve for me, son.” Lord Roberts wearily patted Blake’s face; his grandson’s tears a rare sight. “I want no long mourning period in this home. There is no need for all of you to stop living because an old man has left you. Promise me after I’m buried you will continue on as you always have. No black dresses for Rebecca — she is a new mother and should not be forced to wear somber clothes and mourn for a year.”

“I promise, Grandpa,” agreed Blake, wiping his tears away.

Blake stayed by his grandfather’s side, talking with him until the old man fell asleep. Ryon and Rebecca sat with them for a while then quietly left sometime in the night. Soon after, as Blake slept in the chair by his bed, Lord Roberts passed away. Blake awoke abruptly, alert to the sudden stillness in the room, and in the privacy of the night, he grieved for his grandfather.

T
HE FUNERAL OVER AND
the people gone, Blake stood alone to say his farewell to the man he loved and admired. He walked to the door of the church and looked, one more time, at the grave laden with flowers.

Rina reined Blackstar to a halt and slid off his back, a single red rose in her hand. Seeing no one around, she entered the graveyard and walked over to the freshly dug grave where Lord Roberts now lay. Unaware Blake stood inside the church doorway, Rina spoke.

“I will miss you dearly, Lord Roberts. You were a good friend and a kind man. Windsong will not be the same without your presence.” Rina knelt and placed the flower on the mound. She turned to leave but stopped, someone watched her. Glancing about, she spotted Blake standing in the shadows. Rina remembered the night at the gypsy camp and blushed, the memory of his lips on hers vivid and disturbing.

Blake also remembered; how she danced for him, sensuous and enchanting. He dreamed of her and longed to possess her completely. Blake started to take a step toward her but stopped when Ryon called to him from inside the church.

Rina turned and fled the cemetery. As Ryon came up beside Blake, Rina bolted past them on Blackstar and raced down the lane for home, and the safety it provided. This made Blake smile, certain a cowardly retreat was not normal to her nature.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Blake nodded agreement. “Did she know Grandpa?”