The Solemn Bell(17)

Sinking down onto the pallet beside her, he said, “If I’m to call you Angelica, then you must surely call me Brody.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.”

He snuggled up behind her. “Why not?”

“Because it is not how I was brought up.”

His arms encircled her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. His body felt so large compared to hers. He could snap her like a twig, if he wished to. It was both a frightening and disturbingly arousing prospect.

“If you’re woman enough to consider taking a lover, you ought to be woman enough to call a man by his Christian name. Mine happens to be Broderick—but anyone who knows me calls me Brody.”

It had not occurred to her that he had friends, family, and a world outside these walls. He had a life, completely separate from hers. One that, in about five hours, he would return to.

Captain Broderick Neill was no cad. He wasn’t going to deflower a girl he never intended to see again. In her heart, she knew that was his reason for turning her down. He was not coming back. There would be no ‘next time’.

If he did not want her precious gift of virginity, in seven more years, another man would come along. Perhaps he would be more amenable.

Too bad for Captain Neill, who’d missed his chance.

She liked being in his arms, though. She’d been denied human contact for so long. It was the sweetest blessing to simply lay with him, to feel his firm chest against her back, and his warm breath on her neck. She felt safe. She felt treasured. If their friendship never led to anything more, Angelica was grateful for these few uninterrupted moments of bliss.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





Holding Angelica Grey was the sweetest torture. Knowing he could have her—knowing she wanted him just as desperately—yet denying them both the connection they craved, wrecked him. It was damned bad timing for his conscience to suddenly make an appearance. Miss Grey was not the sort of girl one took rudely on a kitchen floor. Certainly not on the first night.

She deserved a bed, with clean sheets and soft, feather tick.

She deserved a ring on her finger.

These days, people so rarely got what they deserved. Instead, they had to make shift with what they could get, and somehow look for happiness—or, rather, contentment—in their meagre lot. He was no worthy husband for her, though Brody felt, with every passing moment, that he was falling in love with her.

He wanted to love her. To hope that she could love him just a little. To believe that he did not have to face his life alone. But, if he was going to love her, to be worthy of her, he could not be sick anymore.

Brody was going to have to do the one thing he dreaded. And he was going to have to do it on his own.

Brushing her dark hair off her shoulder, he pressed his lips to her neck. “Angelica.”

She stirred. “Hmm?”

“You know I’m going to have to leave soon.”

“Is it morning?”

He kissed her again. “Almost.”

“Then I wish this night would never end.”

“Me, too.” Brody eased her onto her back. He fanned his hand across her cheek, trailed her jawline, and then sloped down her soft, white neck. He felt a vein pulse in her throat, rhythmically reminding him how long it had been since his last injection. He’d been a slave to the morphine for too long. Now, he wanted to be enslaved by her. “I will come back.”

Her translucent blue eyes bore into him as she whispered, “You don’t have to make that promise.”

“It’s the only one I’ve ever made that I honestly intend to keep.”

She smiled, sadly. “Well then, you know where to find me.”

Brody kissed her squarely on the mouth. She did not believe him, and it broke his heart. He needed to convince her that this wasn’t some passing infatuation. He had to prove that his commitment was real, otherwise, she might not wait forever.

He tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth, urging her to open her mouth. When she did, he touched his tongue to hers.

She moaned at the sensation, and he nearly died. How could he leave such a woman? Although she lived in perpetual darkness, his shadow-angel burned with passion. She did not deserve to be hidden, to be denied a full, love-rich life. Not only was he going to return to her, but he was going to take her away from this place.

For the moment, though, he wanted to make her spark.

He broke their kiss to trail his lips down her throat, nipping at the sensitive place where her pulse raced. Angelica arched up against him, gasping as teeth met tender flesh. Shocked, she clamped her own hand to her mouth.

Brody dragged it away. She had been quiet for too long. If she wanted to cry out, then—by God—she should do it. She could scream the rafters down for all he cared.

He brought her trembling hand to his lips. After reverently kissing each fingertip, he placed it on his shoulder for support. He wanted her to touch him. He needed her to touch him, if only to anchor him to the blankets beside her.

She fisted the fabric of his shirt. “Oh, Captain Neill.”

The need in her voice spurred him on. This woman had been neglected for too long. He refused to let her pass one more night believing she was alone in the world.

Brody kissed her again, hard. His lips were bruising and insistent. She opened her mouth, and he invaded her. Claimed her. He dipped his tongue to touch hers. She tasted warm and sweet. They were both starved for one another.