The Solemn Bell(21)

It never came.

She never came.

Instead, her stranger-lover hissed, his voice tight with disgust, “I can’t finish while you’re looking at me with them dead eyes.”

Angelica squeezed her eyelids shut, but he clamped a calloused, sweating palm over her face anyway. She was repulsive. He blocked out her features so that he did not have to see. Her blank, useless eyes turned his stomach.

The man mounted her hard now, practically lifting her off the table with every thrust. Angelica gritted her teeth and took it. He did not mean to hurt her, but he did not intend to please her, either. Three more long strokes of his hips, and he held himself deep inside her. With a curse and a shout, he claimed his release.

Then, some time afterward, he withdrew.





***





The intruder continued to visit her. Angelica welcomed it—anything to keep the emptiness at bay. In the beginning, she’d thought that, perhaps, she was not the kind of woman who could casually entertain a man. Not let some stranger touch her, and act like it meant nothing.

She was wrong.

Angelica learned to make love many different ways—him on top, her on top, him behind her, with her on her knees. In all the places a man could copulate with a woman. She looked forward to her intruder’s visits, though she got no physical pleasure from them. Usually, she finished herself, crying out Captain Neill’s name into the blackness.

She might have cried out her new lover’s name, but she’d never learned it.

He’d never bothered to ask hers, either.

Not that it mattered. All they ever did together was strip and fuck—he’d taught her that word, too. Night after night, her intruder got his pleasure, and she spent an hour less of her life alone. Neither of them asked for anything more. No talk of love, no empty promises.

Angelica felt liberated by her base need for a man’s touch. She craved the filthy things her lover did to her, the things he taught her to do to him. Things Captain Neill would’ve never taught her, because he believed her too sweet and good to lift her arse in the air and beg to taken.

Sometimes, she wondered what he might think of her now—if he knew what she’d been up to—but then she would wrap her legs around her lover’s driving hips, thanking God she’d never meet Captain Broderick Neill again.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





Brody pulled to a stop at the gate. He was so excited to finally see her that he nearly dropped the key. It had been too long, and he hoped Angelica wouldn’t be cross with him for making her wait.

He’d prove to her it was worth it. When she realized how well he was, she’d be thrilled. She’d be so proud of him. Together, they’d make a fresh start.

The iron gate cried on its hinges as he walked it wide enough for the Bentley to pass through. Then, Brody drove up to the house. The moon sat high in the sky, illuminating the same ivy-clad walls and dark, mullioned windows as before. He stood by his original observation—it was a beautiful, old house that needed only a little love and a lot of money to become a home once again. Someday, perhaps, it could be their home. For now, though, he wanted to show Angelica the world.

Brody’s heart thumped in double-time as he entered the house. His sweetheart would be in her kitchen, snug on her little pallet in front of the stove. She might even be asleep. He planned to wake her with a kiss. What a shock she’d get! She would wrap her arms around him and squeal with delight. He would hold her until she knew he would never, ever leave her again.

His eyes weren’t quite adjusted to the dark, but he found the servants’ corridor easily enough. Then, he descended the creaking kitchen steps, remembering how she’d barred the door from his demons. Brody did not carry the Devil anymore. He’d bucked him months ago.

Searching the dim space, he found Angelica in front of the stove, toweling off her hair. When she heard his boots touch the slate tile floor, she turned to face him.

“I didn’t expect—” She stopped herself mid-sentence. A look of pained confusion slashed across her beautiful face.

In Brody’s deepest, darkest dreams, he’d never forgot how blue her eyes were, but, to see them now—finally!—robbed him of his breath.

“Angelica.”

She stiffened, almost in disbelief. “Captain Neill. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, crossing the room. “I’ve come back, just like I promised.”

“It’s been four months…”

Brody noticed, for the first time, that she wasn’t dressed. She wore only her thin chemise and a pair of wool stockings. Even in the dark, he could see the outline of her dusky nipples through the fabric. If he dared look down, he might see a great deal more.

He kept his eyes glued to hers. “I’ve surprised you. Forgive me.”

Angelica must have known how exposed her body was to his gaze. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “No, you’re too late…it’s too late. You should leave.”

“Too late? Too late for what?”

He didn’t understand. He’d dragged himself through hell—for her. He was back. He was better. Why wasn’t she weeping with joy?

She waved him off, as if he were a fly. As if he were nothing to her. “I’ve moved on, Brody. Quite forgotten all about you. In fact, I have someone else now. He’d be furious to find you here.”