Read Online Fallen Angel by Elizabeth Thornton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
Ads: Link
exercise. He wished only to demonstrate, though irrefutably, that by some happy accident of fate they had been permitted to find each other—on such a night, and in Inverforth, of all places!
But the temptation to make love to her in earnest, to forget that there was some point to the exercise, was almost irresistible. Deveryn resisted, not without some reluctance, drawing on reserves of control he had not needed in an age.
"I've been waiting for you all my life, I think," he said against her hair. "You can argue against my logic till you're blue in the face. I knew from the moment you stepped into my arms that I would never let you go." His laugh was faintly self mocking. "Now do you understand?"
Her answer was to hide her face against his shoulder. It did not displease him. He smoothed her tumbled curls and cradled her as if she had been a child. It brought to mind the rush of tenderness he had experienced when he had first looked into her sad eyes.
"Now that that little matter is settled between us, my love, will you not tell me what brought you out to seek Malcolm on a wild night like this? When I first saw you, you looked so . . . forlorn."
Her head tilted back, and her eyes, dark and liquid, gazed unblinkingly into his. In their depths he saw confusion, but also a childlike trust that brought a jolt of feeling which seemed to lodge itself in his throat. His arms tightened about her, and he wondered how he could bear to give her up to her guardians till he could claim her for his own. "Tell me,' he coaxed softly.
She spoke haltingly. "Have you ever hated someone you don't even know?"
"I don't believe so. Hatred is such a powerful emotion. Are you sure that you don't simply dislike this person?" He feathered her damp hair with his fingers.
"Oh no. I know what it is to dislike someone. This is much stronger. It hurts."
She was so patently honest and innocent. He shifted her in his arms till she lay curled snugly against his chest. "Tell me about it," he murmured in the voice he was used to employ to his young nieces when their safe world turned suddenly ugly and they had run to him for comfort.
"I know it's wrong to seek revenge. But it's all I can seem to think of."
He wisely held his own counsel and waited for her to continue.
"Everyone has a weakness. Did you know that?" she queried softly. "I intend to discover the weaknesses of my enemies and exploit them ruthlessly."
Though her words were fierce, she reminded him more of an angry kitten than an avenging fury. He kept his lips grave, but he wondered what tempest in a teacup had provoked her to such a passion, and who, in her small provincial circles, could possibly be cast in the mould of an enemy.
"Did someone . . . hurt you badly?" he asked gently, and his thumb lightly teased the lobe of her petal-soft ear.
"Oh no!" she answered, nestling closer. "I'm thick skinned. I don't bruise easily. Really."
Her tone was wistful, with a trace of sadness, and it came to him that her denial was nothing more than bravado, a fragile pride to cover pain. It was her defense, he was sure, against a world that had dealt with her cruelly in the past.
Though he wished to say so much more, he merely said in a soft undertone, "Tell me about it, from the beginning."
The words trembled on her lips, but before she could utter them, the door behind them ground out a warning. It was pushed open and soft footfalls entered behind the cold draft.
"Yer lordship, yer lordship, are ye here?"
Deveryn recognized the voice of the blacksmith's boy. "Damn!" he said under his breath, and quickly detached Maddie from his arms. "Don't move from this spot till I return. N o need to give the locals a sight of you and set their tongues to wagging. I'll be back directly."
As his long strides carried him toward the narthex, the blacksmith's boy appeared in the archway.
"Lord Deveryn! Mistress Serle said she thought she saw ye come into the kirk. My master sent me to find ye."
"Out boy!
But the temptation to make love to her in earnest, to forget that there was some point to the exercise, was almost irresistible. Deveryn resisted, not without some reluctance, drawing on reserves of control he had not needed in an age.
"I've been waiting for you all my life, I think," he said against her hair. "You can argue against my logic till you're blue in the face. I knew from the moment you stepped into my arms that I would never let you go." His laugh was faintly self mocking. "Now do you understand?"
Her answer was to hide her face against his shoulder. It did not displease him. He smoothed her tumbled curls and cradled her as if she had been a child. It brought to mind the rush of tenderness he had experienced when he had first looked into her sad eyes.
"Now that that little matter is settled between us, my love, will you not tell me what brought you out to seek Malcolm on a wild night like this? When I first saw you, you looked so . . . forlorn."
Her head tilted back, and her eyes, dark and liquid, gazed unblinkingly into his. In their depths he saw confusion, but also a childlike trust that brought a jolt of feeling which seemed to lodge itself in his throat. His arms tightened about her, and he wondered how he could bear to give her up to her guardians till he could claim her for his own. "Tell me,' he coaxed softly.
She spoke haltingly. "Have you ever hated someone you don't even know?"
"I don't believe so. Hatred is such a powerful emotion. Are you sure that you don't simply dislike this person?" He feathered her damp hair with his fingers.
"Oh no. I know what it is to dislike someone. This is much stronger. It hurts."
She was so patently honest and innocent. He shifted her in his arms till she lay curled snugly against his chest. "Tell me about it," he murmured in the voice he was used to employ to his young nieces when their safe world turned suddenly ugly and they had run to him for comfort.
"I know it's wrong to seek revenge. But it's all I can seem to think of."
He wisely held his own counsel and waited for her to continue.
"Everyone has a weakness. Did you know that?" she queried softly. "I intend to discover the weaknesses of my enemies and exploit them ruthlessly."
Though her words were fierce, she reminded him more of an angry kitten than an avenging fury. He kept his lips grave, but he wondered what tempest in a teacup had provoked her to such a passion, and who, in her small provincial circles, could possibly be cast in the mould of an enemy.
"Did someone . . . hurt you badly?" he asked gently, and his thumb lightly teased the lobe of her petal-soft ear.
"Oh no!" she answered, nestling closer. "I'm thick skinned. I don't bruise easily. Really."
Her tone was wistful, with a trace of sadness, and it came to him that her denial was nothing more than bravado, a fragile pride to cover pain. It was her defense, he was sure, against a world that had dealt with her cruelly in the past.
Though he wished to say so much more, he merely said in a soft undertone, "Tell me about it, from the beginning."
The words trembled on her lips, but before she could utter them, the door behind them ground out a warning. It was pushed open and soft footfalls entered behind the cold draft.
"Yer lordship, yer lordship, are ye here?"
Deveryn recognized the voice of the blacksmith's boy. "Damn!" he said under his breath, and quickly detached Maddie from his arms. "Don't move from this spot till I return. N o need to give the locals a sight of you and set their tongues to wagging. I'll be back directly."
As his long strides carried him toward the narthex, the blacksmith's boy appeared in the archway.
"Lord Deveryn! Mistress Serle said she thought she saw ye come into the kirk. My master sent me to find ye."
"Out boy!
Similar Books
