Cates, Kimberly by Angel's Fall

Author:Angel's Fall [Fall, Angel's]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-20T22:30:32+00:00

Chapter 11

It was quiet. Too quiet, Adam thought grimly as he paced through the night-darkened house. There hadn't been so much as a ripple in the still waters that enveloped Angel's Fall, no threats or angry clusters of Mother Cavendish's throng. Any normal man would have been relieved at the relative peacefulness outside the haven for fallen women— especially since the inside of the infernal place was buzzing like a hollow tree stuffed with honey, the women continually flitting about, stinging each other with their biting words.

But in his years as a warrior Adam had learned to mistrust the most peaceful of glades—the more serene the setting, the more potentially deadly it could be.

He paused at the doorway, and checked the latch, making certain it was still bolted. God knows, two days ago, he'd found it wide open, and Millicent in the garden with the butcher's young apprentice. He'd hauled the woman inside with all the finesse of an outraged papa, sending the fledgling butcher fleeing with a cuff to the shoulder.

He should've turned the girl over to Juliet for a rare fine scolding, but he found he couldn't—especially with Millicent pleading, very real tears streaking her face.

"Please, I beg of you, don't tell Juliet!"

"Do you fear she'll fling you out of the house?" Adam had asked.

"Never! She never would unless I did something to harm one of the other ladies. It's just... I know you'll never be able to understand. But she'll look at me, so sad, like the madonna in St. Columcille's church where I went as a child. She'll clasp my hand and stroke my hair and tell me to try to do better next time. I know it sounds mad, but I'd rather she get out the horsewhip like my father did, and just beat the devil out of me instead of staring at me, so forgiving."

It was a sentiment Adam understood only too well. There were times he'd have preferred facing a firing squad rather than confront the disappointment in his brother's face.

"I know it's hard to understand, but since I was scarce thirteen, I'd spent every night in a man's arms. I know he cared nothing about me, but still, I could pretend I wasn't alone."

Wistfulness clung to the dulcet tones of her voice, a hollow, aching emptiness that spoke volumes. "Please Mr. Sabrehawk," she'd said.

He'd stroked Millicent's pretty hair the way he would have petted one of his little sisters' curls, and sent her up to bed.

But he'd been shaken by how alike he and the courtesan were—for he'd dreamed night after night of arms holding him, shielding him from his own night-dragons. Arms pale and innocent as the light of the new moon. He'd buried himself in countless romantic liaisons. He'd garnered the admiration of even his most dreaded enemies. He had a family who adored him, who clamored in every letter that they missed him, and a half-brother he knew was hurt by the fact that Adam couldn't bear to face him.

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