Dark Angel by Tracy Grant

Author:Tracy Grant [Grant, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: tasha alexander, lauren willig, vienna waltz, rightfully his, Dark Angel, Fiction, Romance, loretta chase, imperial scandal, beneath a silent moon, deanna raybourn, the mask of night, malcom and suzanne rannoch historical mysteries, historical romantic suspense, Regency, josephine, cheryl bolen, his spanish bride, Historical Romance, Regency Romance, liz carlyle, melanie and charles fraiser, Historical, m. louisa locke, elizabeth bailey, shadows of the heart, Romantic Suspense, anna wylde, robyn carr, daughter of the game, shores of desire, carol r. carr, teresa grant, Adult Fiction, Historical mystery, the paris affair, Women's Fiction
ISBN: 9781617508943
Publisher: NYLA
Published: 2011-10-09T21:00:00+00:00

Hawkins stared at the ancient damask canopy overhead and felt a wave of contentment. Elena was lying within the curve of his arm, her head on his chest, her bright hair spilling across him. The heavy gold earrings he had bought for her on the journey through Portugal lay on her dressing table, glinting in the moonlight that flooded the room. Elena had placed them there carefully. The rest of their clothes littered the floor, hastily discarded. Though it was the second night since his return to Lisbon, their hunger for each other had not abated.

Hawkins found it hard to believe he had known Elena no more than a year. He and Adam had found her near the Biscay coast last spring, ill and abandoned by the French soldier who was the latest in the series of protectors she had acquired after her husband was killed at Bussaco.

Fortunately, Adam's business with the guerrillero leader, Don Julian Sanchez, had taken some time and Hawkins had been able to nurse Elena. But as she recovered it became clear that she had no money and no place to go. Her family were from nearby Galicia, but her parents were dead and her brother, a guerrillero, had quarreled violently with her husband, who was an afrancesado. So when Adam and Hawkins moved south, Elena went with them. And when they returned to Lisbon for the winter, she accompanied them and moved into their lodgings. She had begun sharing Hawkins's bed some time before.

The trip to Acquera was the first time Hawkins had been separated from her. He hadn't realized how much he would miss her. Not just in bed, though he could not deny he'd ached for her. The devil, but he wanted her again already, though he still felt the comforting warmth of their previous lovemaking. But he'd missed more than Elena's supple body. He'd missed her laughter and her sudden bursts of temper and the sight of her conversing decorously with Dona Isabel one moment and bawling at the butcher about the outrageous price of meat the next. He'd missed knowing she would be there every night, familiar but never dull. It was something he'd known little of in his unsettled life.

His arm was beginning to go numb beneath the weight of her body. He moved it slightly. Elena opened her eyes and raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were brilliant in the moonlight. Hawkins threaded his fingers through her hair and took her face between his hands. But instead of pulling her down for a kiss, he said two simple words. "Marry me."

Elena stiffened. "What?" she asked, not in joy but in disbelief.

"I know," Hawkins said, smoothing the hair back from her face. "It's not the most poetic of proposals. But it's perfectly sincere, upon my honor."

Elena pulled away from him and sat up, clutching the rumpled quilt about her. "You want me to marry you."

"That's the general idea," Hawkins said, pushing himself up against the pillows.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

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