Darby's Angel by Marcy Stewart

Author:Marcy Stewart [Stewart, Marcy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1996-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Later that evening when the house grew quiet, Darby splashed water on her face and lit an extra candle. Even though her emotions ached like raw wounds, she was having trouble staying awake; and she would need to remain alert for at least another hour before daring to visit Simon's room.

She had not been able to steal a moment alone with him all night, and she wanted to ask his advice. Why she bothered, she was not certain. He was such a weak, paltry angel. Truly, she would do better to trust her own counsel than that of a creature who could not defend himself against such as Lenora.

He had said he resisted the merry widow. Well, she'd seen that kiss, and it did not look like he fought very hard.

Darby's lips turned downward. She sat in her rocker and covered herself with a shawl. Although her ivory dress had long sleeves, she always grew cold at night. Reaching for the book of sermons on her table, she opened it and began to read.

After ten minutes, her eyes grew so heavy that she put the volume aside and occupied herself by chewing her fingernails and thinking. By the time her self-inflicted hour passed by, she had stirred herself into a boiling stew.

She was able to maintain composure enough to close her door quietly and slip through the corridor on soundless feet. Arriving at Simon's door, she knocked softly. After waiting several endless seconds and hearing no answer, she knocked again. When he still did not answer, she took a deep breath and turned the knob. It was unlocked. She edged inside and closed the door behind her.

He had left the candle burning by his bed; a dangerous practice, since he slept so soundly. She would have to warn him about that as she had warned him of so many things. Perhaps fire held no fears for him, since he was not mortal; but it did for her.

Knowing she should not, she tiptoed to his bed and watched him sleep. The candlelight flickered over the fair hair tumbling across his forehead, the remarkable dark brows, his long curling lashes. Looking at him now, she could not doubt he was an angel. If only he acted more like one.

He had pushed aside his covers while he slept. His nightshirt reached only to his knees, and its top buttons gaped open. She felt a sudden, mad desire to press her lips to his cheek.

Her face began to flame. She should not be here. Never had she been in a man's room, other than Alexander's, but he did not signify. She'd thought visiting an angel's chamber would be of similar innocence, but now she realized her error.

With her gaze pinned to his face, she began to back away. She could not see that the handle of the water pitcher on his bedside table was sticking out; thus it was his fault, not hers, when her elbow struck it a glancing blow. The pitcher clattered toward the edge, the bowl it nested within sliding, too.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.