Forbidden Angel by Sandra Lea Rice Page A

look of anguish on his face.
    Her gaze moved past him to Joel. “All the mornings we’ve spent talking, and you never once told me you knew each other. I thought we had become friends.”
    Joel tipped his head back, a pained expression crossing his features. “We are friends. Our only desire was to protect you.”
    Angeline furiously brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I had the right to know if there was a reason I needed protection. Did you once stop and consider how I would feel if I found out? No, of course not. I’m just a woman.”
    Joel spread his hands in appeal. “We both wanted to tell you, we just didn’t know how.”
    Her gaze flicked to Michael. “I hope the deceit was worth it, Captain. And as for you . . .” She shot a lethal glance at Adrian. “There is nothing left between us. In a few months I will be gone and there is naught to stop me. From the moment I kissed you and you left England, I promised myself I would never forget you. I waited for you, Adrian, hoping foolishly that perhaps one day—” She choked back a sob. “Know this, my lord. From the day I leave here, I will do my best to forget I ever knew you.”
    Their stunned faces brought home to her what she’d just admitted. Covering her mouth with her hand, she fled the room.
    She could hear a man’s quick footfall behind her, and she broke into a run. When she reached her room, she pushed the door shut behind her and slid the bolt. Nothing was as she believed, and no amount of wishing things were different would change it.
    “Angeline, open this door,” Adrian whispered from the other side.
    “Go away, Adrian. I don’t want to see you.”
    She stumbled to the bed. Crawling onto the deep mattress, she pulled her knees up to her chest and gave way to a torrent of tears, the culmination of months, years of pain and anguish. She cried for the loss of her father, her home, those she loved and had left behind. And for the loss of a dream she now realized as only a young girl’s fantasy. How foolish she’d been to believe she could ever have anything with Adrian.
    Without warning the mattress moved, and she found herself held against a man’s damp, warm chest. Adrian. She should have protested, but she wanted to feel his arms around her, if only for one final moment.
    “Please forgive me, my sweet Angel.” She could hear the steady beat of his heart.
    Gently, he lifted her face and brushed the hair from her wet cheeks. “I would never intentionally hurt you. Please believe that.” He kissed her tears away.
    Angeline pushed ineffectively at him. “Just leave me.” She beat against him with her fists.
    Adrian held her tighter. “I cannot.”
    After a few moments she slumped against him, her fingers clinging to the front of his sodden shirt, and sobbed.
    “Go ahead, sweeting, cry.” He stroked her back. “Just trust me, please.”
    Eventually, her tears subsided and her breathing became even in sleep. Adrian slipped from her bed, covering her with a thick quilt.
    He, like others of his ilk, had been taught to protect women. He’d listened carefully as she’d stormed at them in his study. Keeping things from her, although inadvertently, had been the wrong thing to do and she resented it, and him, for it. But how much should he tell her?
    What really surprised him was the reaction of the other two men, and what he’d seen written clearly on Michael’s face. Whether his friend would admit it or not, Adrian guessed Michael was in love with her. His stomach clenched at the thought of another man, any man other than himself, with Angeline.
    He had a lot to consider, not the least of which was Charles Malcolm.

Chapter 12
    Angeline sat on the veranda, an untouched cup of tea growing cold in front of her. She looked up, then away, as Michael approached.
    “Angeline, don’t turn from me. Just give me a moment.” The raspy sound in his voice revealed he probably hadn’t slept. “I can’t leave things the way they are between