Forbidden Angel (32 page)

Angeline addressed Adrian who, like the others, had joined them. “She is my present from
Don
Philippe.”

Adrian’s gaze slid over the mare. “She is indeed a beautiful animal.”

“It is time for a toast. We shall all celebrate with a glass of
cava.
” Esteban ushered everyone back inside. Glasses were filled with the sparkling wine as
Don
Fernando prepared to make a short toast.

Fernando lifted his glass. “To the return of one which is ours, and to our new friends.
Feliz Navidad
!”

“
Salud
!” Rafael held up his glass.

As the others made separate toasts, Angeline handed Philippe a wrapped gift. When he tore away the paper, he glanced at the bible, and then at Angeline.

Angeline saw the shifting emotions on Philippe’s face. “When I read the inscription,
To my wife on our wedding day,
I assumed it was from my father. But the bible was from you, wasn’t it?”

Philippe inclined his head, his gaze once again on the bible. “Yes. I am happy to see that she kept it.”

“I thought you might like to have it.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she thought of all Philippe had given up in the name of love.

Framing her face, he brushed the tears away with his thumbs. “I will cherish it.”

“A toast to Michael and Penelope and, as in her books, may they live happily ever after.” Jeffrey raised his glass.

As the glasses were lifted, a commotion at the door drew everyone’s attention.

“I hope I’m not too late to partake in the festivities.”

Angeline spun around, and found herself facing a solid wall comprised of men’s backs. Even without seeing the intruder’s face, she knew the sound of his voice. Malcolm. Her skin fairly crawled.

In a matter of seconds, the atmosphere changed from festive to one crackling with tension. Peeking around Michael’s broad shoulders, she watched Charles Malcolm strut into the room, two armed policemen trailing behind. In unison, and with no little trepidation, the officers glanced toward Fernando, clearly not liking the position they found themselves in.

“You must be
Don
Fernando.” Malcolm correctly identified the man on the lounge.

Fernando raised a brow. “And you are?”

“I am Sir Charles Malcolm.” He slid his thumbs in his waistband and postured before sending a calculating glance around the room. “I’ve come to claim what is rightfully mine.”

“And what might that be?” Don Fernando’s voice dropped to an icy growl.

Distracted by his own pomposity, Malcolm missed the danger in Fernando’s response. He smirked. “Your granddaughter.”

“You son of a bitch,” Adrian roared, pushing forward as Michael, Frank, Jeffrey, and Esteban surrounded him, effectively pinning him in. Glaring at them, he tried to shove his way through, but they only closed ranks.

“Not this time, my friend,” Michael advised. “We will deal with him.”

Malcolm rotated to face Adrian. “Windsford, I’m not surprised you’re here, but it won’t change anything,” he snarled. “It would have been better had you died when you were supposed to.”

Angeline held her breath as Adrian renewed his attempt to free himself. He glared at Malcolm. “You’ll wish I had before this is over.”

“I almost finished you twelve years ago.” Malcolm’s voice rose. His hand sliced through the air. “Had the authorities arrested you as they should have, I would’ve finally been rid of you.” Eyes narrowing, he pointed a finger at Adrian and continued his tirade. “But your father had the Queen’s ear even then and nothing was done.”

Adrian stilled.

“Lady Pricilla—bah! She thought to become a countess, so she rejected me out of hand and looked down her nose at me, a mere baron. But I showed her. I’m twice the man you are. And all those others—they only wanted an introduction to the esteemed Adrian Spencer, Viscount Torrington, and thought to have it through me. Well, they learned their lesson.”

“Others?” Adrian queried softly.

Malcolm hesitated, seemed to collect himself.

“Others that didn’t respect you as they should?” Adrian supplied carefully.

Malcolm’s eyes flared. “Yes, all those bitches that hung around, scheming for a chance to meet
you
. You weren’t even down from Oxford yet and they panted after you.”

“Those women—all those deaths, that was you?”

Malcolm snickered. “You think I’d let them get away with treating me like that?” Eyes protruding in his red, puffy face, he suddenly seemed to recall where he was. He cleared his throat and straightened. “I haven’t time for this.”

He turned once again to confront
Don
Fernando. “So, I believe we have some business to discuss before I wed your granddaughter,” Malcolm began.

While the men had been involved with holding a struggling Adrian, Angeline had slipped around them to a position near Malcolm.

Raising her voice above the melee, she addressed Malcolm. “There will be no wedding. I am already married.” She heard the men’s anxious voices when they realized she’d moved and now stood next to Malcolm. Then all fell silent.

“Ah, Lady Angeline.” Malcolm shifted to look at her. “We both know that’s not true, unless you care nothing for your brother. And, we both know your marriage to Windsford is not legal.” He rolled back on his heels, a look of satisfaction filling his near-black eyes.

“You are nothing but slime. Do you think I’ve forgotten your treatment of that poor maid?” Although Angeline was angry, she was also wary of Malcolm, but she needed to give Philippe time to slip out a side door before Malcolm could see and recognize him.

“You, my lady, must learn to watch your tongue. I won’t tolerate disobedience.” Malcolm’s gaze slid to her rounded belly. “I see you carry a bastard.”

“You will shut your mouth.” Philippe, his voice filled with fury, stepped beside her.

Malcolm’s eyes widened in surprise and he took a few stumbling steps backward. “Well, well, if it ain’t my old friend Cazador. Are you trying to cash in on the fortune, too?”

Angeline shook her head. “You’re mistaken. I would know if this was the man who had taken me.” She glanced around, noticing all eyes on Philippe. She felt Philippe’s hands on her shoulders as he turned her to face him.

Philippe’s gaze held resolution. “No more secrets,
niña
.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me whether it’s you or Windsford or,”—Malcolm tipped his head at Michael—“the good Captain who sired the brat. All that matters is I have a paper stating she’s mine. That makes me entitled to quite a lot, I would say.”

“I would see this paper.”
Don
Fernando held out his hand, drawing Malcolm’s attention.

Malcolm handed it to Fernando. “Don’t think of destroying the note. These fine men of the law have seen it.”

“Do not add insult to your other atrocities,” Fernando threatened.

“The letter is signed by Elizabeth Ashley, William’s wife.” Malcolm’s lips raised in contempt. “Before I marry Lady Angeline, we’ll discuss settlements and dowries.” Malcolm eyed Fernando. “She can spend all the time here with you she wants, of course that’s after the honeymoon.” Malcolm turned a lecherous gaze on her.

Adrian renewed his struggles. Angeline swung her gaze toward him, then, reassured they held him tightly, returned her attention to Malcolm. When she started to object, Philippe laid a hand on her arm.

Philippe’s voice rose above the chaos. “She had no right to promise anything where Angelina is concerned, and neither did William Ashley.”

Malcolm whirled to face Philippe. “Of course they did. If you think to stake your claim, Cazador, you—”

In the blink of an eye, Philippe grabbed him by the throat and shook him. “If you do not watch your filthy mouth, the words you have just uttered will be your last.” He squeezed harder. Malcolm’s eyes bulged, his face splotched purple. When Malcolm finally nodded, Philippe shoved as he released him, sending Malcolm sprawling.

All eyes rested on Philippe.

“What are you saying?” Fernando demanded.

“Neither William Ashley nor his wife had the right to pledge her to anyone.” Philippe slipped his jacket off and handed it to Rafael, then removed his tie and opened his shirt. “In my family we carry a birthmark. My father had the mark and I have it.” Philippe tilted his head to the side, revealing the small patch of discolored skin.

Philippe approached Angeline. “
Nina
, I would show them your neck.” He lifted her hair away from the small mark at the side of her neck. “Franchesca called it an angel’s kiss.”

Fernando uttered a sigh and leaned back against the lounge. “At last.”

Angeline shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

Placing his hands on her arms, Philippe met her gaze. “I am saying that in your lifetime you have been loved by two men who would call you daughter. One who raised and loved you as his own, and one who is your true father. William was the first; I am the other.”

Angeline’s throat tightened and her heart constricted. She spun abruptly and would have bolted, but Philippe stopped her with a sharp, “No.”

Angeline stood trembling in front of him.

“We do not run from things we do not like or understand. You are Cordova and Montenegro. We face what must be faced.” Philippe’s voice softened. “Is it so difficult to accept me as your father? William obviously loved you. I do not wish to take anything from that. I never planned for you to know, but you are my daughter and I love you also.” He raised her chin with a finger. “Is there nothing you can feel for me?”

“My mother and father loved each other,” she whispered softly, confusion muddling her senses.

“Yes, they did.”

“Then how, why . . .?”

“I will say only this, and the rest will stay between your mother and me. We loved each other also. There are many kinds of love,
niña
. When she believed she would never see William again, I wanted to show her we could be happy. That is all I will say.”

The blood roared in her ears. “Did my father—did William know?”

Philippe inclined his head. “I’m certain he did.”

Angeline drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I’ve trusted you almost from the beginning. I’ve felt safe and protected by you and could never fully understand why. At first I thought it was all you’d shared with my mother, but down deep I knew there was more.”

She stepped closer to Philippe. “I already feel love for you and now I can put a name to it. I will always think of William as my father and love him, but there is a joy in knowing who you really are.”

Angeline slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, heard his strong heartbeat and the comforting feel of his arms as they wrapped around her.

Not a word was said.

As Malcolm scrambled to gain his feet, Angeline glanced in his direction. His eyes held a feverish look, his mouth tightening to a snarl.

“All very touching, but I will have what is coming to me,” Malcolm growled. He glared at Adrian. “If you think you’ve won, Windsford, you’re wrong.”

Philippe handed Angeline to Adrian and moved to block Malcolm’s advance. “Yes, you will finally have what is coming to you.”

Angeline tried to shake loose. “No, he’s not worth it,” she pleaded.

Malcolm’s eyes widened. “Now see here, Cazador, we can work this out. If its money you want . . .” He broke off as Philippe loomed threateningly. “You won’t get away with this. There are police here.” His wild gaze darted to the two men who had accompanied him. “Do something, for God’s sake,” he shouted.

The men glanced at Fernando, who shook his head. They turned and quietly exited the room.

“No,” Malcolm shouted after them. “I’ve worked too hard for this, even drugged that bitch to get her to sign . . .” His eyes widened in alarm as Adrian cursed and shoved Angeline aside.

Angeline’s breath caught as she saw the gun Malcolm now held in his hand. Prompted by fear for the two men she loved most, she pulled the small derringer from her pocket and surged forward. With the fright and anger of the last few months coming to the fore, she lifted the gun and aimed at Malcolm.

She heard voices raised in alarm and the clatter as men rushed forward, heard Adrian’s tortured cry of, “‘
No
!’” From the corner of her eye, saw Philippe reach for her—as Malcolm turned the gun in her direction.

Adrian’s earlier words of concern, her promise to him, came rushing back. Without regard for the consequences, she’d placed not only her life but the life of her unborn child in jeopardy. Malcolm’s wild gaze met hers, a frenetic light flared in his eyes. With her finger frozen on the trigger, she could only watch as he aimed at her belly. Adrian’s child.
Oh, God, please no.

The deafening sound of the blast echoed throughout the room.

Malcolm’s eyes widened in surprise. He staggered and reached for her, then his eyes went sightless and he crumpled.

Angeline raised her gaze to her grandfather as
Don
Fernando lowered a gun to his lap, then slumped back against the chaise.

“Rafael, have the men take care of this.” Fernando waved a hand, indicating the lifeless body of Charles Malcolm. “Esteban, I am tired and need to rest. Help me to my room so I might sleep.”

With Esteban’s help, he came slowly to his feet, then gazed at those who had watched in shock. “Cordova men have always protected their own. I have worked hard and sacrificed much to see what has finally come about. I have no regrets.”

Maria’s gaze slid from Fernando to Angeline. “Pride can be such a foolish, costly thing.” She shook her head. “I will follow in a moment, Fernando.” She turned her back to the room.

Jeffrey came to stand by her at the window, but she stared straight ahead. “It does not have to cost anything more, Maria,” he whispered quietly.

Angeline looked from her grandmother to Philippe and released the gun into his waiting hand.

“He would not have hesitated killing you,
niña
, for in the end he had nothing to lose.”

Angeline returned her gaze to Maria. “What will happen to
Don
Fernando?”

“Malcolm will just disappear.
Don
Fernando, although very ill, is still powerful.” Philippe glanced over her head and she turned to follow his gaze. “I believe your husband needs you.”

Adrian stood facing the fire, his hand propped against the mantle as he leaned forward, shoulders slumped. When Angeline laid her hand on his back, he shuddered. “Adrian?”

With a groan, he reached for her and hauled her up against him. “You could have been killed. You promised!”

“I know, and I am so very sorry.” She slid her arms around his neck.

“There is no life worth living without you in it, Angel.” Drawing her closer, he turned his face into her neck, and wept.

Later, Adrian sought out Philippe. “May I have a private word with you?”

Philippe indicated the terrace door. “As you wish.”

Once outside, Adrian regarded Philippe. “How long have you known she was your daughter?”

“I saw the birthmark when I gave her the necklace. I did not know before then.”

“I hope you don’t plan on taking her from me, for that will never happen.” Adrian met Philippe’s gaze. “I don’t care about the legalities surrounding our marriage. She is my wife and will remain my wife.”