Angel of Hawkhaven Read online

  Before returning his attention to the priests, Hawkhaven glanced back at me. When our eyes met and locked, I blushed. Though he didn’t smile, didn’t shift his expression by even the subtlest of nuances, somehow he seemed to warm.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who thought so. While I struggled to convince myself that I’d imagined the entire exchange, as soon as Hawkhaven was safely facing forward again, Bess turned to look back at me, too. So did the maids that shared my pew. My belly exploded in butterflies when they shifted further down the seat away from me, as if Hawkhaven’s look had doused me in a contagion they wanted most to avoid.

  The remainder of the mass passed uneventfully, but by the end, it was all I could do just to hold still. I could feel Hawkhaven in that church. He wasn’t looking back at me anymore, but I could still feel his eyes. I was unnerved, totally and completely. And my need to get out of that church had my bottom up and off the pew before the echoes of the final amen faded from the rectory. I was the first one out the door, my feet barely touching the stone steps as I flew down them.

  Derbyshire had come awake during mass, though only a very few shops hung their signs out on Sundays—like the alehouse, hostel and those farmers in the market place that were selling the excess of their labors from the backs of their carts. Automatically, I wove through the flow of mid-morning shoppers, pushing my way to the waiting servants’ wagon. As I waited for the others, one minute bled agonizingly into two, then three, and still no one walked through those elegantly carved cathedral doors after me. Not until Hawkhaven stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight, followed by his sister, her chair being carried by those strong men, and I suddenly realized my mistake.

  Servants were expected to file out of church in the same way they’d gone into it: behind the master first, and in order of rank second. Hawkhaven smiled at me, his blue eyes dancing merrily at my error. Victoria was significantly less pleased, and behind her, Grimsby and Bess were outright glaring.

  My stomach dropped all the way to my toes. How could I ever have thought myself capable of working in a grand house? I didn’t exist for the upper class, the peers of my birth, and I certainly did not blend seamlessly in among the servants. I didn’t fit anywhere!

  I snapped around to face the wagon, the sunlight on my face almost cool compared with the heat burning under my skin. Frustrated and embarrassed, the prospect of having to endure another jostling ride in the back of this wagon with everyone either pretending I didn’t exist or staring at me—I just could not do it. Already a few maids at the back of the procession were starting to whisper. I could just imagine what they were saying.

  Picking up my skirts, I fled between two gentlemen shoppers and just started walking. The manor house was only two miles down the road, and I couldn’t possibly make any more obvious a spectacle of myself than what I’d already done.

  “Miss Rayette!” Hawkhaven called after me. I walked faster, but there was no ignoring his rapid footfalls on the cobbled street as he came jogging up behind me. “Ella, come back to the wagon. It’s fine.”

  “No!” The air felt as if it were shaking inside my chest; I could barely breathe and the length of the road stretching out in front of me was melting in on itself, turning watery. Or at least that was how it looked through my tears. I blinked, spilling two over my lashes and down my cheeks, bringing the street slightly back into focus.

  “Ella,” he cajoled, reaching out to take my arm.

  My skin burned where he touched me; my back burned even hotter from the stares of those we left behind us. Victoria’s glare I felt most of all, and I quickly yanked my arm out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me!” I hissed. None of this was his fault, but it was far easier to pretend it was than to simply admit I was a miserable failure at everything I tried.

  Smile gone, Hawkhaven raised his hands, keeping them well and truly clear of me. “All right,” he said diplomatically. “But I think we should discuss this.”

  “No!” I snapped around, marching my way towards home, skirting around carts and signs and pushing past shoppers. The cobbles were blurring again; I quickly scrubbed my eyes with my sleeved wrist but didn’t get so much as a single shop’s distance between us before he caught up with me in front of the milliner’s. Although the shop was closed, I nearly crashed into two young window shoppers just trying to stay ahead of him.

  “Yes, we do,” he said as he fell into step with me. “And we can either do our talking face-to-face, or I can do all the talking and you can do all the listening with your skirts up over your head.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the window shoppers staring after us, and my face flamed. I turned on him, fists on hips and glaring. He glared right back at me. He was better at it than I was. “About what?”

  “About what happened back there. In the church.”

  My spine stiffened instantly and those antsy, upset nerves of mine stirred themselves into a real froth in the core of me. “I wasn’t giggling!”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “Oh, but you wish I was!” I hissed, stepping in so close to him that we were almost nose-to-nose. “Then you would have a reason to wallop me along with those other girls, and you’d be happy to do it. You’re always looking for reasons to hurt me!”

  “I would never hurt you,” he said firmly.

  “To beat me then!” I struggled to keep my voice down, but frustration was increasing the volume despite my best intentions. “Well, it’s not going to work today. I wasn’t giggling! Those loudmouth women were! Go and beat them, if it pleases you!”

  “It doesn’t please me,” Hawkhaven said, his eyebrows quirking in confusion as he looked at me. “In any case, Grimsby has that matter firmly in hand. No point in having a butler if you cannot delegate authority.”

  His attempt at good humor fell flat when I refused to smile back. “You are impossible!” I snapped and started walking again, throwing my hands up in the air as I accused. “Me, them. It doesn’t matter, does it? You are in love with it! Nothing gives you greater pleasure than the beating of innocent women!”

  Hawkhaven followed, his head slightly cocked to one side as he regarded me with growing interest. “Innocent women are never beaten. The not-so-innocent ones get their bottoms smacked a lovely shade of red. Are you trying to bait me into spanking you?”

  My indignant screech was obscenely loud, and I suddenly became sharply aware that we were attracting quite a bit of notice both up and down the street. This entire conversation was grossly out of line anyway, and my face reddened as I glanced quickly behind us at the church. An array of speculative faces watched us. I could hear whispers up and down the street.

  I quickly snapped my mouth shut and started walking again. As he fell into step with me once more, I irritably snapped, “Go away.”

  “Not until you answer my question,” he said simply, that maddening half-smile on his face. “Depending on the answer, perhaps not even then.”

  “You are in love with it,” I repeated bitterly. “You can’t help but find reasons to abuse me.”

  “It would be a touch hypocritical if I did not admit to feeling some pleasure while holding a beautiful woman across my lap. Certainly, a part of me can’t help but admire the lovely curves of the female bottom, particularly when they are bared and writhing about. I’ll even admit to finding a bright pink bottom faintly more attractive than a pale one. But did I enjoy spanking you?” He shrugged with his eyebrows as he admitted, “Yes, a small part of me did each time.”

  He was so smug when he said it that my hands balled into fists, hidden as they were in the folds of my skirt. Had I lashed out at him right then and there, I think I could well have enjoyed hitting him, too.

  “But,” as if sensing my ready fist, Hawkhaven raised a staying hand, “did I enjoy punishing you?” He shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “There is no difference,” I said bitterly.

  “There is a mammoth difference. Discipli
ne is ugly. It’s a necessary evil. A painful consequence to a grave wrongdoing, or an attention-grabbing lesson when all other methods of instruction prove themselves unlearned. Unfortunately, all of your spankings have been the ugly sort. Perhaps someday I will give you a lesson in that softer, sweeter, titillating aspect of—”

  “Being beaten?” I snapped incredulously, glaring back at him over my shoulder. As I did so, I glimpsed the faces of some of the people we had passed. Oh, Lord. They were listening!

  “Why are you so upset?”

  My jaw dropped, and then my anger re-surged. I was getting better and better at glaring with every passing minute. Victoria, my fellow servants, and all the townspeople completely slipped my mind as I stepped close enough to thump Hawkhaven in the chest with one finger. “I don’t like you!”

  Fortunately for me, Hawkhaven was very slow to take offense. “Why not?” he called after me as I stomped away.

  A young man just coming out of the alehouse took one look at my face and quickly got out of my way. “Because you’re impossible!”

  “You already said that!”

  “You enjoy my misery!” As if on cue, tears flooded my eyes again, and I angrily scrubbed them from my eyes as I stormed past the butcher shop.

  “I disagree. At the moment, I am thoroughly confounded by it.”

  “Everyone is staring at me!”

  How he could half-laugh and still sound sympathetic I don’t know, but he managed it. “They can’t help but stare, Ella. Not only are you exceedingly lovely to behold, but you are practically shouting at me. Sweetheart, that makes a very eye attracting combination.”

  Immediately dropping my tone to a whisper, I hissed, “They’re always staring! Because I can’t do this, and they all know it! They know I am less than they are. They know I am nothing!”

  “You can do this,” Hawkhaven promptly countered. “You are doing fabulously.”

  Not only could I not stop the tears from falling, but now my bottom lip began to tremble uncontrollably, and my breath hitched at the back of my throat. “Your sister hates me.”

  “She hates everybody, sweetheart. That’s part of her charm.”

  “You’re impossible!” Grabbing my skirts, I snapped around and starting marching again. I struggled to keep my trembling lips pressed tightly together, and my fists beat against my thighs every few steps. Why was I making such a spectacle of myself? Servants didn’t yell at their masters in private much less on a public street! What was wrong with me?

  My next breath was a sob.

  “Ella, look at me.” Hawkhaven caught up to me at the end of the street. He was careful not to touch me; if he had, I think I would have hit him. That would almost have been a blessing. My fists trembled, my nails digging into my palms until the skin broke and blood oozed between my fingertips. It surprised me how much I wanted to lash out at him. Because then I could have let go and simply let the horror of the day and the inescapable consequences wash over me.

  My chin wobbled. I could barely see through my tears.

  “Ella,” he said, his calm voice breaking through the wave of misery that threatened to drown me. “When we turn this corner, I am going to catch you. I am going to pull you very close to me, then I’m going to kiss you so thoroughly that you forget what has you in such a foul mood, and you’ll do nothing but feel me for the rest of the day.”

  I stopped walking so suddenly that the nerves in my belly lurched. My hands trembled. My legs shook. Frowning fiercely, I turned to fix him with my darkest glare. “No, you won’t,” I whispered raggedly. “Because if you try to kiss me one more time, I am going to punch you right in your gentleman’s nose.”

  He smiled at me, waiting. Slowly, deliberately, I backed around the corner until the wagon of servants and Victoria’s carriage and the people in the street were all out of sight. Then I raised my fisted hands, glaring, all but daring him to make good his threat so I could do mine.

  All I wanted was for him to either go away or give me a reason to hate him. I should have known better. Not once, in all the time since I’d met him, had Hawkhaven ever done as I wanted. Today was no different. He picked up my challenge rather than shrank from it, and with measured steps, he followed me around the corner. Even more deliberately, his hand reached up to cover my fist. His smile held only fondness; the warmth of his nearness encompassed me. I tried to make myself move, but I couldn’t. All I felt was the strength of his fingers as they closed over mine and it froze me, wide-eyed and breathing hard in the shadow of him.

  He stepped towards me. I stumbled back. It was a sorry escape attempt that only succeeded twice. Then I bumped into the rough brick of the butcher’s building, and he had me trapped.

  The air left my lungs in a soft whoosh as he lightly forced my hand back down to my side. His smile gentled even as his eyes warmed, his grip shifting until his fingers combed down through mine, weaving their way in between until he held my hand like a lover, rather than keeping it captive. His gaze caressed my parting lips as he closed that one last step that parted us. I felt him, all the front of him, pressing warm and solid and welcome against all the front of me.

  “You can’t know how often I have dreamed of having you like this,” he murmured, the heat of his one palm burning into mine while he raised the other to cup the curve of my cheek.

  “It has been my nightmare.” Tears trickled over my lashes, spilling down to my chin. I tried to hold onto my anger, I truly did. But the very nearness of him leeched it out of me.

  “Is that why you’re trembling?” His head tipped slightly to one side, his mouth coming closer to mine.

  “I-I’m n-not.”

  He chuckled. “No, of course not.”

  I shivered when the pad of his thumb brushed lightly across my lips. It was so natural just to raise my chin, to bring my mouth up as his drew nearer, barely any space at all separating us from that kiss. My legs buckled, but I didn’t fall. I hardly felt his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me even closer. I felt hot. Everywhere he touched me burned. I couldn’t even tell which hand had moved: the one holding my fist or the one pressed to my cheek.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, the warmth of his lips skimming ever so lightly over mine.

  “No.” I meant to say, but my denial was voiceless. I shook my head instead, the tip of my nose brushing back and forth over his as I did. My breath caught in my chest; my blood pounded in my ears. I caught my breath

  His mouth was coming closer. I could feel him, the strength and the heat of him. And oh, but did I feel the temptation to lose myself in that heat.

  Hawkhaven chuckled, and I shivered as the vibration of that sound rumbled up out of his chest and into mine. “Naughty girl,” he whispered, his lips moving over mine, his hand roving down from my waist to cup the curve of my bottom, pulling me right up close to him. And in particular that part of him that felt so hard and hot and strong. “You keep lying to me.”

  I shook my head, or at least I tried. He was so close, and I just could not bring myself to pull my mouth completely away from his.

  “That,” he chuckled, shivering me with another deep vibration, “was another lie.”

  His hand left my bottom, only to smack softly back into place, a blow no harder than a pat, but it jolted through me just the same. It bumped my lips into his; my hips into his. There was no solidity left in my legs. None at all. I shook in his arms, uncontrollably.

  His hand swatted into me again, and I moaned as I felt the bundle of his manhood bump me just right. Even through my skirts I felt him. And that sound, soft and trembling, unleashed whatever restraint had been holding him back as well. He kissed me, his mouth so gentle. Hot. Insistent. Teasing my own lips to part to the sweetest of invasions. I moaned, and now it was his turn to tremble.

  He smacked my bottom again, a little harder than before, but there was no sting. Only heat and fire, which built to inferno temperatures when he cupped my bottom again, rubbing and then squeezing. My head
fell back on my shoulders, baring the length of my neck to his tender kisses.

  It did not last near long enough.

  “I am going to make love to you,” he whispered into the hollow of my throat. Then he raised his head, his hungry look melting me, until I saw his rueful smile. “I cannot, however, do that here in the street.”

  My body still thrummed, but the fire within me might as well have been doused with ice. Hawkhaven took his hand off my bottom and stepped back just as I heard the approaching clop of horses’ hooves and the rumbling of wagon wheels on the cobblestone-paved street. By the time the servants’ wagon rolled around the corner, there was again a respectable four-foot distance between us.

  I ducked my head, but not before catching the speculative stares from several of my fellow maids in the back. There was whispering and someone giggled, all of which ceased when Hawkhaven turned an icy stare upon them. Unfortunately, no degree of censure would have lasted more than a few minutes. My reputation was near ruined; nothing he could do would spare me from the scouring gossip that undoubtedly would follow this.

  I should have felt scared. This was the kind of gossip that ruined girls, not only costing them their current positions, but future ones as well. At the very least, I should still feel humiliated, but even that had gone. Wordlessly, almost as if in mutual agreement, we walked in opposite directions. I followed the servant’s cart; he walked to the carriage he shared with his sister.

  ‘I am going to make love to you.’

  My face burned even hotter; but not because of embarrassment. I no longer had the morals for that. All I felt now was liquid desire pooling molten inside of me, flowing down to that secret place between my thighs. I ached there. I ached for him.