Bittersweet Obsession Page 10

  Even now, in his shabby and exhausted physical state, the fragrance of her hair draped over his shoulder made every inch of him burn with need.

  A winter sun seeped around the edges of the drapes but the room was still bathed in shadows. The fire had died completely hours ago and the storm had ceased after midnight, but she’d remained in the security of his room. It was absurd how much it gladdened his heart that she’d come to him for comfort. But the true irony came in how keenly he felt the need to protect her when just days ago he was repelled by the thought of another of his father’s experiments wandering the halls. Perhaps living at Greystock these past months had made him mad as well.

  A faint, kitten-like sound rolled from her lips, and her leg wrapped around his as her fingers wiggled against the bare skin of his chest. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes against the feel of it. If this was what madness entailed then he was prepared to accept it.

  The sound of a door slamming downstairs startled Jane awake. She sat up abruptly and blinked down at him. She glanced around the room and it seemed to take her a moment to remember where she was. Without hesitation she scooted away from him only to have another loud crashing sound send her back into his arms.

  “Is that thunder?” she asked.

  The sound of glass shattering made her jump. Reluctantly, Angel released her, pulled himself to sitting, and dropped his feet to the cold floor. “I’d better find out what is happening.”

  “But your ribcage— be careful.” She scooted off the bed. “I’ll hurry to my room and get dressed.”

  The clamor downstairs grew louder, and Angel was certain he could hear Ellie’s pleading voice. His movements were slow but he grabbed up his shirt and held his breath against the pain as he threw it over his head. More glass shattered as he reached the landing of the stairs and trotted down them. He could hear his father’s voice in the mix of the noise which seemed to emanate from the breakfast room.

  Angel reached the room just as Zander threw the serving dish of potatoes across it. The heavy bowl crashed into the wall right next to him and slid to the ground at his feet. His father holding a bottle of chloroform as casually as someone might be holding a bottle of wine. There was a cloth in his other hand, but it was obvious he’d not gotten near enough to Zander to press it to his face. Father’s creature showed more emotion now than ever before, but it was his crazed, fevered stare that truly alarmed Angel. The usual vacancy was gone and the giant looked ready to tear everyone limb from limb.

  Ellie stood helpless and frightened in the farthest corner of the room. Her cloudy eyes darted toward Angel. “Jane was not in her room last night, and her sudden disappearance has caused all this,” she said shakily.

  “Leave the room, Ellie. Take Lettie to the servant’s quarters until we resolve this,” Angel said.”

  She scurried out of the room at once.

  “Jane!” Zander bellowed so loudly the china on the table rattled. He searched around frantically for something else to destroy, and his terrifying scowl landed on Father.

  The old man shrank back in terror as he quickly unscrewed the lid on the chloroform.

  “You are more likely to knock yourself senseless then that monster,” Angel said quickly. He searched the room for something to use as a weapon, but the most dangerous implement was the candelabra. After his sound thrashing at the hands of the beast yesterday, Angel hardly felt capable of dealing an effective blow on the man.

  Zander sucked in fast, shallow breaths and his thick chest grew and shrank with it. He stood in the middle of the room opening and closing his fists and nearly foaming at the mouth with rage. He was still focused on Father who looked quite close to falling ill with apoplexy.

  “Are your pistols still in the desk of the library?” Angel asked.

  Frozen with fear, Father managed to look at Angel with only shifting his eyes. It seemed one glimmer of movement might send Zander lunging like a hungry lion. “No pistols.”

  “Truly? You won’t need a monster to impress Rowntree when you are dead, Father.”

  Angel’s ominous words had effect, and his father stumbled forward slightly but caught himself. Zander still appeared tense and ready to spring. Angel had no idea how this would end. But one thing was certain; Father was not going to last long in this terrified attitude without collapsing from the strain of it. Angel had to divert Zander’s attention.

  Angel made a show of walking over to the spilled potatoes. He righted the serving dish and began picking the vegetables up off the floor. It worked. Zander watched with childlike curiosity as Angel performed the task.

  “This is a great game, Zander. Won’t you come try?” Angel said.

  The red glare of rage slowly dissipated, and Zander’s face returned to the simple, innocent expression of a child. He lumbered over and began picking up the potatoes. Methodically, he walked one at a time over to the dish and placed them in a pattern around the bowl. He was too occupied with his new game to notice that Jane had entered the room.

  Father was slowly regaining his composure and color was returning to his face. “Jane, where have you been? We were all so concerned.”

  Jane blushed and she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She shot a pleading look at Angel.

  “Jane had come in early this morning to check on my injuries,” Angel said dismissively.

  “That was kind of you, Jane,” Father said. Obviously exhausted by the horrors of the morning, he placed the bottle of chloroform and the cloth on the table and sat down hard on the chair.

  Jane surveyed the damage in the room and alarm crept into her expression. “Did—” She looked at Angel with wide eyes.

  Angel nodded. “Yes. Apparently he was quite upset that Ellie could not find you.”

  Jane’s hand covered her mouth.

  Zander reached far under the table for a rogue potato and came up fast. His thick skull smacked the table hard enough that the dishes clanged and coffee splashed from the spout of the pot. Then without as much as a rub on the back of his head, he took the potato calmly over to the dish, placed it gently inside and then looked around the floor for another. That is when he seemed to notice the tiny pair of feet standing nearby. His giant face lifted and he spotted Jane for the first time since she’d walked in.

  “Jane!” his voice thundered through the room. With heavy feet he walked toward her and threw his arms around her, swallowing her frail body up completely in his iron grasp. A tiny muffled gasp came from Jane’s mouth.

  Angel flew at Zander’s back and reached around this thick throat but the creature would not release his strangling hold on her. Angel lunged for the bottle of chloroform and poured a good amount on the cloth. He came up behind the monster, his heart racing with the terrifying thought that Jane might already be dead from the crushing strength of Zander’s arms. He reached up and pressed the cloth against Zander’s face. He hoped, if nothing else, Zander would release his hold on Jane to shove him away, but he didn’t. Angel was feeling the dizzying effects of the chloroform himself when he finally sensed that Zander’s rigid body softened. The beast released Jane and stumbled back like a felled elephant before crashing to the ground. The sideboard and table jumped with the impact of it. Angel’s gaze shot back to Jane. Her eyes drifted shut. He raced to her and caught her before she collapsed to the ground. He lifted her limp body into his arms.

  Father rushed over with a glass of water.

  “Drink it yourself,” Angel snarled at him. He lowered his face near her mouth and her warm breath caressed his skin. “Thank god, she’s still breathing. I’m taking her to her room.” He headed to the door then looked back at his father who had aged tremendously in the last week. Angel glanced over at the creature lying prostrate and still on the breakfast room floor. “Rowntree or not, the next time that monster comes near her, I will kill him.”

  Halfway up the staircase, Jane lifted her head from his shoulder. Once again she looked around somewhat confused by her surroundings t
hen she peered up at Angel briefly before closing her eyes and dropping her head against him again.

  Angel kicked open her slightly ajar bedroom door, carried her across the room, and lowered her onto the bed. A winter sun cast its semi-warming glow around the room highlighting the vision of beauty on the bed. Her thick, dark lashes lay in stark contrast to the ivory cream color of her cheeks.

  Angel could not stop himself from touching her. His hand brushed lightly over her forehead pushing the stray auburn strands away. He leaned his mouth close to her ear. “Jane.”

  Her plump, moist lips parted, and she groaned quietly then one word ushered from her mouth on a breath. “Peter?” It was no louder than a wisp of air flowing through the petals of a daisy but it had the impact of a canon exploding.

  Angel straightened and he stared down at her wondering how he’d allowed his infatuation with the ethereal beauty, the girl who had once lain cold and dead in his father’s lab, to take over his mind and body. What a fool he was to think that she had not already belonged to someone else. And the man he’d seen in the village, whether his name was Peter or not, would undoubtedly search every mile of England to recover her.

  Jane’s eyes fluttered open, and once again, she glanced around as if she was uncertain of her surroundings. She reached for his hand and he held her thin fingers tightly in his. “What happened?” she asked weakly.

  “Zander nearly crushed you in his embrace.”

  She wiggled her shoulders on the bedding. “That would explain the pain in my back and neck. Where is Zander now?”

  “Subdued.” Angel didn’t feel the need to elaborate. She’d gone through enough already. The silent internal debate about whether to bring up the name to her lasted less than the flashes of lightning that had sent her to his arms the night before. If her memory returned, let it be on her own time. Angel knew it was selfish, but he had no desire to remind Jane of other men.

  “Why don’t you rest, Jane. I need to go check on Ellie and Father. Zander made quite a scene this morning. Even poor, unflappable Ellie was beside herself with fright.”

  “Angel, please don’t be too harsh with Zander. He doesn’t know any better.” The pleading in her glassy, violet eyes was hard to ignore. Everything about her was hard to ignore. It was if she’d laid wide open his soul and crawled inside of it. There was nothing she could ask of him that he wouldn’t do, but Zander was not just simple-minded. His strength, rage and emotion, when unbridled, put everyone at risk, especially Jane.

  Angel leaned down to kiss her hand. Her eyes drifted shut and he left the room.

  Father sat in the drawing room drinking a glass of brandy.

  “A bit early for that, is it not? Although, the events of the last few days do seem to encourage it.” Angel flopped on the settee adjacent to where his father sat with a near comatose expression on his weathered face. He stared blankly at the amber liquid in his glass.

  “The effects of the chloroform wore off almost immediately,” Father said in a low, hoarse tone.

  Angel sat forward abruptly. “Where is he now?”

  Father lifted his hand. “Do not alarm yourself. He was hungry so Ellie is fixing him a plate in her kitchen. He was perfectly calm again.

  “He nearly killed the girl,” Angel said quietly but with enough anger to get his point across. “You must face this, Father. This has become a lethal experiment. You’ve created a life from death, but now you have put everyone under this roof in danger. And his obsession with Jane is a tragedy waiting to happen.”

  Father grinned slyly at him over his glass. “Is it truly only Zander’s obsession with Jane that I need worry about?”

  There were many times since his return from the battlefield where Angel had had the urge to throw a fist at his father. This was one of those moments, but rather than hit the feeble old man, he unfurled his fingers, reached across and took hold of the man’s prize bottle of brandy. His father watched with pure anguish as Angel lifted the bottle to his mouth, dropped back his head, and swigged down half of the contents. The liquid burned his throat as he lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before replacing the bottle on the table. Father stared at it with a mixture of grief and rage. “Strange how opposed you were to having this girl in the house and yet it has been quite obvious that you would now feel bereft at her loss.”

  “I suppose it is as good a time as any to let you know that during my last trip to the village, I nearly clashed shoulders with a stranger who had ridden to the village with the sole purpose of finding a missing girl, a girl with auburn hair and violet eyes.”

  Father’s mouth drew into a tight line. “Did you speak to this man?” The creases in his forehead deepened.

  Angel laughed. “Why would I speak to him? As you have already so cleverly discovered, the last thing I want is for Jane to leave here.” And then the dark thoughts that constantly plagued him crept up to the forefront of his mind. “Zander deteriorates by the day, Father. What of your newest success? Will Jane follow the same pattern? I must know. I cannot bear the thought of it.”

  Father mulled over the question and took an irritatingly long sip of brandy. “It’s fascinating how interested you are in my experiments suddenly. Just days ago you ridiculed me as a madman driven by greed. I can’t tell you what will become of Jane. Science is tricky and unpredictable. I’m only interested in both specimens staying alive for Baron Rowntree’s inspection.”

  Angel’s fists tightened again. Father had uncovered his vulnerability, and it was obvious that he would now take wicked pleasure in taunting him. “Bloody hell, you are a madman.” Angel stood. “Here is something to ponder, Father. What if your wonderful specimen, Zander, flies into a fit of rage while Rowntree is here? Should make for an interesting spectacle. I think I’ll go check to make sure that Ellie is all right.”

  Father’s fingers went white as he gripped his glass tighter. Angel stormed out of the room with the sudden and urgent notion that he would take Jane from this house long before he allowed his father to parade her in front of Baron Rowntree.

  Angel found Zander and Ellie in the kitchen. The giant was focused on the plate of food in front of him. Ellie looked decidedly less calm in his presence. Again her fingers worked a knife deftly through a shank of ham.

  “How is Jane? Your father mentioned that she had fallen into a faint.”

  “She’s resting. I came to see that you were safe.”

  Ellie smiled as she continued to slice the ham without having to look at the blade or the meat. “I’m fine. All is well when he has food to occupy him.” She stopped suddenly and held the greasy knife up. “Besides, I keep my knives plenty sharp.” She patted her apron pocket. “I keep a spare here, and as you’ve witnessed, I’m quite skilled with a blade.”

  Angel glanced at the broad back in front of him. Zander was completely ignorant of the conversation taking place around him.

  Angel nodded. “That is reassuring to know.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Jane was shocked that it had taken nearly a week for her to recover from being nearly squeezed to death by Zander. Her back, shoulders and neck were stiff with the pain of it for days, and she’d spent most of the time in her room recuperating. Not surprisingly, she’d hardly seen Angel. The man had some recuperating to do as well. Zander, the cause of everyone’s physical pain, had remained peaceful and content for the time. Ellie had told her that he’d discovered a new game of sorting and categorizing the silverware.

  This day Jane felt well enough to take a walk. The four walls of her bedchamber were closing in on her, but a light snow fell outside and she hardly had the appropriate attire to scuttle around on the frozen ground. The manor was large enough for a brisk walk and she decided to explore some of the deserted corners of the massive home.

  Jane washed and swept her hair up into a loose chignon and while tucking the pins into her curls a faint memory surfaced. As unclear as it was, it left her with an icy knot in her stomach. It wa
s vague but she envisioned a woman’s long, thin fingers angrily shoving hair pins into her hair all the while drawing blood from her scalp. She shook the terrifying scene from her mind and grabbed up the wool shawl that Ellie had brought her. It smelled musty with ancient dust and the faintest fragrance of perfume still clung to the roughly knitted garment. She wrapped it around her shoulders. A few fires were lit in the house, but she knew that most of the hallways and passages would be nearly as frigid as the outdoors.

  Angel’s door was shut and there seemed to be no sound coming from his room nor his father’s as she wandered past. She’d missed seeing Angel and many times while she convalesced in her bed, she thought of the stormy night where she’d found comfort in his strong arms. Not talking to him had left her feeling hollow inside, and she wondered how she would ever find the courage to leave this place and Angel Van Ostrand behind. But it would not be long. Her physical strength had returned and eventually her memory and past would come clearly into focus. Then she would know where she truly belonged. Her only fear was discovering that she truly didn’t belong anywhere.

  Jane strolled down the passageway, crossed the massive landing of the central staircase, and headed to the opposite wing of the manor. She’d never gone past the stairs and was certain there were points of interest to see during her walking tour. She only hoped she could avoid getting lost. All was quiet in the main rooms below and although it was midday it seemed she was the only person up and about. She passed a long row of diamond paned windows, the only source of light in the hallway, and stopped to admire the shimmering flakes of snow as they drifted down to cover the grounds below.

  As she’d predicted the opposite wing of the house was so cold she could see tiny puffs of breath as she walked along the hallways. She tightened the shawl around her. Most of the rooms were shut and any spare furniture was covered with white cloth to keep the ravages of time and dust from destroying them.

  She turned a corner and ran face first into a thick, dusty cobweb. She flailed her arms wildly to free herself from the sticky strands. After several effective swipes across her face with the ends of the shawl, she sighed loudly and forged ahead.