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DARK ANGEL
By
Kate Hofman
©Copyright
2010 by
Romance
at Heart Publications E-Novels
Edited by Rose Brungard
Cover Art by Rae Lori
Cover Model Julian Fantechi
Publication by Romance at Heart ©2010
All rights reserved.
No
part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from
the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the
product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons,
living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
PUBLISHED
IN THE
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infringement on the copyright of this work and prosecutable under the
Novel Copyright © 2010 by Kate Hofman
Cover art by Rae Lori
Cover Model: Julian Fantechi
Edited by Rose Brungard
First published by:
Romance At Heart Publications
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Romance At Heart Publications
First Electronic Edition By Romance At Heart Publications: October 2010
Acknowledgements and Dedications:
Many thanks to Julian Fantechi—for depicting Lucian, my hero, so perfectly. When I saw his pose in the ocean, holding a batik strategically, I knew I had found Lucian’s image.
Thanks so much, Julian.
As always, I am deeply indebted to my dear friends Mary Everett and Donna Gladwin Middleton—my critique partners, who helped me make this novel as good as I possibly could. Believe me, they do not let me get away with anything!
Many thanks to Rachel Middleton, who
generously shared her wide knowledge of
Thank you, Rachel!
As so many times before, my grateful thanks to my dear friend
Rose Brungard—publisher and editor of this novel—which is dedicated to her.
Rose, honey, this is for you!
DARK ANGEL
By
Kate Hofman
Ocean Breeze,
Chapter 1.
Lucian Stuart gazed around him with pleasure. This was his favorite time on the beach—dawn, when the sun was a misty half-ball of reddish orange on the horizon, slowly growing in size and brilliance. The Spring break kids long gone—no one around to disturb the blessed peace—the sighing of the lazy surf—the seagulls’ excited squawks around the shrimpers returning to the small harbour at the Inlet.
Lucian wore a length of batik cloth
as a pareu, tucked around his narrow waist—a habit he had acquired during his
many visits to
Lucian realized he had been wading for at least half an hour from his own beachside cottage—one of half a dozen, built in a gap where the dunes gave out, before they started up again, farther north. Deciding to walk back, he turned.
At that moment, he noticed a movement in his peripheral vision. A flash of green… He heard a warm, husky contralto—which he would have recognized after a thousand years—sighing more than speaking his name, “Lucian…”
Lucian bit back an imprecation, hastily removing the bunched up pareu from his neck, tucking it around his hips again. Slowly he began to turn toward the voice.
“Lucian—I’ve been hoping to see you…” By now, he had turned around and saw the owner of the voice. Yes. Terisha—in a green bathing suit. Of course Terisha—just as beautiful as he had tried not to remember… Terisha—with a baby girl? Oh, God, no… No! Terisha’s child should’ve been mine—mine…
“And how is the Widow Ferraro—and the Ferraro offspring?” Lucian’s voice sounded cold, but Terisha heard the pain behind it. Turning his head away, he missed her quick frowning headshake, the hand she stretched out to him—letting it fall again, in defeat.
“No, I remained Terisha Latimer, and Lucy has my name too. You heard that Roberto died,” she stated. He nodded.
“How could I miss hearing that?” he asked. “Your late husband stipulated in his Will that I was to be the CPA to check all investments, approve or refuse all investment suggestions made on your and—uh, the baby girl’s behalf. Moreover, I am to be your tax accountant in perpetuity.” He frowned. “What the hell was he thinking?”
Terisha tried to match the coldness of his voice with a cool glance—not at all sure she succeeded. “Of course Roberto knew of our—uh… And he said you were the most honest person he knew, so he stipulated that you were to help keep Lucy’s money safe.”
“Who is Lucy?” he asked, puzzled.
Terisha smiled down at the little girl, who was clinging to one of her legs, hiding her face against her mother. “My daughter, of course,” she said as calmly as she could. “I had wanted to call her Samantha, but Roberto insisted on Luciana—I call her Lucy.”
She turned to the little girl. “Lucy? Stop burrowing, honey. I want you to meet Lucian Stuart, a—a friend of mine.”
Lucy lifted her face to Lucian’s, gazing at him unblinkingly for a moment, then waving a starfish hand to him. “Hi, L-Looshun?” She gave him a tentative smile.
He smiled back. “Yes, Lucian’s my name. You said it just right.” He knelt by her. “You’re a very pretty girl. How old are you?”
“Two—at Christmas,” Lucy said solemnly, holding up two fingers.
Terisha briefly closed her eyes. Dear God, he’ll do the maths… He is a CPA, figures are fun for him—he will know exactly when she was conceived…
After a long moment—too long for Terisha—Lucian turned to Lucy again. “You’re a long way from home,” he remarked idly.
She shook her glossy black
curls. “No, Lu-shun, we live here.” She pointed to the distant towers of the
Lucian glanced at Terisha, one slim
black eyebrow raised. She said, her
voice none too steady, “You’re right, it is a long way from
Lucian slowly got to his feet, nodding. “Ah, yes, our friend and lawyer, Marcella. It is through her that I discovered the role Roberto has devised for me in the life of his little daughter—and you.”
Terisha nodded. “You weren’t at whatever address Marcella had for you, when Roberto died. She had to hold the reading of the Will without you, and said she’d write to you quoting the relevant portions of Roberto’s Will.”
“Yes, she did,” Lucian agreed. “I only got back last night, and found her letter.” He cut Terisha a look. “This does not, of course, mean that I have to accept the post Roberto wished on me.”
“Oh, but you’ve got to!” Terisha exclaimed, clearly upset. “You’re the only man I can trust with Lucy’s money. And you’ll be very well paid for what you do—didn’t Marcella tell you?”
Lucian nodded. “Yes, she did. But I am not as easily impressed by money as you so evidently were.”
Terisha gazed at him. “What do you mean?”
With exaggerated patience, Lucian added, “I am referring to your hasty move toward Roberto—by all accounts a very rich—and very old and sick—man, when he showed interest in you, on that TV ad filming. Inside a month, you were married to him.” He glanced at Lucy. “Dear God—you must’ve been seeing him while you were still sleeping in my bed!” Furious, he turned from her. “I see it all, now. You probably thought an old guy like Roberto couldn’t get it up, so you slept with him—for heaven knows what reason—and when you were pregnant from the encounter, you made him propose marriage in record time.” He dealt her a dark glance. “Quick thinking indeed. Congratulations.”
Standing there, his eyes dangerous, cold, their unusual dark gold colour turned black as obsidian, he reminded her of her nickname for him, Dark Angel. Is it worth my trying to change his opinion of me? What have I got to lose? He despises me…
She glanced quickly at Lucy, who seemed to be entranced by the sandpipers. “Please listen to me, Lucian. It wasn’t as you thought. Roberto married me out of kindness…”
“Kindness!” Lucian bit out in an undertone. “What do you take me for?”
“It’s true, Lucian,” Terisha
pleaded. “He offered marriage because he
felt concerned for me—I was so sick. You
had gone to
“Actually, my phone got stolen, and I didn’t bother getting a new one until I got home. Meanwhile, because I don’t carry my phone when surfing, you decided to panic, marry Roberto—all because you were upset that I’d gone surfing—staying a bit longer than I had originally intended? You will forgive me for thinking that gross overkill.”
Terisha shook her head despairingly. “It wasn’t like that, Lucian...”
“It wasn’t?” His eyes blazing with contempt, he said, “How was it, then?” For a moment, his heart ached when he saw the tears drenching her eyes, her long, dark lashes—but he hardened his heart. He wouldn’t give her the chance of walking all over him a second time.
Lucy was still watching the sandpipers, and hadn’t paid attention to the grown-up talk. Now, she became aware that her mother was upset. “Mommy, why Mommy cry?”
With an effort, Terisha smiled at her daughter. “It’s nothing, honey, I’ve got something in my eyes. It’ll soon be gone.” She waved her hand in front of her eyes. “Gone! See? Look at the seagulls, Lucy. They’re dancing in the air.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Lucy quickly became interested in the seagulls’ antics.
Lucian said, carefully holding his tone conversational, so that Lucy wouldn’t be alarmed, “I suggest we visit Marcella Mellis, so that I can see exactly what is involved in the task Roberto wants me to undertake for you and Lucy—but I promise nothing. Will you or shall I make the appointment?”
Terisha said, her voice no more than a whisper, “Whatever you want.”
He said coldly, “What I want is to have nothing to do with any of this.” He glanced at her, touched—in spite of himself—by the desperate plea in the big, blue eyes. Frowning, he said, “I suggest we go to my cottage, over there…” He indicated a large cottage, just past the last dune. Its outside was of weathered wood that had gone a warm silvery-pewter shade. “I’ll phone Marcella and we can agree on a time.”
It’s probably my only chance of staying in touch with him, and I want to get him back—how I want him back… He has to listen to me when I tell him what really happened…
She nodded her agreement. To her amazement, Lucian picked Lucy up. “I think your legs may not be long enough to reach from here to my cottage. I’ll carry you.”
Terisha bit her lip when she heard Lucy’s little squeak of delight, saw her baby hands reach for Lucian’s neck, while she pressed a little kiss on her father’s bare upper chest. Dear God, how could Lucian fail to see she’s his? Please help me put this right…
“Thank you, Lucian, that’s kind of you. I was going to carry her, but she’s getting a bit heavy for me.” Glancing at the petite, willowy, blonde woman, he made a little growl in his throat.
“You soun’ like bear!” Lucy laughed. It was more than Terisha could stand to watch—Lucy being carried by her father.
As they walked, Lucy spotted the small café that sold cold drinks, snacks to people on the beach. “Mommy, Lucy thusty…Mommy?”
To Terisha’s surprise, Lucian instantly changed direction, walking up to the small café. In front of it, there were a couple of tables and chairs, all painted white. The café owner was just sticking big umbrellas through holes in the centre of the tables.
“What does she usually have?” he asked Terisha, as they sat down.
“Orange juice is better for her than soft drinks,” Terisha answered quietly. She hadn’t got over her surprise yet, watching Lucian going to the café the moment Lucy said she was thirsty.
Lucian nodded. “Good morning—three orange juices please?” he said to the woman, who nodded, going inside. She came to the table quickly with a tray holding a small glass, as well as three frosty bottles of juice.
“I thought you’d prefer to pour your little girl’s drink,” she said to Lucian. “You know how much she can handle.” She glanced from Lucian to Lucy, shaking her head, smiling. “I’ve seldom seen such a resemblance between father and daughter…” Lucian went deathly pale, glancing at Terisha, his eyes demanding to know.
“Yes, you’re right,” Terisha said to the woman. “Let me pay you. Lucy is rather in the way for her father to get at his wallet.” She took some folding money out of a pocket in her cover-up, and paid.
The moment the woman had left—and Terisha was busy pouring juice for Lucy—Lucian demanded, his voice shaking, “Is it true?”
Terisha nodded. “Yes, of course it is. I knew instantly that I was pregnant—I was so
sick. But you had just left for
Lucian’s dark brown voice poured over her as a caress. “I didn’t mean to say that…”
Lucy’s little voice was heard. “Mommy sad? Lucy kiss?” The little girl held her hand out towards her mother. Terisha quickly brought her face in kissing distance, and Lucy gave her a big smacking kiss. “Mommy better?”
“Yes, of course I am, honey. Thank you.” In an aside to Lucian, she said, “Later, please?” Lucian nodded absently, all his attention on the little girl, who was, incredibly, his daughter. He frowned. Even so, he’d make Terisha pay for having married Roberto while she was pregnant with his child. And he’d insist on a DNA test.
When they had finished their orange juice, they went on their way to Lucian’s cottage. On arriving there, Lucy was enchanted, slithering out of Lucian’s arms, running into his garden. “Mommy, Mommy! Look at Lu-shun’s flowers!”
Terisha slanted Lucian a glance. “You see how she loves being outdoors. I’ve got to get rid of that condo and buy something secure but with a garden.”
Lucian nodded, opening his front door. “Are you coming in, Nature-girl?” he asked. Lucy began to giggle, happy with her new name, but she obediently went indoors. Lucian indicated a seating arrangement in his living room—and moved to the far corner, where a telephone stood on a small desk. Quickly, he punched in Marcella’s office number. “Lucian Stuart for Ms. Marcella Mellis, please,” he said.
~May I ask the subject you wish to discuss, Sir?~
“Roberto Ferraro’s Will.”
~One moment, please.~ After a very brief delay, Marcella came on.
~Morning, Lucian. Did you want to come by and discuss the terms of Roberto’s Will?~
“Yes. Terisha and I met on the beach this morning, and…”
~I’m having a very quiet morning. Why don’t you come now?~
“We have Lucy with us.”
~And I have a little playroom out back. I’ll get the coffee girl to watch over her. See you soon.~ Marcella disconnected.
While Lucian was telephoning, Terisha
gazed about her. As cottages went, this
was a spacious one. The front door
opened into a large living area, furnished simply and for comfort—but with
Lucian’s unerring instinct for colours.
A sofa in muted greens, two matching club chairs, and a wing-chair in a
toning dark green fabric. A square
coffee table and side tables, all in what Terisha recognized as walnut. She smiled when she recognized the small
carpet. Lucian’s beloved
Lucian said, “Marcella can see us now, and she’ll have her coffee girl watch Lucy. That all right with you?”
Terisha nodded, a bit dazzled at the speed with which events were overtaking her. “Lucian, I can’t possibly go to Marcella in my bathing suit and cover-up…”
He nodded. “Nor I in my pareu.” He gestured with one hand down his body.
As if I needed to be reminded what a stunning body he has—how handsome he is…
Lucian went on, “I’ll just quickly shower and change into a shirt and chinos. Then we’ll stop at your place. What about Lucy?”
“She loves her frilly pink flotation bathing suit—I’d need a crowbar to get it off her.” She smiled shyly at Lucian. “She’ll be fine as she is.”
“Flotation…?”
Terisha nodded. “It’s to keep her afloat, and makes her float face up in the water. Safer.”
“All right, then. Shan’t be a minute.” Lucian opened a door in the far wall, and disappeared.
“Mommy, Lucy love Lu-shun’s house. Mo’ than condo. Mommy? We live here?”
Terisha was grateful Lucy had come up with this idea after Lucian had gone to his bathroom. “We’ll talk about it, honey.”
A brief time later, he came out, surprisingly elegant in pale chinos and a chambray shirt, slides on his long feet.
“Lu-shun, Lucy want peepee pleez?”
Instantly, he took his daughter to the master bedroom, through to his bathroom—only to stick his head around the door. “Terisha?”
Terisha hurried to him, as he led the way. “She likes sitting on the grownups’ lavatory, but we’ve got to hold her firmly, of course.” She stripped her daughter’s swimsuit down, and set her on the lavatory. “You want to hold her, Lucian?”
He nodded. Turning to Terisha, he said, his voice tormented, “I don’t want my daughter to call me Lucian. Tell her who I am. Tell her now.”
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