Dark Angel (Casteel Series #2) Read online

  And all the magic of this perfect summer night evaporated; the stars seemed to shrink away, and dark clouds slid from behind silvery ones and chased away the moon.

  "It feels like rain now," said Troy, looking upward. "I used to feel when I was a child that all my expectations for happiness ahead were drowned before they even had a chance to bloom. It's very difficult to feel stepped on time after time, until finally you have to accept what can't be changed."

  What did he mean? He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth! What did he know about the kind of despair that had been mine?

  He turned on his heel, crunching beneath his shoes loose gravel on the flagstone walkway, and with some effort to tactfully get away from me, from the specialness of this night, he gave me his congratulations again from ten feet away, then wished me a good night. He strode very fast toward the maze and the cottage beyond.

  "Troy," I called, half running after him, "why are you going inside? It's still early, and I'm not the least bit tired."

  "Because you're young and healthy and full of dreams that I can't possibly share. Good night again, Heaven."

  "Thank you for coming to my graduation," I called, deeply hurt and trembling, because it seemed I'd done something wrong and I didn't know what it was.

  "The least I could do." And with those words he disappeared into the darkness. Now clouds obscured the moon, and quickly the stars disappeared, and a drop of rain fell on the tip of my nose. And here I was, long past midnight, sitting on a cold stony bench in a deserted rose garden, allowing the softly falling rain to drench my hair and ruin the prettiest dress in my closets. It didn't matter, it didn't. I didn't need Troy, any more than I needed Logan. By myself I'd come out on top. . . by myself.

  I was eighteen years old, believing Logan was gone forever. And the need for romance was filling all my thoughts; love had to blossom for me soon, or I'd never be able to survive. Why not me, Troy? Why not?

  Alone in the garden, quivering all over, my heart hurting, my graduation day didn't seem such a great achievement after all. It was just a step in the right direction. I had yet to prove myself in college. I had yet to manage to keep a man in love with me. I gazed down at the ruins of my white clothes that no woman in Winnerrow could ever hope to own.

  Pity, that's all any man could feel for me, just pity! Cal had taken pity on me!—and ruined my chances with Logan. Logan wanted only the pleasure of bringing into my blighted and deprived existence his material blessings! Now that I wasn't deprived or blighted, his philanthropic urges were thwarted. And Troy—I understood him least of all! I had thought many times lately that I had glimpsed something more than friendship burning in his dark eyes.

  What flaws stood out on me that overcame all the beauty that I saw reflected in my mirrors?

  More and more I was resembling my dead

  mother —and Jillian—but for my hair, my betraying dark, Indian Casteel hair.

  Twelve

  Sin and Sinners

  .

  EARLY ONE JUNE EVENING, BEFORE

  JILLIAN AND Tony returned from London, I heard from the music room the lilting notes of Chopin on the piano. The kind of music I'd heard only in Miss Deale's Friday music appreciation class, the kind of romantic melody that could charm and thrill me, and fill me with such longing that I was pulled to the stairs and drifted down to see Troy seated at the concert grand piano. His long, slender fingers rippled over the keyboard with such mastery I marveled that he could keep so much talent hidden from the world.

  Just the sight of him touched me. The set of his shoulders, the way his head bowed over the keys, the passion and longing he put into his music, seemed to tell so much. He was here, where he had to know I'd hear. He needed me, he just didn't know it. I needed him. As I stood trembling in the archway, leaning against the frame in my nightgown and robe, I allowed the music to persuade me of so many things.

  He wasn't happy, nor was I. We had so much in common. From the very beginning I had liked him; he was like some fantasy man I'd created long ago, even before Logan appeared in my life. A man so sensitive he could never hurt me. Bigger than life I made Troy.

  Better than life, too good to be true. But he was true.

  He seemed in some vague way younger than Logan, ten times more sensitive and vulnerable, like a young boy who expected to be loved on sight—so he struck out so as not to be loved for his looks or his wealth or his talents. And even as I thought this, Troy sensed my presence, and instantly he stopped playing and turned to shyly smile my way. "I hope I didn't waken you."

  "Don't stop, please."

  "I'm rusty now that I don't play every day."

  "Why did you stop?"

  "I don't have a piano in my cottage, as you know."

  "But Tony told me this was your piano."

  His smile was slight and twisted. "My brother wants to keep me away from you. Since you came I've not used this piano."

  "Why does he forbid our friendship, Troy?

  Why?"

  "Oh, let's not talk about that. Let me finish what I started, and then we'll talk."

  On and on he played until I grew so weak I had to sit, and only then did I stop trembling. As he played on, I fell into a romantic reverie, pretending we were together, dancing as we had on my graduation night.

  "You're sleeping!" he cried when the music ended. "Was it that bad?"

  Instantly my eyelids parted. I gazed at him softly, dreamily. "I have never heard music like yours before. It scares me. Why is it you didn't play professionally?"

  He shrugged indifferently. His skin through the silk of his thin white shirt glowed with heightened color. The collar was open so that I could see the faint sprinkling of dark hair on his chest. I closed my eyes again, disturbed by all the sensations I was feeling.

  "I've missed your visits." His voice came to me soft and hesitating. "I know I hurt your feelings the night of your graduation, and I'm sorry, but I'm only trying to protect you."

  "And yourself," I whispered bitterly. "You know I'm nothing but hillbilly trash and sooner or later I'll embarrass you and your family. I've been thinking I'd go away. I have enough money saved up now to put me through my first year of college. And if I find a job, I can work through the remaining years."

  Alarmed, he said something that I couldn't quite make out, though I parted my lids enough to see his concern and alarm.

  "You can't do that! Tony, Jillian, and I owe you a great deal."

  "You don't owe me anything!" I stormed, jumping up. "Just leave me alone from now on, and I'll not impose on your privacy again!"

  He flinched, then raked his long fingers through his mass of waving hair. His disarming, boyish smile flashed. "My music was my way of saying I'm sorry for leaving you alone in the garden. My way of confessing I've grown too fond of you not to make an effort to bring you back again. When you're not in the cottage, I seem to sense you there, and often I turn abruptly, hoping to find you, and feel such disappointment because I'm alone. So please, start coming again."

  So I went back to Troy's cottage with him, and ate dinner with him there. But I was tired of always being cooped up in that cottage with him. I felt the wind of my emotions pushing out so strongly that I needed to be outside, lest I make a fool of myself. But before I left, I was determined to make sure I saw him the next day. For he was softening toward me, I could feel it. And he couldn't fight his feelings for me if we spent entire days together. I could bring sunshine and life into his melancholy life, and I was determined now to force him to accept my love.

  "Troy, can't we do something outside in the fresh air for a change? In the stables are beautiful Arabian horses that only the grooms exercise when Jillian and Tony are away. Teach me how to ride a horse. Or swim with me in the pool. Share a picnic in the woods with me, but let's not stay shut up in your cottage when the weather is so beautiful. Jillian and Tony will come home soon, and we'll be forbidden each other. Let's do now what we can't do then."

  Our eyes
met and held. A flush of color rose from his chest to flood his face, forcing him to half turn and break the bind of our eyes. "If that's what you'd rather do. Tomorrow at ten we'll meet at the stables. You can learn on the most gentle mare there."

  Almost as if I'd swallowed a powerful drug, I fell under the spell of something beyond my control.

  The next morning shortly before ten, I met Troy at the stables. Troy was waiting for me, wearing casual riding clothes. The wind had tousled his hair, and already the sun had put healthy color in his cheeks, and that sad little something that lingered always in the depths of his eyes wasn't there. I ran to him, delighted with the response of his immediate smile.

  "We are going to have the most wonderful day!" I said, giving him a quick hug before I looked eagerly toward the stables. "I just hope the grooms won't tell Tony."

  "They know better than to carry tales," he answered lightly, seeming charmed by my happy excitement. "You look great, Heavenly, absolutely great."

  I spun around to give him a full view, spreading my arms, and tossing my hair. "Tony gave me these riding clothes for Christmas. First time I've worn them."

  For a week Troy gave me riding lessons each morning and taught me the difference between the English and Western styles. It was more fun than I'd ever expected (though I hurt each night when I sat), learning how to race with the wind, and duck the low branches, and heel into the flanks of my mount when I wanted to stop. In short order I lost my fear of the horse and its impressive height.

  After my lessons each morning, we'd go back to his cottage to have lunch, and then he'd send me back to the big house, saying he had to work. I could feel him resisting spending too much time with me, yet I could tell that he really wanted to. So I avoided seeing him in the evening, hoping that he'd miss me, and long for me, and indeed, each morning he seemed so happy to see me that I was certain that someday very, very soon, he would realize he loved me.

  It was a full eight days after my riding lessons began that Troy felt I was ready for a really long ride into the woods surrounding Farthinggale Manor. Time and again he kept glancing at the sky. "The early morning news predicted violent electrical storms, so we shouldn't go too far."

  With us we had a picnic hamper full of what Troy had put together himself, and some special treats that Rye Whiskey had sent over from the big house for us to enjoy.

  Troy was the one who selected a sun-dappled little mound under one of the most beautiful beech trees I'd ever seen. Not so far away was a gurgling stream of water, and birds darted between the gently swaying branches above. The wonderful feel of the summer day put songs in my heart and joy in my every movement, as Troy knelt to spread the red-and-white checkered tablecloth on the grass. Our two horses were tethered not far away and contentedly munched on whatever they could eat. I heard the hum of honey bees, smelled the scent of clover, brushed tiny gnats from my face as I busied myself emptying the picnic basket. The sweetness of the day, the prettiness of the setting, lit up my eyes whenever I glanced at Troy, who couldn't move his fascinated gaze from whatever trivial move I made. I felt self-conscious as I shifted plates and plastic flatware around, and three times I moved the potato salad, the fried chicken, the sandwiches.

  When finally I had everything prettily arranged, I sat back on my heels and smiled his way. "There, doesn't it look pretty? But don't dig in until I say grace, just like my granny used to say whenever Pa wasn't at home." I felt so happy today that I just had to thank someone.

  He seemed bewitched. Dazed-looking, he

  nodded, then inclined his head slightly while I said the familiar words.

  "Dear Lord, we thank you for the food before us. We thank you for the caring hands that prepared our bounty. We thank you for our many blessings and all the joys this day and all our tomorrows will bring us. Amen."

  I lowered my hands, raised my bowed head, looked up, and found Troy staring at me in the most quizzical way. "Your granny's grace?"

  "Yes, we didn't have blessings or bounties, but Granny never seemed to know that. She was always expecting the best would show up one day. I guess when you're not used to anything, you don't expect too much. When she said grace, I used to silently pray that God would take away her aches and pains."

  He fell into silence after that, appearing thoughtful as we both ate our sumptuous picnic lunch.

  And I myself had made the yellow cake with thick fudge frosting in Troy's own kitchen.

  "This is the best cake I've ever eaten!" He licked the chocolate from his fingers. "Another slice, please."

  "Wouldn't-it be nice if we could always be together like this? You and me. I could go to college, while we live in your cottage."

  His dark eyes shadowed with so much pain, suddenly the sunny day went dark.

  He didn't love me! He didn't need me! I was seducing him, or trying to, just as Cal Dennison had seduced me with his own needs and desires, disregarding mine. I handed him his second slice of cake, now too embarrassed even to look at him. With my head lowered so he couldn't see my suffering, I quickly cleared the tablecloth, and without washing the used plates and flatware in the stream as I'd intended doing when first I saw the water, I threw everything back into the picnic hamper in a grand heap that wouldn't allow me to close the top. Fiercely angry I shoved the basket his way.

  "Here's your basket!" I choked.

  His stunned expression forced me to scramble to my feet, then I ran toward my horse. "I'm going home!" I cried out childishly. "I realize you don't need anybody like me stuck permanently in your life! All you need is work, and more work! Thank you for the last ten days, and forgive me for being impulsive. I promise not to waste your time again!"

  "Heavenly!" he called, "Stop! Wait . . ."

  I didn't wait. Somehow I reached the saddle, not caring if I did it right or wrong. My heels dug into my mount's flanks, and she leaped forward while I was blinded by silly tears, more angry with myself than with him. I did everything wrong. My mare was made confused and uncertain. To correct my mistakes I yanked hard on the reins. Rearing upward almost vertically, the mare snorted, pawed at the air, then bolted forward, running wild and fast through the woods. Low branches came at me one after another, branches that could sweep me out of the saddle, break my neck, back, legs. With more luck than skill I managed to duck each branch. And the more I moved in the saddle, the more erratic my horse ran! My screams were like long, thin scarfs blowing behind me. Almost too late I remembered Troy's advice on how to cling to a runaway horse. I fell forward and clung to my mare's thick, brown mane. Over ravines and ditches, jumping dead trees felled by storms, my uncontrolled horse raced. Squeezing my eyes shut, I began to say her name over and over, trying to calm her.

  The next thing I knew she stumbled; I was thrown from her back straight into a shallow ditch half-full of slimy green rainwater. Scrambling to her feet, my mare whinnied, shook herself, threw me a disgusted look, and wheeled about to head for home, leaving me stunned and shaken and hurting. I was also missing my left boot. I felt a total fool as I lay sprawled on my back in the fetid water, staring up through the canopy of leaves to find the sun full in my face.

  God's punishment, I sourly thought, for

  presuming too much! I should have known better than to fall for the first man who made my blood run fast and hot, especially after Cal, and Logan's rejection.

  No Casteel had ever won any prize! Why should I think I was any better!

  Other stupid thoughts filled my head before I had sense enough to sit up and shake the filthy water from my hair, then used the sleeve of my shirt to clean my face of mud. Wild honey bees were attracted, perhaps by my perfume, or by the bright yellow of a once pretty blouse.

  "Heaven, where are you?" I heard Troy calling from a distance.

  You're too late, Troy Tatterton! I don't want you now! Still I began to tremble from the effort it took not to respond. I didn't want him to find me, not now. Somehow I'd make my way back to that huge, lonely house, and never again would I disob
ey Tony and steal over to his cottage.

  So, sitting in the water, I stayed very quiet, slapping at the insects who idiotically found me attractive. Endless time passed before he stopped calling and thrashing about in the woods. The wind picked up and began to rustle the leaves above. Dark, stringy clouds converged as they always seemed to do whenever I was on the verge of finding something valuable. My rotten luck!

  Oh, you bet, I felt so damned sorry for myself, even before the drizzle of rain began, I couldn't stifle my sobs.

  Then a small noise came from behind me, and an amused voice. "I always wanted to save a maiden in distress."

  My head swiveled around to see Troy about ten feet away. How long he'd been watching me I couldn't guess. His riding clothes were snagged in several places, and a long tear had ripped one sleeve from shoulder seam to elbow. "Why do you keep sitting there? Are you hurt?"

  "Go away!" I yelled, flipping my head so he couldn't see my mud-smeared face. "No, I am not hurt! I don't need to be rescued! I don't need you! I don't need anybody!"

  Without replying he stepped into the wet ditch and tried to feel my legs for broken bones. I tried to slap him away, and yet he managed to pick me up after three attempts. "Now, be serious, Heaven. Tell me if you hurt anywhere."

  "No! Just put me down!"

  "You're lucky you are still alive. If it had been hard ground instead of water and a soft muddy stream bottom, you might very well be seriously injured."

  "I can walk. Please put me on my feet."

  "All right, if that's what you want," and obeying my command, he tentatively stood me up. I cried out from the hot pain that shot through my left ankle.

  Instantly he seized me up in his arms again. "We've got to hurry. No time to play games. I had to dismount to follow the trail you made. No doubt trom the looks of that swelling ankle, you have sprained it."