Dark Angel (Gentlemen of the Order 4)

A hum resonated in his throat. “Perhaps an hour spent feeding you candied fruit might prove an entertaining pastime.”

“But it’s my turn to feed you, sir. Are you not curious to know what I picked?” She had chosen chocolate-covered marzipan for reasons she was about to explain.

“Chocolate?” He sounded disappointed when she removed the treat from the bag. “Why? Because my eyes are as black as my heart?”

“No, because the outside is hard and somewhat bitter, while the inside is softer and not at all displeasing.”

“An interesting observation.”

“Well, I am an enquiry agent and must look beyond what most people see. And I see you, Mr D’Angelo, with remarkable clarity.”

He stared at her before closing his eyes and opening his mouth.

Mother Mary! She could have spent the entire hour gazing at his face, wondering if she might taste pain on his lips, if he was as skilled with his tongue as most ladies claimed.

“Bite down,” she said, pushing the marzipan square into his mouth.

Mr D’Angelo bit through the chocolate, his pleasure evident in his groan of satisfaction. He opened his eyes and licked his lips while she gawped like a besotted fool.

“Rum-infused marzipan,” he mused. “Why the rum?”

Because there was something intoxicating about him. Something that simulated her senses. “Because you often say or do things that surprise me.” Lord, now he would likely ask her to explain. “Like today, when you changed your mind about walking with me.”

And earlier this morning, when he’d called at Howland Street in an effort to make amends.

“Then, I hope you gain as much pleasure from my unpredictable nature as I did the rum.” Before she could reply, he captured her elbow and guided her towards the silversmith shop.

Sun glinted off the array of silver plates, teapots and serving tureens, making it almost impossible to concentrate. Shielding their eyes from the glare, they spent a few minutes scouring the items in the bay window.

“Can you find anything suitable here, or shall we move on?” he said.

“No. I know what I would choose for you.” She wasn’t sure he would like her reasoning. “The silver tea tray.”

“The tea tray?” His grin shifted from surprised to sinful. “Why, because you want me to play maid and service all your needs, Miss Sands?”

You may have to join him in the darkness, dearie. Catch him by surprise. Ease him slowly back towards the light.

“While I would like to see how well you stoke my fire—”

“Or how skilled I am at removing stays.”

“Or how good you are at washing those hard to reach places, sir, that is not the reason for choosing the tray.”

His gaze caressed the golden lock of hair grazing her cheek. “I could think of other duties I might perform when it’s time for bed, but no doubt you wish to explain why I remind you of a cold metal tray.”

“You don’t remind me of a tray.” She had to banish the image of him washing her back while she sat in the tub, of him pressing his lips to her damp nape. Oh, she had been lonely for far too long. “I would forge the tray into chest armour and insist you wear it whenever you went out. I worry you might take a lead ball to the heart and wish to alleviate my fears.”

“Do not worry about my heart, Miss Sands. It perished a long time ago.”

“The human body has a great propensity to heal. If there’s one thing you should know about me, sir, it’s that I never give up hope.”

“I imagine you see the good in everyone.”

“Not everyone. Just those worthy of redemption.”

He did not reply, but turned to the window and scanned the items for sale. “For you, I choose the silver and agate letter opener. I would insist you keep it under your pillow at night, for once you start uncovering answers, the man who killed your father will most certainly hunt you down.”

Fear threatened to steal her voice. If the veiled warning was supposed to act as a deterrent, then he had misjudged the strength of her conviction. She thought to remind him of the pact they’d made to stand firm on the battlefield, to work together to right a past injustice. But their meeting with Mr Daventry would stir his demons from their slumber, and so she decided to steer away from morbid topics.