Wrong Kind of Paradise (15 page)

her neck of which he gladly took possession. He kissed the soft flesh above her collarbone and licked a

path to just below her ear.

She shivered and the pattern of chill bumps rose across her flesh under his palms. Just one more

taste and he would set her aside for good....one more taste.

~*~

Angel’s whole world filled with Blac: the scent of cigar’s and brandy. His hands were everywhere,

and her pulse quickened at the delicious sounds he made. His kisses traced her jaw line, and she’d never

come so alive in her life.

Her fingers buried into his hair, threading through the silky strands. The heat of his hands took her

breath and she arched delightedly into him. He braced her against the wall with one hand cupping her

rear, her legs settling against his thighs. One of his hands crept down her body between them until it

reached the apex of her thighs, and she tensed. Every nerve in her body heightened, every breath stalled,

waiting...

One digit slipped between the folds of her opened legs and she almost leapt from his arms. In utter

abandon, she tossed her head back as both legs tightened reflexively.

“My Angel,” he whispered. And she knew the truth of those words. She’d always belonged to him.

And she always would.

So why couldn’t he see that?

He jerked on the ties to her nightgown. His hot mouth trailed a path down her neck to her breasts

until it closed over the turgid peaks. She clasped handfuls of hair and drew his head closer, wriggling

against him. The finger caressed the nub gently and wrought another whimper from her, until it slipped

inside her moist cleft.

She couldn’t resist the words, “Why fight something that feels so right?”

And with that said, his whole body deflated and she slid down him until her feet hit the floor. His

reluctant sigh and his forehead hit the side of the wall, all telling her she’d ruined her chances.

They stayed that way for several more seconds before he lifted his head to stare at her. He righted

her clothes and stepped away. He gave a sad smile. “No matter how I feel about you, Angel, I will still

deliver your sweet bottom to your grandfather where you will be safe. Neither you, nor your... alluring

charms will sway my decision. Your fate was sealed the day your father gave me guardianship.”

~*~

They arrived in “little England” sometime after noon, one of the busiest times of the day in

Bridgetown on the isle of Barbados. Humid air stagnated within the wharves which were crowded with a

colorful throng of people. Numerous masts protruded into the skyline in Carlisle Bay and the consistent

clanging of activity clogged the atmosphere. Tiny blue fishing boats bobbed atop the cerulean surface as

the waves lapped at their bows.

Angel, Blac, and members of the crew pounded down the plank to the dock and headed for the

center of town. Cranes and crews loaded and unloaded the ships at a clipped pace while various dark-

skinned vendors sold their wares. Several of the bright-clad Barbadian women sported brilliant-hued

parasols swinging, to and fro dangerously close to her face. Angel frowned and swatted one away like a

nagging fly.

Heat smothered any chance of breath and her shirt clung to her body like a soppy rag. Their boots

clicked across the cobbled roads on Broad Street. One ragged seaman shouldered through their group and

shoved Angel into the pink wall of the two-storied structure. Blac clasped her arm and hauled her closer

to him, his face a mask of irritation. “Stay close.”

She frowned at his back like a sullen child. As if that had been all her fault. Angel crossed her arms

across her chest and kept pace with him.

Blac eased his grip before letting go completely as the crowd of bodies forced them into single-line

formation.
It would be so easy to just disappear into the crowd here.
The idea tantalized her.

Angel peered through the mass of dark faces. A woman wearing a canary yellow corset and little

else smiled, revealing brilliant white teeth, a remarkable contrast to her skin. Angel smiled in return but

was shoved to the left by an unseen hand. She gasped as the horde closed in, around her cutting her off

from the crew. Angel jumped to see how far ahead Blac was but couldn’t see him. Panic widened her

gaze as the flock of unknown faces gathered in closer, and her heart hammered inside her throat.

“Blac!” she called out, but the deafening drone of different languages swallowed her cry.

Angel shoved past several people, hoping to catch up, but the tide of unwashed bodies came in and

she found herself riding the wave until she was washed to the side of the street.

Why am I so worried?

Alone, she slipped between the bright painted buildings. She could escape. Easily.

But where to? She had no ship, no crew, and no clue where to go. Blac was her only chance at

survival at this point, and she’d lost him too.

She stumbled over a set of discarded wicker baskets in the alley and righted herself. Her palms

brushed the cool limestone wall as she turned onto Swan Street, which ran parallel to Broad Street.

Maybe she could race ahead and meet up with him.

It was less congested here but curious glances were thrown her way as she ran down the block. She

stopped at the intersection and peered through the dark sea of people. Blac was nowhere to be seen. She

called out his name again.

“Bruno? Max? Anyone!”

A loud pop split the afternoon peace, and a burning slice singed her shoulder. Angel gasped and fell

back against the wood structure behind her. A bullet had grazed her shoulder and blood oozed from the

cut to trickle down her chest.

Several screams rent the air and people scattered. Angel grasped the wound and whipped around

trying to locate the shooter. Knocked aside, she couldn’t see a thing, but something told her that bullet was

meant for her.

An intuition screamed at her to run.

Angel whipped around and darted back down the alley she’d come from toward the docks.

Something eerie slid along her spine as if someone watched her. Seconds later, she paused and realized

she’d missed the turn. Alarmed, her hands shook. Two more turns and she knew she was completely lost

in a town she knew nothing about — with someone trying to kill her.

Her impulsive decision to lose herself in the crowd had come back to haunt her. Skidding to a halt,

she rounded the next curve and seconds later another musket ball pinged into the building, missing her

face by mere inches. Jerking back behind the corner, she raced back the way she’d come with her heart

inside her throat.

Tears gathered in her eyes and watered her view. Flustered, she couldn’t decide where to go next.

Her chin trembled and suddenly she wished she’d hung onto Blac’s arm like a leech.

She had to find him.

Creeping around the next corner, she knew if she could find the docks again she could return to the

ship. Surely, Blac would think to look for her there. After all, where else did she have to go?

She refused to look behind her, focusing instead on her destination. Find the harbor and she would

find safety on the ship. Several members of Blac’s crew were still there. They would protect her. She

clung to that hope.

The tips of the masts came into view finally and she ran for them, deaf to her own sobs. Everything

around her blurred as she dashed down the wharves and spotted the Revenge at the end of the pier. Relief

washed over her but whooshed right out of her chest as a vise-like arm scooped her up around the waist.

She screamed.

“Running away already?”

Blac! Angel gasped, turned, and launched into his arms until he was forced to wrap her up. Tears

flowed freely, and she cared not a whit who saw them. Relief cascaded over her. She’d never felt more

safe than she did right here in Blac’s arms.

He patted her awkwardly on the back and then smoothed a hand into a caress. “Angel, are you all

right? What’s wrong?” he whispered against her temple, placing a tiny kiss there.

Angel clutched him closer. “S-someone shot me.”

He set her away from him forcefully to inspect her and caught sight of the wound. His gaze widened

and he inspected the injury. “An accident?”

Angel shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. They shot at me twice, Blac.”

His brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Blac gripped her arm and led her back to the ship. His gaze constantly scanned the area, the crowd,

and he pushed people out of their way. But his hand never left her, his grip never slackened.

Topside, Blac shouted orders to increase the watch and have the crew return to the ship. “Send out

a message to her grandfather and let him know he can come retrieve her here. Until then, I want every man

on lookout.”

“For what?” Rigo asked.

“For an assassin.”

“Have you run into an old enemy?”

Blac shook his head and ushered her to the hatch. “No, it wasn’t me they were after.”

“But who knew we were here? Who even knew we were coming?”

Blac whipped back around toward Rigo. “That’s just it. No one knew but our own crew.”

Eleven

The door to the cabin clicked shut behind them. Sunlight danced through the half-closed draperies

and shed little light into the dim cabin. Two warm hands closed over Angel’s upper arms and pulled her

around to face Blac. “Are you all right?”

She nodded before impulsively seeking comfort in his arms.
He felt so right.
He wrapped her up

without a word and she closed her eyes. Couldn’t she just stay here? Where it’s safe?

Ending their embrace, he led her to the table and urged her onto the mahogany surface. “Let me tend

that wound.”

An awkward silence filled the air as he hesitated before moving to stand between her thighs. He

yanked the fabric of her sleeve off and tossed the tattered piece to the floor. His hot fingers seared her

skin as he examined the wound. The warmth of his breath blew across her shoulder and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.”

His slate grey eyes lifted to her face then dropped to her mouth. Awareness rippled through her. He

cleared his throat and returned his attention to the wound. “’Tis only a flesh wound. The bleeding has

already ceased.”

Angel nodded. He would not acknowledge his feelings to her. Not even now.

Why must he fight this so hard?

“So I expect your grandfather to respond by the morning. Are you excited to meet him at all?” His

abrupt change in demeanor and loud voice startled her. She jumped.

“You seem right glad to be rid of me, Barclay. Regrets over your decision to play guardian so

soon?” Bitterness laced her tone. Even she could hear it and it sickened her. She didn’t want to be angry

with him but it sprang from somewhere deep inside.

His hand lifted to her chin. Warmth entered normally cool eyes. “I have no regrets, Angel. Do you?”

Yes. I regret that I couldn’t make you love me.

She gave a soft, sad smile. “It’s a little late for regrets, isn’t it?”

Silence descended between them as he cleaned the wound and bandaged it up. Heat radiated from

his large body and seemed to encase her in its cocoon. His actions were efficient, quick but gentle.

Done with his task he peered down at her. He studied her face as if he was searching for some kind

of answer. “I miss your smile, Angel. Have you lost it for good?”

Pain wracked her entire being. For once, she couldn’t mask the hurt inside. Tears blurred her vision

and her chin trembled. “You ask for too much, Barclay. My smile died the day my father was taken

prisoner. If you want my smile to return, then bring him back to me.”

Or fall in love me, whichever comes first.

He stepped back but his gaze didn’t waver. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”One

corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. “It hasn’t been all that long ago since I lost my own parents.”

Heaviness settled in her chest. He had lost so much as well. “I know,” she whispered.

“I was angry with my father for a while. He just drank away his life and to hell with everything

else.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “That’s why I can’t allow myself to lose control. I don’t want be like

him. Ever. I take my responsibilities seriously. I have to. Otherwise, I’ll end up just like my old man.”

Angel gasped. “No, you could never be like him, Blac. I — I never meant it like that when I said

you had to control everything.”

“Well, now you know why,” he murmured. “But I loved him. The man he once was. The man who

once spent his every waking moment with his sons. My brother and I had always come first with him.

That’s the man I most respected. That’s the man I want to be. My responsibilities are important, because

my family and my word to my family are important. And your father is like family to me. He was so much

like my own father...how could I ever turn my back on a man who loves his daughter so much he’d give up

his own life for her?”

Tears traced twin paths down her cheeks and a hand squeezed her heart at those words. Blac loved