Annette Broadrick Unheavenly Angel (pdf)

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away." She glanced up at the giant skylight overhead. "The light is rotten
now."
"Have you eaten?"
She shook her head, busy cleaning her brushes."That's stupid, Angel. You
need to eat. You've lost weight since you came."
"I know," she murmured. "I haven't felt much like eating lately."
He walked over and placed his hands on her small shoulders, kneading the
muscles under his strong fingers. "Why don't you let me take you
somewhere for lunch?"
"No, that's okay. Gladys said she had sandwiches made up for me
whenever I was ready to eat. You're welcome to join me," she added,
glancing over her shoulder.
She knew Blake was wasting his time trying to help her relax. She tensed
up every time she saw him. Angel had no idea how she would have reacted
to the man if she hadn't known her father had wanted her to marry him. She
remembered the number of times Scott had suggested she fly over to the
States when Blake was home. Now that she understood his motives better
she recognized how much of his comments during the past few years were
in the way of matchmaking. He and Todd may have first thought of it as a
joke, but Angel was convinced her father had later decided it was a good
idea.
But Angel didn't want to get married. And if she had ever decided she
might like the idea, she would have preferred to pick her own mate. She
had forced herself, however, to face the fact that she was really being given
very little choice in the matter. Of course, arranged marriages were not
unheard of in Europe, particularly when business interests were so
intertwined, as was the case with the Benningtons and the Carlyles.
But marry Blake Carlyle? Oh, please! Take as a husband someone as
serious, reserved, cold and unemotional as Blake? He wasn't cold the night
he kissed you, she reminded herself. Far from it. Angel had felt as though
she were being held against a fiery furnace, his ardor and obvious arousal
singeing her. What a contradiction he was. Angel carefully placed her
brushes in their proper place and turned around. Blake continued to stand
there, so that she was effectively pinned between him and her easel.
"When are you going to marry me, Angel?" It would be hard to decide who
was the more surprised at the question, Blake or Angel. Setting the date for
a wedding wasn't what he had been thinking about. What had filled his
mind was the soft floral scent that seemed to surround her, how small she
seemed next to him and how childlike she appeared with her hair worn like
that.
Angel forced herself to face him, then wished she hadn't. His black eyes
seemed to reflect her image, his serious face studying her intensely, and
Angel found she was having trouble remembering to breathe.
Angel deftly sidestepped him, needing space. She almost ran to the door,
then forced herself to take each step down the staircase, concentrating on
placing her feet carefully while searching for an answer to Blake's question.
She needed more time. Hadn't he told her the night they discussed marriage
that there was no rush? Why was he pushing her now?
Blake followed her. He watched as she darted down the hallway to the
kitchen. Angel seemed to be constantly moving, like a sprite dashing
through the halls. He wandered into the small dining alcove,knowing that
sooner or later she would appear in there to eat.
Eventually Angel entered the room carrying a plate of sandwiches and
slowly approached the table where Blake waited. She sat down across from
him.
"I can't marry you right away, Blake. It's too soon. I'm still trying to get
through each day...trying to adjust to the fact that Papa isn't just a phone call
away."
"I can understand that, and I'm not trying to rush you. It's just that I need to
make some plans for the business and thought we could work out some sort
of schedule that would benefit both of us."
I can't believe the man. He's planning to work his marriage into his
schedule like a dental appointment. "Could we announce our engagement
and wait for a few months, so that everyone, including us, could get used to
the idea?"
"That sounds reasonable."
She almost laughed. Obviously reasonable suggestions deserved his stamp
of approval. Why did she have a strong urge to be unreasonable just to see
his reaction? She quelled the impulse.
Angel watched with fascination as Blake pulled a pen and small notebook
from his inner coat pocket. He was treating their discussion like any other
business meeting, preparing to take notes. She looked away, refusing to
meet his eye.
"1 would need to go back to France sometime before we married. As you
know, I left in a rush and I have several matters to conclude over there." She
paused, waiting for his reaction.
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with the suggestion. "The situation doesn't
need to be permanent, you know. After we're married you would be free to
spend most of your time in France, if you prefer."
Why did his calm, logical statement cause a constriction in her chest? She
was afraid she knew. Angel was very much afraid that marriage to Blake
Carlyle was going to be a painful experience for her.
"It isn't enough that we marry, Blake. We have to produce at least one
child." She could feel the heat in her cheeks and prayed that he wouldn't
notice.
"I've thought of that." As a matter of fact, he had spent several restless
nights lately thinking about having children with Angel, having her in his
bed, waking up to find her next to him each morning. "One child would be
enough to fulfill the stipulation."
"And what do you propose to do with him... or her... if I should decide to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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