He stroked her pale cheek with his thumb, willing her to open those dark gypsy eyes he loved so much. He needed her impish gaze, her light laughter and intoxicating touch. He needed everything about her. She’d made him feel more alive than when he was human.
Needing her kiss as much as he needed blood to survive, he pressed his lips to hers. “I beg of you, wake. Please, my precious Angel,” he prayed as he held her in his arms. “Wake so I can tell you how sorry I am, and how much I love you. God, I love you.” He couldn’t say the words enough. “I love you. I love you.” He repeated the litany over and over again until exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep, still clinging to her with a vow never to let her go again.
Twenty-seven
Angelica was having the most wonderful dream. It began to fade as consciousness beckoned her senses and she fought to stay within the dream’s dark folds. She could feel Ian holding her, his voice echoed through her body, saying over and over again, “I love you.”
Happiness infused every cell of her being at his words. She didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay in the dream and continue to hear him say it for the rest of eternity. “I love you… I love you.”
Her treacherous eyes opened and she gasped with wonder as she beheld her beloved’s sleeping face. The pallor of death had vanished, and his breathing was steady. Ian was alive! She looked down at his chest. He’d used her dress to make a bandage and, thank God, the wound was no longer bleeding.
He held her in his arms, just like in the dream. A line between his brows said that he would be very irate if made to let her go. But Angelica had no intention of leaving the safe haven of Ian’s embrace. She sighed happily and snuggled against him, mindful of his wound and breathed in his long-missed scent.
“Angel, are you awake?” he whispered, his voice cracking with worry.
She tilted her head to look into his bright silver eyes, joy filling her soul that he was alive and didn’t hate her. “Yes.”
He squeezed her tighter, though his features were wracked with pain. “Thank God. I was afraid I was going to lose you.”
His words made her wonder if her dream had been real, but she was too afraid to ask. Instead she whispered, “I thought I was going to lose you.”
He chuckled weakly. “With the heroic efforts of my avenging Angel to defend my life? I should say not.”
Angelica met his gaze, a playful smile upon her lips. “Well, actually, Loki saved you. He woke me up and led me here just as that horrible man—” She sobered immediately as the memory of the gruesome fight overtook her. “How is your wound?”
“I am healing,” he said evasively.
She frowned. “Really, how bad is it? How close did you come to… to…” She broke off, unable to say the words aloud.
“I came very close,” Ian answered levelly. “The damage to my heart was quite severe. If you hadn’t immediately given me your blood, I would have perished.”
Gently, Angelica lifted the bandage to reveal his chest. The wound had shrunk to half its size and the bleeding was reduced to an intermittent trickle. Though heartened at the speed with which he was healing, she didn’t want to take any chances and pressed the crumpled ruin of her dress tightly against the hole.
Ian covered her hand with his. “Careful, or the wound will heal around the cloth.” Shaking his head slightly, he added, “Angel, I don’t deserve your tender nursing.”
At his gentle words, a lump formed in her throat which was already raw from screaming. “Don’t you dare say such an awful thing! If I had published that book, there would have been swarms of hunters after you. I know that now,” she choked, sick with guilt. “You could have been killed and it would have been entirely my fault! I didn’t realize the danger. Oh, Ian, I am so sorry. I never meant for you to be hurt. Please forgive me.”
“No, Angel. Don’t say that. The fault is mine. I never should have burned your book. You didn’t intend to ruin me with your writing. It is I who should be demanding your forgiveness.” With excruciating gentleness, he cupped her chin, his thumb stroking the line of her jaw.
She couldn’t stop her tears. “Does that mean you are not angry with me anymore?”
“Yes. I was a fool.” The naked pain etched on his features was almost too much to bear.
“Ian, does that mean you won’t leave me now, like you did with your other wives?” Long forgotten hope rekindled.
His brows creased in confusion. “Other wives? What other wives?”
“The night of our first ball I heard you talking to Rafe.” Her voice shook in agony at the memory. “Y-you told him you’d leave me and return as your own heir fifty years later… as usual.”
Ian shook his head. “It is usual for me to leave the city and return as my heir every half century, but I assure you I have never had a wife. You are the first, the only.” He kissed her tenderly. “I’ll never let you go, Angel. What can I do to atone for the pain I caused you?”