Angelica Grey was no longer the innocent shadow-angel he’d come to love. Dressed in a straight, black coat with a band of grey fur at the collar, she stepped out of the salon a new woman.
Her hair, cut shoulder length, had bounce and a slight curl. It framed her face, accentuating her high brow and impossibly blue eyes. She looked somehow younger, and yet, more mature. As if she’d blossomed from child to woman in a matter of hours.
Save those eyes, Brody would not have recognized her.
He walked at her elbow, stealing glances at her as they strolled toward their hotel. She was so damned beautiful that he was the one bumping into pedestrians on the pavement. He could not tear his gaze away.
“I…er…bought you a toothbrush and shampoo at the chemist’s,” he said, clumsily trying to string words into a sentence. “You can use my toothpowder, if you like.”
She stared straight ahead. “Thank you.”
He’d also bought a tin of condoms, though he kept that to himself. Angelica would find out soon enough—he was going to leave her at the hotel tonight, and engage the first street-corner girl he found. When he used one up, he would fill another, and another, until he didn’t care about Angelica Grey anymore.
Afterward, he’d tumble into their room, reeking of gin and strange women, and tell her every filthy thing he’d done. She’d be shocked. Hopefully, she’d be a little bit jealous. Angelica deserved a taste of her own medicine. It was the only way to proceed.
Staring at her now, Brody was glad he’d bought the sheaths. If he had sketched a woman from his dreams, he could not have created a more perfect mate. She was unique, wondrous. Monstrous. Her beauty was a weapon, aimed at his chest. Her touch was a needle, poised over his vein. One smile from her would wreck him. A kiss would surely kill him.
This new Angelica Grey could bring an entire army of men to their knees—knowing her, she’d like to try.
“I want you,” Brody sputtered.
She nearly stumbled. “What?”
“I want you to wait here,” he corrected himself, “while I get us some dinner. Do you like fidget pie?”
She shook her head, confused. “What’s that?”
“Ham, apples, cheese, onion—it’s good. I can get us a bottle of cider and take it back to the room.” He steered Angelica away from the pavements, pressing her back against the timbered wall of a pie shop that, thankfully, existed on nearly every street in Britain. Otherwise, he would have looked like an ass. “Do not move from this spot. Do not speak to anyone. I will be right back.”
He pushed into the pie shop, anxiously queued, and ordered two slices of fidget pie and a bottle of Bulmer’s to take away. Only when he finally reached the pavement where Angelica stood, was Brody able to breathe easy. She seemed all right, though, and only moderately terrified to be left alone.
“You’re getting frightfully good at that,” he said, frowning.
She turned her blank gaze in his direction. “At what?”
“Independence.”
Angelica quirked up a smile, but said nothing.
Together, they walked to their hotel. Brody carried their dinner, while she hung close to his side. In another life, he would have held her hand, but every time she bumped his shoulder scorched him. He couldn’t touch her. The more distance they put between their bodies, the better off they’d be in the end.
Brody held the door open for her, and helped her inside. He had spent many fevered nights wondering what it would be like to take Angelica out in public. To be seen with her on the street or in the shops. To meet friends, and introduce them all to the woman he loved.
Part of him expected to see pity in their eyes when her blindness registered—it was natural to feel sorry for her—yet Brody never expected to find derision on the faces of the men in the lobby, or to catch the sneer on a woman’s lips as he passed her on the landing.
Sneers and derision, all directed at him.
By the time they reached their room, Brody understood the problem. People thought she was too beautiful for a chap like him. That, because she couldn’t see to know better, he had somehow duped her into choosing him over millions of deserving suitors.
Brody knew better—she was not his, even if he had wanted her to be. Once he found her another, more permanent arrangement, Angelica Grey was free to be with whomever she pleased. She would have no problem finding another protector. Hopefully, one who loved her for the woman she was, and not despised her for the angel she used to be.
The room was warm, and she fussed with the buttons of her coat.