Rage and Redemption (Rebel Angels) (19 page)

He smiled. “You have many lessons yet to learn.” He brushed his knuckles along her jaw. “But you are brave and intelligent and I am so proud of the woman you have become.”

She pressed her lips together to still their trembling. “I will miss you every day.”

“Nay,” he said firmly. “You will remember me fondly every day.”

A ragged sob tore from her throat.

“Why can I not draw you?” It was such an incidental thing, but she could not let him leave without understanding. He was her mentor. Could he teach her one last skill before Heaven reclaimed him?

Kissing her cheek, he took her hand and led her to her drawing table.

He studied the sketch for only a moment before he explained, “The image is too perfect. I see only devotion and joy. Where is the sadness of our parting? Where is my fear that something might harm you? Where is the exasperation Gideon unleashes in me? These are all part of my character too.”

Even in the brightest soul there is a speck of darkness.
She shivered but chose not to share her conclusion, knowing it would upset him.

He framed her face with his palms and kissed her tenderly on the brow. “Love comes with the risk of pain and the more deeply you love, the greater the pain. Still you must never be afraid of the risk. It is what makes love so exciting.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

He smiled and mischief glimmered in his eyes. “Most definitely.”

Naomi accepted the sadness as he walked from the room. His reluctance to flaunt his angelic abilities made her smile. The aching of her heart was a testimony to how deeply she loved him and how much they had shared.

She found a freshly sharpened pen and paused to study her drawing. Accessing the pain still burning within her, she added a touch of sadness to his gaze and a hint of stubbornness to his jaw. She drew a few strands of mussed hair and tiny lines at the corners of his eyes.

Tears streamed down Naomi’s face as she watched his image come to life—illuminated by the imperfection of her love.

* * * * *

Gideon sat alone in the underground chamber, restless and confused. Naomi’s scent permeated his tunic, sinking into his very pores. Yanking the garment off, he tossed it across the room and pressed his naked back against the cold stone wall.

She’d sat with him through the entire crisis, soothing him with her embrace and the soft cadence of her voice. Why had she done it? How could she feel anything for him after…she didn’t remember what he’d
done
. That was the only possible explanation. He’d successfully purged her mind. She still believed in the illusion that he was not a monster.

He remembered Michael’s voice, the intensity of his presence, but that made no sense either. Why would Michael bother?

The musical chinking of metal distracted Gideon from his contemplations. With a flick of his wrist, he ignited the torch secured to the wall in an iron sconce. He’d extinguished it a short time before when he sent Crispin off on his errand. The darkness better suited his mood.

Crispin approached, heavily laden with the remainder of Gideon’s belongings.

Gideon felt an unexpected pang in his chest. Naomi wouldn’t be the only one turning a corner and carrying on.

“Why do you want all of this down here?” Crispin asked. He draped Gideon’s chain mail hauberk over the chest containing the rest of his armor.

“It’s time I reacquaint myself with a little band of rebels.” He couldn’t contain his sardonic smile as he remembered the exasperated edge to Michael words. “You’ve served me faithfully, Crispin. But where I go, you cannot follow. I spoke with Algernon, captain of the French mercenaries. You will be accompanying them to
Antioch
to join King Louis’ troops.”

“As you wish,” Crispin said stiffly. He clasped his arms behind his back and averted his gaze. He looked almost wounded. He was a soldier. What difference did it make who he served?

These humans could be so irrational.

Gideon rose and commanded, “Look at me.”

Their gazes locked and Gideon cast his thrall. “When you awaken on the morrow you will have no remembrance of my true nature. You will remember only a fellow soldier with whom you fought.” He framed the younger man’s face with his hands and delved deeper into his mind, meticulously purging every image, every memory that might incriminate him.

The longer he worked the more saddened he became. The human penchant for irrationality must be contagious. Crispin was his servant, nothing more. But so many of the images contained Crispin’s easy laughter and his calm resolve, his bravery and loyalty.

Gideon would miss him.

Breaking away with a soft hiss, he released Crispin and reached into the trunk for a clean tunic. When he straightened again, Crispin was gone.

* * * * *

Gideon felt a heated tingle scurry down his spine and knew Naomi was near. Striding between the cluttered storage shelves, he paused on the threshold of his chamber.

She knelt on the furs, a vision in the wavering torchlight. Her sandals rested beside the bed and the fine material of her gown contoured gently to her curves. The garment must have been part of her new wardrobe. The sleeves were slashed to reveal the elaborate embroidery on the undertunic.

How long had she been here?

Why had she come?

She lifted an item from the fur beside her and he realized it was his jeweled dagger. She’d been rummaging through his chest! He couldn’t figure out what she was doing as she turned it this way and that.

“There are less painful means if you want to take your life,” he said lightly.

Her gaze flew toward him and she proffered the dagger, hilt first. “It’s a beautiful blade.”

He took the knife from her but his gaze remained on her flushed face. “What were you doing just now?”

“This is a monastery. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I have been unable to find a looking glass.”

“What need have you for a looking glass?”
Why do you continue to tempt me?

“I have been told I bear a mark on my neck,” she said quietly. “A mark no doubt put there by you.”

He lifted her chin and turned her face to the side. The purple bruise was obvious at a glance but even the two puncture wounds were still visible, if one knew what to look for.

“Aye, it’s still there,” he told her. “Is that all you needed?”

She jerked her chin out of his grasp and stood. “I see images of… I know I was here in this room before you became ill. I know that we shared—intimacies—and you did something to muddle the memory.”

Gideon struggled to conceal his shock. Never before had his powers failed. Why was she able to remember? He idly fiddled with the dagger, not knowing what to say.

“Do you deny what I have just said?”

“Nay.” He closely watched her reaction to the single word. She nervously rubbed one hand with the other. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip.

“Why?”

One dark brow shot up at her question. “Why did I bring you here or why did I attempt to take the memory from you?”

She pulled her braided hair forward, concealing his mark. He wanted to push it back over her shoulder. He wanted the world to know she was his.

That she was his?
His insides twisted at the thought.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“To punish you for forcing me to feel things I did not want to feel,” he answered honestly. Her gaze softened. Her hands unclasped, one reaching out toward him. He pointed the dagger at her. “Do not touch me unless you’re prepared to finish what we started the other night.”

Naomi smiled and raised her hands to shoulder level. “I am such a threat you must hold me off at knifepoint?”

He glowered at her and she drank in the sight of him. His hair hung in damp waves to his shoulders, his golden eyes glistening in the torchlight. Had he just returned from the baths? What a decadent thought. The front of his tunic gaped, revealing a teasing glimpse of his chest beneath the loose lacing.

“You keep looking at me like that, little girl, and I—”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” She took a step toward him. “I’m a woman grown. Most women have been wed and have several children by the time they reach my age.”

“It reminds me how innocent you are,” he said, his voice growing husky and thoughtful.

“How innocent am I or how innocent I was? Is there any possibility I could bear your child?”

His features contorted with rage and he threw the dagger. She screamed and ducked. The knife imbedded in the stone wall far to one side of where she huddled, the metallic protest making her flinch and shiver.

“Even had I taken your virginity—which I did not—I am incapable of planting a babe in your womb. Creating life is a gift God withdrew from us when He flooded your world.”

Anger radiated off him in tangible waves. Naomi felt the hairs on her arms bristle but she did not understand his reaction. “Before the flood, angels could produce offspring?”

“How do you think your world was populated after Adam and Eve left
Eden
? Have you never heard of the Nephilim? It’s recorded in the Holy Scriptures, ‘The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them.’”

“Why did He take the ability away?” She didn’t want to provoke him further but she needed to understand.

“The children were often extraordinary—giants, born with unusual abilities. That’s in the Scriptures as well. ‘They were the heroes of old, men of renown.’ But many were also evil so He put an end to the interaction. He constrained the emotions of angels and rendered us all infertile.”

Naomi wanted to touch him but she suspected he would find no comfort in her touch. She wanted to help him but he had never seemed so far away.

“Is that why you came here? To ask me if you are still a virgin?”

She nodded.

“Believe me, Naomi. When I make love to you, you will remember it.”

“I leave for
England
with the dawn,” she said, her voice shaking.

“I know.”

If he knew she was leaving, then when did he expect they would make love? She had so many questions. Where was he going? Was his war with Gabriel over? Was he any closer to making peace with God? Had she drawn him any closer to the light?

Or had he only taught her to crave the darkness?

She swallowed, greatly disturbed by the thought.

Will I ever see you again?
Her heart ached with the question but she kept silent.

Dragging this out would only make it more painful. She took a deep, fortifying breath and stepped past him. She made it to the doorway when he grasped her upper arm and spun her around.

They held each other tightly, kissing deeply, fervently. She pressed against him, loving the hard shape of his back and his shoulders beneath her hungry hands. He nudged her lips and she opened to him, thrilled by the slow push of his tongue.

Just when she began to feel the sweet ache unfurl within her, he pulled back. His mouth didn’t leave hers completely but the kiss changed. He was tender now, slow…and sad.