Free To Tempt An Angel (Book 1 Douglas series) by Patricia; Grasso Page A

smile,” Aunt Roxie said. “What are you planning?”
    “I don’t know what you mean,” Angelica said, fixing an innocent look on her face.
    Aunt Roxie narrowed her gaze. “I mean—”
    “Hello? Is anyone home?” called a voice.
    “Hello, hello, hello,” Jasper called.
    Robert Roy appeared around the side of the cottage. “I thought I heard an angel playing her harp,” he said, crossing the garden toward them.
    Reaching into his pocket, Robert produced a green apple. He held out the apple to the macaw, and Jasper lifted it out of his hand and shifted it to his claws.
    “Say thank you,” Robert told the bird.
    “Thank you,” Jasper said, making him smile.
    Robert looked at her black gown and then raised his eyes to hers. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
    “We buried my father this morning,” Angelica answered, rising from her seat on the grass beneath the oak.
    Robert looked surprised. “I am sorry for your loss.”
    “Are you?” Angelica asked, her gaze on him cold. She knew she was wrong to blame him because of the money he’d left on the table, but she was unable to control the urge to lash out at someone.
    “Do you believe I wished for your father’s death?” Robert asked, his surprise evident in his voice.
    “My father might be alive,” she told him, “if you hadn’t left that money on the table.”
    “Angelica,” her aunt cried.
    “Your father drank himself to death without my help,” Robert told her. “Apparently he wanted to die . . . good-bye, Angelica.” With those final words, Robert turned and left the garden.
    “Apologize,” Aunt Roxie ordered.
    Angelica looked at her aunt and then hurried after Robert. What had she done? No one had forced the poison down her father’s throat he’d done that to himself.
    “Wait, please,” Angelica called, rounding the cottage.
    Robert turned around. With the misery of the world etched across her features, Angelica halted mere inches from him.
    “I didn’t mean what I said,” she told him. “Please, forgive me.”
    Without saying a word, Robert opened his arms, and Angelica flew into his embrace. She buried her face against his chest and wept, his arms around her offering comfort and safety.
    When her sobs subsided and then ceased, Angelica looked up at him. She shifted her gaze to the handkerchief he offered.
    “It’s clean,” he said, making her smile.
    “I feel so guilty,” she told him, her voice raw with emotion.
    “I accept your apology.”
    “I don’t feel guilty about you,” Angelica said, making him smile. “I feel guilty about my father.”
    “There is nothing you could have done,” Robert said, holding her close.
    “You don’t understand,” Angelica replied, misery swelling inside her chest, making breathing almost painful. “When Parson Butterfield told me my father was dead, I felt . . . relieved .”
    Robert tightened his hold on her. He tilted up her chin so he could gaze into her tear-filled eyes and spoke soothingly. “You took good care of your father and are not relieved that he is dead, only that a heavy burden has been lifted from your shoulders.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Believe me, love. Your heart is too gentle to wish anyone dead.”
    “That isn’t what my father said,” Angelica told him. “His final words to me were that I looked like my mother but possessed none of her gentleness.”
    “The alcohol was speaking, not your father,” Robert replied.
    “I suppose you could be correct.”
    “I want you to get some rest,” Robert told her. “Tonight I’ll take a couple of my friends to the graveyard to guard your Father.”
    Angelica became alarmed. “I thought corpses weren’t in demand at this time of the year.”
    “That didn’t stop your sisters,” Robert reminded her, a smile flirting with his lips.
    Angelica reached up and placed the palm of her hand against his cheek “Thank you.”
    “Do you feel better now?” Robert asked, turning his head to kiss the