This chapter is for my editor, KittyLynne. I hope it helped take your mind off things for a while. Hugs and smooches!
Wild Angels
By Amiboshi-chan
Chapter ten
Miaka sat in front of the vanity and stared at her reflection, thinking that the person in the looking glass was almost a stranger to her.
Dark red hair was carefully piled on her head. The navy gown she wore was elegant but not gaudy. Smooth shoulders were exposed in a way Yui had assured her would be demure and yet alluring. The image she presented was the epitome of a calm and refined young lady.
"So why do I feel like a bagful of barn cats are tied up inside my belly?" She asked the reflection.
Rising rose from the padded stool, Miaka carefully straightened the folds of the white sash draped over the front of the blue velvet skirt. It was drawn up at each hip with a small rosette- to emphasize her small waist, Yui had said, in contrast to the moderate-size bustle.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of her friend. She tried to swallow, but there was an obstruction at the back of her throat. Her nerves felt raw and she was edgy as a longhorn in a thunderstorm.
"I am just lonely for Yui's company," she muttered, as she paced the length of her room. "That must be why I am feeling high strung."
She tried to think of some way to appease Tokaki so she could see her friend. Maybe she could just apologize.
No. Tokaki wouldn't give in that easily. Besides, her pride wouldn't tolerate anything of the sort.
Perhaps she should bake a cake?
No. He would simply accuse her of feeding Yui a poor diet.
Perhaps-
A forceful knock on the door stopped her in mid-thought. "Yes?"
"It's me. Are you ready?" The loud rumble of Tasuki's voice sent a shiver up her spine. "Dover is at the door and obviously panting for your company, since he's a full twenty minutes early." He added, with a distinct edge to his tone that made her all the more irritable.
"I'll be right down." Miaka took a deep breath and turned to look at herself one last time. The image was one she had not yet grown accustomed to, but at least nobody else would doubt that she was a lady...except, perhaps, Tasuki McCarty.
The thought of him and the message she had received earlier in the afternoon brought an even larger lump to her throat.
She went to the vanity and picked up the note, unable to ignore the strong floral scent on the elegant stationary as she withdrew it from the envelope. The handwriting was precise and neat, the message short and to the point:
'Don't get too cozy with my fiancé or you and the entire O'Bannion family shall be sorry."
It was signed simply, ' V.A.'.
Miaka folded the message and returned it to the envelope, as a raw ache settled within her heart. What woman would dare write such a note unless she was deadly serious about keeping her man?
Tasuki watched as Miaka stepped out of her room and strolled elegantly down the staircase. The navy blue gown made her eyes look greener than ever. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that she was fetching, all decked out like that. Of course, she was a sight to behold in boots and chaps, too . . .
With an effort, Tasuki shook such thoughts from his head. It was best he remembered that he was only going as a chaperone, and to keep Miaka out of trouble. That was all there was to it.
The next morning, Tasuki tiptoed down the back stairs and out the servants' entrance, determined to avoid running into Nakago after the wretched night he had spent enduring Hotohori's moon-eyed glances at Miaka, and listening to his mewling, flirtatious chatter. Even worse, Miaka had barely acknowledged his presence, apparently too captivated by Dover's smarmy good looks and practiced charm to notice anything else.
Tasuki's fists clenched, and his jaw tightened. Yes, the last thing he needed this morning was to have to give an accounting to Nakago, when his emotions were still raw, and far too close to the surface.
What he did need, on the other hand, was to get a little satisfaction.
Minutes later, he opened the doors to the gentlemen's club and stalked inside with all the finesse and manners of a grizzly bear.
"Somehow I knew you'd be early!" Hotohori Dover grinned as he unfolded himself from the leather side chair.
"Let's get to it."
Within moments they had changed were climbing into opposite corners of the padded ring.
"What made you think I'd come early?" Tasuki asked, as he stretched his tendons and warmed up his shoulders.
"I don't believe I'll tell you- not just yet." Hotohori replied cheerfully. He positioned his fists and jogged on the balls of his feet. "How do you feel about a little wager, McCarty ol' boy? If you can land a solid punch this morning, I'll tell you how I knew you'd be early."
Tasuki frowned, and then nodded. "All right, Dover- you've got yourself a deal!"
They met in the middle of the ring like dueling knights. Tasuki danced on his toes, intent upon turning Hotohori's handsome face into a bloody mess. That little voice inside his head, the one that sounded oddly like Chichiri, asked him why he was so determined to mess up Hotohori's face, but, as with other things he didn't want to think about, he managed to ignore it.
Hotohori threw a lightening-quick punch. Tasuki, still preoccupied with his inner demons, reacted with something less than his usual stellar reflexes. He ducked, but a portion of Hotohori's fist connected with his eye. The stinging blow made it water and his ears ring.
"Now we are almost even," Hotohori said with a happy grin. "I had to tell that lie about running into a door far too many times."
"We are nowhere near even, by my way of looking at things. Not by a long shot!" Tasuki rushed in, throwing punches into his opponent's lean middle. Hotohori backed up a step.
Tasuki rammed his fist upward, catching Hotohori's chin. The bones in his hand tingled and stung, but the satisfaction of landing the blow made the pain bearable.
"Okay! Okay! You win!" Hotohori chuckled as he wiped his hand across the smear of blood on his chin. "You landed a punch." His eyes were twinkling with amusement.
Tasuki reluctantly lowered his fists, not at all happy about winning, for a part of him still wanted to lay the man flat out on the canvas. "So how did you know I'd be here early?"
Hotohori picked up a towel and rubbed it along his chin. A crimson stain marred the thick white toweling. "It is obvious to everyone but you. I knew you would be here because of Miaka Brooks."
"What's Miaka got to do with this?"
'Don't be dense, McCarty. When did any thought in your head not revolve around Missy?' The Chichiri voice challenged.
Hotohori shook his head and laughed. "You are crazy in love with her. Though, as contrary as you are, you will probably deny it just as you keep denying a wedding between you and Violet is in the wind." Hotohori climbed through the ropes. "I always thought you McCartys were an intelligent lot, but I have never seen a man as thick as you."
"Dammit, come back here! I'll show you how thick I am!" Tasuki snarled.
Hotohori held up his hand and kept on walking.
"If I were in love, it certainly would not be with Miaka Brooks!" Tasuki insisted.
His opponent paused. "Then does that mean you are intending to marry Violet?" Before Tasuki could answer, Hotohori disappeared into the changing room.
"I am not in love with anyone!" Tasuki yelled after him. "Nor am I marrying Violet!"
"Who are you trying to convince, Hotohori Dover or yourself?" A familiar voice asked blandly.
Tasuki whirled around. There, dressed in tights, grinning from ear to ear, was Nakago. "I don't have to convince anyone that I am not in love with Miaka Brooks." He snapped. "And I'm getting damned sick and tired of having Violet's name linked with mine!"
"Fine. Would you care to take a punch at me, or is that honor reserved only for men who dare to court Miss Brooks- the lovely young woman you are not in love with?"
Tasuki's eyes narrowed. He walked to the center of the ring and raised his fists. "Funny, Nakago, funny. You know, it has been a while. I would enjoy taking you down a peg or two."
"Not likely, but the effort might cheer you up." Nakago snorted. "That's a nice-looking scar you have there. I assume you got that out west?" He pointed at Tasuki's bicep.
'I got it saving Missy from certain death.'
Nakago stretched and threw a few mock punches as Tasuki remained silent. "Don't tell me you were dueling with knives when you weren't chasing cattle and whatnot?"
Tasuki's scowl deepened. "No! It was a disagreement with an angry longhorn."
"Really? I am impressed." Nakago danced a little closer. "By the by, I hate to bring this up- I mean, since you made it clear you're not interested- but Miss Brooks left the house right after you did this morning."
"So what if she did?" Tasuki didn't want to listen, didn't want to care.
"That means nothing to you, does it?"
Silence stretched between the two men as they threw punches that never quite landed. After several feints, Tasuki couldn't stand it any longer. He had to know.
"Well, what of it?"
"Ah, you are interested!" Nakago smirked. "I am not sure as to her destination, but she was carrying a bag."
Tasuki stopped moving. "A bag?"
"Yes, you know, as in a container for one's clothes? You don't suppose Miss Brooks left without saying goodbye, do you? But then, you wouldn't care, because as you made clear, you are not in love with her." Nakago gave Tasuki a taunting smile.
Damn, but Nakago could be a pain in the ass sometimes.
Miaka yanked her skirts and petticoats up between her legs and stuffed as much of the full ruffled edge as she could into her belt. The result she achieved by altering her pale blue frock wasn't as convenient as trousers, but it would have to do.
She looked up at Yui's window, craning her neck so far backward that for a moment she became dizzy. The sound of a horse and buggy passing drew her attention, but luckily Yui's bedroom faced the alley. Miaka could not be seen from the street.
She squinted her eyes against the sun as she tried to judge the distance she would have to climb. Including the thick stone foundation, she guessed it to be about twenty-five feet up to the wrought iron balcony that framed Yui's French windows.
"No higher than the lightening-struck cottonwood in the back of the ranch house," She assured herself. Hell, she'd shimmied up that old tree since she was old enough to run away from- or after- her brothers and sisters. Of course, it did grow at a crooked angle because of the scars on its weathered gray trunk, and that slope made it more like a ramp than a tree. . . but that shouldn't make much difference.
Besides, there was no other way to visit Yui.
With a sigh of resignation, Miaka looped the straps of her carpetbag over her arm, grabbed hold of the ornate black Iron trellis and started to climb.
The rosebush tangled within the trellis was old and gnarled. The greenish brown stems, loaded with thorns, were as thick as her fingers. By the time she reached the first floor roof her palms were stinging from pricks.
Her skirt tangled in the grip of the briar rose. She tugged at the stubborn cloth and it finally jerked loose with a resounding rip. A scrap of her petticoat was left dangling from a long scimitar-shaped thorn. "Damnation," she muttered.
A few more tense minutes of picking her way through the maze and she was finally able to hoist herself and the bag over the second story balcony railing.
Tasuki finished buttoning his shirt during the carriage ride to the brownstone. He silently carried on a running argument with himself about why he had rushed from the athletic club and why he had allowed Nakago to needle him about Miaka.
'She's not leaving. She can't be. It doesn't make sense.'
But his thoughts gave him no reassurance. Maybe she was leaving. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if she was; after all, he had known she'd be like a fish out of water in New York. Still, it wasn't like Missy to just turn tail and run back home- not like her at all.
'But she isn't Missy anymore. She is Miaka- mysterious, sensuous, unpredictable Miaka.' And it was just possible the nonsense with Violet had her on the run.
He argued silently as to which it was, back and forth, and by the time the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the O'Bannion's brownstone he was in a fine fit of temper. He strode up the steps and flung open the door.
"Tilly!" His voice echoed through the oppressively quiet house. He had never noticed how silent the stately brownstone was until he remembered the Brooks' ranch. That house hummed with laughter and arguments. It vibrated with life.
As he was comparing the two places, Tilly appeared, eyes round with surprise. "Yes sir?" Shock and a perhaps bit of fear were written in her features.
Tasuki tried to wipe the scowl from his face; Tilly wasn't at fault for Miaka's disappearance, so why take it out on her? The memory of how the maid's lips had trembled when he apologized for his beastly behavior at breakfast stung at his conscience. "Is Mrs. O'Bannion in?"
"No, sir, she went to Miss Clair's," Tilly replied quickly. "They were going shoppin'."
Tasuki raked his hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. "Was Miss Brooks with her?"
"Oh, no, sir."
Hope died in his chest. When the O'Bannion women went shopping, they planned their strategy like conquering generals and did not come home until the campaign was over. He looked up at the staircase, willing Miaka to appear.
"Has Miss Brooks returned, then?" He couldn't entertain the thought that she had left him. Had left New York, he mentally corrected.
"Returned, sir?" Tilly replied evasively, now twisting and mangling her apron between her fingers.
Tasuki turned his full attention to the maid. "Nakago told me Miss Brooks went out carrying a traveling bag." His voice was stern and a bit too loud.
Tilly wrung her hands in the white apron. "Sir?"
"This is important, damn it! Is Miss Brooks here or not?" Tasuki pressed.
Tilly ducked her head and made the sign of the cross. Tasuki was sure this was the first time she had heard him swear.
'If I don't find Miaka it won't be the last profanity I say in this house.'
"No, sir."
"Do you know where she is?" His patience was shredding like the bit of lace at the edge of Tilly's apron.
"She did not say what time she would return, sir."
A prickly relief washed over him. Tilly's reply indicated that Miaka planned to return. The maid continued to avoid his eyes like a disobedient spaniel that has chewed a slipper, and Tasuki's instincts told him that she knew what he needed to hear. "You know where she is, don't you, Tilly?"
Her head snapped up. "I can't say. That is, I don't know, sir." She backed up and drew in a deep breath, and Tasuki could see a definite flicker of fear in her eyes.
"For pity's sake, Tilly, I am not going to hurt you, or Miss Brooks, but I need to speak to her. Now tell me where she has gone."
Tilly's shoulders sagged, and her stiff uniform seemed so lose all of its starch and crispness. "I'm not supposed to say, sir. I promised."
"You promised what?" Apprehension crept up his spine. What could Miaka be doing that she wanted to be kept secret? And who was she doing it with?
"I promised not to tell who she is seeing." Tilly slapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes grew round as gourds.
Tasuki tried to calm his runaway heartbeat. The feeling he refused to acknowledge as jealousy washed over him.
'Who was she seeing?'
Something hot and bitter rose in the back of his throat. He drew a deep breath, willing himself to school his featured and did his best to smile at the maid.
"Miss Brooks is our guest." His voice was low, and taut with false control. "We are responsible for her welfare while she is visiting. Surely you can understand that?" He rationalized this for his own as much as the stubborn maid's benefit.
"Ye-yes sir."
"Now tell me, Tilly. Where has she gone?" He measured each word, matching the cadence to his thudding heart.
"But I promised, sir!" Her tone was pleading.
"Damn it all to hell! Tell me." He fastened what he hoped was a stern gaze on her face. "I only want to make sure she is all right," he added as an afterthought, when Tilly's face grew pale as snow.
"She went to see Miss Yui, sir." She whispered.
Once more relief flooded through Tasuki's constricted chest. He released the breath he had not been aware he was holding. "Yui's house?"
"Yes, sir. Please don't tell her I told you!" Tilly said, sniffing. "I wouldn't want the young miss to think she can't trust me any more."
"I won't say a thing about where I got the information, Tilly. You have my word on it." Tasuki smiled at the maid. "Thank you.You can go now."
"Yes, sir." Tilly bobbed her head and scurried toward the kitchen, making no effort to hide her relief.
'Miaka was not leaving. She was only going to visit Yui.'
A strange new joy settled over him like summer sunshine, and them a new question popped into his head.
'Why was Miaka swearing Tilly to secrecy about visiting Yui?'
A premonition of doom swept over him. Knowing Missy as he did had taught him that she would not take Tokaki's high handed, unreasonable exile in good grace.
There was going to be trouble, he was sure of it.
Tasuki leaned against a black oak tree across the street from Tokaki O'Bannion's house. Indecision ran hot and cold inside him. Should he just go knock on the door and stop all this ridiculous cloak-and-dagger business, or should he remain hidden and observe?
"No, I won't give her away." He answered himself. Hotohori swore that Tokaki had forbidden Miaka to see Yui, and there was no reason to believe he had softened his stance. Going to the door would ruin any chance Miaka had of visiting her friend.
Tasuki frowned at the imposing mansion while he lurked beneath the sheltering old tree across the lane. No matter how good the reason, it still irked him to be spying like this.
His gaze swept idly over the solid brickwork. The ornate façade of plaster and stone needed repair in several places. Tokaki had probably not noticed the grout and mortar were crumbling and falling away. Vines grew abundantly, funding niches and cracks in which to cling, and causing crevices to grow between the bricks. Virginia creepers hung in green profusion and the heady scent of Tokaki's prize roses filled the spring air.
It was quiet, the only noise the droning of yellow-and-black bumblebees tasting the nectar of the flowers. Then suddenly the silence was shattered by a series of excited yips. The black and white bull terrier in the yard next door barked furiously, bouncing on his stiff front legs while his hoarse, raspy yelps echoed though the neighborhood. He shoved his nose through the iron fence that separated his domain from the O'Bannion's, and the hackles rose along his muscled back as he focused intently on something in Tokaki's yard.
A fire? A Burglar?
Tasuki roused himself from his sentry duty. He crossed the street and cautiously crept toward the side of the house, spurred on by the thought that Yui and Miaka might need help.
The little dog barked louder.
As he approached the wall, a carpetbag narrowly missed Tasuki's head and landed at his feet. He looked up to spot the culprit, scanning the bush and trellis that stretched above his head. Midway up, a small bit of white cloth and lace clinging to a branch caught his attention.
A scrap of a woman's petticoat.
He tilted his head and looked higher, then had to stifle a gasp as a familiar feminine backside suddenly appeared over the railing. The voluminous, yellow-plaid skirt billowed around her legs like the pennant on a sailing vessel each time the wind caught it. From his vantage point beneath her, Tasuki had a clear view of her legs, petticoats, lace-trimmed drawers...and an exquisitely rounded bottom.
It was a delicious, tantalizing sight.
Miaka cursed silently as her skirt caught on one of the iron crossbars. She did not wish to wake Yui, who had finally dozed off with a smile on her face. Miaka did not want to erase what had taken an hour to put there.
She looped her arm through the trellis, allowing her weight to hang on her bent elbow while she tugged the fabric free. When she was released and able to move again, a thorn poked her hand. She looked at her palm and discovered the thorn had broken off inside. It stung like liquid fire, and blood began to pool in her palm. While she was looking at the spot the trellis seemed to shiver beneath her weight.
"Silly, it's only your imagination," she chided herself. The strange shudder came again, and even though she assured herself that she was not frightened, she ignored the thorn and started to climb down as fast as she could manage.
Tasuki grinned wickedly as a warm breeze caught the plaid skirt once again and made it flutter out like a sail.
She was coming closer. In fact, she was close enough for him to make out the details of embroidery on the edge of her petticoat ruffles. He thought about letting her know he was there, but he didn't. He just stood there and stared up her dress, like the most lecherous of Peeping Toms, while a sensation akin to the flow of warm honey moved through his veins.
His appreciative grin widened as she came even nearer. Lord almighty, but the woman had a finely shaped backside! Of course, he already knew that about Missy Brooks. He had watched it, encased in trousers and emphasized by leather chaps, on more than one occasion on the Brooks ranch.
But this time was different. He was different.
Until now he had never allowed himself to really comprehend the sheer perfection of her womanly form. Perhaps it was the novelty of seeing her in such a feminine get up that had made the difference. Or perhaps it was the absurdity of seeing that same frilled and ruffled form clambering down the trellis like a tomboy
Whatever it was, the impact of watching Missy this way was like an unexpected punch to his belly. A sense of wonder swept over him as he took inventory of each and every asset she possessed. Her legs were incredibly long for someone so small, and each time she placed her foot on another rung and lowered herself downward, the muscles of her thighs moved in a way that made his own body quicken.
Yes, Tasuki thought, it definitely felt like a rock-hard fist had been planted in the middle of his gut-and other parts of him were becoming rock-hard as well.
Hotohori's words came drifting through his consciousness. 'Anybody can see you are in love with Miaka Brooks.'
Tasuki shook his head at the notion. He wasn't in love-damn it, he couldn't be! He wanted to remain footloose and free to enjoy himself. He would know when he fell in love. It would take his breath away and rob him of sleep, and he wouldn't know which end of the world was up.
No, he wasn't in love, but he was sure as hell enjoying the sight of Miaka Brooks' womanly form above him. She was a beautiful work of art on display, and he fully appreciated the exhibition she was giving- just as any single, red-blooded male in his situation would have done.
The harsh sound of grating metal intruded on his thoughts. The hot flow of lust ebbed and was replaced by the cold reality of fear as he saw the trellis suddenly started to lurch and jerk.
Miaka tightened her grip on the bar, as the lone metal bracket holding the trellis squealed as a thing alive. Tasuki watched in horror as it pulled loose from the ancient and crumbling masonry around the window frame.
She was only halfway down. It was too far for her to jump, and there was nothing else for her to grab onto.
The one rusty bracket that remained in place cracked with a snap. With a kind of disjointed slowness, the top of the heavy iron trellis broke free of the wall. Fragrant blossoms rained down on Tasuki's head while the old iron buckled. The bush and its support swayed away from the solid security of the house, propelled by the weight of Miaka's body.
She was going to fall.