Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Jasper watched my every move, like I was gravity, and he was being pulled toward me. Nervously tucking my hair behind my ears, I moved beside him and sat down. I left an inch of space between us, but Jasper shuffled closer until his thigh was flush against my own. The heat from his body almost set me ablaze. More so when Jasper’s hand found my own and he entwined our fingers together.
I stared at our joined hands far too long. I blinked a few times just to be sure this was real. I was here, in the Knighton family barn, with Lord Henry behind us and Jasper Knighton holding my hand. I felt like I was hallucinating.
“Did he send you?” Jasper said, pulling me from my thoughts.
I looked up at him, at his beautiful, sorrowful eyes. “Who?” I asked.
Jasper exhaled, his breath deep and stuttered. “Is he disappointed in me? Because I haven’t found out who did it?” I frowned, unable to understand what he was talking about. Jasper took another pull of his whiskey. He clutched my hand tighter, then regarded me again. His head tipped to the side. My God, this man was perfect. His face, his stubble, his accent.
“Are all angels as beautiful as you?” he asked, and I was sure I wouldn’t be able to take much more. Jasper was extremely drunk and somehow believed I wasn’t quite real. But hearing him tell me I was beautiful completely derailed me.
“Jasper,” I said, and reached for the whiskey with my free hand. “I think you can stop now.” Jasper watched me but pulled the bottle to his chest.
“If I stop, the pain comes back,” he said, being more candid than I believed he would ever be sober. After all, to him, I was a complete stranger.
“What pain?” I asked, feeling intrusive. But Jasper was broken, and I didn’t know how to make it better.
Jasper tapped his hand over his chest. “The pain that lives in here.” He placed his hand over his heart. He met my eyes, and his gaze filled with tears. “It never goes away, Angel. It’s always here. Bringing me so much pain and guilt that I can’t take it.” He shook his head as though he was being tortured inside. “And I deserve it. I know I deserve it.” He sighed, and his breathing was shaky. Gripping my hand harder, he brought my hand to his cheek, and I stilled. I didn’t dare move. Meeting my eyes, he said, “I just wish it would go. Even for a little bit. Just so I could breathe.”
“Jasper,” I murmured, feeling my eyes filling with tears too. I was soft at heart and couldn’t bear to see anyone else in pain. I curled my fingers against his face and ran the tips over his tear tracks, erasing the damp rivulets. He was watching me, like he was waiting for me to save him, to erase the agony in his heart. “You can let go. Don’t keep it all inside.”
More tears fell over the edges of his eyes, and I wiped them away, all the while Jasper never stopped watching me. “You have an American accent,” he said out of the blue. He frowned, and I just knew this was the moment he’d realize I wasn’t an angel or a figment of his imagination, but instead his new rider who was grossly overstepping her place.
But Jasper took another drink of the whiskey, then held the bottle out to me. “Take it, Angel,” he said, and I released his hand and took the bottle, placing it beside me. Henry blew out a breath above Jasper, and Jasper lifted his hand up to his horse. The stallion nuzzled his nose into Jasper’s palm, and I couldn’t help but smile. Anyone who didn’t believe animals were a true gift from God had clearly never met a horse.
“I’m okay, boy,” Jasper slurred. I could see the bone-tiredness overtaking Jasper as he slouched even farther against the wall. He dropped his hand, and then looked to me and added, “I have an American, dark-haired, blue-eyed angel here, looking over me.”
I wasn’t sure I could take much more of Jasper’s compliments without bursting apart, so I got to my feet and retrieved my long robe from the bridle hook. Bending down, I laid it over Jasper. I couldn’t move him, and it didn’t appear that he could walk, so I thought it was best to make him as comfortable as possible for a night sleeping on the concrete floor.
Glancing to the exit, I made to leave Jasper alone, when familiar fingers wrapped around mine again, and he whispered, “Stay.”
I knew I should leave. Everything in my body told me to go now while Jasper was drunk enough that he wouldn’t remember me being here. But when he squeezed my fingers again and whispered, “Please, Angel . . .” I was done for.