Fallen Angel

Chapter 15.2

Anne was mentally drained from all she learned these past twenty-four hours. Yet, what she witnessed in the library with Joan haunted her and kept her awake. Her husband, bless his heart, suggested a nice cup of chamomile tea. When he poured a Scotch for himself as the kettle was on, Anne asked for a glass as well. Thomas watched in amusement as she gulped down the drink in one go.

"Easy there, lass." He chuckled. "That's pretty potent stuff."

"Not that strong if you can handle it," she bit back, a little sharper than she meant.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. It's just... I can't think straight right now."

"That bad, huh?"

Thomas listened closely as Anne recounted the scene between Gabriël and Michael. By the time she finished, he bore the same quizzical expression he had whenever he read a detective novel.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"It makes no sense," replied Thomas. "Why would Gabriël act like that towards the man? You saw how he was when he told us what he had discovered about Michael. There was only hate and disappointment. Unless... You said Gabriël's manner towards Michael changed after he told him he would step aside and let Gabriël take up the cloak of Lord Protector, right?"

"Yes, what's your point?"

"Isn't it obvious? He's pretending. Gabriël is making Michael believe he wants to return by giving him hope that something might yet happen between them. If Gabriël becomes Lord Protector, then Michael won't be able to go against him."

"You believe Gabriël intends to get Joan back in the Vale?"

"I'm sure of it." Thomas sat down and put the cup of tea in front of her. "It's the only logical explanation. We can protect Joan and the baby for now, but if there was a way... They would be safer up there than down here, and Gabriël knows it."

"But to manipulate Michael like this? I never thought Gabriël was capable of such a thing."

"People do crazy things for their loved ones."

Anne smiled sadly as Thomas brushed his hand against hers. She knew he still blamed himself for all those years they lost. But he couldn't compete against the King of England or Anne's family. Their ambition had doomed them all. The only one who had escaped Henry's wrath and the downfall of the Boleyns was her sister Mary. Her second husband had been her own choice, a marriage out of love. Anne recalled she'd named her sister a fool for making such a mistake and throwing all her good fortune away. Now she understood Mary had been the sensible one. 
The pair sat quietly, simply enjoying each other's company. The tea smelled and tasted divine. It wasn't long before the calming effect struck Anne. She could always count on her darling husband to come up with the comfort she needed. Her dark eyes peered up at him through her lashes. Her pinky stroked his. Thomas met her gaze. A sly grin appeared in the corner of his mouth. 

"How do you feel?" he asked, pretending casual conversation. 

"Hm, I don't think the tea is working," she replied, picking up on his intention. "I fear I'll be awake for the remaining hours of the night."

"Well, we can't have that." Thomas rose from his chair and drew closer, eyes never leaving Anne's. "Perhaps there is something else I can offer to do for my Lady?"

"Something else?" Anne's voice held a playful undertone. "Why, Lord Wyatt, whatever could you offer me?"

He cupped the side of her face. Heat rushed through Anne from that simple touch. She stretched her neck to meet him as he leaned in. Their lips were mere inches apart, when suddenly, Thomas jerked back and pressed a hand to his chest.