Read Online A Touch of Heaven by Portia Da Costa - Free Book Online
Authors: Portia Da Costa
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you might not be quite so high-minded. What then?”
“I’ll never hurt you, Miranda. Never cause harm to you in any way, or even think about it.” I believe him as he takes my hand again. “And I’m prepared to gamble that you will still care for me and give me a chance if I choose humanity.”
I still feel fear, but not for myself, just for him. Can I risk the fact that he might end up damned? How can I face that outcome? The burden of cause and possible effect still weighs me down, and I feel infinitely weary.
“I’d rather take my chances, a thousand times over,” he murmurs, his fingers working their magic against my skin. “A hundred thousand times.”
My thoughts swirl. Exhaustion turns my limbs to lead. I’ve never felt more tired in my life. And of course, Patrick knows this. No matter how much I want to stay awake to savor what are probably our last hours together, he and I realize I’ve got to sleep.
“Come along, my love,” he says quietly, urging me to my feet. “You need to sleep, and I’ll sleep beside you. I’ll hold you close.”
Suddenly, just the thought of resting next to him seems infinitely sweet. I shut out all the tortuous fears and ramifications of mortality and hold on to that simple human pleasure. My hand in his, I follow him upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re lying in bed together. I’m in my usual nightdress and Patrick has stripped to his white T-shirt and his mid-gray jersey boxer shorts. My wayward libido stirs, of course, at the sight and feel of his sublime body so lightly covered, and it keeps simmering away quietly in the background. But somehow, it seems far more important just to be here, close and warm in each others’ space, rather than to fret for the intimacy of fucking when we just can’t have it.
A sense of peace settles over us. It hardly seems possible with Patrick’s choice ahead, but for now I feel calm. I’m in the best possible place and with the best possible man. He might be an angel, but I can’t imagine anyone more human and easy to love.
As I slide into sleep, I send up a prayer to his Boss to allow his servant a little latitude.
Chapter Four
In the middle of the night, I snap awake. The bed is empty beside me. Dreading the worst, I feel hollow, instantly bereft, as emotionally widowed as years ago when Gerald died.
But Patrick’s still here. As I roll onto my side, I see him by the window. He’s naked and kneeling in the moonlight.
It seems a funny way to have a meeting with his Boss.
As I watch, Patrick nods and smiles, his face suddenly radiant. Then he turns to me and bestows the same glowing expression on me.
“Are you all right?” I sit up in bed, peering at him. He looks strange, resigned yet happy, more peaceful and more truly angelic than I’ve ever seen him. Rising gracefully, he walks to the bed, lifts away the covers and slips onto the mattress beside me.
“Can you be content with a man?” He touches my face, his fingers warmer than human fingers should be. I know he has powers and whatever it is they do is sinking into me. His touch his exquisite. “Can you be content with just a man?” he repeats.
What a strange question. Has he made his choice? Is he safe? Can he live? I open my mouth to ask questions of my own, but what comes out is something altogether different.
“Yes. Of course I can. I’ve been happy with men up until now.”
It’s true. I have been, for all my ups and downs. And even with Patrick, it’s his humanity I love, not his otherness.
“Good,” he says simply, then leans in to kiss me.
The taste of his mouth and the stroke of his tongue against the margins of my lips is gorgeous. But even so, the questions roil and surge. I try to pull away, but Patrick gently holds onto me, and I feel as much as hear him say, “Relax” against my mouth.
I try to. And suddenly I can. As we kiss, a new illumination comes to me. Why fight? What will happen, will happen. Patrick’s made his
“I’ll never hurt you, Miranda. Never cause harm to you in any way, or even think about it.” I believe him as he takes my hand again. “And I’m prepared to gamble that you will still care for me and give me a chance if I choose humanity.”
I still feel fear, but not for myself, just for him. Can I risk the fact that he might end up damned? How can I face that outcome? The burden of cause and possible effect still weighs me down, and I feel infinitely weary.
“I’d rather take my chances, a thousand times over,” he murmurs, his fingers working their magic against my skin. “A hundred thousand times.”
My thoughts swirl. Exhaustion turns my limbs to lead. I’ve never felt more tired in my life. And of course, Patrick knows this. No matter how much I want to stay awake to savor what are probably our last hours together, he and I realize I’ve got to sleep.
“Come along, my love,” he says quietly, urging me to my feet. “You need to sleep, and I’ll sleep beside you. I’ll hold you close.”
Suddenly, just the thought of resting next to him seems infinitely sweet. I shut out all the tortuous fears and ramifications of mortality and hold on to that simple human pleasure. My hand in his, I follow him upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re lying in bed together. I’m in my usual nightdress and Patrick has stripped to his white T-shirt and his mid-gray jersey boxer shorts. My wayward libido stirs, of course, at the sight and feel of his sublime body so lightly covered, and it keeps simmering away quietly in the background. But somehow, it seems far more important just to be here, close and warm in each others’ space, rather than to fret for the intimacy of fucking when we just can’t have it.
A sense of peace settles over us. It hardly seems possible with Patrick’s choice ahead, but for now I feel calm. I’m in the best possible place and with the best possible man. He might be an angel, but I can’t imagine anyone more human and easy to love.
As I slide into sleep, I send up a prayer to his Boss to allow his servant a little latitude.
Chapter Four
In the middle of the night, I snap awake. The bed is empty beside me. Dreading the worst, I feel hollow, instantly bereft, as emotionally widowed as years ago when Gerald died.
But Patrick’s still here. As I roll onto my side, I see him by the window. He’s naked and kneeling in the moonlight.
It seems a funny way to have a meeting with his Boss.
As I watch, Patrick nods and smiles, his face suddenly radiant. Then he turns to me and bestows the same glowing expression on me.
“Are you all right?” I sit up in bed, peering at him. He looks strange, resigned yet happy, more peaceful and more truly angelic than I’ve ever seen him. Rising gracefully, he walks to the bed, lifts away the covers and slips onto the mattress beside me.
“Can you be content with a man?” He touches my face, his fingers warmer than human fingers should be. I know he has powers and whatever it is they do is sinking into me. His touch his exquisite. “Can you be content with just a man?” he repeats.
What a strange question. Has he made his choice? Is he safe? Can he live? I open my mouth to ask questions of my own, but what comes out is something altogether different.
“Yes. Of course I can. I’ve been happy with men up until now.”
It’s true. I have been, for all my ups and downs. And even with Patrick, it’s his humanity I love, not his otherness.
“Good,” he says simply, then leans in to kiss me.
The taste of his mouth and the stroke of his tongue against the margins of my lips is gorgeous. But even so, the questions roil and surge. I try to pull away, but Patrick gently holds onto me, and I feel as much as hear him say, “Relax” against my mouth.
I try to. And suddenly I can. As we kiss, a new illumination comes to me. Why fight? What will happen, will happen. Patrick’s made his
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