245. Once an Angel (Teresa Medeiros)

Synopsis from Amazon:
Orphaned at 11 in 1865 when her father dies on an island off New Zealand where he has gone to search for gold, Emily Claire Scarborough is, at 18, bent on revenge. She has survived the last seven years at the Foxworth Seminary for Young Ladies in London, learning to fend for herself without benefit of a steady allowance from her absentee guardian. Bitterness and longing mingle in Em's heart, and sustain her until she is summarily sent packing by the school's surly mistress to New Zealand, in search of the man responsible for her miserable existence all those years. Washing up on the beach like so much driftwood, Em soon finds that serendipity has dumped her practically into the lap of her errant guardian, a dark, swarthy Robinson Crusoe-type who has spurned London society. What ensues is an idyllic interlude in a beautiful, untamed paradise, shattered when both heroine and hero are rudely awakened by the arrival of reality and the outside world.

My rating: 4 stars

Excerpt: [from Prologue]
Justin Connor's numb fingers uncurled. The smoking pistol fell from his hand. Frightened by the blast, the natives had fled, leaving him alone with the primeval roar of the waves and the dark shape crumpled a few feet away.

He bit off a savage curse.

Dread flooded him as he moved toward the motionless figure sprawled like a broken doll in the sand.

The moonlight caressed David's face, a face handsome in its good-natured ordinariness, a face one might pass on the London streets without giving it a second glance. A thin trickle of blood eased from the corner of his mouth.

His eyes fluttered open. "I do say, lad, could you move a bit to the left? You're blocking the breeze." His voice was such a matter-of-fact comfort that Justin wanted to weep.

He sank to his knees and caught David in his arms. "Damn you, Scarborough. Don't you dare die on me now!"

Blood soaked the front of David's shirt. Justin had seen too many fatal wounds in the taming of this brutal land. Even as he struggled to stanch the bleeding with his palm, he knew this man who had been friend, brother, and father to him was going to die. He brushed a wayward curl from David's pallid brow.

David lifted his hand. A gold chain was tangled around his fingers. "Claire," he whispered hoarsely.

As he pressed the chain into Justin's bloody hand, Justin knew why David had fled back to their tent instead of to the waiting boat. He hadn't gone to fetch a weapon as Justin had supposed, but the precious miniature of his daughter that he carried in his watch case.

David's voice was waning. "Go to her. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I loved her. Take care of my little angel, Justin. Swear you will."

Justin couldn't speak. A lump welled up in his throat. He stared down at the watch in his hand, afraid to open it. How could he face that gamin smile, those gentle brown eyes, and be forced someday to tell her how her father had died in his arms on a lonely shore? If he didn't say the words, perhaps David would not die.

With a last burst of strength David's fingers dug like claws into his arms. His words were driven through clenched teeth. "By God, Justin! Swear it. You must!"

Justin bowed his head, refusing to meet David's fevered gaze. His tears washed over David's face. "I swear it," he whispered.

David slumped across his lap. "That's my boy." A shadow of a smile creased his mouth. "I shan't be needing a gold mine where I'm going," he murmured. "The streets are paved with nothing but gold."

Justin managed to smile through his tears. "The eternal optimist, aren't you?"

But there was no one to answer his question.

He cradled his friend's lifeless body to his chest, rocking back and forth as guilt and desolation washed over him as pounding and relentless as the waves against the sand.

When he finally rose, his stiff legs trembled. He hefted David in his arms like a child. His limp head dangled over Justin's arm, the auburn tangle of his hair gilded by moonlight. Justin laid him in the bottom of the curricle, arranging his limbs with the utmost tenderness. Using a long pole, he shoved off from the shore, then sank down beside David's body, frozen with numbing anguish.

His hand throbbed. He looked down to discover he had been clutching David's watch case so hard that the imprint was embedded in his palm. He slowly opened it.

A moppet's face, framed in unruly curls, gazed up at him, her eyes trusting and merry. David's eyes, sparkling with life. Justin snapped the watch shut. All their dreams were done now. All of it gone—the gold mine, Nicholas, little Claire's inheritance. He leaned his head against the rim of the boat, drifting, endlessly drifting as the mocking glitter of the stars blurred before his eyes.