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Back A Man of Honor
Chapters (71)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. Part One
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Part Two
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Part Three
  38. Thirty-Three
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Thirty-Five
  41. Thirty-Six
  42. Thirty-Seven
  43. Thirty-Eight
  44. Thirty-Nine
  45. Forty
  46. Forty-One
  47. Forty-Two
  48. Forty-Three
  49. Forty-Four
  50. Part Four
  51. Forty-Five
  52. Forty-Six
  53. Forty-Seven
  54. Forty-Eight
  55. Forty-Nine
  56. Fifty
  57. Fifty-One
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Part Five
  61. Fifty-Four
  62. Fifty-Five
  63. Fifty-Six
  64. Fifty-Seven
  65. Fifty-Eight
  66. Fifty-Nine
  67. Sixty
  68. Sixty-One
  69. Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
  70. About the Author
  71. Newsletter Sign-up

Angela was older than him; Sarah was well aware he was only seventeen. Laughter rose in her throat, but she pushed it back. What did age matter? It didn’t, as far as she was concerned.

Sarah, now twenty-one, was wise for her years, and she had a knack of sizing people up, understood what made them tick.

Blackie and Angela were attracted to each other and Sarah knew both were good people. They were right for each other at this time in their lives, at least. The future? Who cared about that? Blackie wasn’t looking to get married. Sarah wanted a bit of happiness for Angela NOW. And there was no doubt in her mind that Blackie O’Neill, the handsomest man she had ever met, would give her sister exactly what she wanted and needed. Certainly, Angela’s terrible loneliness would be alleviated for a while with this charming Irishman.

Blackie was unable to fall asleep. He lay in his much-loved bed, staring up at the ceiling, seeing only her face. It was now imprinted on his brain.

It was a full moon floating high out there in the midnight-dark sky overflowing with stars. The moonlight filtered into the room; he did not need his little candle at this moment. Many thoughts went through his busy mind. Meeting Angela so unexpectedly, being stunned by her beauty, her manners, her refinement. She was unlike every woman he had met so far. He had not had a relationship; he had only danced with gauche local girls at the Dance Hall, some of them shy, some of them brash and pushy. He was the same way with them as he was with everyone: friendly, cheerful, always looking for the good in people. But in the years he’d been going to the Dance Hall he had never met anyone like Angela.

He was a virgin, had never slept with a woman, and for a moment this worried him. Then he shoved the worry away. He desired Angela, wished to make love with her, possess her, be possessed by her. On the other hand, maybe she would not want to take their initial attraction to that conclusion. He would abide by her wishes.

He felt himself relax. He would be whomever she wanted him to be. That was the only way he knew. A gentleman. His uncle had drilled that into him: Don’t force yourself on any woman, respect their wishes and let them take the lead.

Blackie experienced a rush of sudden desire, thinking of Angela’s gentleness, and yet there was ardor behind this refined air. He had seen it in her eyes. He closed his own eyes, imagining her in his arms, and groaned with desire, aroused yet again for the third time since he had gone to bed.