Read My Angel Online

Authors: Christine Young

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #Contemporary, #General, #Historical

My Angel (15 page)

BOOK: My Angel
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"Oh, yes," she said softly then her spirit flashed daringly. She gave her head what she hoped was an arrogant toss before breaking loose from his embrace. Looking over her shoulder, she laughed, and with a bold wink she said, "But Devil, didn't you know? Unless I see fit, I don't obey anyone."

 

For a brief span of time he looked as if she'd just hit him with a sledgehammer in his gut. Yet after he recovered, he smiled. The smile was one of retribution.

 

"You will bend to me. And you will cherish the very idea of obedience to me."

 

"When I choose to do so," she told him with a flippant air.

 

Once again he faltered. "We'll talk later," he said in a growl. "When we have more time."

 

"That suits me," she said, and jumped down the last three steps, landing on the balls of her feet.

 

What have I gotten myself into? she wondered, but all the while she couldn't stop grinning. Good Lord, but he was an arrogant man, and for a moment she wondered if she could ever change his aristocratic need to give orders.

 

Angela didn't wait for Alexi to follow; she knew he would. Outside, a soft mist filled the darkened night. There was no moonglow to give light to the earth. The blackness of the evening encompassed everything.

 

Bawdy shouts reverberated from the inside of the bordello, making Angela eager to leave. Through the window she could
see men sitting in elegant chairs, scantily clad ladies draped over their arms, watching the show.

 

Emma would be all right. Her father and Dakota were in there. In the shadows, his gaze fastened on the window, she saw Jacob and what must have been other Pinkertons. They were all dressed in suits. The sheriff was there too. She supposed the rescue party was about to begin.

 

She was so absorbed in the scene beyond the windows, she wouldn't have known when Alexi reached her side except for the fact that he placed his arm around her and guided her toward the horses. Jabbar immediately recognized his master and nickered softly in greeting. A brown mare stood next to the great Jabbar, and a packhorse was behind them.

 

"We're going overland?" she asked, her mind reeling with the implications. He meant to take her with him. She would be alone with this man. Completely alone. From the first time she had set eyes upon him, being with him had been what she longed for.

 

He nodded. "Until we reach
Cheyenne
. Then we'll take the train."

 

"Four days..." Her voice drifted and he slanted her a strange look.

 

"Can you manage?" he asked.

 

She laughed.
Manage?
"Yes."

 

Before he could ask another question, she was on the mare and, giving her a swift little nudge, she was on her way. Alexi muttered something she didn't understand; then she heard the sound of his stallion's hooves and those of the packhorse.

 

Their relationship might very well be a battle of wills. Yet she wanted to win only half the time--or when she was right.

 

In a few minutes Alexi rode beside her. Content to ride in silence, she let the sounds of the night ease her conscience and her fears. Alexi would be a good husband to her. He was a kind man, if not indulgent. She would teach him indulgence. After all, her mother had taught Sam Chamberlain, and that must have been very hard indeed.

 

Just before dawn they passed a ranch house. A man and his son were outside working the cattle.

 

"Alexi." She tempered her voice. "Can we stop a minute? I want to send a note to one of the ladies at the house. I don't want anyone to worry about me."

 

He nodded, pulling his hat down slightly.

 

Angela slipped easily from the horse; then, opening her valise, she found paper and pen. She sat down on the grass and began to write a letter to her father, begging him not to follow her and pleading with him to be happy because she'd found the love of her life, her mate.

 

"The lad here is going to deliver the message for you," Alexi said. "I've paid him," he added.

 

"Thank you," she said. Indulgence might come naturally to Alexi, after all. She smiled brightly at him.

 

"We have another few hours' ride ahead of us, if you're not too tired."

 

She wasn't. "I'm just warming up." Her cheeks felt flushed, and Alexi had just helped lift a burden from her heart. "I could ride for hours."

 

"You don't have to. We'll stop, take a short break then move on." His observation of her was not subtle. He looked boldly at her, a promise in his expression.

 

The rise in her temperature was remarkable. She didn't like to think he could do that with just a look, but he could.

 

An hour later the sky opened up in shimmering display of fireworks. There was little they could do but take refuge beneath overhanging rocks.

 

Alexi helped her dismount, his eyes lingering on her mouth, his hands at her waist. He cleared his throat and, dropping his hands as if she burned him, he turned away.

 

"I'll start a fire," she said, patting her mare's neck.

 

The sideways look he shot her gave way to laughter. "You sure you know how?'' he asked, a chuckle in his voice.

 

"You'd be surprised what I can do," she purred.

 

"Temptress. If the weather and the accommodations weren't so miserable, I'd find out right here what you can do." He touched her nose with the tip of his finger then followed the brotherly gesture with a kiss. "Right now."

 

Pushing away her maidenly fear and her wet hair, she winked. "I'd like that."

 

"As I said before, temptress, when we make love I'm going to have a soft bed and feather pillows all around me. I' ve waited for this a long time. I can hold off for a few more days."

 

Just then a wild bolt of lightning hit a nearby tree, and thunder boomed across the sky. Fire scorched the trunk, and sparks flew. Surprised, she flinched, and the horses went wild, rearing up and crying out their fear.

 

"Easy, girl.'' Angela recovered quickly. Her horse was terrified, Jabbar crazy.

 

Alexi stroked and spoke to the stallion, his words foreign and mysterious. He spoke in a soft whisper, as if he tended a cherished lover. Angela found herself drawn to him, mesmerized by the steady cadence of his voice and his actions. She wanted him to ease her maidenly fears in the same way. The depth of her emotions was so intense and compelling, she turned away from the sight.

 

"You afraid of thunderstorms?'' he asked, his powerful chest suddenly pressed against her back, his arms around her, holding her close.

 

She didn't know when he'd left Jabbar's side, only that his heat radiated through her damp clothing. His warm breath whispered across her neck.

 

"No."
I'm afraid of my feelings for you.

 

"You could have fooled me." He pulled her wet hair from the back of her neck and expertly wound it into a knotted coif on top of her head; then he secured it with a scarf he unwrapped from around his neck. "There."

 

Lightly he massaged the back of her neck, tension slowly draining from her. She felt lethargic, and her knees were weak with wanting. She let her head fall forward, enjoying the play of his wondrous fingers upon her.

 

He flicked the buttons of her shirt, and the fabric fell open, her breasts free. Expertly he slid her arms free of the sleeves. When he finished, he hung the shirt near the fire to dry.

 

He didn't touch her, barely looked at her. She felt as if he did. Her breasts swelled and ached, the crests tightening to taut
buds. Crossing her arms over her chest was natural. He stopped her.

 

"Now your breeches," he said.

 

"But..." She slipped free of the moccasins, unsure of herself and the feelings of vulnerability her nakedness evoked.

 

"Do you trust me?"

 

Angela did trust him--with her life and her happiness. She nodded then slipped out of her pants while he rummaged in her valise.

 

"Here."

 

He walked to her, holding out a black riding skirt and a white blouse. Quickly she slipped them on, unaware that while her back was turned he had disrobed and hung his clothes near the fire to dry.

 

When she turned around again, she stared openly. "You're beautiful."

 

He quirked one dark brow, chuckling deeply. "Beautiful?"

 

To Angela he was the embodiment of an ancient warlord come to life. She could well imagine him wielding his cutlass against his enemies. Surrounded, he would fight valiantly, until he vanquished his foe.

 

"Yes." She felt her smile all the way across her face.

 

"Come here." He held out his arms to her and she walked slowly to him, knowing he would hold her throughout the tempest.

 

Rain turned to hail, pounding the earth. Wild winds tormented the tree limbs, sending dirt and debris into the raging air.

 

BOOK: My Angel
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