Tarnished Angel (37 page)

    Unconsciously, Devina plucked at the voluminous garment she had viewed in the mirror with such joy only the night before. She thoroughly despised it now. It was wrinkled and marked with perspiration from the long hours she had spent locked inside this poorly ventilated hovel. It was only when her captor was present that the door was left open to allow the entrance of fresh air. She was silently and intensely grateful for the small comfort.

    She lifted her arms with an unconscious grimace, feeling the sticky discomfort of the bodice, which adhered to her body like a second skin. She fussed at the neckline yet again in an attempt to adjust the fine lace striped with silver threads, each and every one of which now scratched her skin unrelentingly. Her shoulders and arms glistened with perspiration, and she was certain her face was covered with the same oily sheen. How she longed to strip away the long silk stockings, which had not been off her legs for twenty-four hours. Damn, she was suffocating in her former magnificence!

    An annoying, tickling sensation persisted at the back of her neck, and Devina raised a hand to brush it away. Oh, Lord… Her elaborately coiffed hair was hanging in straggly curls against her neck, her extravagant silver clips riding in a steady downward path on the drooping silver-blond waves. She had not bathed since the previous night; and, horror of horrors, she actually was beginning to sense an odor arising from under her arms! Oh, the humiliation of it all!

    And now the final mortification: She so desperately had to piddle!

    Devina stole a sly glance at her captor who was ignoring her debasement. It was easy for him to sit there enjoying his meal! He had abandoned the fine clothes he had worn to the party one of Charles's suits, no doubt. His gun belt was now slung low over trousers that showed the signs of many launderings, and he was wearing a soft cotton shirt, which apparently was well suited to the heat of the cabin. He had obviously shaved and bathed while he was absent from the cabin a short time before. He was comfortable, clean, and would soon be very well fed.

    Unable to stand the inactivity any longer, Devina stood up abruptly. Ross glanced briefly in her direction, then resumed eating. Damn him, he had actually gone to the fire to refill his plate with those enticingly fragrant beans, and he was now spooning them casually into his mouth, enjoying each and every bite.

    If only he would choke.

    Devina turned her back on the unbearable sight of her captor's gluttony and took a step toward the doorway. She took another, sneaking a glance at her silent captor. He was still eating and ignoring her. She took another. The door was open wide, and she could see her captor's horse grazing on the sparse vegetation.

    Devina's heart began an accelerated pounding as a plan took rapid shape in her mind. Her captor was so sure of her, so sure she was no threat. He did not even look at her as she took another step, and another.

    She remembered the sound of the slide lock on the outside of the door. If she could just manage to slip through the doorway before the damned villain realized her intention, she could slam the door and slip the lock into place. Surely it would hold even against his strength, at least until she had time to mount that horse.

    Quietly, Devina continued her slow progress toward the doorway. When she was within a few feet of it she made a dash for the outside. At her first burst of movement she heard the sound of a chair scraping the floor behind her, its crash as it hit the wooden floor, the pounding of heavy steps coming up behind her.

    But her captor was too late! She was through the doorway and slamming the door closed behind her! She was sliding the lock! She was almost free.

    But no! Slowly, steadily, the door was opening, the superior strength of her captor coming to bear even as she put all her weight into her attempt to slip the lock the final measure.

    The door flew abruptly open and a deep, paralyzing fear held Devina immobile for long moments as her captor's furious face came into view. Abruptly, she flew into motion, at the same moment her captor reached out and snatched her off her feet. Kicking and scratching, she fought him as he pulled her back inside the cabin and slammed the door behind her. She was still kicking and pounding her fists against his chest, his face, his   arms, when he slowly and efficiently grasped her burning wrists and twisted them behind her. He crushed her against the hard wall of his chest, effectively subduing her with the same procedure he had used the night before. She was breathless against his grip even as he crushed her tighter, closer.

    All her strength suddenly devoted to pulling a few lifesaving breaths into her lungs, Devina went motionless in her captor's arms. She winced at the fury in the harsh whisper that brushed her temple.

    "So you can't be trusted to keep your word."

    Devina looked up to her captor's face, realizing belatedly that it brought her mouth only inches from his. "Did you really expect me to keep my word to
you?
"

    Her captor's response appeared to be directed more to himself than to her, even as he stared coldly into her eyes. "Sometimes I amaze myself with my own gullibility."

    "Well, if you believed me, you were more than gullible. You were a fool!"

    Devina was suddenly swung off her feet and into his arms. Within seconds she was descending just as unexpectedly, her body hitting the bunk with a loud, jarring thump. Her captor snatched a coil of rope off the wall and held it near her face.

    Fatigue, discomfort, hunger, and fear combined within Devina as she caught sight of the rope that had bound her the night before. Her captor's gaze lingered on her white face even as his dark eyes sparkled with anger.

    "You don't want to be tied, do you, Devina? Yet you've already called me a fool for giving you the freedom you just threw back in my face. And you can save your tears. Do you really think you can gain my sympathy now?"

    Devina's hands trembled nervously against her tender wrists.

    "You're not talking, Devina. What's the matter?"

    Devina struggled to sit up on the bed, but he would not allow her the luxury. Abruptly leaning over her, he braced his palms on either side of her head and peered hotly into her eyes. She was only too aware that he still held the coiled rope in one hand and that it lay on the bed close beside her. She shuddered instinctively at the thought of its harshness again cutting into her skin.

    "I'm waiting, Devina."

    Devina looked up into his hard face. Oh, how had she ever mistaken this cruel stranger for Charles?

"Devina…"

    When she answered, her voice came out in a shaky whisper. "No, I… I don't want to be tied up again."

    Her captor greeted her shaken response with silence. His gaze moved slowly over her face. It dwelled for long moments on her tear-filled eyes, and Devina felt the humiliation of those tears. He continued looking at her face, gazing at her cheeks, her chin, her trembling lips. He was breathing
heavilyfrom
exertion or anger, she was not sure
whichand
she saw a muscle jump in his cheek.

    "Get up!"

    Abruptly standing beside the bed, her captor stared sternly in her direction. "Get up, I said!"

    Drawing herself to her feet, aware that she was trembling uncontrollably, Devina stood in silence as her captor uncoiled the rope. A low sob escaped her throat as he took a step toward her. She flicked her eyes closed, only to hear her captor's low command.

    "Open your eyes, Devina. Look at me!"

    Devina's eyes snapped wide open in response to the fury in his tone.

    "That's right, Devina, look at me when I talk. I want to be sure you understand what I'm saying to you now, because this is your last chance. You don't like being bound, do you?"

    Devina swallowed with determined effort and shook her head.

    "Answer me!"

    Devina swallowed again. Her response was a rasp: "No… I don't."

    "And you don't like being hungry either, do you?"

    "No."

    "You realize that your comfort is in my hands?"

    "Ye… yes."

    Her captor's dark eyes devoured hers. She felt the heat of his gaze sink into her mind, all but consuming her strength of will as his voice dropped a notch lower.

    "So now I'm telling you for the last time, you'll pull your full weight in this cabin. You'll cook the meals. You'll wash the dishes. You'll do whatever I decide you should do. You'll also remember that I'm in control here. And you'll never, never again try anything like that little trick you pulled a few minutes ago. Do you understand, Devina?"

    Devina's trembling lips would not allow her to respond, but her captor was not impressed with her distress. Clamping his hand roughly on her upper arm, he gave a hard shake.

    "Do you understand?"

    Devina's soft affirmative response was almost inaudible, but it was sufficient to make her captor drop the rope to the floor. Still grasping her upper arm, he turned her toward the door and pushed her into motion. Leaning down, he snatched up some things from the bench near the door, then tugged her roughly outside into the lengthening shadows of evening. He pulled her along a narrow trail that led behind the cabin and down a short incline. Within minutes they were standing beside a small pool.

    Dropping her arm, her captor thrust the bundle into her hands. She glanced down to see a shirt and trousers similar to those he wore.

    Her puzzled glance was met with a low response. "Do you remember when we met the first time, Devina? You were at your nasty, arrogant worst that day. You made it plain that you could not abide being on the same stage with a foul-smelling drunk, Well, you don't smell very pleasant right now, either, and I have no intention of sharing a cabin with someone who smells worse than my horse.

    "So you have a choice. Get out of that gown, bathe in that pool, and put on those clean
clothesor
you'll share the same accommodations as my horse. You'll be less comfortable than he is, though. He's free; you'll be tied hand and foot."

    Her captor paused, making certain his statement had registered clearly in her mind, before he pressed relentlessly. "What's your decision?"

    Devina's hands tightened slowly on the bundle of clothes. Her slight frame stiffened, her chin rising as her captor's insult registered fully within her mind.

    How dare he say she stank!

    Her paralyzing fear of a few minutes before eliminated by the surge of pure fury suffusing her, Devina managed a tight, stiff smile.

    "My decision? I have no problem with the thought of bathing here or anywhere else. I find it personally rewarding to feel clean at all times, and I remind you that it is only due to your inhuman treatment that I am less than pleasant to be near right now."

    Her captor's gaze was onyx ice. "I don't care how or why you    do what I tell you, just as long as you do it and do it now. I don't intend to wait here all night."

    Devina's short intake of breath sounded sharply on the still twilight air. "Wait… here?"

    "That's right."

    Devina's small frame was rigid as she gave a short glance around the barren terrain.

    "But… but…"

    "Is there a problem, Devina?"

    Devina's small chin rose higher. "You certainly don't expect me to… There's no privacy here! How can I bathe?"

    "Unless I misunderstand the process, all you need to bathe is water, the willingness to get wet, and the piece of soap that's rolled up in that bundle you're holding."

    "But… but…"

    Grasping her arm, her captor started to drag her back toward the trail they had just descended.

    "All right!"

    Wrenching her arm free, Devina took a short backward step. "Stay there and watch, if that's what you want! I don't care!"

    Anger flared in his dark eyes. "You have no one to blame but yourself. If you hadn't already proved that your word is meaningless, you'd have as much privacy as you want right now. Instead, you've got company."

    Her fine lips twitching with the heated response she suppressed, Devina turned her back on her captor's hated face. She was intensely conscious of the silence behind her as she attempted to unfasten the back of her gown. Her fingers worked laboriously at the closure even as she waited hopefully for the sound of a retreating step. Damn him! He
was
going to stay and watch!

    Abruptly a step sounded behind her, but it was approaching, not retreating. He was coming closer! Devina felt familiar hands brush her fumbling fingers away from her dress. Whirling around, she faced her captor.

    "What are you doing?"

    "If you think I'm going to wait all night while you fumble with the buttons on your dress, you're wrong," he said disgustedly. "I said stand still,
dammit
!"

    With an agility that spoke of considerable experience with feminine garments, her captor worked efficiently at the back of    her dress until Devina felt her bodice hanging loosely against her shoulders. Her heart fluttering in her breast, she held the dress in place until she heard the retreating steps she had been waiting for. But they did not retreat far enough. A short, surreptitious glance over her shoulder told her he had returned to his former position a few feet from the edge of the pool.

    Muttering a low, inaudible epithet, Devina allowed her gown to fall to the ground. She kicked it aside to remove the overskirt on her crinoline. When the overskirt and her crinoline were lying in a circle around her feet, her hands moved to the silk stockings that had caused her so much discomfort. She was stripping them off when she heard a low, choking sound behind her. Not bothering to turn around, Devina gave a short snort. Damn him, she hoped he
did
choke.

    When she was down to her chemise and
underdrawers
, she straightened her shoulders. Her hand moved to one delicate lace strap, and her eyes briefly closed. Her trembling fingers gripped the narrow strip of material, but at that point her courage faltered. She could go no further.

    Still trembling, she bent down to search through the bundle of clothing until she found a drying cloth and a ball of soap.

    Then, resolutely and without a backward glance, Devina walked into the pond.

    Ross walked stiffly up the incline toward the cabin, his eyes on the slender woman walking in front of him. He took a short, shaky breath, grateful that the twilight had deepened, that the shadows had worked to partially obscure the figure that had emerged from the pool a few short minutes before. Damn, he'd had just about all he could take.

    His control had been sorely tested as Devina Dale peeled off her clothes, but that was nothing at all compared to the supreme test of his will that had followed. Submerging herself in the water, she had arisen from the shadowed depths, the intimate curves of her body glistening through her water-soaked undergarments. Unable to turn away, he had watched with supreme fascination as she let down her hair and lathered it liberally before submerging again. Then had come the torturous visual experience of watching the caress of soap against her smooth limbs and his silent acknowledgment of his own driving desire to join in that caress.

    He was grateful that she had kept her bathing time short, emerged quickly, and wrapped herself in the cloth. He couldn't see her face, and he was uncertain of her reaction to the enforced intimacy they had shared. He knew only that those long moments were burned into his mind.

    She had slipped the oversize clothes over her wet undergarments, ignoring the fact that the long spirals of her water-darkened hair lay wetly against the fabric of her shirt. She was presently walking barefoot in front of him, a ridiculous sight in a shirt that dwarfed her meager proportions, in trousers rolled up several times in order to allow her to walk without tripping. She clutched her gown and its accompanying paraphernalia, as well as the white satin high-heeled slippers, even as she struggled to hold up the waist of her oversize trousers.

    She stumbled, but he made no move to aid her, and she quickly righted herself. He could not afford to touch her. Not now, not yet.

    They were walking on level ground again. The cabin was in sight, and Devina walked faster, drawing farther ahead of him. He was surprised at her haste to return to the cabin.

    Devina's slender shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. He sensed more than felt the sudden alertness that moved through her body as she turned toward the cabin. Only a second later she switched directions in a quick, startling movement and threw her voluminous gown in his face.

    The heavy garment caught on his shoulders, temporarily impeding his sight, allowing Devina the head start she needed to dash to the spot where his horse was grazing. She mounted with startling agility, then pressed her bare heels into the gelding's sides.

    The startled animal reacted wildly, turning, fighting her, allowing Ross time to reach her side. Fists and feet flying, Devina resisted his attempt to drag her from the horse. She punched and kicked him until, in sheer frustration, he grabbed a fistful of her wet hair and pulled her to the ground beside him.

    Fighting to subdue the furious little demon in his arms, Ross raged inwardly at his own stupidity, at the driving force of his aching male organ, which had almost overwhelmed his common sense. In one quick movement, he threw the raging woman over his shoulder, ignoring her frustrated screams, and strode back into the cabin.

    He walked stiffly to the corner of the room and roughly dumped Devina onto the bunk. He followed her down, pinning her on the hard surface with the weight of his body. He heard her short startled gasp as she renewed her struggles with added vigor. Determined to see the last of her resistance, Ross grabbed her wrists, wresting them roughly above her head, holding them fast as he grasped her chin with his other hand and forced her to meet his furious gaze.

    She was gasping for air, and her eyes were wild with frustration and rage. His own breathing was no less strained as he fought to keep the wildcat in his arms under submission.

    ''Give it up, Devina. You've lost, and you know it. You took the chance and you lost. Now you have to take the consequences."

    A spark of another kind temporarily lit her great silver-blue eyes. Fear… had he seen fear reflected there? Her next words thoroughly dismissed that thought from his mind.

    "Consequences? Do whatever you want, I don't care. But I'll never, ever submit to your threats. My father will"

    "Shut up!" Ross was nearing the limits of his endurance.

    "You can't make me do"

    "I said shut up!"

    Intensely aware of the slender, squirming body beneath his, Ross knew he could stand little more. Desperation forcing him to extremes he had hoped to avoid, he increased the pressure of his hold on Devina's delicate wrists to the point of pain. At her low gasp, he whispered against her parted lips, "All right, Devina, are you ready to listen?"

    "No, I- "

    Ross tightened his grip.

    "All right!" She gasped again. "Talk! Go ahead!"

    Ross released Devina's chin, and she turned her head away in a weak gesture of defiance. Still gripping her wrists, he relieved her of the full weight of his body and drew her hands down to her waist. Stretching out his free arm, he grasped the coil of rope lying on the floor beside the bed. He looped the coil around her wrists and saw that same flicker of emotion flash in her eyes. Still uncertain whether it was fear or fury, he bound her hands tightly, letting the long end of the coil dangle free. Then, straightening up, he removed a narrow rawhide strip from a wall peg. Taking Devina's bare feet in his hands, he forced her ankles together.

    "What are you doing?"

    Ross didn't bother to respond.

    "Damn you! Don't you dare tie my feet! You can't get away with this."

    Ross tied her slender ankles together with a few quick flicks of his wrist. "I can, and I did."

    "You'll suffer for this!"

    "We'll see."

    Devina Dale's defiant blue eyes held his for a moment longer. Then she turned her head with great deliberation and closed her eyes.

    A sense of triumph conspicuously eluding him, Ross turned and walked out the door.

    He didn't like it. The crafty little witch was too quiet.

    Ross squinted through the half-light at the silent, unmoving figure on the bunk. An hour had passed since Devina's aborted escape. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was asleep.

    He went to stand beside the bunk. She wasn't acting; she really was asleep.

    Ross stood in silence a few moments longer, his eyes moving to the bonds on her wrists and ankles. She was so still.

    A sudden thought caused Ross to reach out and touch Devina's forehead. Her skin was warm under his palm, but only pleasantly so. Too pleasantly. Unconsciously he stroked back a curling wisp of hair from her cheek. Her father should see her now. Gone was his sophisticated, fashionable daughter. Harvey Dale would hardly recognize this innocent-looking child-woman dressed in oversize men's clothing. Ross frowned. She did indeed look like a child with her pale hair tumbling across the pillow in splendid disarray, with her anger hidden behind closed eyelids. A beautiful, abused child.

    Ross's eyes moved to the thong that held her ankles and to the small feet twitching uncomfortably in her sleep. He had tied the thong too tightly. It was cutting into the delicate skin there, marking her. If he could trust her, he would untie those bonds, at least while she slept.

    Ross raised his hand and ran it roughly through his heavy dark hair in an agitated gesture. Damn it, now was not the time to soften. But she was hurting.

    Leaning over, Ross freed Devina's ankles. He stared at the   coarse rope binding her wrists. A moment later he untied it even as his mind mocked his actions. He dropped the rope to the floor beside the bed.

    Ross vowed that he would not be foolish enough to turn his back on Devina Dale again, or to trust her, but neither would he allow his hatred for Harvey Dale to turn him into a man he had no desire to be.

    Taking a last cursory glance around the cabin, Ross satisfied himself that all was set for the night. He unstrapped his gun belt and lowered the flame in the lamp. Then in a slow, measured step, he walked back to the bunk.

    Silently, Ross slipped his gun belt out of sight under the bunk before sitting on the edge and removing his boots.

    Ross studied Devina's features in the flickering light of the fire for a few seconds longer. He reminded himself that, as innocent as she looked, she hated him and would do anything to escape him. He couldn't really blame her… and right now he didn't want to.

    Careful lest he disturb her sleep, Ross lay down and gently fit Devina into the circle of his arms. He would keep her from escaping. When she awoke… well, then they'd see.

    Ross pressed his cheek against the brilliant silk of Devina's hair and breathed deeply of her scent. He had already memorized the sweet fragrance of her skin. It was in his heart and mind. With great reluctance he forced himself to remember that this beautiful woman who lay sleeping in his arms was not the woman she now appeared to be. Tomorrow morning, she would awaken, and the battle would start again. But tomorrow was a long time away.

    Content to allow his mind to rest on that last thought, Ross pulled his sleeping hostage closer.

    Devina was too warm for comfort. A heavy weight lay across her legs. A similar weight was heavy on her chest, and she pushed at it even as she fought awakening to the light of the new day.

    Her first awareness of the sinewy arm draped across her breast snapped her into instantaneous consciousness. Her sharp intake of breath broke the early-morning silence of the cabin as her gaze flew toward the man who lay beside her, his head on her pillow, his face turned toward her.

        Page 244

    Charles! No, it wasn't Charles.

    Devina drew on all her strength to control her reaction to the man who lay beside her. She lowered her gaze to the muscular arm stretched so casually across her chest, to the long leg flung across her own. Both weighed her down, pinned her as effectively as if she were bound.

    Devina jumped as her gaze encountered a dark-eyed stare.

    "What's the matter, Devina? Uncomfortable?"

    Devina's lips twitched nervously as she attempted to pull away from his intimate embrace. Her reply was short, stiff. "Would it change anything if I told you I was?"

    "You're not as uncomfortable as you would have been if I had decided to leave you tied."

    Devina's glance darted to her wrists and then to her bare feet. She felt a spark of hope.

    "Don't get any ideas. I untied you last night because I didn't want you incapacitated, temporarily or otherwise. I want to keep you healthy for your father."

    The arm across her chest tensed, and the wide palm resting close to the full outer curve of her breast twitched. Devina gritted her teeth against the involuntary caress.