Satan's Angel

by Candace Camp

  “Then he’ll need me more than ever,” Amy protested. “I could help him.” She sighed and looked away. Tears glittered in her eyes. “No. I guess I wouldn’t be much help to Sam.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Dorette said earnestly. “He loves you. He told me. He wanted you with him.”

  “Really?” Amy looked up, a small smile breaking through her tears. “Then why? Why did he go without me?”

  “You’re a lady. You’re not like him and me. You shouldn’t have to live like that. Brody wanted what was best for you.”

  “Best for me!” Amy cried out, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Best for me! All I want is to be with him! That’s what’s best for me! And I could help him! I’m not useless. He taught me how to cook over the fire and…and…I can make tortillas now. And I make him smile; he’s happier with me there.”

  “Of course he is, sugar.” Dorette went to her, patting her arm. “I’ve never seen him so happy.”

  “I could follow him!” Amy popped up from her chair. “That’s it. Maybe there’s still time—when did he leave? Where did he go?”

  “Bless your heart, you can’t follow him. You know Sam Brody doesn’t leave a trail—hell, even that Ranger couldn’t follow him. Brody told me Slater tracked those fools in his gang, not him. It’s a wide open country out of San Antonio; he could be anywhere.”

  “Oh.” The light went out of Amy’s face. “You’re right. I could never find him if he didn’t want me to. And he doesn’t.”

  “Amy…” Dorette rose and went to her, touched by the girl’s grief. “Believe me, he didn’t do it to hurt you.”

  “Then why did he go?” Amy lashed out, twisting away from Dorette. “Why did he leave me?”

  “He wants you to be safe. He knows you’re not safe with him. Some people just can’t get rid of their past, no matter what they do.” Dorette’s face sagged, suddenly older and weary beneath her bright make-up. “Bounty hunters will always hunt Sam Brody.”

  “But they won’t catch him,” Amy said fiercely. “Sam can get away!”

  “Maybe he can, at that.” The older woman smiled and gave Amy’s arm a squeeze. “As long as he’s all he has to worry about.”

  “You’re saying I’ll slow him down. He’ll be thinking about me, not himself. I see.” Amy sank back down in her chair. Her tears had left, but her face was filled with pain. “Sam’ll be better off without me. Only…what am I going to do? How am I going to live without Sam?”

  ***

  The first pale rays of sun slanting through the broken windows brought Victoria awake. She lay there for a moment, luxuriating in the peace and contentment of being in Slater’s arms. Her head was pillowed on his chest. One of his arms lay across her back; his other hand rested on her hip. Victoria smiled and nuzzled into his bare chest.

  Last night had been the most wonderful night of her life. She had never dreamed that the kind of joy Slater had given her even existed. After they had made love, they had lain together in happy exhaustion. Slater had lazily stroked her body and whispered to her of her beauty, and of his delight in her. She had never before heard his voice sound so young and peaceful.

  After a long while they had found the energy to rise and wring out their wet clothes and blankets and hang them before the fire to dry. While their clothes dried, they had remained naked, and it wasn’t long before their glances had turned long and hungry, then had changed to kisses and caresses. They had made love again, slowly and tenderly this time, and the conclusion was just as shattering..

  They had eaten, and when the blankets were finally dry, they lay down and slept, but Victoria had little need for either food or sleep. She felt as if she could live on love itself, so great was the emotion bubbling within her. Slater said no words of love and Victoria, strangely shy, could not bring herself to speak first. But she showed her love with her hands and mouth, and she felt the love that Slater gave her in return. She knew that whatever obstacles lay between them and a happy future, they would be able to overcome them.

  She kissed Slater’s skin, tasting the salt, and breathed in the arousing scent that was his alone. She drew tiny circles on his chest with the tip of her tongue, and his eyes snapped open. He stared at her blankly for an instant; then his eyes cleared, and he let out a breath. “Victoria.”

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  Slater’s face softened. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  He cupped the back of her neck with his hand and pulled her down to him for a long, melting kiss. He thought of rolling over and pulling her beneath him, of nuzzling his way down her throat and chest to her breasts. But then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing, the duty that he had conveniently ignored yesterday. He thought of what he had done to Victoria. Suddenly he was flooded with guilt. He released her abruptly and sat up.

  Victoria stared at him in surprise. Slater rubbed his hands over his face. “What time is it? We have to get going.”

  Victoria blinked. She hadn’t expected Slater to spend the morning cuddling her and talking sweetly, but she had thought he would at least mention what had happened between them the night before.

  “It’s still early. The sun’s just up.”

  “We can’t waste any time.” He stood up, reaching for his clothes and pulling them on. “We’ve already lost too much as it is.”

  Wasted? Lost? Was that how Slater thought of the time they had spent making love? Didn’t he have a single gentle, loving word for her after the way their bodies had melted together in perfect union last night?

  Amazed and confused, Victoria stood up, too, reaching for her own garments. Suddenly she felt very naked. She turned her back to him and began to dress.

  “Victoria.” Slater glanced at her hesitantly. “I—I’m sorry.”

  “What?” She turned, astonished. “Sorry? For what?”

  “For what?” Now it was his turn to look amazed. “For what I did last night.”

  Pain sliced through Victoria’s chest. In the cool light of day, he regretted what they’d done. “Oh.”

  “I seduced you. It was—wrong of me. I should be protecting you, but instead I took advantage of you. I’ve done a lot of thing in my life that I’m not very proud of, but I haven’t ever abused someone’s trust. I haven’t seduced an innocent girl.”

  For a moment, Victoria could only stare, her jaw dropping open. “You seduced me?” she said finally, in a strangled voice.

  He looked at her oddly. “Yes.”

  Victoria planted her hands on her hips. The pain and doubt his words had first aroused in her were gone; she felt like laughing with relief. But she didn’t. She wasn’t about to let Slater get away with this. “And now you’re feeling guilty.”

  “Of course. Any decent man would.”

  Victoria assumed a mockingly sweet expression and gazed up at him through her lashes. “Imagine, taking a poor, sweet little girl like me. Defenseless. Timid. Reluctant. Shy.”

  Slater frowned. “Victoria, I’m serious.”

  She raised her head, the sweet expression turning into one of square-jawed determination, high color and flashing eyes. “So am I. Of all the gall! You have to be the most pigheaded, blind, egotistical man I ever met! Seduced me! You didn’t seduce me. I was willing. I was eager. Or have you forgotten?”

  Looking at her, hearing her words, desire and anger stirred in him in equal parts. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Do you honestly think that you could make me do anything I didn’t want, that you could persuade or cajole or trick me into anything?”

  “No. But I’m older than you. I have experience. I should have better control over myself than that.”

  “That’s what you feel guilty about.” Victoria stabbed her forefinger at him. “Not about seducing me, but about losing control over yourself. About wanting me so much you forgot your logic and your duty and just did what you’ve been aching to do since Austin!”
<
br />   Slater straightened, clenching his fists at his sides. His eyes were steely. “Damn it, Victoria! Stop twisting everything to suit yourself. You didn’t know what you were getting into. Sure, maybe you wanted to make love, but you didn’t know the consequences. You didn’t have any experience.”

  “Now you’re complaining about my lack of experience?” Her tone was frosty. “Wasn’t I competent enough for you? Perhaps I should find another teacher, so I can acquire some experience.”

  She whirled away, but Slater’s had lashed out and grabbed her wrist. He made a low sound in his throat that was suspiciously like a growl. “Damn it, you do and I’ll—”

  Victoria lifted her chin, her eyes challenging him. “You’ll what?”

  “I’ll take him apart piece by piece.” He pulled her to him and grasped a handful of her hair. He twisted his hand, winding her hair around his wrist and tightening his hold until she couldn’t move her head.

  Victoria said nothing, just gazed at him, her lips parted slightly, waiting. Slowly, Slater lowered his head. His lips met hers. They kissed as though it was a battle, tongues sparring and clashing. But when at last they parted, their faces flushed, panting for breath, it would have been hard to tell who had won.

  Victoria smiled, and Slater knew he had done exactly what she wanted him to. His eyes narrowed, and he started to say something, but he stopped. He looked upward and sighed, then began to chuckle. “You are the most beautiful—and the most infuriating—woman I have ever known.” He kissed her again, briefly and hard. “All right. I’m not sorry—as long as you’re not.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  “Then let’s ride out of here before it gets any later.”

  It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but Victoria was content with it—for the moment. She didn’t doubt that the declarations would come eventually.

  They saddled up and rode for San Antonio. The rain had washed away Brody’s tracks, but Slater was certain that the city was his destination. They rode fast, neither of them saying much. Victoria was too happy to care whether they talked or not. She enjoyed the opportunity to simply explore all the facets of the joy inside her.

  Slater, on the other hand, was deep in thought. He had been stunned by their lovemaking far more than Victoria had, for he knew how greatly it had exceeded the limits of the usual sexual congress. He had been amazed, awed, astonished; there weren’t words strong enough to describe his reaction. He hadn’t known anything like the power and beauty of their joining before. It was as if, for an instant—and an eternity—their souls had merged. Victoria was inside him now, and he in her. They belonged to each other in the most basic, elemental way.

  The thought scared him. Was he to be bound to Victoria for the rest of his life? Was he to carry her in his heart and his mind wherever he went? Could he actually be in love with her? The thought of such a commitment to any other person after his long years of responsibility only to himself and his job was enough to make a man nervous. And the thought of a commitment to Victoria Stafford was soul-shaking.

  It would never be easy with this woman. There would be tremendous heights and unbelievable depths. Angry struggles and nights of wild passion and moments of such tenderness they would make a man weep. She would tease him, torment him, infuriate him, rouse him to rage. He knew because she had already done so many times. He would want to shake her, leave her, force her to accept his will. He would know the deep, chilling terror he had felt yesterday when he saw her swept away by the river. She would shock him; she would frustrate him; she would all too often win.

  What little thought Slater had ever given to marrying had not included a woman like this. How could it? He had never seen a woman like Victoria, never even imagined one. She would grind most men into dust.

  The excitement of a challenge coiled in his gut. He had never hungered for safety; he’d never run from danger. He thought of standing toe to toe with Victoria in argument, and his loins began to throb. God, she was beautiful. She was wild and passionate. She was strong.

  And he loved her.

  But what in the blazing hell was he supposed to do about that? Ask her to marry him? He had nothing to offer her. A ranch he’d let go to seed. The life of a Ranger’s wife, living alone half the time, never knowing when he’d come back, or if he’d come back at all.

  He wasn’t any kind of husband for her. He was too rough, too hard. He’d lived too long with danger and death. He knew more criminals than he did decent folks. A woman like Victoria, lovely and passionate, deserved something better than that.

  The best thing for both of them would be for him to walk away from her. Set her free to find a better man. But the thought of doing that filled him with jealousy and pain. He wanted her. He thought he had some notion of how Brody must have felt when he took Victoria’s cousin without regard for the world or her wishes.

  Slater had arrived at no solution to his dilemma by the time they reached San Antonio. He was glad of the excuse to drop his viciously circling thoughts and concentrate on something else. He rode through town to the red light district and pulled up in front of an innocuous-looking house next to a saloon. He dismounted and started toward the house, then stopped and cast an uneasy glance at Victoria. He had become so used to having her with him that he hadn’t thought until this moment how improper it was for her to into Dorette’s place. “Uh, maybe you better wait for me out here.”

  “In front of a bawdy house?” Victoria asked, her eyes dancing. “Why, Slater, how damaging to my reputation.”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  Victoria responded by holding up her rifle.

  “Damn it, if there’s shooting, you’d better take cover fast. If you get yourself shot, I’ll—” He stopped, realizing the absurdity of his threat. “Oh, hell, come on.” He walked up to the front door and knocked loudly. The door was opened by a large, voluptuous woman. Her eyes slid from Slater’s face to the star on his chest, then behind him to Victoria. She frowned and crossed her arms defensively.

  “What do you want here?”

  “I want to come inside. Now,” Slater said in a deceptively quiet voice, placing his hand on the door and shoving it wide open.

  “Here, now, you can’t just walk in like that,” she protested, moving her bulk to block him.

  “No?” Slater slid his revolver from hits holster. Victoria stepped up beside him, her rifle raised.

  The woman’s eyes widened, and she stepped back, calling, “Miss Dorette, you better get in here. Quick.”

  “Where’s Brody?” Slater asked.

  “I don’t know no Brody.”

  Slater walked past her, Victoria on his heels. Victoria couldn’t keep from glancing around her, amazed by the lush surroundings. She stared at the large painting of a nude over the fireplace.

  “Victoria…” Slater said impatiently.

  “Yes, I’m coming.”

  They started up the stairs, their footsteps muffled by the runner. There was the sound of a woman’s heels on the hard wood floor above them, and seconds later she appeared on the stairs. Her hair was a flaming red color and hung loose around her shoulders. She was dressed in a satin robe trimmed with white feathers, cut low enough in the front that Victoria could see her cleavage.

  “I’m Dorette. This is my place. If you have any problem with us, I suggest you see the sheriff.”

  “I’m not interested in the sheriff. I want Brody. Where is he?”

  “Brody? I’m afraid I don’t know the name. But I can tell you he’s not here. There aren’t any men in this house.” She smiled provocatively, one hand on her hip. “Except for you, sugar.”

  Victoria gritted her teeth. She didn’t like the way this woman was looking at Slater.

  “You won’t mind if I take a look, then.” Slater brushed past her and strode down the hall.

  “My girls are asleep. I don’t want you to wake them up.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be t
he first time.”

  “There was a man who come through here. Maybe he’s the one you’re looking for. But he’s gone. He had a woman with him, and he left her here. Said there’d be people coming to town looking for her.”

  “Amy!” Victoria grabbed the woman’s arm. “Where is she?”

  “Third door on the right.”

  Victoria started down the hall.

  “Wait!” Slater caught her arm. “Maybe it’s a trap. She’s too free and easy with the information.”

  Dorette shrugged. “I got no reason to hide that girl. I don’t want her. If you take her, it’s easier on me. Look, if it’s worrying you, I’ll open the door myself.”

  Dorette went to the door in question, knocked and swung it open wide. “I think somebody’s here to see you.”

  Victoria hurried after Dorette. She stopped in the doorway, her heart tightening in her chest. Amy sat inside the room on a red velvet chair. Her hair hung in a braid down her back, and she was dressed in men’s clothing. She had been crying, and she looked up uninterestedly at their entrance.

  “Amy!” Victoria ran to her, holding out her arms.

  Amy rose, smiling weakly, and came into Victoria’s arms. “Hello, Tory.”

  It seemed to Slater a curiously restrained greeting from a woman who’d just been released by her kidnapper. He went through the room carefully, opening the wardrobe doors and peering inside, even looking under the bed. There was a small door in the far wall, and he opened it. A narrow set of stairs led downward.

  “He must have gone out this way. Damn it, he probably slipped out while we were talking to the madam.”

  Slater ran down the stairs. It was some time before he came back up, and he wore a look of disgust. “No sign of him anywhere.” He turned to Dorette. “Where did he go? When?”

  “Sugar, you think Sam Brody’s going to tell me where he’s going?” Dorette snorted. “I got no idea. I didn’t even know who he was till you said so.”