"Did Emma recognize Dakota?" Devil dismounted.
"She knew him."
"Perhaps that has its own merits. She'll understand we'll be there for her."
"Perhaps."
"And pigs fly." Dakota's heated reply made Devil jerk around. "She thought I betrayed her."
Once again Jacob touched the bandage, choosing to ignore Dakota's outburst. "Tonight at the auction Sam will be at the bordello, as well as Trey. She'll be protected. The sheriff will have his men there, and the Pinkertons will infiltrate the house. Nothing will go wrong."
Another hour passed while they went over the plans. Devil was to stay inside the bordello and watch Emma. If anything happened upstairs, Devil would step in to help. He would make sure the auction proceeded as planned, and that the proof against Stevens and leBon would be damming. Emma would have to be at the auction no matter what.
Devil watched the men ride away. He prayed nothing bad would happen, but he didn't trust Lawrence Stevens. Devil guided Jabbar back to town, his thoughts on the night's work.
"Misha?"
The big man rode from his hiding place, a look of apprehension in his eyes. "Yes." His voice was hard.
"I want you to go to Cheyenne."
"Now?"
Devil looked to the mountains. "Yes," he said. "I want my private car prepared for the journey east."
"I don't think this is wise."
"Perhaps not. But it's what I want. If Allah is smiling down on me, I'll have company. Don't spare any expense. And Misha, I know you will come up with a thousand and one reasons to stay. Don't. You won't change my mind."
Misha's shoulders stiffened, and his fists were clenched tight at his sides. "All right," he said. "I'll leave as soon as I get back to the hotel."
~ * ~
Angela carried the tray along the outskirts of the opulent ballroom. Scantily clad ladies danced and whirled on the parquet floor in the arms of the gentlemen here for the auction. Greed, women, and the ready availability of opium seduced the wealthy men of Denver to this spot.
She had learned a lot the last few days--too much, she'd thought at times. The ladies would drink expensive champagne, flirting all the while with gentlemen who had wives at home waiting for them. Then they'd eventually lead the eager men up the stairs covered with Oriental carpeting and into one of the fancy bedrooms. There were twenty bedrooms on the second floor, and most nights every one was in use by midnight.
Lottie had been kind to her, had told her what to expect from her first gentleman. Lottie's father had sold her and her younger sister to a bordello. Lottie had been thirteen years old, her sister twelve. At thirteen, her sister died in the whorehouse, birthing a stillborn child. From there Lottie had tried to make it on her own, only to find that without a man, she couldn't earn enough money to eat or rent a room in a respectable boardinghouse. No longer seeing the women who worked in the bordello in terms of good and evil, Angela felt her heart go out to them and the events in their lives that had brought some of them to this point.
Now as she walked up the stairs, she felt a steady gaze upon her. For a moment a sense of unease ruffled through her, but that vanished, to be replaced by a strange quivering sensation. Only Devil had ever made her feel that way.
Her nerves stretched taut, she whirled around and searched the room for him, but saw no one. He was here. He had to be--and she'd find him and twist his heart out if he thought to buy the services of one of these ladies. She reminded herself she was here for a reason, she had to stay near Emma and make sure nothing happened to her.
Yet with each step, her breathing quickened, her heart pounded. It wasn't the climb that had her panting and her knees wobbling. Devil watched her.
She smoothed then tugged at her dress, so different from the sweet yellow froth of material and the petticoats she'd worn the day they met. Now her breasts pushed invitingly from the low-cut bodice of exquisite red silk. The high cut of the hem showed a length of her leg she wanted only Devil to see.
Once she'd hoped to tempt a devil. Now she felt underdressed and wanton.
He would think she worked here. Angela sucked in her breath and pushed that thought to the back of her mind. She had a job to do.
Empowered by the knowledge he watched her, would protect her if necessary, she strode up the long flight of stairs to Emma's room. She wanted to see to Emma then Devil, but not in that order.
Devil had some hard and fast explanations to give her. Despite what he'd done to Emma, Angela would forgive him if he said the right words. Lord, but she didn't know what to think of Devil Blackmoor.
"Angel..." Devil whispered, stepping quickly from the shadowed alcove he'd been standing in and taking the pitcher from her hands. "May I help?" he asked his grin almost as broad as his shoulders.
She moved back, her smile of greeting wavering. "You," she said, suddenly shy and very breathless, her heart in her throat. She hadn't really expected him to pop out of nowhere.
"Alexi." His voice was resonating and warm. "I wish for you to call me Alexi," he said, his lips twitching at something humorous she didn't understand. " 'You' seems too impersonal for what I have in mind." His voice seduced, calmed and soothed all at the same time.
Cocking her head in thought, she remembered the only name she'd known him by, Devil Blackmoor. She liked the name Alexi, and she liked the way he watched her, almost admiringly.
His gaze on her lips, he stepped forward, so close she felt the warmth of him, and the power of him. Her entire body flushed and heated with anticipation, and the memory of his hands upon her made her tremble.
She wanted him closer to her, needed to be alone with him for at least a few cherished seconds before seeing to Emma. Angela squared her shoulders, her breasts rising to overflow the bodice, the pink color of her nipples almost showing.
Shyly, she placed a hand there to hide herself then decided against it. If she were to win this man for herself, it wouldn't be by hiding. With a practiced, seductive grace Lottie had drilled into her for two days now, she put her hands behind her back and stepped into the alcove so her back was against the smooth wood paneling. The movement accentuated her breasts, thrusting them upward and almost out of the flimsy material holding them.
Wanton came to mind. A fleeting glimpse of her parents' disapproving faces slipped through the clouds in her head, only to vanish. She wanted this man, and if she had to be reckless to get him, she would. Lottie had told her exactly how to go about capturing the heart of a man like Devil Blackmoor.
If he pulled the drapes, he could make love to her right here in the alcove and no one would be the wiser. She focused on the gold brocaded seat that was obviously put there with carnal delights in mind.
She moistened her lips and watched him, knowing she wanted him, somehow understanding he was meant for her and she for him.
He leaned, one hand on the wall, the other rising to touch her lips. His finger brushed against her in a butterfly touch, a fleeting caress that made her want to beg for more. Parts of her body swelled and tightened in response to him. She ached in dark, feminine places deep inside her.
Pure bliss was what she felt.
Being near him almost satisfied her needs, and she longed to discover more. He peered down at her breasts, then back at her lips. Where his eyes caressed her, she wanted him to touch her.
"I've been looking all over Denver for you, but I never thought to find you here," he said, his voice soft and filled with concern.
His finger feathered across her chin, down the column of her throat. Hot, unstoppable shivers spiraled through her, overwhelming her. Once more she moistened her lips. She wanted to pull him to her, to circle him with her arms and hold him close against her.
When his words registered, she sucked in her breath. "You mean in a whorehouse?" she asked, puzzled and at the same time angered by his assumptions and suddenly on the defensive. In an indefinable way she'd come to respect Lottie, and some of the other girls, too. "Do you have something agai
nst women who have to work to survive? To eat?" she asked.
Alexi looked surprised by her vehement question. "No," he whispered huskily. "I have nothing against this--any of this. In truth I prefer a woman who is not afraid to use her body for pleasure. And at the moment I prefer you above everyone else. Come to me, Angel."
Thrilled by his ardent declaration, Angela wasn't afraid to use her body for pleasure as long as it was Devil doing the pleasuring. Oh, yes, she wanted to tell him over and over again, she needed to feel those wonderful sensations he had summoned from her body weeks ago.
"You have no use for virgins then..." Her breath fanned his lips. All the while she wondered what he thought of her.
She didn't want him to wait. Tension ripped her insides to shreds. He trailed his finger just above the bodice of her gown. She loved the contrast between the dark bronze of his skin set against the whiteness of her own. She thought he might dip his finger into the valley between her breasts. She needed him to touch her, to soothe the vibrant need rising within her.
If he asked, she would go anywhere with him, allow him anything he wanted. If he would only ask.
He was less than an inch away. She strained against him, silently urging him closer, but it seemed to Angela he wanted to prolong the inevitable. He wanted to control their lovemaking.
She wanted fulfillment.
"I do not want anything to do with virgins." He paused in reflection. "Although I will be duty-bound to marry one."
Frustration pierced her heart then fear. "You wouldn't marry someone who wasn't innocent?" she asked, unsure of herself and what she should tell him.
"Your words, sweetheart, not mine. I would never belittle a beautiful woman who gave herself to me in passion, but I would not wed her."
Confusion ran rampant in her mind. "Even if you loved her beyond anything imaginable?"
"Love is for fools and fairy tales."
She moistened her lips and swallowed, her eyes languidly following the path of his fingers as he inched closer to her breasts. His statements regarding virgins and wives vanished from her mind, replaced by the searing heat of his hands as they explored and tempted her from the path of virtue. When this man touched her, she could not think.
"But then..." She wanted to know more.
"Curiosity? I admire that in a woman; it shows a deep-seated intelligence. I would find a place in my heart for her as my mistress, and I would lavish her with her heart's desire."
His words and their meaning swept through her. The mistress of his heart, yes, she thought. She would be the mistress of his heart, his soul mate.
"I would hope, my angel, I would be her heart's desire, too. Would I?"
She melted against him, her knees weak with pleasure, her spirits soaring higher than the clouds. Yet she recovered enough to realize she needed a small measure of sanity to deal with him. She must regain a few seconds of control or else he would surely have her behaving just as he wished.
"You're arrogant," she breathed softly.
"In the Popov men, arrogance is inbred. A most annoying habit if I do say so myself. If you like, I can try not to show that very infuriating side of my personality, but I will make no promises. There are some traits a man cannot hide no matter how hard he tries."
She could not think, could barely breathe. He pulled away from her and stared at her. Almost reverently he lowered her bodice, her breast now free of restraint and brushing against his callused fingertips. Second thoughts swept through her. Unsure of her feelings for Devil yet still driven by the heat of his touch, she thought to cover herself. He held her hands.
His dark brown eyes were wide with desire, his muscles flexing beneath her fingers. In the shadows of the dimly lit room, he looked dark and powerful, a warlord from ancient days, large and incomparable.
"Do you want me?" he asked.
She nodded her head, her fingers closing around his arms.
"You haven't chosen a partner for tonight?'' he asked softly, his voice husky with desire. "Tell me your name, sweet, sweet angel."
She swallowed once before she said, "Angela."
"Angela what?" he asked, a smile on his lips, his eyes twinkling with approval.
"Just Angela..." She didn't want to ruin this moment. To tell him her last name might change their lives forever. She could well imagine what he'd do if he discovered her surname. He was seducing a Chamberlain. Only a man with a death wish would carry on so. And she did want to be seduced by Devil.
Her father would never find out, she decided.
"Do you have a partner for this evening?" he asked again. "If you do, I want you to tell him that you've chosen another. I don't want you with any other man. Where is your room?" he asked, low and hushed.
Sudden clarity hit her, and with it a realization of what she was about to do. Indecision overwhelmed her. "I can't," she said, alarmed by the prospect of giving herself to this man, yet wanting to surrender completely.
Her fingers were clenched tightly around his arms, and she was determined to hold him off until she was ready. The heat of embarrassment rose from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Even while she wallowed in denial, she knew he could persuade her to share his bed. That was, after all, what she wanted. Wasn't it?
She was unsure of herself, wanting him desperately one minute, afraid to make the commitment the next. She didn't know why she'd said no.
"You have time before the festivities..." he murmured, the sentence rife with meaning. "For me. Give yourself over to my hands, Angel. Kiss me."
"No, please," Angela breathed, but the no was so soft, she didn't believe it herself. Her please was more a plea than a refusal. And he thought she was a practiced whore, well versed in the subtle game of love. Lottie had told her that lovemaking withheld for a short time could sometimes be more gratifying, but that wasn't her intent. Now that the time was here she was deathly afraid.
Alexi, his smile having vanished with the words / can't, reached for her. She didn't move, only watched his arms come out to touch her. His hands gently closed on her shoulders, and she shuddered helplessly in a quiet alcove surrounded by raucous celebration. Their breathing seemed to be part of the music and the laughter, her heart pounding with the tempo.
With intoxicating deliberation he drew her near. The scent of danger mingled with the fragrance of unleashed power permeating Alexi's clothes as the distance between them closed, her body unresisting beneath his hands, her face unconsciously lifting for his kiss.
"Yes," he said, and touched her lips. "Say yes and I'll be a man well satisfied."
The softness of his voice robbed her of conscious thought. When she was with him, she couldn't think. When he touched her, she melted.
It was a chaste, butterfly-light kiss for only one scant moment then Angela stroked his shoulders, her caresses becoming increasingly bold. His hands slid down to her hips, and he pulled her fiercely close. Unrepentantly, she ignored her better judgment, intent on tasting the hot boldness of his mouth, welcoming the thorough invasion of his tongue between her parted lips.
Angela lost herself in his strength and power, moving against his body in a sensual dance until every part of her melted into his hard-muscled frame. Only short seconds later, in an agitated state, his mouth lifted from hers abruptly, as though his patience had a measurable limit that had just expired.
"Where?" he asked, his voice curt and urgent, his mouth drifting languidly across her collarbone. "Where can we go?"
My Angel Page 6