My Angel

by Christine Young

  He pulled back, grinning, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "That was your first lesson, angel. A very important one, one that you must remember for all time. I am the man here, and I'm the one in command. You will follow my orders, and in turn, I will protect you with my life."

  For a moment confusion swept through Angela, but then she flashed him a sassy smile. And I will protect you with my life, she added silently.

  "Do you understand, darling?'' His voice was soft and deep and very throaty. He kissed her eyes closed then her lips again, this time a soft, feathery kiss, a promise of more--or perhaps the tender kiss was meant to seal a bargain, she wasn't sure.

  "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 th
e 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.

  The moment was wild and passion-filled.

  He swept her into his arms and walked with her to the driest part of their shelter. "You are beautiful," he whispered, his breath touching her cheek. He smelled of tempest and fire, of wild, wild winds and unyielding strength.

  He left her there for the time it took him to dress. When he came back, he pulled her into his arms. "Feel better?" he asked.

  "Yes." She snuggled next to him, absorbing the warmth he offered, content to let the man of her dreams hold her. More knowledge about passion and love would follow, not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but she knew that soon he would make love to her and she would give all of herself to him. Then she would teach him to love her in return.

  "Where are we going?" she asked, while she idly ran her hands across the muscles of his chest.

  The moment that Alexi had dreaded had come. Not for one second had he doubted her willingness to become his mistress. But this question had tormented him.

  He held her hand in his, their fingers intertwined. The tempest howled around them. "Europe," he said softly. "Would you like that? To see the world with me? We can go to England, then France and perhaps on to Constantinople."

  Raw thunder filled the air.

  Angela moved away from him. Instantly he felt the separation, the coldness that would surely come between them. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed each finger, a gentle smile on her face.

  Lightning ripped the sky in half.

  "Yes." The single word was a breathy whisper surrounded by the raging storm.

  In her eyes he saw that she would go anywhere with him. His free hand rose to lift her chin higher, to demand confirmation of what he saw.

  She answered. "I've always wanted to see the world."

  His fears eased. She brought his hand back to his lap, her fingers resting on his arousal. He held his shudder of masculine desire in check. The little hellion.

  "Constantinople," he said. "My father lives there."

  Her eyes were wide, her fingers moving gently upon him, stimulating him to a simmering current of unleashed passion. He felt battered and bruised, with only one solution to the wonderful sexual ache she did little to assuage with her shy yet wanton attentions. He didn't know how she maintained the act--practiced courtesan one minute, innocent virgin the next.

  "Little hellion,'' he whispered, his tongue tracing the delicate pink shell of her ear. She purred for him.

  His heart stopped.

  "I thought I was your angel."

  "Not when you toy with me and play games at my expense."

  She looked at him with questioning eyes.

  "You know exactly what you're about."

  Her tempting pink tongue moistened her lips, her lashes lowered and she moved closer to him. Through her white shirt he could see the rosy tips of her breasts, could almost taste their sweetness.

  "Of course I do," she admitted. "I mean to seduce you."

  "And you're doing a fine job of it."

  Angela ran her finger down the deep vee of his shirt. He'd tucked the length into his pants but had not buttoned it. Her fingers touched the top of his pants. He throbbed beneath the fabric, longing for her and her pleasure-drenched warmth.

  Allah, why had he decided to wait for feather pillows? This little wanton did not need wooing. She needed hot and unbridled carnal delights. She could teach the women in his father's harem a few tricks of her own.

  She ran her fingernail back to his throat, his muscles tensing in ardent anticipation of a sensual act that wasn't yet to be.

  "Then I'll have to make sure you receive your just deserts."

  He nipped her ear lightly. Without hesitation he leaned down, his mouth closing over her nipple, and through the white linen he suckled and teased. He ravished her breast with his teeth then turned to the other one.

  He delighted in the sounds she made and the raw, primitive thrusting of her hips against his own. Covering her with his body, he let her softness ease him. There were ways to make her purr with sexual anticipation. He would do all that then he would watch her climax. He wanted to see her eyes at the moment her muscles spasmed and he brought her to the ultimate physical release.

  "Little mistress mine, you'll melt in my hands."

  Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt and teased his male nipples; her nails scraped across his flesh to the line of his pants again and again.

  Her nails moved back and forth.

  Her shirt ripped, buttons flying from their fastenings and scattering on the ground.

  "Alexi."

  His name on her lips rilled him. "Easy," he whispered. "I'm going to make you soar on the wings of the storm. Just hold on for the ride, sweet angel."

  In seconds she lay naked beneath him. Her breasts were perfect, her waist narrow and her hips widely feminine. The soft expanse of curls at the apex of her thighs begged for his touch.

  When his fingers dipped into her soft recesses, she jerked, her eyes widening.

  "Alexi!"

  She sounded panicked.

  "Hush," he said, and kissed her lips, easing his tongue inside her mouth. His finger followed suit more intimately in her warm sheath.

  Allah, but she was hot and tight.

  He found the small bud of her wildest desire, deep in her feminine folds, and caressed her, her hips moving in rhythm with him. One with her at this moment, he understood her most urgent needs and granted her every wish.

  She cried out in little mews and purrs. Even though she tried to speak, only one coherent word passed her lips. "Alexi..." she said again and again. The sound satisfied him.

  And then not even his name passed her lips. She writhed against his hand, making sounds of gratification and crying out her passion and the pleasure of her release. Seconds passed and her body rhythm slowed, adapting to the tender ministrations he offered.