"You'll ride me, my sweet concubine. Soon, but not tonight, I will be deep inside you and I'll feel you pulse against me. Soon," he said. Very soon.
She turned her face into his shoulder when he wanted to look at her passion-filled eyes.
"Shy?" he asked, stunned by the thought and the inconsistency it presented. "Modesty has no place between lovers," he said as he ran his fingers down the length of her spine. In the aftermath, he held her close.
He felt suddenly angry. The pretense and the acting did not sit well with him, and he wondered what game she played.
Chapter Six
Four days later Angela and Devil rode out of Cheyenne on the train headed east. The accommodations were not what Alexi had told her they would be. Instead of his private car with all the luxuries money could buy, they rode with the other passengers on hard seats. They had no place to sleep, and Alexi's frustration and anger at the situation ate at her. His promise of a bed and pillows was unfulfilled.
Emma's rescue and the arrest of Stevens and Velvet leBon had made the front page of the paper in Cheyenne. Stevens's crimes had gone undetected for so long, the revelations at the trial were like the stirring up of a hornets' nest. Stevens had used his position as a senator to launder money and set up a white-slave trade that reached into South America. The list of his crimes went on and on.
Angel yawned and punched her valise into a more satisfying lump. The impatient gesture didn't work. Wide-eyed, she watched the endless miles of the Kansas prairie roll by. Occasionally she saw animals and here and there a farm. Mostly she saw miles and miles of billowing grasslands.
In the early afternoon there had been another wild storm, rain and hail pelting the ground. The storm had cooled the air somewhat, making the ride more bearable. Now sunset approached, one star shining low on the horizon.
She wondered how it would feel to once again be free as the wind, to feel as one with the earth. She wanted to ride Kangee across these wide-open prairies.
On the bench in front of her a smudged-cheeked urchin peered over the backrest, his brown eyes wide and sorrowful. With a smile, Angela reached out and gave his worn gray hat a little tug. He blinked once then lowered his face until Angela could see only his eyes. She loved children fiercely, and wanted at least two of each sex.
Alexi's children ...
"Peppermint stick?" she asked, trying to wheedle a smile out of the little boy and find her way into his good graces.
The youngster's eyes grew wider and darker. He looked interested and a little bolder. Yet he didn't answer. His little pink tongue darted out to moisten his lips in anticipation. All afternoon she'd watched him and tried to entice him with the sweet. Finally he nodded.
Angela pulled the confection from her pocket and held it in front of him in silent invitation. She gave the red-and-white-striped stick a gentle wave, making sure it passed directly in front of the boy's nose. His face screwed up tightly.
The little boy's fingers twitched.
"Say yes and it's yours," she said, wondering how the little boy felt, embarking on such an adventure. Probably the same way she did, excited and frightened all at the same time. She wanted to be wherever they were going, but she didn't want the trip to end.
Alexi had promised to show her London and Paris. They would sail the Mediterranean and pass by Constantinople, then into the Black Sea.
The little boy's mouth moved, either in his eagerness for the stick of candy or with his effort to say the one word she wanted to hear. Four grubby fingers with four equally dirty, ragged fingernails showed themselves on the back of the chair. She could see his mouth now and his soot-stained neck. He looked as if he'd been rolling around in ashes.
He was mischief and little boy all tied into one adorable bundle.
Angela smiled encouragement and held the treat closer. He reached out for it, tentatively at first, his frayed jacket sleeve coming only halfway down his forearm, his fingers almost closing around the sweet.
Just before his fingers grasped the peppermint stick, Alexi appeared, striding with his head held high down the aisle of the train. He tipped his hat and the ladies all nodded at the handsome gentleman. All the while he acted as if he owned the car they rode in. He sat down next to her then turned his attention to the little boy.
"You'd best be wary of this lady. She could steal your heart just as she has stolen mine." His eyes were warm and alight with mischief while he watched Angela. His hand rested possessively across her back.
The boy's eyes closed and his shoulders shook. He ducked down beneath the seat.
"Shame on you," Angela said, brushing Alexi's hand aside. "You frightened him. It took me hours to coax him that far, and you ruined my progress in less time than it takes to snap one's fingers."
"Temptress..." he countered, the word warm and teasing, his eyes twinkling in silent mirth. "My little houri, all ready to ply your charms on unsuspecting males. I will have to be stem with you."
"I am not a temptress or a tease. I meant to give him the candy. What's an houri?'''
"You will give him his reward only after you exacted your price. And an houri is someone who would give me my heart's desire. Will you, my angel? My brave, incorrigible angel."
She ignored the barb and his pointed questions, so she could bend over the seat and find the little boy who had disappeared almost the very instant Alexi sat down beside her.
"Need any help?" His hand rested possessively just below the small of her back. She moved her hips, trying halfheartedly to dislodge his hand, while she successfully gave the boy the candy. Alexi moved his hand lower, squeezing gently.
"No." She gasped, sitting back indignantly after giving Alexi a warning scowl. His hand sneaked around her waist, then higher, until she felt the warmth of his fingers below the rounded curve of her breasts. He caressed the underside slowly. She jerked with the sensation.
"Alexi!" She panicked.
"I want to taste you right here," he whispered, his ringer touching her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. "You'll taste better than strawberries and cream."
The warmth of his words and his touch engulfed her, simmered deep inside. She wanted him to deliver on his promise. "Devil," she whispered, then poked his chest with her forefinger. "I shall scream."
He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Ah, but you love my attentions." Beneath her jacket, his thumb passed over her nipple, once, twice. "And, my darling, you wouldn't want me arrested, because then you'd have to do without me."
She did love his attentions--and everything else about him--and that was the crux of the matter. They'd arrived in Cheyenne only to find that his personal rail car had been demolished two weeks earlier by an engine that had raced out of control. The promises of sensual bliss he'd made to her as they rode during the day and slept chastely in each other's arms on the ground during the night could not be fulfilled.
Ever since the bad news, he'd been alternately in a foul mood then a teasing one.
One minute he couldn't keep his hands away from her, the next she'd find herself alone and Alexi off pacing somewhere.
"I love your attentions only when you're nice." She breathed deeply, willing sanity to return.
"I'm always nice." He moved closer, his body shielding her from any eyes that might be directed their way. He tossed his greatcoat around her shoulders, hiding her from any lingering eyes. "Let's go for a walk. I know just the place."
She looked into his eyes, and the heat and the desire she saw there swamped her. Moistening her lips, all she could do was nod. He pulled her to her feet and let her pass in front of him. His hands resting on her shoulder, he guided her to the end of the car and outside, where the wind whistled and the iron wheels roared as sparks flew heavenward. They were alone, isolated from the rows of sleeping passengers. Only the endless miles of empty prairie surrounded them.
In less than a second she was in his arms, his cloak around them shielding them from any prying eyes. His mouth crushed down on hers,
his tongue prodding, searching for entrance. She allowed it, desired him more than life itself. All the while, his free hand languidly slid up her dress and across her bare thigh. His callused fingers were abrasive against her inner leg. The caresses was practiced and intimate. The contact promised so much.
"Alexi." She squirmed and tried to dislodge his hand. She had not dreamed that he would be so daring. He wouldn't be denied.
"Hush. There is no one here except the two of us."
"But Alexi..."
Nor, it seemed, would he allow her to run from him. "I want to pleasure you."
"Alexi…" She couldn't think. "This isn't a good idea," she finally got out.
As he taunted and teased her--and as the evening darkened--his caresses became bolder. He would have his way; she knew that. She' d given up trying to control him or command dominance. Yet she often spoke her mind. .He would scowl then he would soothe his anger at her outspokenness with passion.
"Ah, sweet concubine," he drawled softly next to her ear. "Allow a starving man a few comforts of home and let me see to your pleasure." His hand moved upon her stomach, making her shudder and want him more than anything she could imagine.
"Please... Alexi, there are people just inside that door. They could come out here just as we have done." Her heart pounded and she could barely breathe. "Everyone can see us."
"No one will step through that door. I will not allow it. It is dark and you are completely hidden from anyone's view, even mine." His eyes smoldered with sensual promise. "Close your eyes and pretend my mouth is here, where my hands are. I'll do that to you soon. I'll kiss you right here." His hand moved inches, delved intimately. "And here." His lips touched her ear; his breath, hot and erotic, feathered across her neck. Adept fingers flicked open buttons on her shirt then the ribbons of her camisole. Sensually, flesh against flesh, he stroked the valley between her breasts, teased and taunted in ever smaller circles without touching the hard, budding crests.
The moon shone in all its splendor through a scattering of clouds, and the stars twinkled brightly. The world was asleep.
"I can't think... Alexi!" She breathed his name, the words short and staccato. She couldn't tell him she wanted him to stop. She couldn't lie to him.
One of his hands teased the crest of one breast, the other caressed feminine secrets beneath her skirt. She could not deny him.
"Open your eyes," he said. "Touch me. Feel my passion for you." He set her hand against his arousal.
For a few long seconds she could not respond. Her head fell limp against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she instantly obeyed.
"Now think of my mouth here"--and he touched her--"and here. You're hot and crying for me." With masculine command and arrogance, he stroked her and made her writhe against him, her attempts to control her response to him feeble.
"You want me." Two fingers slid deeply inside her. "I'm one with you now. Not like I will be, I promise you that. Tell me how much you want me."
Her words were said softly and into his chest. "Alexi--you can't..." But she didn't sound at all sincere, and she felt the rumble of his laughter against her cheek.
"Tell me you want me," he repeated, his fingers sliding ever deeper. "Tell me, angel."
"I want you."
She didn't want him to ever stop loving her. Her fingers closed around his arms, nails biting into his flesh, her breaths coming in tiny little pants. Her face buried against him, she tried hard not to let her impassioned sounds echo in the roar of the night.
"Alexi!" Every muscle in her body pulsed and tensed and shuddered. She clung to Alexi, her lover and friend. He held her tight while she climaxed in his arms, the thunder of the train exploding in her head, the sparks of light and heat shattering her reverie.
She rested against him, her mind and nerves spent. To save her immortal soul, she could not move.
His strong hands soothed and comforted her now that he'd brought her to heaven. Still, all Angela could do was cling to him, hiding her face in the shadows he'd made for her. Pretending he hadn't just touched her intimately on a train where anyone might know what they did left her embarrassed but with no regrets.
Where this man was concerned she would never have reservations or regrets. She had desired him from the moment she had set eyes upon him, had known he was meant for her and her alone.
"I would give you more," he said, still stroking her back, "but someone might notice." He laughed softly, his voice intimate and suggestive.
She lifted her burning cheeks high enough to look through the dirty, smudged window into the train. No one paid them any heed. No one knew or guessed what they had just done. Life went on as it had a few minutes earlier. The train rumbled down the tracks, and the people inside slept uncomfortably on the hard seats.
She began to relax, her tension easing as sleep began to close in around her. Sheltered in his arms, she saw his hardness beneath the fabric of his trousers. She wanted to see her dark, mysterious warlord naked again. She wanted to see his arousal and touch and stroke him as he did her. She wanted to feel him deep inside her.
"We'll go inside now." He swept her into his arms and carried her back to their bench. Settling her on his lap, he let her rest her head against his chest.
"I love you," she said so softly that he barely heard her, but he did and he smiled, a possessive male smile.
He held her tightly and he pretended they slept comfortably, side by side, in his personal car. His angel was like no woman he'd ever met. Strong and sure of herself, she gave him her loyalty, and he admired her bravery and her innate goodness. Now, besides pillows and a soft bed, he had other plans for Angela and their first union. He intended to make everything perfect for her.
Patience had always been his strong suit, and although he knew Angela was ready and eager for him, he would make her wait. Anticipation would make the loving sweeter and even more enduring.
They were headed to New York, and what better place was there to treat Angela to all the luxury he could afford? In Cheyenne he'd wired ahead to the Waldorf Hotel and reserved a suite of rooms for their short stay. By his calculations they could waste two days in the luxurious rooms. He would take her to a play or an opera. He'd wine and dine her in the best restaurants. He meant to spend hours making love to her, showing her all the ways he knew of to give and receive pleasure.
~ * ~
Sam Chamberlain wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty brow then pushed hard on the door in front of him. His shirt stuck to his clammy skin, and a line of perspiration beaded on his upper lip. Unseasonably warm weather beat down on the sidewalks and streets of the city. A dry, hot wind whirled between the buildings even while thunderclouds gathered on the horizon.
Stepping from the telegraph office, he strode with his hands clenched at his sides through the streets of Kansas City, a man determined to defend his daughter's honor. After he caught Devil Blackmoor, he had every intention of staking him out on the hot desert sand, and asking questions later. He had visions of stripping Devil's flesh from his body slowly, one narrow piece at a time.
Taking a shortcut to the train station, he turned, moving quickly through an alley that ran between a quiet row of houses. All he could hear were his own footsteps and the whistling wind. The uncanny silence warned him of danger, but not soon enough.
He felt the blade of a knife against his throat, a powerful arm across his chest. Survival instincts kicked in and he tensed, waiting for the right moment to fight back.
"What do you want with the prince?" the man holding the knife at his throat asked while the arm around Sam's neck tightened.
Sam drew in a shallow breath, thinking hard. He tried to keep his voice calm and his wits about him. It wasn't easy. "I don't know who you're talking about. I don't know any princes. Let me go and you can explain yourself."
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