My Angel

by Christine Young

  Feodora moaned his name once more, and in a matter of seconds she was moving and thrusting herself against him. All she could think about was Alexi and how much she hated him. More than anything she wanted Alexi to see her in another man's arms--in Ivan's arms. She wanted to punish Alexi for daring to bring a mistress to what was soon to be her home.

  She came then with a shuddering cry.

  Negligently, he withdrew from her and fastened his pants, leaving her disheveled and on the ground in the stables.

  "Come back tonight," he said, his voice holding no trace of emotion. And he walked away from her. All she could see of him was his broad, powerful back and swaggering hips. Still she stared after him, hating himand his arrogance almost as much as she hated Alexi.

  Cursing her need for Ivan, Feodora pulled her tattered bodice together, plucked a few pieces of straw from her wild hair, and fled to the house, hoping that no one would see her. Her luck failed her.

  At the upstairs window, Natasha watched and smiled a knowing smile.

  Feodora shuddered, a feeling of doom sweeping through her.

  ~ * ~

  "What will be your first pleasure, sweet flower?" Alexi whispered, his lips almost touching Angela's as their private car came to a stop beneath the newly built Waldorf Hotel. "Food, a bath or me? Personally, I'm starving, and it's not for food. I wanted you yesterday, the day before and the day before that. I've been a patient man. Now the waiting is over."

  Alexi's hand was on her arm as he guided her down the steps of the train and into the lavish hotel. He'd anticipated this night for what seemed to him a lifetime. Having his adorable Angela in his arms and in his bed beneath him could not come soon enough.

  Angela smiled broadly at him, giving him a saucy wink in the process. "A bath, food then you," she told him.

  Yet beneath all the bravado, he felt her shyness and wondered at it. It was a game not to his liking. She had no need to play the coy maiden with him. He'd already told her how he felt, told her that her other affairs meant nothing to him. They were in her past, not her future. They stepped into the elevator.

  "Hellion," he said tenderly, knowing he'd put up with any games she wanted to play with him. "I might not give you a choice. If you don't stop tempting me, toying with my fragile masculine emotions, I will ravish you right here in the lift for all who happen by to see."

  "You wouldn't dare," she said softly, with wide-eyed innocence.

  But she should know he'd dare anything. Heat rose to color her cheeks. He hoped she was remembering other times when he did dare everything.

  "Is that a challenge?" He backed her against the wall, his hands braced on either side of her head, leaving no room for escape. His hips pressed against her, and he hoped she could feel his growing hardness.

  She wanted to be as brazen as Alexi.

  "Yes..." She exhaled the word, daring him.

  The lift made a grinding noise and began to move. She swallowed hard, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Her heart in her throat and her pride in shambles, she wanted desperately to tell him the truth, to tell him she was a virgin, had never slept with a man or felt a man deep within her. Yet she couldn't summon the courage.

  Suddenly his expression turned tender, his eyes clouding with emotion. "Are you afraid?" he asked in a whisper. "Is that why you tremble beneath my touch and at my words?" His thumb lightly caressed her thrumming pulse. "You have nothing to fear from me. I would never hurt you."

  "Yes," she said, burying her face and her humiliation in the folds of his shirt. "I don't want to be afraid. You've given me no reason to fear you." She sounded like a petulant child, and she hated herself for her innocence and all the self-doubts that went with it. It was not knowing that left her breathless, her heart pounding.

  He was a man of the world, a man who'd had more than one lover. He would expect a great deal from her, skills she didn't possess. Yet he thought she was well versed in the sins of the flesh. Alexi did not want a virgin in his bed. He'd made that abundantly clear.

  His arms came around her, cherishing her, and in the process he seemed to understand her anxiety and apprehension. "Lean on me, angel." She did. "Nothing bad will happen to you in my arms. I will protect you with my life. I will pleasure you in ways you've never dreamed of before, and I will see to your happiness. Inside and out, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

  The lift settled on the top floor, the gates opening for them with a grinding squeal. He swept her into his arms and carried her to their room.

  "I told you I meant to ravish you." He kissed her nose, then her eyelids. "But I didn't want you take me seriously. I want to make love to you slowly, very slowly, and have that love returned."

  "Please, Alexi. A bath first and then..." She allowed the sentence to end. "Give me some time and then I promise you..." Once again she let the sentence hang unfinished. She didn't know what to promise.

  Now that the moment was at hand she was terrified. During the trip his sexual play had been unexpected at times and very tender at other moments, but she'd always known it would end at precisely the same place. Tonight he would show her everything about love. In his eyes, she was an experienced lady of the evening. He'd openly admitted that he preferred women who enjoyed the pleasure of their bodies and women who knew how to please a man.

  He would expect her to know what she was about.

  He let her slide down the length of him and, holding her at arm's length, he watched her with questioning, curious eyes. "What is this? A bashful lady? I thought you wanted me as much as I do you."

  She nodded and her lips began to tremble. She held her bottom lip still with her upper teeth and swallowed painfully. "I do want you, Alexi. I want you so much it frightens me."

  His smile broadened, his eyes twinkling. "I'll have to do something about all this shyness," he said, and feathered a leisurely kiss across her lips. His fingers wove through the strands of her hair, slowly tipping her head back. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping in and out, a parody of what he meant to do later, Angela thought distractedly, when they were in bed.

  He pulled away and watched her, his eyes bright with longing and promise.

  A bold knock at the door startled her.

  Alexi left her side to open it. Bellhops swept through the room. Some brought food and wine; others carried bouquets of flowers and candles. The men waited patiently after arranging the items in the room. Alexi handed them coins.

  Angela inhaled several long, deep breaths.

  "Now," Alexi said, "dinner will arrive shortly. I took the liberty of ordering last night, when I confirmed the reservations. The bath is this way." He ushered her into a small room with numerous facilities. "Hot and cold running water." He turned gold-handled devices, and steaming water ran into a huge porcelain tub.

  She'd never seen anything so elegant or so inviting. She let the water run over her hand. "It's delightful."

  His grin was broad. "So are you."

  "Alexi..."

  "I also ordered lotions and soap for you. I hope you like them." He waved the perfumed bottle in front of her nose. "Jasmine, my personal favorite." He kissed her gently and then he was gone.

  For a few long seconds she stared at the closed door, unsure of her tremulous feelings and so very hesitant. What she was about to do would change her life forever, and it seemed too permanent. She could not regain what she was about to lose--her innocence.

  They would leave the country soon. The thought loomed heavy on her mind. She'd wanted adventure, had prayed for it, but now that it was so close, she had second thoughts.

  She might never see her father and mother again, or her friends. She'd miss them. But not half as much as she'd miss Alexi if she let him go without her. She'd regret that for the rest of her life.

  "I love Alexi," she whispered, her hands clasped together in prayer. "I will go with him wherever he wants. It is a small price to pay for love. There is nothing to be afraid of."

  She sat
down on the rim of the tub and watched the water cascade into the white porcelain fixture. A heavy sigh followed, and then, gathering her courage, she stood, ready to face the new world she was about to encounter. She loved the endearing names he called her--little houri, his concubine--and she wondered at them, had never heard them before. In the last letter she sent to her father she had told him about the endearments to convince him of Alexi's love for her.

  Angela disrobed quickly then sank into the hot, fragrant water, blessing Alexi and his thoughtfulness. On a table nearby someone had set a decanter of wine and a crystal goblet. She poured herself a glass and sipped hesitantly, the heady warmth of the wine filling her and relaxing her.

  She finished the glass then poured another.

  Luxuriating in the feel of the water and the cleanliness she had not enjoyed for weeks, she stayed in the bath until her fingers crinkled and her skin felt waterlogged. The water turned chilly, but instead of adding more, she climbed out. .

  Behind the dressing screen Alexi had left a filmy peach nightdress and a wrapper. After dressing in the sheer confection, she blushed when she looked at herself in a mirror. Her damp hair hung loose around her shoulders. Where she'd not completely dried herself, the material clung to her breasts and nipples, her body clearly delineated for Alexi to see.

  Brazen came to mind, and on the wings of that thought came another. She didn't doubt for one moment he might have planned this, her seduction. But he didn't know the truth about her.

  He should know. She wanted him to know.

  Alexi did want her in his bed, and to some extent in his life. But would he still have those same feelings for her after they made love and he discovered for himself just how inexperienced she was? Would he feel the same when he understood that she had not told him the truth?

  Sitting in front of the vanity, lost in thought, she combed her damp hair and wrapped the length into a coil around her head. She pinched her cheeks to make them glow.

  She looked carefully at the image she presented. Alexi liked her hair down. She quickly pulled the pins free and let it tumble in wanton curls around her shoulders.

  "Angela?"

  The door creaked open, and Alexi stood there bold and absolutely gorgeous. His black hair was disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled from his pants. His chest was powerful, his hands large and tender. "I believe it's my turn to bathe. Go on; you can dry your hair in front of the fire. I'll be out in a few minutes."

  She didn't know what to say. Her heart lodged in her throat and her pulse danced a jig. "Did I take too long?"

  "Yes," he said, his gaze upon her, his eyes roaming the length of her. "Far too long." He smiled, his eyes shining with masculine approval and something else--desire.

  On trembling legs she rose and walked toward the door. He didn't move, just kept watching her.

  "Alexi?" she asked. She touched his shoulder, her fingers trembling.

  "A forfeit before you pass," he said, his voice mysteriously gruff. One of his fingers lifted her face, his mouth moving closer to her lips. She watched, mesmerized by his eyes, frozen with anticipation.

  "What is it you want?" she asked.

  "A kiss to tide me over until you offer me more, until you show me all you have to give. Until I can see your eyes when I fill you." His lips met hers, his tongue tracing the seam, demanding entrance. She responded, her tongue meeting his, playing and enticing him to give more. He did. He pulled her into his arms, his fingers sweeping through her hair; he deepened the kiss then suddenly there was space between them. He stared into her eyes touching her cheek with the back of his hand, a tender smile on his face.

  "Allah, give me strength."

  "I'll wait in the other room," she said, watching him, wondering why he needed strength.

  His muscles tautly rigid, he set her aside, a dark, foreboding shadow in his expression. "Temptress," he whispered. "Sweet temptress." He stepped back and let her pass. She turned then, watching him shut the door behind her, and wishing she had the nerve to go to him while he bathed.

  She did not. She was not the wanton angel he thought she was.

  She inhaled deeply, despair in her heart, fear burrowing into the deepest part of her. "What will happen when you find out I'm a virgin? Will you set me aside?" she asked softly. "Will you call me a liar and abandon me here in New York, where I know no one? You wanted someone experienced, a lover and a wife who could give you hours of pleasure. I cannot do what you expect. I can only follow your lead."

  ~ * ~

  In the bathing room, Alexi hummed a bawdy tune he'd learned in his mother country. Allah, but his angel was a beauty. She was sensitive and caring, and if he had his way, he'd never let her out of his bed. His mind spun with all the delightful interludes they would have soon.

  Too bad she wasn't a virgin, he thought. The idea of her as his wife felt good, but then he thought again. As a mistress she would be at his beck and call. He would find a beautiful home for her near his own estate, and he'd make sure she had everything she wanted --except a horse and carriage, he amended. He would never give her the means to leave him. Angela was his --his alone --and she would be his forever. The thought of losing her left a hollow pit in his heart, one he knew could never be filled.

  He ducked under the water, coming up sputtering and still singing. Soap ran into his eyes but he didn't care: He finished washing, dried himself off and dressed himself in black pants and a silk smoking jacket.

  When he stepped into the room, the table was set with silver and delicate bone china. Two slim candles flickered and the lights had been dimmed. It was romantic, just the look he'd sought. And outside the balcony doors a full moon stood clearly in the sky. It would be a sultry night of love and romance, a night of new beginnings.

  Pleased now that he'd waited for comfortable surroundings, he watched his angel for several peaceful minutes.

  Angela sat by the fire, her long hair catching the light from the flickering fire, shadows dancing across the lush curves of her body. Allah, but she was beautiful, a divine treat sent from heaven meant just for him.

  "Angela," he said his voice a throaty whisper in the dimly lit room. She turned, her smile catching him solidly in the gut and throwing him off balance. "A bath--now food. Then you can fill a starving man's heart."

  She held out her hand to him, her fingers trembling. He didn't understand her fear. He wanted to change that fear to desire. A woman practiced in the art of loving should not be afraid.

  "Devil..." she said.

  "Angel..." he answered her. "Why so afraid?" Suddenly the only reason he could come up with for her fear surfaced. "Have you been misused? I'll kill the bastard."

  Her cold, shaking fingers rested in his. When she looked at him, her eyes were wide and filled with moisture. A lone tear slipped from a vividly blue eye and ran down her cheek. He brushed it away.

  "No," she said. "No, I haven't."

  He breathed a sigh of relief, vacillating now in his emotions. "If not abuse, then why the fear? Have I done something? Anything to put the fear of God in you?''

  "No." Her smile and voice were hesitant.

  He meant to reassure and seduce. Slowly he brought her hands to his lips. Before kissing her, he turned her hand over and touched her palm lightly with his lips, his fingers tracing circles on the underside of her wrist. He led her to the table and made sure she was seated before going to his own chair.

  He poured her more wine and watched her eyes sparkle with long-pent-up desire. Good, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She toyed with the food on her plate, and he knew eating first had been a foolish plan.