My Angel

by Christine Young

  "I am not a liar," she told him, her voice so low she was not sure he heard.

  He poured himself a glass of brandy and downed the alcohol in one gulp. One arm rested against the fireplace. The flames licked upward and embers popped. He did not move. Suddenly, with no warning, Alexi threw the crystal into the fire. What liquid remained hissed and exploded with the heat. The delicate glass shattered into a thousand glimmering shards.

  "I'm going out," Alexi gritted out between clenched teeth. "Be here when I get back. I want you in my bed, nowhere else. Do you understand?"

  She didn't move.

  "Do you understand?" Harshly, he repeated his commands as if she were a wayward child, incapable of comprehending what he wanted.

  "Where else would I be?" she asked, confusion pooling in her stomach, fear in her heart. "What have I done?"

  He came to her then. His hands wrapped around her arms. She could not help but meet his gaze and recognize the simmering rage he held tightly in check.It seemed it would not take much for him to explode.

  "I am not a fool, Angela. You've lied to me, and I find that a sin I cannot forgive. Pack your clothes. We'll leave on the morrow with the tide. I see no reason to spend any more time in New York, courting you like the besotted fool I've been. I never make a mistake twice."

  With those hollow words rattling around in Angela's mind, she watched Alexi dress in evening attire and leave the room. On an ominous note the door closed, the latch clicking.

  Confused and utterly alone, Angela walked in a daze through the rooms of their suite. Unable to cry, she watched the fire slowly die, just as her heart was dying.

  Pack your clothes. Be here when I get back.

  Like hell! she thought, furious with the man and his bold audacity. His great arrogance no longer appealed to her. His impervious commands she would no longer obey.

  Angela plopped down on the ornate gold couch, her head in her hands, tears now sliding down her cheeks, all energy drained from her. She would not cry, she vowed, but she could not help herself.

  Like hell.

  She clutched a pillow to her chest and fingered the tassel, determination rising to overcome her despair. Night sounds swept in through an open window, a horse and carriage, the rumbling of the underground train. Nothing filled the emptiness inside her.

  "Alexi,'' she whispered, bereft, "what have I done to change everything so? What sin do you believe I've committed?"

  She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the embers of the fire had died to almost nothing. The clock on the mantel chimed twice. She rose and looked in their room. It was still empty, the bed cold. The sheets were rumpled from their lovemaking, something so incomplete and lacking it left a hole in her heart she didn't think could ever be filled. The promise had been so sweet, the deed empty.

  Courage she'd always possessed until these last few heartrending minutes surfaced. She knew what she had to do. She had to leave, and she had to vanish before Alexi returned. Because he would never let her go.

  Despite the hate he felt for her and the rage that simmered so blatantly on the surface, he would keep her with him until she hated, too. She could never let that happen.

  Determined to see this through, she shook off the weakness and the uncharacteristic vulnerability that had held her to Alexi. Then she packed her clothes, just as he'd demanded.

  Her one valise in hand, Angela, with her head held high, strode out of the suite and out of Alexi' s life forever. Small electric lights lit the hallway and the stairs leading to the first floor. The foyer was awash with a golden glow. The bellboy gave her a cursory look before going back to work.

  Tears stung the back of her throat as she silently made her way out of the hotel, but she valiantly fought them back, keeping her head high. Outside, beneath a crescent moon hovering in the sky, she made her way down the lighted street and away from Alexi and the hurtful rejection she didn't understand.

  ~ * ~

  Alexi hailed a carriage and gave directions to one of the most prestigious bordellos New York City had to offer. Slowly he walked up the long brick walkway. Huge lion-headed knocker in hand, he pounded against the door.

  "Good evening, Devil. Nice to see you, sir. It's been a while."

  "Good to see you also, Stubbs. Is Venus still here?" Alexi asked as he handed Stubbs his jacket and loosened his tie. If anyone could ease the pain, Venus could. She knew tricks even the experienced harem women he'd dallied with as an untried youth would swoon at.

  "She sure is, Devil. You want me to fetch her down?"

  "Not if she's in her room. Does she have a gentleman with her?" Alexi let his gaze wander up the expensive Oriental carpet to the top of the stairs. Venus had always been one of his favorites. He could talk to her, and he wanted to talk tonight, as well as satisfy his other, baser needs.

  He needed to forget the deep, merciless pain.

  "She's by herself right now. Her last gentleman caller left a half hour ago. Figured she'd be down in a few minutes, looking for more clients."

  Alexi's gut turned over at the mention of another man in Venus's bed. He didn't want a whore; he wanted Angela. "Angela, why couldn't you have been my angel?" he whispered, desperate for answers. "Why didn't your past matter to me until I thought I'd be the first one in your bed?''

  His gait dragging, Alexi climbed the steps to Venus's room. The sparkling chandeliers didn't brighten his heart, nor did any of the scantily clad ladies lounging on the banister and reclining in chairs below.

  He'd seen it all. Done just about everything.

  Alexi knew which room was hers. He'd been there several times before and enjoyed himself immensely. This time felt different. He raised his hand to knock but the door swung open of its own accord.

  One lamp lit the room. Venus sat at her dressing table, naked except for her silk stockings and garish red garters. When he stepped in, she turned, her full breasts swaying like pendulums. He'd always loved her breasts. Until now.

  Until he'd seen and tasted Angela's breasts, felt the satin of her flesh, stroked the ivory column of her long neck.

  Venus smiled at him and posed seductively, her breasts pushed forward, the rouged nipples blatant in their demand. Her legs were spread wide, beckoning any man who might walk through her door, her arms resting back against the chair to best present herself to him.

  He didn't want her. He needed Angela and her wide-eyed innocence, her angelic smile, breasts that would fill his hands, a body that fit him like a personally ordered glove.

  "Devil." She rose and slipped on an orange satin wrapper, a color that clashed with her red hair. "It's been a long time, to long. You've come to see me? " She stretched out her arms for him.

  He closed the distance, but a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek were all he could bring himself to give her. Her smile faded.

  With wisdom he'd never credited to her, she searched his soul and perhaps his heart, too.

  "Why, Devil Blackmoor, you're in love." One hand rested on her hip. "Who is the lucky lady? And what on earth are you doing here?'' She pulled out a gold brocade chair for Alexi to sit on, then curled herself up catlike on a couch. "Come, tell Venus all about her. It's plain to see you're no good for anything else." She touched one long, painted nail to her lips. "I will be wantin' my usual fee, mind you."

  "Of course," Alexi said, relieved she saw his feelings so easily. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

  "Now tell me. What's she like, this woman you're in love with?" Venus uncurled herself long enough to pour both of them a snifter of brandy before settling back against the couch.

  Alexi allowed himself a minute of reflection and a slight smile. "I'm not in love with her," he began. Fool, she stole your heart the first day you saw her riding on her horse, her hair flying wildly behind her.

  "Bah." Venus waved her hand in the air to dismiss the notion. "Best you start telling yourself the truth, Devil Black-moor, or she's going to have you wrapped around her little finger." Venus paused,
leaning forward so her face was only inches from his, her breasts spilling from the silken robe.

  "She's a wild one," Alexi said softly.

  He squirmed inwardly at Venus's bold scrutiny of him. In a mysterious way Venus touched him with her gaze, boldly perusing his private thoughts. "She already does have you wrapped around her ringer. I never would have believed this if I didn't see it with my own eyes."

  "She lied to me," he said. "I can't forgive her. I won't."

  ''In this world every woman is forced to lie at one time or another to protect herself. I didn't take you for a fool. If you don't love her, you care for her. Forgiveness is easy. Best you find a way to understand her side of the story or you'll be tied in knots forever."

  Alexi poured himself another glass, sipping the brandy slowly, going over her words. "Why?" He didn't understand why Angela had lied to him.

  "Because men like you behave like asses," she told him dryly. "That's why. You want one thing from a woman and expect another. When you don't get what you need, you behave like little boys."

  "You couldn't mince words a little and save my tender sensibilities?" he asked.

  "Do you have tender sensibilities? After what you've just revealed, I'm hard-pressed to see them. Forgive her, Devil. Can it really be so hard?" She winked, a matronly grin, completely out of character, exposing her own feelings. "Now, tell me what falsehood this woman of your heart has told you."

  "She said she was a virgin."

  "Now why on earth would she say that if it wasn't true? Was she? We both know you aren't."

  Alexi had never wondered why. And that bothered him. Why? He asked himself again. He could come up with no answer except that she truly was a virgin, which wasn't true.

  "No, she wasn't innocent, and I don't know why she'd lie about it," he finally said.

  "Well, when you figure it out you'll probably understand more about yourself and your lady than you ever wanted to know. Especially when it's almost impossible for a lady to prove she's never slept with another man unless her maiden shield is intact. If she wasn't a virgin, she would have known that little fact." Venus stopped rambling, her lips forming a broad smile in immediate recognition of the problem.

  "You know why she lied."

  Venus shook her head. "Think about it, Devil. That's all I'm going to say. Think. If you really love this woman, think long and hard and don't let her virtue mean so much. In the long run it doesn't, you know. It's what a woman has in her heart and soul that counts."

  Alexi leaned back in the chair, drink in hand, going over Venus's words. Angela had heart; that much was true. Once he'd admired her courage and integrity. The rest of what Venus implied, he didn't understand.

  For a few long hours they sat in quiet solitude, drinking fine, expensive brandy and once in a while speaking of old times. Alexi dozed off once. Venus woke him, prodding him to go on home to his lady. She, after all, had a living to earn, Alexi recalled.

  Once again Alexi gave her a chaste kiss; then, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, he sauntered out of Venus's room and the expensive bordello.

  Stepping out into the cool night and thinking over what he and Venus had talked about, he realized that Angela was meant to be his mistress, nothing more, and given time, he could forgive her the lie that had passed so easily from her lips. Dreams of a loving wife were not for him. He would go home and do his duty, keeping Angela by his side. Forgiving her for shattering his dreams was hard but not impossible.

  He would find a way.

  "A virgin.'' The thought and the inconsistencies still rankled. He'd wanted her to be an untried maiden from the moment he'd first set eyes upon her. She'd sent his emotions on a tempestuous ride through hell. No other woman had possessed his heart and soul so thoroughly, and now that he looked back, he was thankful for the truth and the freedom.

  He could possess her, own her, but she would never have his heart again.

  He rounded the corner in time to see the object of his thoughts striding manlike down the street, valise in hand. The rage that once again consumed him nearly brought him to his knees. He'd given her orders. How dared she think to disobey him?

  How dared she leave him?

  He strode after her, his heart pounding and his hands trembling with restrained fury. When he caught her, he meant to make her understand she did not want to run from him. He would follow her to the ends of the earth to convince her.

  As she turned another corner, he panicked. Two men stalked her. Alexi began to run, his feet pounding the pavement, his heart in his throat. He cursed himself a hundred times over for not setting Misha to guard the door of his room and his wayward mistress. He knew Misha was in town. Misha had sent word of his arrival while Angela had been bathing. At this very moment, Misha should be on board his ship, waiting to depart for their homeland.

  He swore again. He should have guessed Angela would try something foolish.

  The way he'd acted in bed that night had not been well done. He would make it up to her as soon as he caught her and explained a few things. There would be no recriminations and no regrets.

  Suddenly Angela's war cry rose in the stillness of the early morning, sending shivers down his spine.

  "My God, woman," he cursed, picking up his pace. He remembered the knife she'd carried and prayed she didn't dare use the weapon.

  Alexi rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, fear for Angela his immediate concern

  "Easy now, little lady. We don't mean you no harm." The man's voice was sleek and calculated.

  Two sleazy-looking men had Angela backed against the wall. Her knife was drawn and glistening in the small amount of light that filtered through to the alley.

  The men were pimps, yet they were dressed in black evening clothes, their smiles false. Angela wouldn't know what they were.

  "We've got a nice, warm room for you to stay in. Won't cost you a cent." The smoothness of the man's voice sent another river of fear down Alexi's spine.

  He would kill the man.

  "I'll just bet you do." With one fluid motion, Alexi grabbed the larger man by the back of his shirt and tossed him aside. "This lady is mine. No one touches what is mine."

  "Who says so? Looks like she's runnin' away to me," the other man said. His eyes roved over Angela, resting on her breasts. "Yup, who says she's yours?"

  "I do," Alexi gritted out through tightly clenched teeth.

  "Alexi..." Angela's whisper sounded like a death knell in his ear. "I'm all right." Angela slowly eased closer to Alexi.

  "Put the blade away, darlin'. You don't need it now,'' Alexi said. "I won't let anything happen to you."

  She didn't sheathe the knife. With her knees bent and every muscle flexed, she waited for one of the men to strike.

  "Do as I say," Alexi said, his voice hard and commanding.

  Alexi watched Angela's body shudder and heave, but she didn't sheathe the knife. At least she had the sense to be afraid. If he'd been a few minutes later, she'd be turning tricks in New York's red-light district in the morning.

  He turned his attention back to the men. One had a small derringer trained on him; the other had drawn a knife of his own. Then he heard Angela's voice, bold and more daring than he'd ever imagined.

  "Lay one finger on Devil Blackmoor and you'll wish you were dead. I've learned ways to make a man pray for death."

  The pimp laughed outright. "We're not afraid of a wee thing like you."