Hosea didn’t come back for more than an hour.
When the door finally opened behind her, she glanced up at him. His dark hair was wet. She supposed he had bathed in the icy stream, and she felt a twinge of guilt and doubt. He moved about the cabin restlessly. She went on pushing her fingers through her hair, aware of his every movement. He opened the trunk and slammed it shut. As he paced past her, he dropped a brush in her lap. She picked it up and looked at it. Her throat closed up. She looked up at him and slowly began to brush her hair. He stood with his hip resting against the table and watched her. She didn’t know what he was thinking. She didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he said.
He was pale, and she felt something move inside her, curling tight and sinking deep. “I won’t,” she said and meant it.
Michael sat in the willow chair before the fire, his hands relaxed between his knees. He stared at the flames for a long time. “I guess I got a good taste of what it’s been like for you.”
She glanced up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
He looked at her. “It doesn’t feel good to be used. Whatever the reason.”
Something twisted inside her. She held the brush in her lap and stared at it miserably. “I don’t know what I’m doing here with a man like you.”
“I knew the moment I saw you that I was going to marry you.”
“So you told me.” She tilted her head. “Look, mister. Let me explain a few facts of life to you. A farmer alone for weeks on end, coming to town. You could’ve looked at the south end of a northbound mare and known she was the right one for you.”
“It was your young, stone-cold face,” Michael said. He gave her a rueful smile. “Then the rest of you.” His gaze flickered down over her. “You were dressed in black like a widow, and Magowan was with you. I guess he was making sure you didn’t run away.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about any of it, but it was like a foul stench in the room. It lingered. She couldn’t get rid of it. It was there under the clean smell of the soap he had given her to use. The foulness was inside her, running in her blood.
“Do you remember when you asked me what kind of name Hosea was and I said prophetic?” She began brushing her hair again slowly, but Michael knew she was listening to him this time. “Hosea was a prophet. God told him to marry a prostitute.”
She glanced at him with a mocking smile. “Did God tell you to marry me?”
“Yes. He did.”
She was scornful. “He talks to you personally?”
“He talks to everyone personally. Most people just don’t bother to listen.”
It was better to humor him. “Sorry I interrupted. You were telling me a story. What happened next? Did this prophet marry the prostitute?”
“Yes. He figured God must have a reason. A good reason.”
The same as he probably did. “Did this Hosea beat the sin out of her? I suppose she crawled to him on her face and kissed his feet for saving her soul.”
“No, she went back to prostitution.”
Her stomach dropped. She looked up at him and searched his face. He just looked back at her, solemn, self-contained, enigmatic. “So God isn’t so all-powerful after all, is he?” she said quietly.
“God told him to go and get her back again.”
She frowned slightly. “Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Just because God told him to?” No man would do that.
“Yes, and because he loved her.”
She got up and went to look out the window at the darkening sky. “Love? No, I don’t think that was his reason. It was his pride. The old prophet just didn’t want to admit he couldn’t hold onto her all by himself.”
“Pride drives a man away, Mara. It drove me away from you that last night in Pair-a-Dice.” He should have listened to the Lord and gone back. He should have dragged her out of there no matter how much she kicked and screamed.
Angel looked back over her shoulder at him. “So she stayed with the prophet after that?”
“No. She left him again. He had to buy her out of slavery a second time.”
She didn’t like his story very much. “Then she stayed?”
“No. She kept leaving. She even had children by other men.”
Her chest felt heavy. Defensive, she mocked him. “And he finally stoned her to death,” she said wryly, sarcasm dripping. “Isn’t that right? He finally sent her to where she belonged.” He didn’t answer, and she turned her back on him again. “What’s your point, mister? Just say it.”
“Someday you’re going to have to make a choice.”
He didn’t say any more, and she wondered if that was the end of it. She clenched her teeth. She wasn’t going to ask him if the harlot ever stayed with that prophet or if he finally gave up on her.
Michael got up, opened two tins of beans and poured them into a pot. In a few moments they were warm, and he served them. “Sit and eat with me, Mara.”
She sat down with him at the table. When he bowed his head and prayed, the anger came up fast inside her again. Trying to ignore him, she began eating. When he looked at her, she gave him a tight, challenging smile. “You know what I think,” she said. “I think God had you marry me to punish you for some great sin in your past. Have you lusted after many women, mister?”
“It does plague me on occasion,” he said, looking her over with a rueful smile. He ate the rest of the meal in silence.
She envied his peace and self-control. When he finished, she took his plate and stacked it on her own. “Since you did the cooking, I’ll wash the dishes.” She didn’t like the dark, but it was better than staying in the cabin with him. He might start telling her another of his rotten stories. A really nice one this time, something about a leper or someone with running sores.
When she finished the dishes, she sat by the creek for a while. She was aching all over and knew she had attempted far too much today, but just listening to the water soothed her unsettled nerves.
“What am I doing here?” she said to herself. “What am I doing here with him?”
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the cottonwood, and she could swear she heard a soft voice. She turned, but no one was there. Shivering, she walked back quickly and saw Hosea leaning against the door frame, waiting for her. His hands were shoved in his pockets. Stepping around him, she entered the cabin and put the dishes away. She was tired and wanted to go to bed.
Stripping off her clothes, she slipped quickly beneath the quilts. Then she lay there thinking about that girl going back to prostitution. Maybe she had a Duchess who had her money, too. Maybe the prophet had driven her half crazy the way this farmer was driving her crazy. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone. Did the prophet ever think of that?
Angel stiffened when Hosea slid into bed beside her. She only had herself to blame. Give them the taste of a kiss and they want the whole meal. Well, the sooner it was done, the sooner she could sleep.
She sat up, brushing her hair impatiently over her shoulder, and looked down at him with grim resolution.
“No.”
She was surprised at the look of impatience he gave her. “No?”
“No.”
“Look, mister. I can’t read your mind. You have to tell me what you want.”
“I want to sleep in my own bed with my wife beside me.” Taking a strand of her hair, he tugged lightly. “And that’s all I want.”
Perplexed, she lay back down again. She waited for him to change his mind. After a long while, his breathing deepened. She turned her head cautiously and looked at him in the firelight. He was asleep. She studied his relaxed profile for a long moment, then turned away from him.
Angel tried to put space between their bodies, but Michael Hosea filled the bed the same way he filled the cabin.
The same way he was beginning to fill her life.
In the middle of the journey of o
ur life,
I came to myself in a dark wood.
DANTE
Angel moaned as Duke bent over her. He laughed softly. “Did you think you could get away from the Alpha and Omega?”
Someone called to her from a great distance, but Duke kept drowning out the still, soft voice. “You thought four thousand miles was far enough, but here I am.”
She strained away from him, trying to hear who was calling her.
Duke pulled her back again. “You belong to me. Oh, yes. Always, and you know it. I’m the only one you’ll ever belong to.” His breath smelled of the cloves he chewed after smoking his cheroots. “I know what you’re thinking, Angel. I can read your mind. Couldn’t I always? Hope all you wish, but I will never die. Even when you cease to exist, I’ll still live. I am timeless.”
She fought him, but he was not substance to be pushed away. He was shadow, covering her, taking her back and down into a deep black hole. She felt her body absorbing him as she fell. He was entering every pore until the blackness was within her, and she tore at her own flesh. “No, no!”
“Mara. Mara!”
She awakened abruptly, her mouth open in a silent scream. “Mara,” Michael said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. She tried to still the shaking as he brushed her hair away from her face. “You have a lot of nightmares. What are they about?”
His gentle voice and touch made her relax a little. She brushed his hand away. “I can’t remember,” she lied, Duke branded into her mind. Would he still be searching for her after all this time? She knew the answer and felt cold. She could still see his face. It was as if she had run from him yesterday and not a year ago. He would find her someday. And when he did…
She could not bear to think about it. She didn’t dare go back to sleep. The nightmare would begin again and take the course it always did.
“Mara, tell me what you’re afraid of.”
“Nothing,” she said tightly. “Just leave me alone.”
Michael laid his hand on her chest and her muscles tensed. “If your heart beat any harder it would come right out your chest.”
“Are you hoping to get my mind on something else?”
Michael took his hand away. “There’s more than sex between us.”
“There’s nothing at all.” She turned her back to him.
Michael stripped the quilts off her. “I’ll show you what else there is.”
“I said leave me alone!” Raw from the nightmare, raw from being with him, she yanked the quilts back up again.
Michael ripped the bedcovers off. Bunching them, he tossed them on the trunk in the corner. “Get up. Now. You’re going whether you like it or not.”
Angel was frightened of him as he loomed over her. She could sense him trying to reign in his temper.
“We’re going to take a little walk,” he said.
“Now? In the middle of the night?” It was cold and dark. She gasped as he scooped her up and set her on her feet.
Pulling on his pants, he said, “You can go dressed or naked. It’s all the same to me.”
She didn’t like the shadows in the cabin, and she wasn’t going out that door into the darkness. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.”
She headed for the quilt, but he caught her arm and spun her around. When she cowered and raised her arm to ward off a blow, Michael’s anger evaporated. Was that what she expected from him, even after all this time? “I’m never going to hurt you.” He got the quilt and swung it around her. He found her shoes and held them out to her. She didn’t take them. “You can wear them or walk barefoot. Your choice. But you are going with me.”
Angel took the shoes.
“What are you really afraid of, Mara? Why don’t we get down to that?”
She threw the buttonhook aside and straightened. “I’m not afraid of anything, least of all a dirt farmer like you.”
He opened the door. “Come on, then, if you’re so brave.”
She could make out the barn, but he took her firmly in hand and headed toward the woods. “Where are you taking me?” She despised the tremor in her voice.
“You’ll see when we get there.” He kept walking, pulling her along with him.
Angel could barely see anything except shapes. They were menacing and dark, some moving. She remembered Rab hurrying her through the dark night a long time ago and was afraid. Her heart beat faster. “I want to go back.” She stumbled and almost fell.
Michael caught and steadied her. “Just once, try trusting me, would you? Have I done anything to harm you?”
“Trust you? Why should I? You’re crazy bringing me out here like this in the middle of the night. Take me back.” She was trembling and couldn’t stop.
“Not until you see what I have to show you.”
“Even if you have to drag me?”
“Unless you’d rather ride over my shoulder.”
She jerked her hand free. “Go on ahead.”
“All right,” he said. Angel swung around to go back but couldn’t see the cabin or barn through the trees. When she turned around, she couldn’t see Hosea either and panicked. “Wait,” she cried out. “Wait!”
Michael caught hold of her. “I’m right here.” He felt her shaking and drew her into his arms. “I’m not going to leave you in darkness.” He tipped her face up and kissed her gently. “When are you going to understand I love you?”
Angel put her arms around him and pressed closer. “If you love me, take me back. We can be warm and comfortable in bed. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“No,” he said roughly, fighting his response to her. “Come with me.”
She tried to hold him back. “Wait, please. All right. I am afraid of the dark. Being out here reminds me of—” She stopped.
“Of what?”
“Of something that happened when I was a child.” He waited and she bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk about Rab or what happened to him. She didn’t want to think about the horror of that night. “Please. Just take me back.”
Michael combed his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back so he could see her face in the moonlight. She was afraid, so afraid she couldn’t hide it.
“I’m afraid, too, Mara. Not of the dark, not of the past—but of you and what you make me feel when I touch you. You use my desire for you as a weapon. What I feel is a gift. I know what I want, but when you press yourself against me, all I can feel is your body and my need. You make me tremble.”
“Then take me back to the cabin—”
“You don’t hear me. You don’t understand anything. I can’t take you back. You’re not going to have it your way. It’s got to be my way or not at all.” Michael took her hand. “Now, come on.” He walked through the dark woods. Her palms were sweating, but her hand didn’t lay in his hand like a dead fish anymore. She was holding on as though her life depended on him.
Angel heard sounds everywhere, a constant ringing and humming that came from all directions and penetrated her head. It was a quiet that was so quiet it screamed. She wanted to be back in the cabin, away from the black, moving things around her. Winged demons, watching and grinning. This was Duke’s world.
She was cold and weak from exhaustion. “How much farther is it?”
Michael swept her up in his arms and carried her. “We’re almost there.” The woods were behind them, the moon above making the hillsides an eerie silver gray. “Just to the top of that hill.”
When he reached the crest, he set her on her feet again, and she looked around in confusion. There was nothing. Just more hills and then the mountains in the distance.
Michael watched the night breeze making her pale hair dance in the moonlight. She huddled into the quilt and glared back at him. “There’s nothing here.”
“Everything that matters is here.”
“All this way for nothing.” She didn’t know what she had expected. A monument. Something. She sat down, exhausted and shivering from the chill night air. The quilt w
asn’t enough. Ten quilts wouldn’t be enough. The chill was inside her. What did he think he was doing dragging her up this hill in the middle of the night? “What’s so special about this?”
Michael sat down behind her. He put his strong legs on either side of her and pulled her back against him. “Just wait.”
She wanted to resist his embrace, but she was too cold to fight him. “For what?”
He put his arms around her. “For morning.”
“I could have waited for that in the cabin.”
He laughed against her hair. Lifting it, he kissed the nape of her neck. “You can’t understand until you see it from here.” He nuzzled the soft skin beneath her ear. She shivered softly. “Sleep a while if you want.” He tucked her more closely against him. “I’ll wake you at the right time.”
She wasn’t sleepy after the long walk. “Do you do this sort of thing often?”
“Not often enough.”
They were silent again, but she was not uncomfortable with it. The warmth of his body was coming through her. She felt the weight of his arm across her and the solidness of him bracing her back. She looked at the stars, tiny jewels against black velvet. She had never seen it like this before, so close she felt she could reach up and touch each bright speck of light. The night sky was beautiful. It had never looked like this from a window. And the smell—thick, moist, earthy. Even the sounds around her became a kind of music, like the birds and insects, like the rain plinking into the tin cans in a dingy wharf shack. Then the darkness lightened.
It began slowly, hardly noticeable. The stars grew smaller and smaller, and the black softened. She stood up, hugging the quilt around her, watching. At her back was darkness still, but before her was light: pale yellow growing brilliant, gold-streaked with red and orange. She had watched sunrises before from within walls and behind glass, but never like this, with the cool breeze in her face and wilderness in every direction. She had never seen anything so beautiful.
Francine Rivers Page 13