It took all of Angela’s willpower not to strike him again.
“Are you saying that I spent the last three days in jail, not because I took your vest, but because you wanted to make sure I would be here when you returned? Of all the contemptible, loathsome—”
“That’s enough!” Bradford cut her short. “If you want to talk about what is contemptible, let’s talk about you. You are a student in an exclusive school, you obviously come from a good background, yet you went to a brothel to prostitute yourself.”
“I did not!” Angela gasped.
“Then what would you call it, Miss Smith?” he asked her pointedly. “Do you deny I paid for you? Or are you going to say I raped you?”
“What I did doesn’t excuse what you did!”
“Miss Smith, I took something from you that day that I didn’t expect or ask for, yet it ended up costing me another five hundred dollars.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your virginity.”
Angela gasped.
“I think you owe me an explanation. What were you doing in a place like that?”
Angela felt trapped now. “I saw you outside and I— thought I recognized you. I didn’t know what kind of place that was. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, we certainly talked, didn’t we?” he said sarcastically. “And here I wasn’t even the man you thought you knew, was I?”
“No, you certainly aren’t the man I thought you were,” Angela replied with a meaning only she understood.
“So why didn’t you make your excuses and leave as soon as you knew you had made a mistake?”
“I—” She couldn’t go on, not without telling him the truth.
“What’s the matter, Miss Smith?” he taunted her. “Are you ashamed to admit you were just looking for some fun and excitement? There are a lot of girls like you who want the best of both worlds, but not many as daring as you.”
Angela blushed hotly. “You’re wrong! I wasn’t looking for fun and excitement.”
“Then enlighten me. If you didn’t just want to get rid of your virginity so you could enjoy a promiscuous life, why did you give yourself to me?”
Angela drew herself up. “I don’t have to answer your question, Mr. Maitland.”
Bradford frowned, then shrugged. “I suppose I can let it go for now. But I promise you, I will get the answers I want before I’m finished with you.”
Before he was finished with her? What did that mean? It sounded like a threat.
She finally became aware of how much time had passed and, looking out the coach window, she recognized open country. “Where are you taking me?” she asked in alarm.
“You are going to be my guest for a while.”
“I certainly am not!”
“Angela, settle down.” Bradford shook his head. “I really should know better than to try to predict a woman’s behavior.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, my dear. I was so sure that you would be grateful to me for not pressing charges, that you would be happy to comply with my suggestion that you spend the rest of the holidays with me. I even went so far as to procure a house in the country for us. We are going there now.”
“You can go there, or drop dead, for all I care. I’m going to South Hadley and hope to God I can forget I ever met you,” she said stiffly.
“What has happened to the girl who was so worried she wouldn’t please me?” he asked her pointedly.
Angela blushed and looked out the window, unable to face him. “That girl spent three miserable days in jail and found out what a bastard you are.”
“Let me make it up to you, Angel,” Bradford said quietly.
Angela turned dark violet eyes on him. “Can’t you understand that I despise you? You have no right to kidnap me. And to put me in jail—I hate you!”
“Angela, you don’t know me well enough to hate me.”
“Yes I do,” she replied coldly.
He leaned forward in his seat and reached for her hand, but she quickly snatched it away. “Look, I am sorry for the way I’ve handled things thus far. I don’t want to fight with you. I want you. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ve gone to all this trouble.”
Angela didn’t reply. Slowly, Bradford sat back and watched her. They remained silent for the rest of the journey.
Chapter 16
ANGELA showed little interest in her surroundings. The huge bedroom was warm and cozy, with a fire burning in the grate and thick carpeting to sink her bare toes into. It was a luxurious room, but as far as she was concerned, it was just another jail.
It was utterly inconceivable that she was here, but she was. The door was locked from the other side, and the windows were two stories high—and Bradford would be joining her soon.
“You’re going to be mine for a while, whether you like it or not,” he had said after dragging her inside the large country house and carrying her upstairs. “I’ll give you the afternoon to think it over and see that there is nothing you can do about it. For your own sake, I hope you’re more congenial when I join you tonight.”
The afternoon had dragged by while Angela paced the floor in a rage and screamed her throat raw demanding release. And what made it worse, what made it so unbearably frustrating, was that just a few days ago she would have been ecstatic to be with Bradford.
She gathered every available weapon in the room— books, vases, a clock, two small iron statues—and piled them on the bed, ready to hurl them the moment the door opened. And if that didn’t keep him out, then the iron poker from the fireplace would at least keep him away from her.
Bradford had spent most of the day downstairs, pacing. He knew he had no right to keep the girl here against her will, that he could very well end up in jail himself because of it. But he didn’t care. Damned if he wasn’t willing to pay that price.
He spent the latter part of the afternoon preparing dinner, then grimaced at the disaster he had made of the kitchen. Soon, he set a tray of food down on a table next to Angela’s room, then moved to unlock her door. Locking her in had disturbed his conscience, but he could see no other way. All she needed, he reasoned, was time to calm down. After all, she had opened her arms to him before. She must have liked him.
There was no sound from inside the room. Bradford turned the key in the lock and opened the door. He gasped and stepped aside as an object sailed past his head and shattered in the corridor behind him. When he saw Angela on the other side of the bed with a book raised to throw, he quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door again.
He frowned. This was going to be difficult.
“Angela, this won’t work,” he called out to her. “I’m still coming in.”
“You do and you’ll be hurting in the morning.”
“I brought food. You have to eat.”
“I’ve gone without food. I don’t want anything from you.”
Bradford shook his head. Many people had gone without food during the war. It made him wonder where Angela Smith had spent those hard years. There were so many things about the girl that he wanted to know, and he was determined to learn everything. In the next few days he would come to know all about her.
He scanned the corridor for a shield, saw the tray of food and quickly removed everything from the tray. Holding it in front of him, he opened the door slowly and poked his head in. As soon as an object hit the door, he rushed inside. A vase struck the tray and a book bounced off his thigh before he reached the bed.
Angela stood rigidly with an iron poker in her hand and he laughed. “You don’t give up, do you, Angel?”
“Don’t call me that!” she shouted before she swung at him.
But his reflexes were well trained. He stepped out of the way and then grabbed her wrist before she could raise the poker again.
“Now what will you fight with?” he asked after he jerked the weapon out of her hand.
“This!” She raised her other hand to stri
ke him, but he caught that too.
“And now what?” he chuckled.
He drew her to him and then fell with her across the bed, gazing down at her and grinning at the anger sparkling in her eyes, now a dark violet-blue.
“Don’t be mad anymore, Angel. Don’t fight me.”
“You can’t keep me here like this!” she hissed at him. Ignoring her words, he bent over her and buried his face against her neck. Angela gasped as his lips caused goose bumps to spread across her arms. She shivered as her legs were pressed hard against his. She tried to get her hands loose, but he held her tight and continued his onslaught against her sensitive skin.
“Stop it,” she protested, but she heard the weakness in her voice. “Please!”
Bradford answered by claiming her lips. She felt his hunger, was overpowered by it, and then she felt her own hunger being drawn out. She tried desperately to remember that she hated him. She ought to be repelled by his touch, she told herself furiously. Instead, she was arching her back to get closer to him, damning the clothes that separated them.
“Love me, Angel,” he whispered huskily as his lips moved along her throat. “Be mine, as you were mine before. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.”
“No,” Angela moaned with the last of her resistance.
“Yes,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she sighed.
Chapter 17
AFTER that first time, she rejoiced in the week they had together in the beautiful country house. He couldn’t get enough of her, nor she of him. She quickly learned that she was quite passionate. All Bradford had to do was touch her and she wanted him.
And he learned soon enough that she would not talk about the past. The one time he did question her, she became upset and frightened. She was never going to tell him who she really was. It was too late for that now. He would be furious if he knew, and then she would lose him.
So Bradford did not question her again. They did talk, however, a great deal. He told her about the war and the battles he won and lost.
“The Potomac Army was the best,” Bradford said as they sipped warm wine before the fire. “I rejoined in the summer of ‘63 when the army was commanded by General George Meade. Fighting with old George was an honor, Angel. You had to respect the man’s courage. We engaged Lee near Gettysburg and forced the Rebs to retreat to Virginia. That was a day for celebration.
“But it was not all glorious victories—some were enough to turn any man’s stomach. It was outright slaughter at Cemetery Ridge when we cut down nearly all of a Rebel division as they charged that accursed hill.”
Bradford’s expression turned hard as he remembered. He didn’t talk any more of the war that afternoon, but the next day he concluded his story.
“After Cemetery Ridge, I rode under Little Phil with the cavalry until the end of the war.”
“Was he a general too?”
“Major General Sheridan. He was a good man. There were many more decisive battles, and then in ‘65 we encountered Lee’s army again. Hell, we knew the South was defeated, but they were too stubborn to admit it. We got Lee to surrender in April when we blocked his line of retreat.”
“I wish the war had ended then,” Angela remarked, remembering that it was after Lee’s surrender that Canby occupied Mobile, and Wilson raided Alabama.
“It didn’t take long after the victory at Appomattox for the remaining southern armies to be brought to heel. But why did you say that, Angel? You were safe up here in the North, weren’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” she lied quickly.
Angela had Naomi to thank for helping her to lose her southern accent. She was glad Bradford took it for granted she was from the North, though she didn’t like lying to him. Omitting the truth was one thing, but an outright lie was different.
That day, Bradford explained how the war had changed him. It also explained his high-handed treatment of her.
“All that killing, seeing friends shot, seeing young boys dying, it made me realize how short life really is, and how uncertain. I decided about halfway through the war that if I came out of it alive, I was going to live the rest of my life to the fullest. No compromising, no second best. And I’ve done just that. Anything I’ve set my mind on, I’ve gone after and gotten. There’s no reason to settle for less when you don’t have to. I got you, didn’t I?” He grinned.
Yes, he had gotten her, and she was willing to follow him to the ends of the earth. Only he didn’t ask her to. He fully expected her to return to school, and he took her there himself when the holidays were over.
Angela was miserable that day, until he explained that he would return when school finished for the summer.
When the first flowers came to the school for Angela Smith, Angela was delighted. She couldn’t claim the flowers herself, and they were sent away, but at least she knew they were from Bradford, that he hadn’t forgotten. He sent flowers three more times, but they were turned away too. And then no more arrived. But she wasn’t upset. She didn’t expect him to keep sending flowers. After all, flowers were ridiculously expensive in the winter time.
But then summer arrived, and Bradford didn’t.
Chapter 18
ZACHARY Maitland knocked on the door to the study and then opened it without waiting for a reply. “Father, I would like a word with you, if you can spare me a minute.”
“A minute is about all I can spare,” Jacob replied from his position behind the desk. “I want to finish these accounts before it’s time to leave to meet Angela.”
“Well, Angela is the reason I want to talk to you, Father. It is time you realized what you are doing,” Zachary said as he sat down in the leather chair by the desk.
“What I have come to realize is that one of my sons has turned into a snob, like his wife,” Jacob replied with some irritation. “I thought I raised you better than that, Zachary.”
“I resent your choice of words.”
“I thought you might, but I believe ‘snob’ is the right word indeed. It describes you and Crystal perfectly. It’s a shame you can’t be more like your brother-in-law—though I fear he changes his opinion of Angela only because he’s in love with her.”
“He’s a besotted fool, but he’ll get over it,” Zachary replied drily.
“Really?” Jacob asked, closing his books for the day. “It seems to me that you were the fool when it came to love. You cast aside your convictions just so you could win Crystal over.”
“I believe I have lived here long enough to give the South my loyalty,” Zachary retorted with indignation. “It was a good cause to fight for. I didn’t change loyalties for Crystal’s sake.”
“Who are you trying to convince, Zachary, me or yourself? Crystal and Robert were loyal to the South because the South is all they’ve ever known. But you no more believed in the southern cause than Bradford or I did. At least my oldest son had the guts to fight for his beliefs, even if it cost him dearly.”
“Is it my fault Crystal broke their engagement and said she never wanted to see him again when she discovered he was sympathetic to the North? I could have told her, but I didn’t!” Zachary shouted, to hide his deep fear of his older brother. He always felt uneasy when his father touched on this subject. “It was Bradford’s fault he lost her, not mine!”
“Crystal made a hasty decision, but you didn’t give her time to reconsider it. You were after the girl from the moment you knew Bradford was with the Union. You joined the Confederacy and bided your time, knowing what would happen when she learned about his sympathies. Did it ever occur to you that she might have married you just to spite Bradford?”
“She loves me, Father, and I love her.”
“I might believe that if I saw some grandchildren as proof. You’ve been married to that woman for six years now! But all I see is that this so-called love between you and Crystal is keeping Bradford away from his home.”
“I’m not stopping him from coming home, and neither is Crystal. Bradfo
rd has stayed up North because he wants to,” Zachary said stubbornly, but he couldn’t quite meet his father’s gaze.
“It’s not because he wants to, Zachary,” Jacob sighed. “It’s because he’s afraid if he came face to face with you, he might kill you. He loved Crystal enough to make her his wife. They had an argument and she called off the engagement. But time would have mended it. He was still determined to marry her when he came back, and you knew that. Do you think he will ever forgive you?”
No, Zachary thought to himself, he won’t. And thank God he chose to stay away. Zachary lived in constant fear that Bradford would come home someday. Zachary was scared to death of his brother’s explosive temper.
“I came here to talk about your precious Angela, not Bradford,” Zachary said bitterly.
“Ah, yes. So you want to rehash the same old arguments. Or are these new ones? Zachary, just what do you have against Angela?”
“Personally, nothing. She’s a perfectly nice girl, and I wish her well. Only I wish her well elsewhere. Every time she comes home on vacation, the gossip and rumors go on for months, well after she has gone back to school.”
“Do you dare to talk to me about these rumors again, when it was you who started the gossip in the first place? If you hadn’t packed your wife up and moved to the city that first summer Angela was home, then none of these rumors would have started! Your little act of defiance, Zachary, of staying in the city until Angela went back to school, was what led people to believe you were protecting your wife from immorality in this house. You would brave the fever in the city, rather than face the sins that were going on in your home, that’s what you led people to believe.”
“I’ll talk to Crystal, Father, but there is still the matter of the gossip. It’s bad enough that our friends are talking about you and Angela behind our backs, but last summer, when she locked herself up in this house with you and wouldn’t go anywhere, that made it even worse. Angela isn’t even here yet, and already the gossip has started.”
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