“You’ll have to find yourself a new cook,” Duke said. “She’s coming back where she belongs.”
“You sure, ma’am?”
Duke’s dark eyes burned with annoyance that this little cafe owner thought he could thwart him if he chose. “Perhaps I should deal with him the same way I dealt with Johnny,” he said, glancing down at Angel, eyes dark with impatience.
“Johnny who?” Virgil asked, looking unruffled and ready to make a challenge. For all his lack of size, he had no lack of courage. The only thing he really lacked was common sense.
“Don’t!” Angel pleaded. “Please, Duke. I’ll go with you.”
“You’ve become so polite, my dear.” Benevolent once more, he smiled at Virgil. “Do you own this piece of land?”
“I do,” Virgil said cautiously.
“Would you like to sell it?”
“Not on your life.”
Duke laughed. “No? Well, if you need cash to rebuild, come by and we’ll talk terms. If you have trouble finding another cook to replace Angel, I might even be able to help you there as well.” He looked amused.
“Thanks,” Virgil said, but Angel saw he wouldn’t take Duke up on anything. “Mrs. Hosea, you sure about this?”
“Mrs. Hosea?” Duke said quietly, one dark brow rising as he looked down at her. Her heart was in her throat.
“Yes, Virgil, I’m sure,” she said.
Duke led her away, laughing low as though at some great joke. Angel tried to think what to do, but the firm hand beneath her arm paralyzed her brain. Michael, oh, Michael! He had fought their way out of the saloon in Pair-a-Dice, but he wouldn’t be here to fight for her this time. She was alone, and Duke was holding her so tightly she knew he didn’t mean to let her get away again.
“So you married, my dear? Was it entertaining while it lasted? Or just pretense?” He ushered her into a big gaming house. Angel scarcely noticed her surroundings as he walked her between the tables. It was opulent, but then, Duke always did everything on a grand scale.
Men called greetings to him and openly stared at her in speculation. She walked with her head high, eyes straight ahead. They went up the stairs and down a richly paneled corridor. Panic rose in Angel as she remembered another corridor three thousand miles away and what had waited for her at the end of it. Duke opened a door and propelled her in ahead of him.
A beautiful brunette lay asleep in a rumpled brass bed. Duke walked over and gave her a hard slap. She came awake with a painful cry. “Get out.” The young prostitute clambered off the bed, snatched up her robe, and fled. Duke smiled at Angel. “This will be your room.”
She couldn’t just give in. “Do I have a choice?”
“Still defiant,” he drawled and came to her slowly. He gripped her face hard, staring down into her eyes. She tried to hide her fear by glaring back at him, but she couldn’t fool him. He obviously knew she was pretending, and smiled. “You’re home, my dear. Right back where you belong. You should be happy.” His hand slid down and closed lightly on her throat. “You look so in control, but your heart is pounding like a frightened rabbit’s.”
He lit a cheroot and looked at her through the smoke. “You’re so pale, my dear. Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” He kissed her forehead in fatherly affection, mocking her as he had always done when she dared to defy him. “Let’s talk later, shall we?” He patted her cheek as though she were a child and left the room.
Michael awakened in a cold sweat. Angel had called to him. He had seen her standing in the midst of a fire, crying out his name over and over again. He couldn’t get to her no matter how hard he tried, but he saw a dark figure walking through the flames toward her.
He ran shaking hands through his damp hair. Sweat was running down his bare chest, and he couldn’t stop shaking. “It was just a dream.”
The foreboding he felt was so heavy he was nauseated. He prayed. Then he rose from the bed and went outside. It would be dawn soon. Things would look better in the light of day. When dawn came, the sensation that something was wrong would not go away, and he prayed again, fervently. He was full of fear for his wife.
Where was she? How was she surviving? Was she hungry? Did she have shelter? How was she making her way alone?
Why didn’t she come back to him?
Something ominous hung in the air all day. He could feel it like a blackness covering his soul, and he knew without a doubt it had to do with Amanda. He prayed unceasingly for her.
He knew he was helpless. There was nothing he could do if she was in trouble. He didn’t know where she was or what kind of help she needed, but letting go of her was so hard. He still loved her so much. He trusted God to protect and guide him. Why couldn’t he trust that the Lord would do the same for her?
Because he knew she didn’t believe.
Angel tried the door, but it was locked. She went to the window and pushed the elegant lace curtains aside to look out. No way out there, either. Duke liked to safeguard his property.
She paced, palms sweating as she thought of what he might do to her. She wasn’t fooled. He was seething with rage beneath his amiable demeanor. Leaving her alone worked in his favor. He knew she would eat herself up with all the thoughts of what he could do. “Not this time,” she whispered to herself. “Not again.”
Looking around, she decided she could make the bed and tidy the room. She could do something to keep her mind off the inevitable. Finishing those small chores, she sat at the window and watched the people milling about below. The fear rose again. Closing her eyes tightly, she wrestled with it. “Michael, Michael, show me what to do.” She pictured him working in the fields. She could see him straightening, the hoe in his hand, the smile on his face. She could see him sitting before the fire, the Bible in his lap. “Trust in the Lord,” he said. “Trust in the Lord.”
The door opened, and she forced herself to sit calmly where she was as Duke entered. He was followed by a burly man. She feigned indifference as the servant gathered the other girl’s things from the armoire and carried them from the room. Duke stood studying her passively. She looked up at him and smiled faintly. You won’t make me crawl, you devil. You won’t turn my mind inside out this time. I’ll think of Michael. I’ll just keep thinking of Michael.
A Chinese servant came in to strip the bed and put on fresh linens.
Angel sat sedately in the high-back chair, her hands resting lightly on the arms, her heart beating violently. Duke had not moved or said anything, but she knew that look, and fear grew like a knot in her belly. What retribution was he planning?
“Bring the tub up,” he ordered, and the Chinese man bowed. “Make sure she has plenty of warm water.” The Celestial bowed again and backed out of the room. Duke’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face for a long moment. “I’ll send someone to attend you.” He turned and left.
Surprised, she let out her breath. He had been disturbed by her manner. She had never been able to fool him before. But then it had been almost three years since she had last seen him. Perhaps he had forgotten her ruse.
And perhaps that would only make matters worse.
A young girl came in to help her undress. She was no more than thirteen. Angel knew she wasn’t Duke’s mistress, though she might very well have been at one time. She was pretty enough. But Angel knew that as long as a girl was Duke’s exclusively, her face was clean, she wore pastels, braids, and hair ribbons. This girl’s cheeks and lips were reddened, and her hair was spilling in a curly mass over thin shoulders. She had that look of having come through hell.
Full of pity, she smiled at the young girl. “What’s your name?”
“Cherry,” the girl said, dumping Angel’s gingham dress and underthings beside the door.
“I’d like to have those things back once they’re washed.”
“Duke said to throw them away.”
“And one must always obey Duke.” She didn’t want to get the girl in trouble. “Did he bring you to California with him?”
<
br /> “Me and three other girls,” she said as she tested the water. “It’s not too hot. You can bathe now.”
Angel removed her worn underclothing. Lowering herself into the warm water, she sighed. Whatever happened, she would be clean when it came. On the outside, at least. “How long have you been here?”
“Eight months,” the girl answered.
Angel frowned. She had been living within blocks of Duke all this time and never knew it. Maybe it was fate that she be with him.
“You’re very beautiful,” Cherry said.
Angel looked at the girl bleakly. “So are you.” Such a pale, pretty girl with frightened blue eyes. She was filled with compassion.
“Would you like me to wash your hair for you?” Cherry said.
“What I would like is to find a way out of here.” Cherry froze in surprise, and Angel smiled in self-mockery. “But then, that’s impossible, isn’t it?” She took the sponge and bar of lavender-scented soap from the girl and said nothing more.
Duke came in without knocking. Cherry jumped, her face paling. Angel put her hand on the girl’s and felt how cold she was. Several satin gowns were draped over Duke’s arm, and he laid them with great ceremony on the end of the bed. “Leave us, Cherry.” The girl scurried out of the room.
Angry, Angel steeled all her defenses and continued with her bath as though he weren’t there. He was staring at her. Uncomfortable beneath that dark scrutiny, she rose and wrapped a large towel around herself. He handed her another smaller one for her hair. She wrapped it about her head like a turban. He held a blue satin dressing gown open for her. Donning it, she tied it snugly. He put his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him.
“You’re no longer my little Angel, are you?”
“I couldn’t stay a child forever,” she said, chilled by his touch.
“A pity.” He held a chair out for her. Breathing slowly, she forced herself to remain calm as she sat.
“You must be famished,” he said and pulled the bell cord. The Chinese servant entered with a tray. As soon as it was placed on the table before her, Duke waved him out. Removing the silver covers himself, he smiled. “All your favorites, my dear.”
It was a feast: a thick rare beefsteak, creamed potatoes, and mixed vegetables dripping with butter. There was even a thick slice of chocolate cake. She hadn’t eaten a meal like this since leaving the New York brothel. Her mouth watered, and her stomach tightened.
Duke lifted a silver pitcher, filled a crystal glass with milk, and handed it to her. “You always did prefer it to champagne, didn’t you?”
She took the glass from him. “Fattening the calf before you slaughter it, Duke?”
“The golden calf? Now, wouldn’t I be a fool to do so?”
She hadn’t eaten since before the fire, stubbornly refusing the charity offered by that priest. Eat his soup, and he would expect her to confess her soul before he told her it was beyond redemption. So she was starving now.
“I’ll join you later,” Duke said, surprising her again. She had expected him to stay. As soon as he was out the door, she tucked into the sumptuous meal. She hadn’t tasted food this good in three years. Duke had always set a good table. She poured herself a second glass of milk.
Only when her stomach was full did she realize what she had done and shame filled her.
Oh, Michael, I’m weak. I’m so weak! I was right to leave you. Look at me! Stuffing myself on Duke’s food. I’m selling my soul for a steak and a slice of chocolate cake when I swore I’d starve before I went back to my old ways. I don’t know how to be good! I could only manage it when I was with you.
“You look distraught, my dear. What is it? Something you ate?” Duke’s voice startled her. She hadn’t even heard him come back into the room. “Or are you worried what my punishment will be?”
She pushed the empty plate away, her face flaming with humiliation, sick at what she had done. “I don’t care what you do,” she said in a flat voice. She got up and turned her back on him. Pushing the lace curtains back from the window, she looked down at the busy city street. What’s happened to all the fine moral strength I possessed while I was with you, Michael? It’s gone again. I’m right back to being Angel. All in the space of a few short hours and one tray of supper!
She closed her eyes. God, if you are there, strike me dead. Kill me so I won’t give in completely. I haven’t the strength to fight this devil. I haven’t any strength at all.
“I worried about you,” Duke said in a cajoling tone. She felt his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs kneading her tight muscles. “I’ve only your best interest at heart.”
“Just as always,” she said dryly.
“Did you ever have to deal with the lower classes, my dear? You only had the best. How many sixteen-year-old girls have had a senator and supreme court justice visiting them on a regular basis? Or a shipping magnate? Charles was quite devastated when you disappeared. He hired his own contacts to search for you. It was he who told me you were on a ship to California.”
“Good old Charles,” she said, remembering the spoiled young man. Shrugging Duke’s hands off of her, she faced him. “What if I’d told you I wanted out?”
His mouth lifted slightly. “Tell me about this man Hosea.”
Her muscles tensed. “Why do you want to know about him?”
“Just curious, my dear.”
Maybe talking of Michael would give her the strength to resist whatever came. “He’s a farmer.”
“A farmer?” Duke said, surprised and amused again. “And did you learn to plow, Angel? Can you milk a cow and sew a fine seam? Did you enjoy having dirt under your fingernails?” He took her hand, turning it palm up. She remained passive. “Calluses,” he said in disgust and let her go.
“Yes, calluses,” she said proudly. “Even covered with dirt and sweat, I was cleaner with him than I’ve ever been with you.”
He slapped her, and she reeled back. Straightening, she saw something in his face that made her less afraid. She wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t look so in command of himself or the situation.
“Tell me all, my dear.”
She did.
“Did you love him?”
“I still love him. I’ll always love him. He’s the only good thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, and I’ll cling to that until I die.”
His face darkened. “Are you in a hurry for that to happen?”
“Do what you will, Duke. Do what you please. Haven’t you always?” She turned away from him again, half-expecting him to swing her around and hit her, but he didn’t. She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him curiously.
“So where is this paragon of virtue and manhood now?” Duke asked.
“On his farm.” Perhaps he had turned to Miriam by now.
“You left him.”
“Yes. I left him.”
He smiled, satisfied. “Bored?”
“No. One of Michael’s dreams was to have children, and as we both know, I can’t have them.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice, nor did she try.
“So you haven’t forgiven me for that yet?”
“I told Michael I couldn’t have children and why. He said it made no difference to him.”
“No?”
“No, but it made a difference to me. I wanted him to have all he deserved and wanted.”
Duke’s face hardened more with each word she spoke. She ignored the warning. She was thinking only of Michael. “It wasn’t the first time I left him. I married him when I couldn’t do anything else, and I left the first chance I got. I wanted no part of him. I wanted to go back and get the money that was owed me. By the time I got there, the brothel was gone. It had burned down, and the madam was gone. So I ended up working for a saloon keeper. I got a good taste there of all those lower classes you talk about with such disparagement. You know what Michael did when he found out where I was? He came and got me out. He fought our way out. And he took me home
again. He forgave me.”
She laughed bleakly. “But I kept running away. He made me feel things, amazing things. It was as though he was turning my whole life inside out. Loving me, always loving me no matter what he learned about my past. No matter what I did. No matter how much I hurt him. He wouldn’t give up on me.”
Duke gripped her chin. “Just as I haven’t.” His eyes burned like coals. “Or have you forgotten you ran away from me, too, several times, and I always brought you home and forgave you.”
She jerked her chin away and glared up at him. “Forgave me? You owned me. You see me as a possession. Something to be sold to the highest bidder. Something to be used. Michael loved me. You always thought you owned my soul. Michael showed me no one does.”
“No?” He gently touched the cheek he had struck. “Don’t you feel right at home here, Angel? Haven’t you missed the good food, the beautiful clothes, the lavish setting, the attention?”
She shifted uneasily and saw him smile. “I know you,” he said. “For all you protest, you love the feel of silk against your skin. You enjoy having a personal maid to attend you.” He picked up the empty pitcher from the table. “You love milk.” He laughed at her.
Angel’s face was aflame. His expression was filled with malicious delight as he pressed her. “I used to watch the way you played the men who came to you. Clay in your hands. They were besotted with you.”
“And that gave you power over them.”
“Yes, it did,” he readily admitted. “Great power.” He tipped her face up roughly. “I have missed you. I have missed the power you gave me because the men I brought to you fell under your spell, and when they did, they belonged to me.”
“You give me too much credit.”
“No one could ever touch you.”
“Michael did.” She saw the flash of rage in his dark eyes. Oddly, she wasn’t afraid. There was a stillness inside her. Just thinking about Michael gave her courage, but she knew it wasn’t a courage that would last. Not once Duke got started. He wasn’t like Magowan. He wouldn’t lose control, and he would never kill her.
Redeeming Love Page 39
