Angel ww-3

by Johanna Lindsey

  He wondered why not, when every other subject seemed fair game for her. Perhaps it was seeing the result of actual violence that intimidated her. But her squeamishness annoyed him for some reason… no, it was his suddenly wanting her that annoyed him, and the urge he had to reach over and haul her onto his lap for a more thorough taste of her.

  So he volunteered an explanation. “A man thought to sneak up on me from behind and cut my throat. His aim was off.”

  Her eyes came up to lock with his dark ones. “Is he still living?”

  “No.”

  Angel tossed his napkin on the table as he said it and abruptly stood up. He had to get out of there, away from the candlelight, the wine, and her looking prettier to him by the second.

  “Thanks for the dinner, ma’am, but don’t feel obliged to repeat the invitation. Truth to tell, I’m more comfortable eating alone, I’m so used to it.”

  He wished he hadn’t added the last. The sympathy that suddenly entered her expression twisted at his insides something fierce. He left before he was tempted to accept what she had to offer. Whatever it was, he didn’t need it. He didn’t need anyone.

  Chapter 13

  Sleep seemed to elude Cassie that night. She tossed and turned in her bed. She got back up and tried to walk herself into exhaustion. The exhaustion didn’t come, but she managed to agitate Marabelle so much that she finally had to put the cat out of her room and hope her prowling through the house wouldn’t wake Maria downstairs.

  Her own room was upstairs at the back corner of the house. One of the windows overlooked the bunkhouse, and each time she passed it in her pacing, she saw a light still burning. She wondered if Angel was having the same problem she was. Uncharacteristically, she hoped so, since her problem was because of him.

  That wasn’t fair. It was her own fault that she knew what she did about him now. She’d pried and poked and got him to admit things she would have been better off not knowing. She had liked it better when he was just the Angel of Death. Now he was also Angel the little boy, and Angel the man who was more comfortable eating alone.

  More than once tonight she had wanted to wrap compassionate arms around him. She could be grateful she wasn’t the spontaneous sort to act on impulse, or she’d be mortified now if she’d done so. She would have been abruptly rejected, of course. He wasn’t the kind of man who would take to being comforted, no matter the reason.

  It was absurd to want to comfort a man like him, a ruthless gunfighter, a killer… She wasn’t being fair again. Angel wasn’t just a killer. He helped people in what he did. He also had a profound sense of justice. It might be only barely inside the law, but he still felt he was on the side of right, and maybe he was. Who was she to judge?

  When she finally saw his light go out, she tried her bed again and surprisingly went right to sleep this time. It seemed only moments before she was awakened by a hand pressing firmly over her mouth.

  The terror of those first moments abated somewhat when Cassie realized it must be Angel. Why he hadn’t knocked to wake her, instead of frightening her by just suddenly being there, she couldn’t guess. It was too dark to see his face; the small fire she had started earlier had burned down too low. So he couldn’t see, either, that her eyes were open, which was probably why he still hadn’t let go of her mouth.

  “You awake yet, little lady?”

  That voice didn’t belong to Angel, it belonged to Rafferty Slater. And Cassie’s terror was back and debilitating her.

  “Just nod if you are.”

  She couldn’t. She couldn’t move at all, her limbs seemingly weighted to the bed. She’d sworn she wouldn’t let him touch her again, but she didn’t sleep with her revolver. She had no way to stop him…

  She moaned as his other hand found one of her breasts beneath the cover and squeezed. “That’s better,” he said with a low laugh. “Playin‘ possum, was you? Or just plumb worn out from chasing down them cattle I scattered? But you ain’t gonna sleep through this.”

  It was the laugh that made her suddenly come alive, her arms flaying, her legs kicking to get the cover off. One fist got lucky and cracked against his face.

  “Stop that!” he growled.

  She didn’t. And trying to subdue her arms with only one hand wasn’t working too well for Rafferty. The hand over her mouth slipped enough for her to start a scream, only it was cut off too quickly, his fingers smashing her lips against her teeth.

  “You ain’t too smart, girlie. You ought to think about bein‘ nice to me ’fore I have to hurt you.”

  He leaned close to her face to utter that warning. His liquor-soured breath gagged her, but she couldn’t turn her head away from it. It occurred to her that he might be drunk, that it was the liquor that had given him the nerve to come here and accost her, but she was too frightened to think how she might take advantage of that.

  “I shoulda come to visit you sooner’n this, seein‘ as how your only protection was so easy to bribe.”

  He found that so funny he was laughing again, while Cassie couldn’t make sense out of what he’d said. Angel bribable? She’d stake her life that wasn’t true. But Angel was sleeping, and she’d barely been able to make a sound when she’d tried, so she knew she hadn’t awakened him. Her windows might be cracked open, but unless she could manage a good scream…

  Rafferty’s mouth suddenly changed places with his hand, too quickly for Cassie to do more than draw a breath. With both hands free now, he swiftly gathered hers together to hold in one of his, then began yanking on the high neck of her nightgown with the other. The small pearl buttons popped off one by one, the chill December air now touching her breasts. Then he was.

  “Shoot, I shoulda brung a light. But feelin’s as good as seein‘.”

  Cassie started to whimper. The stench of his mouth was choking her; his hands were hurting her. He had one leg thrown over hers so she couldn’t move them, either. And then Marabelle roared, the sweetest sound she’d ever heard — only it came from outside.

  “Damn cat. Shoulda shot it instead of—”

  Rafferty forgot about keeping Cassie’s mouth covered, long enough for her to get out one piercing shout: “Angel!”

  “Shut up, damn you!” His hand clamped back over her mouth. “If that Angel’s the new man they’re talkin‘ about in town, you better hope he didn’t hear you.”

  Cassie was hoping just the opposite, and when a door slammed downstairs, she prayed it wasn’t Maria or Emanuel. Rafferty must not have thought it was, because he bolted toward her door to lock it.

  “That won’t stop Angel,” she taunted now that she was free, though she took the precaution of slipping out of bed to duck down on the other side of it before she added, “He’ll kill you if you’re still here when he comes through that door.”

  She could barely make out that Rafferty was looking frantically around her room. If he thought he was going to hide, he’d better think again. But it was another exit he was searching for, and he found it in the double doors that led out onto the upper balcony. He ran toward them and tried to open them, but all they did was rattle.

  Cassie had locked the doors for the night, but she didn’t particularly want a dead man in her room, so she said, “Turn the key, you idiot.”

  He did, and as soon as he swung the balcony door’s open, she was running for the door to the inside corridor to unlock it.

  Behind her, she heard him mumble, “Bitch won’t even give me a head start.”

  He had to be kidding. He was lucky she didn’t run for her gun instead of Angel’s assistance because she could have shot him before he got off the balcony, whereas Angel probably wouldn’t get the chance to. And, in fact, Angel was just reaching the top of the stairs when she got her door open and stumbled over Marabelle, who’d been leading the way.

  “What is it?” he asked as he helped her up off the floor.

  “It was one of the Catlin hired hands.”

  Surprise showed in his voice. “After the warning I gav
e ‘em?”

  “Rafferty Slater acts on his own, but I don’t think he’d been told about your visit yet. I doubt he’s even been back to the ranch since he stampeded the cattle this morning, which he just owned up to. He mentioned hearing about the ‘new man’ from the folks in town. He hadn’t even heard your name. And from the stench of him, I’d say he spent most of the day in town drinking.”

  Angel was heading toward her balcony doors before she had finished talking. Cassie didn’t try to stop him, since Rafferty had likely reached his horse by now. She moved to light a lamp instead. Her fingers were almost trembling too much to accomplish that. The physical threat had been too close. It was over, but her relief was slow in coming.

  Marabelle was weaving around her legs. She wasn’t purring; she was making low growling noises.

  “It’s all right, baby,” Cassie said. “But you’re right. I shouldn’t have put you out of my room. Next time—”

  “There won’t be a next time,” Angel said behind her. “I’m going after him.”

  She was putting the chimney back on the lamp, so didn’t turn toward him. “You’ll never find him in the dark.”

  “I’ll find him.”

  But in the dark, Angel was as likely to get shot as Rafferty was, and that thought prompted her to say, “The man will still be around come morning, but it’s not really a killing matter, Angel. He didn’t get a chance to seriously hurt me.”

  “You know how I feel about intentions, lady. And my debt doesn’t get canceled if you get hurt.”

  She wished he were concerned about her, rather than his debt, but she still didn’t want him taking unnecessary risks. And Rafferty was an unknown factor. He didn’t have a reputation, but that was no guarantee when he wore a gun as if he knew how to use it.

  She heard Angel take a step to leave. She turned to stop him, completely forgetting about the condition of her nightgown. But Angel couldn’t very well overlook it with the room lighted now. His eyes went right to the long rip down its center that exposed half of one breast and a portion of her belly. She gasped and yanked the material closed when she saw where he was looking. His face turned as red as hers.

  “That son of a bitch,” he growled in a low, fury-tinged voice. “Are you all right?”

  “No. My hands won’t stop shaking.” Nor would they if she didn’t change the subject real quick. “How — how did Marabelle get outside?”

  Mention of the cat brought his eyes to it, and Marabelle chose that moment to saunter toward him. Understandably, Angel didn’t answer Cassie’s question just then. He didn’t so much as move a muscle. But Marabelle merely rubbed her body against his legs as she passed him on her way to investigate the balcony, an area of the house she used to have free access to before the trouble began.

  Angel was quick to close the door behind the panther. Cassie heard him sigh before he turned back toward her. His reaction to her pet was still a problem, obviously, no matter what she said about Marabelle’s tameness. She supposed time and familiarity would have to take care of it.

  Angel finally answered her question. “There was a haunch of raw beef on the back porch with an empty sack next to it. Slater must have used it to lure your Marabelle out of the house.”

  “She would have sniffed her nose at that. He probably had to push her out.”

  Angel was impressed, actually more like incredulous. “Now, that took nerve.”

  “Not really. When I first came here, I had to let everyone know that Marabelle was harmless. Folks tend to get angry when they get scared and find out after that there was no reason to be scared.”

  “Now that you mention it, it didn’t look like she even touched the meat. She came scratching at my door instead, and like to scare me to hell when I opened it and she let out a roar before she bolted back to the house. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except she passed by a horse tied up at the back porch that wasn’t there when I turned in.”

  “I’m glad you noticed.”

  He nodded uncomfortably. Situations like this were beyond his experience.

  “If he’s as drunk as you say, he’ll be easy to catch up to,” Angel said.

  “He wasn’t that drunk, but I wish you wouldn’t go. I’ll never get back to sleep unless I know you’re nearby.”

  “Sure you will. Just—”

  “Please, Angel.”

  She had started crying before she got his name out, and it wasn’t all feigned for effect. She really was beginning to panic at the thought of him leaving.

  “Now don’t do that.”

  She wasn’t listening. Her unbound hair fell forward to hide the part of her face that her raised hands didn’t cover. She’d forgotten about her nightgown again, but the edges stayed closed from being overlapped.

  “Come on now, cut it out.” He had tried again, but she simply cried harder. “Ah, hell.”

  Cassie was surprised to feel his arms suddenly come around her. That wasn’t what she’d been after, but she couldn’t deny it felt nice.

  Angel didn’t say any more, just held her awkwardly. But that was all right. At least he wasn’t going off to shed blood — or get his shed. And after a while her hands dropped to rest on his sides, and she laid her wet cheek against his chest.

  Until that moment she hadn’t realized his shirt wasn’t buttoned or tucked into his pants. She’d been too upset to really notice. But it was bare skin she was pressing her face against.

  She should have pulled back immediately.

  That would have been the proper thing to do. But that was the last thing she wanted to do when she felt so utterly content exactly as she was. And that was amazing, since she was usually so nervous around Angel.

  But she couldn’t stay like that without an excuse, and hers was gone, her tears dried up, just a few sniffles remaining. So she remained still for only a few moments more before she sighed and looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I haven’t cried since this thing started. I suppose I was overdue.”

  Their eyes locked for long moments, his so dark and inscrutable, hers glistening bright silver. A tension suddenly filled the air that had Cassie holding her breath as his eyes moved slowly, so slowly, down to her parted lips and stayed there.

  “You apologize too much,” he replied in his slow drawl, just before his mouth closed over hers.

  It was completely unexpected. It was also nothing like the kiss she had instigated yesterday. Then she had been in a panic and fearful of being rejected. Now she was relaxed and open to a wealth of discovery.

  He began tentatively, as if he were the one anticipating rejection this time. She had no thought of that, was too busy savoring the niceness of it. But with not even a whimpered protest out of her, he quickly deepened the kiss, parting her lips, sliding his tongue inside for a tantalizing exploration. New feelings arose, almost frightening in their strangeness and intensity; deep, swirling, hot sensations. And it wasn’t just the kiss anymore. It was also the tightening of his arms that drew her closer, flush with him, her nightgown too thin to resist the details of his body.

  Languor spread, a contradiction to the pounding of her heart. She felt weak all over, unable to end the kiss even if she wanted to. She didn’t. He didn’t. And that was the most amazing discovery of all.

  She had noticed him staring at her lips during dinner, but she hadn’t thought anything of it She certainly hadn’t thought he might desire her. She just wasn’t the desirable sort. But Angel was kissing her as if there was nothing else he’d rather be doing, and Cassie wasn’t merely flattered that he’d want to, she was liking it too much.

  When his mouth turned in a new direction, she was surprised that he wasn’t finished but was, in fact, tasting her skin in other areas. His tongue moved slowly up her neck to flick at her earlobe.

  “Honey all over,” he breathed in her ear. “That’s what you taste like.”

  Shivers spread in all directions. Cassie was almost trembling now, and getting w
eaker by the second. And then he leaned back to look at her as his hand slipped between the ripped edges of her nightgown to move slowly, carefully, over her bare, sensitized skin.

  It was the most sinfully erotic experience of her life, his hand on her breast, his eyes holding hers with smoldering intensity. It was too much all at once, the feelings he aroused far beyond her experience. Cassie became frightened and stepped back, out of his arms, away from his thrilling touch.

  “You — you shouldn’t.”

  She didn’t recognize her own voice, nor could she get out more than that. But he just stared at her, and for so long, she thought she’d faint, the tension was so unbearable.

  Finally he let out a sigh and said, “I know. Guess it’s my turn for apologies. It won’t happen again.”

  She watched him leave, frustrated by the urge to call him back and by a returned sense of what was proper behavior. Kissing Angel certainly wasn’t, nor was liking it so much. So why was there so much regret at the thought that it would never happen again?

  Chapter 14

  Angel wasn’t surprised that they’d set a watch on those high walls that surrounded the Catlin ranch. Someone had to have spotted him a far ways off, because Buck Catlin and two cowboys rode out to meet him before he even got close to the place. And they weren’t taking any chances. The two hired hands had their rifles drawn, their fingers on the triggers.

  He wondered if there were more rifles lining those walls. He didn’t bother to look, since being lean of frame had its definite advantages. He was a somewhat smaller target, and this allowed him to move with a swiftness that could get him out of the path of long-distance bullets. Of course, the odds were about half that he’d be moving into the path of a badly aimed bullet that would have missed him if he’d stood still, but he judged folks by his own standards, which were high, so he attributed most of them with at least a halfway decent chance of hitting their target.