ANGEL - JOHANNA LINDSEY

by asdf

  She liked to think she was working on helping him toward that end. At least now he was more like the happy, contented man his sister had described to her, rather than the surly, near savage man she’d tricked into escorting her to Wyoming. Until the day she died, she’d never forget his expression when she’d called his bluff and agreed to pay him fifty thousand dollars to be her guide. Dear Edward’s money had never given her as much pleasure as it had that day.

  “All right, I give up, Colt,” Jocelyn said, drawing his light blue eyes to the mirror. “My curiosity simply can’t bear it anymore, so tell me, what are you sitting there frowning about?”

  “This damn letter from Angel.”

  “When did it arrive?”

  “It was there when I went to town this morning. And I shouldn’t even call it a letter. Two damn sentences is all he wrote, though I can’t really complain about that, since he probably had to have someone write it for him, and he’s never been long-winded.”

  Her brow rose slightly. “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for that despicable friend of yours by telling me he can’t write?”

  “I never asked if he could, but I seriously doubt it, with the way he was raised—and you can’t still be mad at him for that stunt he pulled in New Mexico.”

  “Can’t I? I truly thought I was going to die that day. He could have told me he was on my side, instead of letting me think the worst.”

  “If you’d thought any differently, Longnose might have suspected something, and who’s to say you and Angel would have got out of there alive? Now I’m not condoning what he did, but he did have the best intentions. You’d been running from that man for three years without knowing what he even looked like. It was time you knew.”

  “I give you only that,” she allowed.

  “Well, give me one better,” he said. “If you’d had to waste time guessing who Longnose was when he showed up here in your bedroom that day, you wouldn’t have acted as swiftly as you did, and you might have been dead by the time I got up here to kill the bastard.”

  She hadn’t thought of that, but still, she really detested the idea of being grateful to Angel. Pointedly, she said, “You were telling me about his letter. What has you so upset about it?”

  Colt grunted. “I’m not upset, I’m baffled.”

  “And you’re handling it very well, too.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “He says he’ll be home within the week.”

  “Wonderful.” She sighed. “In time for the wedding. Just what I wanted to hear. Does he at least own a suit?”

  “You’re going to pay for that one, Duchess.”

  She smiled sweetly at him. “Do you promise?”

  He came up to stand behind her. “My brother-in-law has the right idea. A woman’s neck needs to be wrung every once in a while.”

  “If you put your hands on me, Colt Thunder, I can’t promise we’ll be available when your sister arrives.”

  He bent down to lick the bare skin on the inner side of her camisole strap. “Jessie would understand.”

  “Philippe wouldn’t.”

  “That’s all right,” he assured her. “I feel like shooting that temperamental French chef of yours once a day anyway. So today I give in—”

  “Stop!” She chuckled. “What else did your wretched Angel have to say?”

  The frown was back as Colt glanced again at the letter in his hand. “He asks me to keep an eye on his meddling wife until he gets here.”

  “I didn’t know he was married,” Jocelyn said. “Have I met her?”

  “How the hell should I know?” he replied. “I haven’t met her yet myself.”

  Her frown appeared to match his. “Then how does he expect you to keep an eye on her?”

  “I’m damned if I know,” Colt said in exasperation. “It’s not like Angel to be cryptic— well, it is, but not that cryptic. He must think that I’d know who he’s talking about, but I’m damned if I do.”

  “Did he describe her?”

  “Honey, I told you word for word all he said. Two damn sentences.”

  “Well, actually, he does describe her— as meddling. Do you know anyone like that?”

  “There’s only one woman in these parts that anyone refers to as meddling, but it couldn’t be her. She was visiting her father in—Texas.”

  “Isn’t that where Angel went when he left us in New Mexico?”

  He shook his head, not in answer, but in bafflement again. “I refuse to believe Angel married Cassie Stuart.”

  “There, you see, you did know who he was talking about after all.”

  “Jocelyn, Cassie Stuart is a very proper, very well-brought-up young lady. She and Angel would be so mismatched if d be laughable. Her kind scares the pants off him.”

  “That would certainly be interesting.” She grinned at him through the mirror. “I rather hope it is her, though, of course, that means I’ll have to start feeling sorry for the girl immediately.”

  He placed his hands slowly around her neck.

  “What do you mean, you know?” Jessie scowled. She hated having a good surprise spoiled. “Cassie just told me today. When did she tell you?”

  “She didn’t,” Colt replied, his bafflement back. “I got a letter from Angel. But I still refuse to believe it. Angel and Cassie?”

  “Thars what I said,” Jessie told him. “But it’s true enough, though how long it remains so is another matter. They didn’t get married because they wanted to. They were helped to it by some angry Texans.”

  “All right, now that’s a little more believable,” Colt allowed. “Though I still can’t imagine why Angel would let it happen.”

  “Maybe because he wanted it to happen.”

  Colt, Jessie, and Chase all looked at Jocelyn in surprise. It was Colt who asked her, “Where did you get that crazy notion?”

  The duchess shrugged. “If he didn’t want to be married, would he be in the habit of calling her his wife when referring to her, instead of by name? Would a man who hates to be indebted, as you’ve assured me he does, ask you to keep an eye on this lady when he’s going to be here shortly himself? And by the way, why would he be so concerned about her? Is she in some kind of trouble?”

  It was Chase who answered, since Jessie and Colt were still mulling over Jocelyn’s astounding logic. “If you knew the lady, you wouldn’t have to ask. Cassie Stuart is in the habit of always being in trouble of one kind or another because of her meddling.”

  “I don’t like that word, Chase,” Jessie complained in defense of her friend. “Cassie just has a big heart and likes to help people—”

  “Whether they want help or not.”

  Jessie gave her husband a dark look for that interruption. Typically, he merely smiled back at her.

  And to dispute some of Jocelyn’s logic, Colt added, “Cassie’s mother is perfectly capable of keeping her out of trouble. She’s been doing it for years.”

  To which the duchess simply tossed out another bit of logic for them to chew over. “So maybe Angel feels that’s his responsibility now.”

  “She may have a point there, Colt,” Jessie conceded. “After all, Angel insisted on having a wedding night, when if he’d kept his hands off the girl, she could have had that shotgun wedding annulled.”

  “Well, that must have been an interesting conversation you two had this morning,” Chase remarked with a chuckle.

  “Cassie actually told you that?” Colt asked his sister, a bit embarrassed himself.

  Jocelyn, seeing his flush, laughed. “Men do seem to have that problem every once in a while.”

  “I’m more than likely to have it tonight,” Chase said.

  His wife threw her napkin at him from across the table—but she didn’t push his foot away. It had slipped beneath her skirt and was presently rubbing up and down the back of her calf. She concealed a secret smile that only he recognized.

  “Well, I don’t care what you say,” Colt said to the table at large. “I happen to know Angel
better than the rest of you, and I’m not accepting any of this until I hear it from his own mouth. But in the meantime, I guess I better go over to the Lazy S tomorrow and make sure Angel’s so-called wife is behaving herself.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Jocelyn volunteered. “I’d like to meet this poor, unfortunate girl for myself.”

  “Duchess—” Colt began, only to be cut off.

  “It doesn’t matter what you say, Colt Thunder. I am never going to like that particular friend of yours.”

  “You weren’t planning on telling his wife that, were you?” Colt wanted to know.

  “Certainly not. I hope I have better manners than that—though someone ought to encourage her to get a divorce while she still can.”

  “But you won’t, Duchess,” Colt said without expression. “We only allow one meddler in each county, after all. We shoot the rest.”

  “More Western customs?” she asked in a tone quite as dry as her friend Vanessa’s had ever been. “How quaint.”

  Chapter 37

  Angel hadn’t expected to be back in Cheyenne before the end of the month. But the plain fact was, he couldn’t stay away. The short time he’d spent with his family had actually given him a new sense of self-worth. They’d accepted him as he was, without looking down on him for the profession he’d drifted into. It had made him rethink his situation with Cassie, and once he had, there was no way he was going to delay doing something about it.

  That was what he’d thought when he left St. Louis. But when he was only a few hours’ ride away from her, the doubts had started to resurface—not enough to change his mind about the decision he’d made, but enough to put brakes on the urgency that had been hounding him.

  He was going to tell Cassie that he wouldn’t give her a divorce. No, maybe he ought to ask her first if she wouldn’t mind staying married to him. If she said she did mind, then he’d tell her, “Too bad.” And he’d keep her in bed indefinitely if he had to, until she changed her mind. In bed they were compatible in every way. It was only out of it that she could find a hundred reasons why they would never suit. He aimed to convince her otherwise.

  Now it was just a matter of getting up the nerve to do it. Seeing Catherine Stuart right after he’d arrived hadn’t helped. She’d been on her way to the bank and had seen him, too, but hadn’t acknowledged him other than to fondly caress the gun on her hip.

  That lady was definitely going to be a problem. Trying to get on her good side would be pointless. She didn’t have one. So his best bet would probably be not to deal with her at all. He didn’t exactly need her approval to win Cassie, he just needed Cassie’s.

  That decision put one of his worries to rest, but it was a short rest. The knock on his door came before he’d even had a chance to unpack. He thought it was Agnes, the owner of the boardinghouse where he lived whenever he was in town, but when he opened the door, Cassie’s mother was standing there looking her most formidable.

  She didn’t waste any time getting to the point of her unexpected visit. “There’s twenty-five thousand dollars in this bag. Find yourself another town to live in.”

  He glanced down at the black bag in her hand, took in her stiff posture, the determination in her expression. He didn’t close the door in her face, though he sure felt like it. He didn’t invite her in, either.

  “I like this one,” was all he said to her.

  “So find yourself another one to like.”

  Angel kept his tone polite—just barely—and only for Cassie’s sake. “Keep your money, Mrs. Stuart. I’ve got no use for it.”

  “It’s not enough? You want more?”

  “Ma’am, I earn five thousand a job, sometimes ten, for just a few days’ work. I don’t want your money.”

  She wasn’t expecting to hear that. It turned her expression even more sour than it was. “If you’re so damn rich, why don’t you retire?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Catherine scoffed. “You won’t. You’re not suited to anything else.”

  “That’s what I always figured—but there does happen to be something else I can do now,” he said in his slow drawl. “I can be a husband to your daughter. Keeping her out of trouble would be a full-time job.”

  He said it to rile her. She’d made him angry, thinking she could buy him off. And it worked.

  She damn near screeched, “You stay the hell away from my daughter, or I’ll—!”

  She didn’t finish her warning. Angel grinned, guessing her problem. “Can’t think of anyone who’s fast enough to kill me, can you?”

  She about-faced to march off, without giving him the satisfaction of a reply. “Mrs. Stuart?” he called after her. She didn’t stop. “You can tell Cassie I’ll be out to see her soon.”

  “Step one foot on my—”

  “Yeah, I know, you’ll shoot me yourself. Folks just love to tell me that” He said the last to himself, though, since she was already gone.

  Her mama was late. Cassie had taken care of the few purchases they’d needed while Catherine had gone to the bank and to the depot to see if Madame Cecilia’s gowns had arrived yet. They’d had lunch first in one of the several restaurants Cheyenne boasted, then gone in different directions to complete their errands.

  She didn’t mind waiting in the carriage on a day when the sun was out, but this afternoon the sky was looking kind of gloomy. She hoped the snow would hold off for another two days, until after Colt’s wedding.

  Imagine him coming by the ranch just to introduce his duchess to her and her mama the other day. That had been an unexpected surprise, but one that Cassie had appreciated. It gave her the opportunity to mention to him that Angel was in St. Louis. She’d hoped he might know how to reach him there to invite him to the wedding, but Colt hadn’t taken the hint, at least not that she’d noticed, and she wasn’t bold enough to come right out and make the suggestion.

  She’d tried talking to him about Angel when her mama wasn’t there, but he kept changing the subject. In fact, now that she thought of it, about all he’d been interested in was knowing if she’d found anyone who needed her special “fixing” skills since she’d been back.

  “I think we should go to Mr. Thornley’s office right now if it’s still open, and if not, we’ll hunt him down,” Catherine said as she hopped into the carriage so suddenly she scared the breath out of Cassie. “He’s been my lawyer for years. He can probably work miracles and get those divorce papers delivered to Angel today.”

  “I can’t yet, Mama,” Cassie said, adding a pointed reminder. “The baby?”

  “Damn, I forgot about that. Well, the very minute we know for sure—”

  “What did you mean ‘today’? Is Angel back? Have you seen him?”

  Catherine sighed and picked up the reins to get them started down the street. “I saw him,” she mumbled through gritted teeth.

  Cassie’s heart picked up its beat with the knowledge that he was back—and near at hand again. “Did you have words with him?”

  “None worth mentioning,” Catherine said evasively, keeping her eyes straight ahead, a clear sign she wasn’t going to be any more enlightening than that.

  Cassie frowned thoughtfully. It might not be worth mentioning, but something had obviously upset her mama enough for her to start insisting on the divorce again. Cassie wondered if she ought to tell her right now that she wasn’t getting a divorce, possible baby or not. No, that kind of unpleasantness could wait.

  She ought to tell Angel first anyway, and that wasn’t going to be pleasant, either. Of course, she could hold off telling him until she knew one way or the other about a baby. That gave her another week or so to figure out how she was going to tell him she wasn’t going to set him free.

  They were nearly out of town when Cassie noticed the man standing in front of one of Cheyenne’s more disreputable saloons with two other men. She stared, rubbed her eyes and stared again, and still didn’t believe it.

  “I’m seeing a ghost, Mama.”
<
br />   Catherine turned to look in the same direction, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “There’s no such thing,” she said firmly.

  “But that man over there, the tall one,” Cassie said in a shaky voice. “He’s dead. Angel killed him in Texas. I put my own bullet in him, too.”

  “Then maybe he didn’t die.”

  “They buried him.”

  “Then it’s just someone who looks like him,” Catherine said reasonably.

  “The spitting image?”

  “You’re not seeing him close up, baby,” Catherine pointed out. “If you did, you’d see you’re mistaken. Dead men don’t walk again.”

  Cassie’s heart dropped to the seat when one of the men suddenly pointed at her. She recognized him as someone she’d frequently seen around town though didn’t know by name. And he walked off after pointing her out. The other two were returning her stare now.

  She might be mistaken in what she’d just seen, but not about the man. She almost couldn’t find her voice to answer, “I know dead men don’t walk, but—but it is him, Mama. He’s not someone I could forget. He broke into my room one night in Caully and would have raped me if Marabelle hadn’t fetched Angel. That’s why Angel called him out and shot him.”

  Catherine nearly pulled up on the reins. “How come your papa never told me about that?”

  “Because I didn’t mention it to him.”

  “What else didn’t you mention to him?”

  Her mama was definitely annoyed now, so Cassie did some evading herself. “Nothing that I can recall.”

  Catherine snorted. “Well, don’t worry about that fellow. He’s certainly not dead. If anything, maybe he’s a twin brother of the other one.”

  “Another Slater?” Cassie said with a groan. “One was one too many.”

  Chapter 38

  It was nearly dark by the time they got home, but that didn’t stop Cassie from saddling up and riding out. She did it without her mama knowing, of course. Only old Mac, who had the care of the Stuart horses, saw her. She asked him to tell her mama that she’d felt the need for a brisk ride before dinner—if her mama asked. If she rode full out, she just might make it back in time before Catherine got around to asking.