by Connie Mason
"Is it true you were never legally married to Rafe Gentry?"
"No, that's not true," Angela contended. "Reverend Conrad married us in Ordway."
"Where is the Reverend now?"
"Dead at the hands of renegade Indians."
"Do you have a marriage paper to prove you were married?"
Angela glanced down, where tiny bits of paper littered the ground.
Baxter stooped, picked up several jagged pieces and let them fall through his fingers. "Did Dexter do this?" Angela nodded. "Is this all that's left?"
Angela refused to acknowledge his question. It was none of his business. "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me. This has all been too much."
"By all means. I imagine learning the man you thought you married is an outlaw has been a shock. You're all alone now, Angela. I know your father would want me to look after you. If you don't want to marry that Chandler fellow you don't have to. You have other options," he said with sly innuendo. Then he turned and strode away.
Angela stared at his departing back, wondering what in the world he meant. Surely he didn't think...no, he couldn't mean that he...that she...ridiculous. Baxter and Chandler were cut from the same cloth, as far as she was concerned. Turning back into the house, she began preparations for a meal, a meal that Rafe wouldn't be here to share.
Crouched behind a bush above the mine, Rafe watched Dexter tear up their marriage paper, or what he assumed was their marriage document. He was too far away to hear their words but he knew Dexter said something to upset Angela. He'd like to strangle the bastard. Then Baxter and the posse had arrived and Rafe briefly contemplated riding away from the whole damn mess and not look back. But his conscience wouldn't let him. When the posse began searching the area for him, Rafe moved himself and his horse into a cave he discovered on the mountainside above the mine.
Hours passed. Rafe walked to the entrance of the cave and peered out into the darkness. Nothing stirred. He crept out onto the ledge above the mine entrance and looked down upon the cabin where Angel slept. How could he leave her when she needed him? How could he not? His very existence was threatened. Should he be caught before he could prove his innocence he'd surely hang. There was only one thing to do. Try to convince Angel to come with him. Together they could flee to a place where no one knew him.
One question remained. Did Angel care enough about him to abandon her father's legacy?
Determination hardened Rafe's features. Good or bad, he had come to a decision. Cautiously he made his way down the mountainside, until he reached level ground. Skirting Baxter's cabin, he crept to Angel's cabin. A thin sliver of moon provided just enough light to guide him as he climbed the front steps and tried the knob. Locked. Remaining deep within the shadows, he made his way around to the rear and tried the back door. Locked.
Then he noticed that the bedroom window was raised slightly. It took little effort to widen the gap and slip inside. He glanced about the moon drenched room and saw Angel stretched out on the bed, her curvy form lightly covered with a sheet. A halo of bright hair floated about her face and lay like spun gold upon the pillow. Rafe had the unaccountable urge to push it from her forehead and place a kiss there.
Instead, he crouched down beside the bed and simply stared at her, resisting the urge to touch her. He leaned closer as she stirred and murmured something in her sleep.
Angela's dreams had just taken an erotic turn. She'd been dreaming of Rafe, of course. It wasn't a particularly pleasant dream for in it he was running from the law. He seemed to know she was watching him for every so often he'd glance back over his shoulder and send her an anguished look, as if trying to convey something of great import to her.
Then suddenly the dream took a subtle turn. Rafe was no longer running; the posse was gone and he was in the cabin, inside her bedroom. The dream was so vivid she could feel his soft breath upon her cheek. Her skin tingled, as if he had touched her. It took but a brief moment for Angela to realize she was awake, that she hadn't imagined Rafe's presence.
She opened her eyes. His name tumbled from her lips. "Rafe..."
"I'm here, Angel."
"What? How?"
"I didn't go far. I'm holed up in a cave above the mine."
"What are you doing here? There's a posse looking for you."
"I know. I watched from the ledge above the mine, though I couldn't hear what was being said. What did Dexter say to make you angry? Was that our marriage paper he tore into shreds? What made him do that? Reverend Conrad can easily verify the legality of our marriage."
"No he can't," Angela revealed. "Reverend Conrad and Sister Grace are both dead, killed by renegade Indians. Their wagon and all their possessions are gone. No record of our marriage exists."
"I'm sorry about the reverend and his wife. I know how fond you were of them."
He shifted to the bed and took her into his arms. "Fate hasn't been kind to you, has it, Angel?"
"Nor to you," Angela whispered. "You shouldn't be here."
"This is where I want to be," he murmured scant moments before his mouth claimed hers.
Angela moaned her pleasure into his mouth. When Rafe rode away she'd been so sure she'd never see him again. And now here he was, his body pressed against hers, his mouth writing love words against her lips. Oh how she wished he hadn't returned. Didn't he realize the danger he was placing himself in?
Suddenly her mind grasped at something and wouldn't let go. Had Rafe returned in order to try to clear his name? Was he taking her advice about the futility of running? Then her thoughts scattered as Rafe worked her nightgown past her hips, and over her head.
"I came to you tonight to ask something of you but it will have to wait." He lowered his head and kissed her nipples. "I want you, Angel. Nothing will ever change that."
Angela swallowed past the lump in her throat. She wanted Rafe every bit as badly as he seemed to want her. Even though the tiniest doubt remained. Even though he might be an outlaw. Was he really as innocent as he claimed? Would she ever know for sure?
"Perhaps you should ask me your question first," Angela suggested.
He let out a long, slow breath. "No, I need to make love to you first."
He placed one hand on her sex. She pulsed gently against him, her flesh already swollen with desire. He could feel the small bud straining against the pad of his thumb and he rubbed it gently. His breath came hard and labored. There was a primitive pounding in his head. His blood was boiling. His shaft swelled thick and hard, straining to be free. He fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, freeing himself into his palm. He parted her thighs with his knee, thumbed her open, he bent his head, and kissed her in a very needy, very tender place.
She sobbed his name. He smiled. His fingers replaced his mouth, easing deep inside. Her wetness scalded him; he could wait no longer. He slid into her velvety folds. Her core contracted around him as he teased a ragged moan from her throat. His senses soared when she gave a breathy little sigh and arched wantonly against him, forcing him deeper.
Wanting to give her the ultimate in pleasure, he lightly bit her nipples, then soothed them with the wet roughness of his tongue. He felt her trembling and his own passions soared. No woman had ever affected him like his Angel.
She made a breathy little gurgle in her throat that sounded like a plea. Spurred by her need, Rafe pumped his hips, reaching deep into her core, to the very gates of her womb. She clutched his shoulders, her nails biting deep. His blood surged hot and molten. The feel of her melting heat clamping around his thickened manhood shattered what little control he had left. Gritting his teeth, he held on until he heard Angel scream out his name and go limp beneath him.
Even after her climax waned he could feel tiny tremors squeezing him. He waited until she quieted in his arms, then finally gave himself permission to seek his own pleasure. He plunged deep, imbedding himself fully, his passion unchecked. Then everything inside him exploded. Wave after wave of incredible ecstasy washed over him, and he cried h
is pleasure against her mouth. He shuddered, then collapsed against her.
Several long minutes passed before Rafe lifted his weight away from Angela and settled at her side. His heart was pumping furiously and his breath pushed from his lungs in short, tortured gasps. He glanced over at Angel to see if she was similarly affected. Her face appeared almost waxen in the sliver of moonlight shining through the window. He shifted to his elbow and stared down at her, concern worrying his brow.
"Angel, sweetheart, are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
"I'm fine." Silence stretched between them. Then she said, "Why did you come back?"
"I couldn't leave you alone to be manipulated by Dexter, Chandler and Baxter. Not one of them have your best interests at heart."
"And you do?"
"I like to think so. Have you any idea what they're planning for you?"
"My stepfather says he's returning tomorrow with a preacher. He's determined to marry me to Anson. I'm not sure what Brady Baxter intends. He's awfully congenial all of a sudden. He promised to do everything in his power to keep Desmond and Anson from forcing their will on me. I don't trust him any more than I do the other two."
"And rightly so. I have a proposition for you, Angel. I can't leave you here by yourself and I can't stick around to protect you. What I propose is...I want you to come with me."
Angel searched his face. Though the light was dim she could tell he was serious, deadly serious.
"You want me to abandon my property?"
"I know it's asking a lot of you but it's the only way I can protect you."
Angela reached for her nightgown, pulled it over her head and settled it around her hips. That simple action gave her time to let Rafe's proposal sink in. But no matter how long she thought about it, she knew she couldn't leave like a thief in the night. Tagging along with Rafe would do nothing to help his situation. She'd prove more of a hindrance than an asset. Somehow she had to change his mind.
"You'd be giving up the mine but you'd still have the money your father left you," Rafe continued when she appeared to be wavering.
"I'd only hinder you. You said yourself you don't need a wife dragging you down. You have your own problems."
"We can go to California, start over, make a new life for ourselves."
Angela wasn't sure she'd heard right. "You want to stay married to me?"
"Is there someone else you'd prefer as a husband?"
"You know there isn't."
"I have no one else in mind for a wife so why not stay married until either of us decides it's not right for us?"
"Desmond insists we're not legally married. There's no proof."
Rafe gave a bark of laughter. "The whole town of Ordway attended our wedding," he reminded her. "That's proof enough for me." He sent her a searching look. "Unless you're afraid to stay married to an outlaw."
"You didn't give me a chance to give you the really bad news."
His attention sharpened.
"When Desmond told Sheriff Tattersal you weren't my fiancé, he jumped to conclusions and decided you were the man who robbed the stage and killed all those people after all. You're being charged with murder in addition to the earlier charge of bank robbery."
A curse exploded from Rafe's lips. "That's another reason you should come with me, Angel. They'll want to question you about me."
"No, they won't. Desmond convinced the sheriff that I knew nothing about your background. That I'm some kind of religious fanatic who's bent on saving souls, especially those who appear to be victims of social injustice. He painted me as an innocent taken in by a slicker. I'm not wanted for any crime, nor will I be questioned."
Rafe's gaze settled disconcertingly on her. "Are you refusing to come with me? Am I correct in assuming you'd rather stay here and fight Desmond, Chandler and Baxter's evil machinations?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. You don't understand. I can't leave here. To do so would be to admit defeat and I'm not the kind to back down without a fight. I...I don't want to spend my life on the run from the law. I never expected to marry at all. Marrying an out..." The word died on her lips.
"Go ahead, say it. An outlaw isn't exactly husband material."
"I'm sorry, Rafe. I'm so confused. Everyone is calling you an outlaw. I don't want to believe it but..."
"Why is believing me so difficult? You don't seem to have a problem making love with me."
"Can't you see I'm torn?" Angela raged. "I care about you, but I'm so afraid I'll lose you for good if I allow myself to love you. I couldn't bear that."
Rafe went still. "I never asked for your love. You saved my life and I'm returning the favor by offering protection. I care about you, too, but love is an emotion I'm not sure I understand. If you don't want my protection, if you have even the slightest doubt about my innocence, then it's best I disappear from your life. I reckon you care more about your mine than you do me."
He surged to his feet and set his clothing to rights. "I hope you and Anson Chandler will be very happy together. Since no record of our marriage exists, then I suppose we can assume we're not married."
Angela searched his face. His stony expression and silver eyes held scant warmth, and it was all her fault. Why had fate seen fit to cross their paths? Hurting him was like hurting herself.
"It's not that, Rafe," Angela tried to explain. "Of course I care about the mine. It's all I have left of my father. On the other hand, I never expected us to become lovers. Don't get me wrong," she added, "I don't regret it. But you have to admit it does complicate our lives."
"I don't even know you," Rafe said, backing away. "Are all women as cold and calculating as you?"
"I can only answer for myself. I married a stranger. A man who might or might not be an outlaw and a killer. I saved your life, I have no further obligation where you're concerned."
Angela wanted to weep. Saying those things to Rafe nearly broke her heart. The only way she could make him ride away without looking back was to be deliberately cruel. She couldn't go with him, not because of the mine, but because she feared she would complicate his life, and he would end up hating her for it. Should the posse catch up with him, they would shoot first and ask questions later. She cared too much to see Rafe die because of his misguided sense of obligation.
"Then we'll call it quits here and now," Rafe said through gritted teeth. "Should we chance to meet again, it will be like strangers passing in the night. Is that how you want it?"
Grateful for the darkness that concealed the mist of tears bathing her eyes, Angela pasted a smile on her face and said, "That's how I want it. Good luck, Rafe. Take care of yourself."
Angela held her breath. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her and she didn't think she could bear it.
"It's not too late to change your mind," he said softly.
"It's far too late. Go, Rafe. It will be light soon and you could be miles away from Canyon City if you leave now."
"Good-bye, Angel."
"Good-bye, Rafe."
Only then did she let the tears fall.
Chapter Eight
Cursing beneath his breath, Rafe let himself out the back door into the dark night. He was profoundly disturbed and unable to make sense out of the harsh words that had passed between him and Angel. Something wasn't right but he couldn't put his finger on it. If he was smart he'd get on his horse and ride hell for leather away from the mine, Angel, and the law. Sticking around was dangerous to his health.
Rafe skirted around Baxter's cabin and the privy. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't see the shadowy figure behind him. Nor did he sense danger as the butt of a gun come crashing down on his head. He never knew what hit him.
Brady Baxter stood over Rafe, the barrel of his gun still clasped tightly in his hand. "Stupid bastard," he hissed. "The need to plow that little piece you call your wife must have made you soft in the head. You shouldn't have stuck around."
Baxter aimed a booted toe into Rafe's ribs, satisfied when Rafe ga
ve no indication that he felt the blow. A pressing need had brought Baxter out to privy during the darkest part of night. When he'd finished his business he noticed someone creeping toward Angela's cabin. At first he thought perhaps Dexter or Chandler had come snooping around again, but then the shape took on a form that was too powerful to belong to either of those two city slickers.
Following at a discrete distance, Baxter saw the man crawl into the bedroom window. A smug smile stretched Baxter's lips. He knew intuitively that the night prowler was Rafe Gentry. It truly amazed Baxter that Gentry would risk capture for a little loving. His smile widened. He couldn't wait to taste the luscious Angela himself. Concealing himself in the shadows, he settled down to wait.
Baxter's patience had paid off when he saw Rafe leave by the rear exit nearly an hour later. He drew his gun, crept up behind the distracted outlaw, and conked him a good one on the head.
Baxter prodded Rafe again, satisfied that his prisoner wasn't going anyplace anytime soon. Hefting him by the shoulders, Baxter dragged the unconscious Rafe into the yawning entrance of the mine. He paused briefly to pick up a rope he found lying atop a crate and hook it over his shoulder, and to light a lamp. Grabbing Rafe by one leg and holding the lamp with the other, Baxter dragged him into a deserted side tunnel, roundly cursing the man's size and bulk. He dragged Rafe to the end of the tunnel, leaned him against a blank wall, and bound his hands and feet so tight it would take a magician to work loose.
Then for good measure he pulled off his kerchief and stuffed it in Rafe's mouth. "That ought to keep you," Baxter said, backing away to examine his handiwork.
All Baxter's plans seemed to be falling into place. He hadn't counted on fate delivering Rafe Gentry up to him but he certainly recognized a good thing when he saw it. He'd been wondering how to convince Angela to marry him and now he had the means all tucked away safely where no one would find him. Rafe Gentry was the leverage Baxter needed to bring Angela around.
