by Connie Mason
Of course Angela wasn't going to be easy to handle, but he'd contend with her after the deed was done. Either she bent to his will or suffered the consequences.
"He's in the mine, bound and gagged so he can't cause trouble," Baxter said. "I'll light a lamp and take you inside."
"You've left him in there all this time?" Angela blasted. "In the dark?"
"He's a big boy."
"Bastard," she hissed. "Take me to him."
Baxter lit the lamp and entered the mine. Angela followed close on his heels. He turned down a narrow side tunnel and stopped at a blank wall.
"Where is he?" Angela asked on a note of panic.
"Right here, Angel," a raspy voice replied.
Angela's breath hitched. She followed the sound of Rafe's voice and saw him lying on the damp tunnel floor, bound so tightly she knew he must be in terrible pain. He was blinking repeatedly, as if blinded by the light.
"So you worked the gag free," Baxter growled. "For all the good it did you. I take it you're not pleased with my hospitality. You should thank me for not turning you over to the law."
Deliberately ignoring Baxter's taunts, Rafe asked Angela, "Are you all right, Angel?"
"I'm fine," Angela choked out. She couldn't stand to see Rafe this way. It reminded her of Ordway, where he'd almost lost his life at the end of a rope. She shuddered, recalling the defeated look on his face as he sat beneath the hanging tree with a rope around his neck.
"Cut him loose," Angela ordered. Baxter made no move to comply. "You promised!"
"You didn't really think I'd let your lover go free, did you?" Baxter crowed. "You have a thing or two to learn about human nature. Men lie to get what they want."
Baxter's words chilled Rafe's blood. What did Angel do to obtain Baxter's promise to let him go free? She should have known better than to trust a bastard like Baxter.
"What did you do, Angel?" Rafe softly asked.
Baxter forestalled her answer. Placing a possessive arm around her waist, he pulled her hard against him. "We got hitched this morning."
Color leached from Rafe's face. His gaze bored into Angel, his brows raised in disbelief. "Is that true, Angel?"
Angela dropped her gaze, unable to meet the riveting challenge of Rafe's gaze. "I had no choice. Baxter holds all the cards."
"There are always choices," Rafe bit out. "You should have told Baxter to go to hell and let him do his worst. This is my problem, not yours." His gaze shifted to Baxter. "You entered into a fraudulent marriage, Baxter. Angel already has a husband. You're looking at him."
"She won't have a husband for long," Baxter grinned as he set the lamp down and pulled out his gun. Steadying it with both hands, he aimed it at Rafe.
"No! What are you doing?" Angela cried, lunging at Baxter.
Without missing a beat, Baxter backhanded her, sending her flying against the tunnel wall. Momentarily stunned, Angela slumped to the ground.
"Bastard!" Rafe hissed. "I'll kill you for that."
Baxter cocked his gun. "Dead men's threats don't frighten me. I can collect the same reward whether you're dead or alive. All I have to do is drag your body down the mountain and collect my money. Before I pull the trigger I want you to know I'll be enjoying Angela in every way a husband enjoys a wife. I'm anxious to discover for myself what you found so fascinating about her."
Rafe considered his options, which were damn few. Trussed up like he was, there was little he could do to save himself. He could lunge at Baxter and perhaps deflect the bullet, but it would only prolong the inevitable. He was utterly defenseless against a man with a six-shooter on his hip. Though he still wore his own guns, they were absolutely useless without the use of his hands.
Then he saw Angel stirring and realized Baxter was paying no attention to her. He had to keep Baxter talking. Angel was a resourceful woman, and the only person he could count on right now.
"As long as I'm going to die," Rafe said, "you may as well tell me the truth about the mine. It's not played out, is it?"
Baxter gave a snort of laughter. "Played out? That's a good one. I just uncovered a new vein. There's thousands of dollars buried in there, just waiting to be taken out. I got rid of Simon before he found out about it and it all belongs to me now, every single nugget and grain of dust."
From the corner of his eye Rafe saw Angel sit up and scrabble in the dirt for something, but he didn't dare look directly at her lest he alert Baxter. What was she trying to do? Then he saw what she held in her hand and stifled a groan. He knew intuitively what she intended and fear welled up inside him. If she failed, he knew Baxter wouldn't go easy on her. And he wouldn't be around to protect her.
"So Angel was right. You did kill her father," Rafe said with slow deliberation.
"It was easy enough to arrange," Baxter gloated. "Enough talk, Gentry. You know I'm going to kill you, why prolong it? Killing you is the only way to get rid of you permanently. Now say your prayers."
Angela chose that moment to spring at Baxter. Seconds before she reached him, he spun around, but it was too late to stop the rock Angela held in her hand from connecting forcefully with his head. Unfortunately his finger jerked spasmodically on the trigger as he fell to the ground. The bullet went wild, missing a vital target but grazing Angela's upper arm as it whizzed by, leaving a bloody groove.
Baxter didn't move. Angela stared down at him, holding her arm as blood streamed through her fingers. It hurt dreadfully but she couldn't pass out, not yet. She had to cut Rafe free before Baxter came around.
"Angel, are you all right? God! Where did he shoot you?"
Angela moved forward on wooden legs. She stepped over Baxter and squatted down beside Rafe. "The bullet just grazed me." She appeared in a daze. "He killed my father, Rafe. I heard him admit it."
"I know, sweetheart. It's up to a judge and jury now to convict him. There's a knife in my boot. Get it and free my hands. I'll take it from there. You saved my life...again. I'm beginning to think you're my guardian angel."
Angela managed to cut the ropes binding his hands before she passed out.
Chapter Nine
His hands were free. Blood rushed into them. Excruciating pain left Rafe writhing and gasping for breath. His hands and fingers refused a simple command to cut his legs free. They felt like pieces of raw meat as he willed the pain away. He struggled to move; he had to get to Baxter before he regained his wits, and he had to help Angel, who might be seriously wounded.
Dragging in a deep, steadying breath, Rafe flexed his hands, ignoring the numbing pain as he picked up the knife Angela had dropped and plied it to the ropes binding his legs. It took longer than Rafe would have liked but finally the ropes fell away. Then the agony began anew, spiraling upward from his feet to his knees, sharp, penetrating, debilitating. He waited a moment for the pain to subside, then dragged himself to his knees and crawled over to Angela.
"Angel, speak to me. Are you all right?"
Angela stirred, sighed, and sat up. "What happened?"
"You passed out. Let me look at that wound."
"It's nothing. Take care of Baxter before he comes around. He killed father," she said on a sob.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Positive." She grasped his swollen hands and stared at them. "Oh my God, you must be in agony. What can I do to help?"
"I'll manage. We've only one light. I'll take you outside, then return and take care of Baxter. A few hours in the mine won't hurt him until we decide our next move."
"Let me stay."
"You're bleeding; your wound needs tending. I can manage here. But we have to hurry. Baxter won't remain out long."
"What are you going to do with him?"
"Not what he intended for me. We'll discuss it later. Come on."
Hobbling on numb legs, Rafe picked up the lantern and ushered Angela to the mine entrance. "Go on," he said, turning back into the mine. "I won't be long."
Angela heaved a reluctant sigh. "Very well. Hurry."
Angela couldn't imagine what was keeping Rafe. He'd been gone too long for comfort. Even taking into account the condition of his hands, he should have returned before now. She hoped Baxter hadn't come around and given him trouble. She had just about convinced herself to go back into the mine to look for him when she saw him staggering from the entrance. She raced from the cabin to help him.
"What happened?"
"My legs still aren't working like they should. Had I been left trussed up another few hours I'd never be able to walk again."
"Did you have any problems with Baxter?"
"No. He came around as I was trying him up. We exchanged a few words, that's all. Forget him. Let's have a look at that arm."
"It's nothing. The bleeding has already stopped."
"Let me see, Angel."
Angela removed the crude cloth she had used to stem the bleeding and held out her arm. Frowning, Rafe carefully examined the wound.
"The bullet gouged a pretty deep furrow. Maybe you should have the doc stitch it up so it won't leave a scar."
"No," Angela protested. "I'm fine, really. Just help me make a proper bandage. I don't care about the scar. It doesn't even hurt that much."
Rafe followed her into the bedroom and tore up an old sheet while Angela retrieved a jar of salve from among her father's things.
"Sit down and remove your blouse," Rafe said, "so I can make a proper job of this."
Angela removed her blouse and sat down on the edge of the bed. Rafe dropped to his knees beside her and set to work. It was all he could do to keep his hands from straying to her full breasts, but he filled his eyes with the sight of those taut mounds straining against her shift. By the time he finished bandaging the wound, his hands were shaking and sweat plastered his forehead. He yearned to carry her to the bed and make passionate love to her, but there were some important issues that needed to be cleared up.
Rafe sat back on his heels and stared at her.
"What's wrong?" Angela asked.
His words held a bitter edge. "Why did you marry Baxter?"
"How can you ask that? You know why I did it. He threatened to turn you over to the law if I didn't marry him."
"I'd rather face the hangman than see you with Baxter," he barked. "You knew he couldn't be trusted. He never intended to set me free."
"You're welcome," Angela said sweetly.
He scrambled from his knees and sat down beside her. "Angel, I'm not angry at you. I'm just...angry at the thought of you with Baxter. Did you think he wouldn't demand his marital rights? What were you thinking?"
"I didn't want you to die. Besides, you heard him. He killed father. Oh God, what are we going to do now?"
"I'll think of something. The bastard isn't going to walk free."
"What about you? What are your plans? You can't stay here, it's too dangerous."
He grasped her shoulders and dragged her against him. "I can't leave you behind, you know that. You can argue all you like but I'm still not leaving you. Your marriage to Baxter isn't legal and you know it."
"I don't want him to go free. He killed my father. I've got to stay and try to convince the sheriff that Baxter deserves to be put behind bars for his crime."
"Every one believes you're legally married to the bastard, even though you and I know differently. Baxter is a smooth talker. What if the sheriff doesn't believe you? I can't take that chance. You're going with me and that's final."
"But..." Her protest died on her lips as Rafe stopped them with a kiss. His lips were hard, as unyielding as his decision. He kissed her until she was breathless, until her body tingled and dampness gathered between her thighs.
Then he lowered her onto the bed and continued his relentless assault upon her senses until Angela felt like a mindless, boneless puddle of raw passion. Lifting her upthrusting breasts to his mouth, he licked her jutting nipples through the thin material of her shift, then blew on them. She felt them swell and peak beneath his sensual assault, felt the aching need he created claw at her innards.
She gave a small cry of alarm when he grasped the neckline of the shift between his hands and rent the fragile material in half, baring her breasts. Then he swiftly stripped her naked. She held her breath as his heated gaze slid down her body. She burned everywhere his gaze touched her, and it touched everywhere. It felt as if he were making love to her with his eyes.
"Don't stop me, Angel." His voice was ragged with need. "Back there in the mine I thought my life was going to end, and I'd never make love to you again."
Angela had no intention of stopping him. She wanted him. Whether or not she went with him, that truth wouldn't change. She couldn't worry about tomorrow; only today mattered. That realization was like a dam breaking inside her. All her inhibitions, all her fears were swept away on a wave of incredible longing. Passion flared hot and consuming.
Small hands swept his shirt from his shoulders. Eager fingers traced a lazy pattern in the dark pelt covering his chest...then slid slowly down the taut grid of his belly. One by one she released the buttons of his trousers. His manhood sprang rigid and free into her palm. A shiver slid down Angela's spine. He was scalding hot and boldly erect.
When he tried to slide between her thighs, she shook her head and pushed him onto his back. Together they removed his clothing. Then she straddled him. Head bowed, hair brushing his thighs, she placed a kiss on the head of his turgid hardness, at the same time skimming the underside of his shaft to the root with feathery touches of her fingertips.
"Angel..." His breath caught. "You're killing me. Let me..."
"No, let me," she breathed against him. She heard him mutter something under his breath and felt him stiffen moments before she touched him with the tip of her tongue.
She plied him delicately with hot, wet strokes of her tongue, a wanton, highly erotic caress, pleasuring him as he had pleasured her on more than one occasion. Her tongue whirling, she licked and sucked and tasted, reveling in the tremors wracking his body.
Rafe's world was careening out of control. The taut muscles of his body clenched. Ecstasy consumed him, seduced by the captivating heat of her mouth and tongue.
His hands slid into the glorious mass of her bright curls. "Angel! For the love of God, stop!" His voice was ragged, raw with charged tension.
He caught her and dragged her upward. Then, in a swift move that produced a look of astonishment on her flushed face, he turned her about. "I want you on your hands and knees," he whispered, positioning her for his pleasure.
A tremor passed through her. He saw it and smiled. Heat tugged at his belly, blood swelled his loins, making him harder, stronger, needier. Desire pounded through him and his manhood throbbed with impatience to be inside her. Taking his place behind her, he swept the blond curtain of her hair aside and kissed her nape.
Cupping her breasts in his hands, he heard the quick intake of her breath as he tweaked her nipples, not hard, just enough to give her a jolt of pleasure/pain. He kissed her ear and licked a trail of fire down the side of her neck and along her spine. The heat of her bottom against his loins created a blazing inferno within him and he could wait no longer.
"Part your legs, sweetheart."
He heard her make a strangled sound deep in her throat as she did what he asked. His fingers slid inside her. She was hot and slick, wet and as ready for him as he was for her. He lingered but a moment, stroking her deeply, drawing moisture from her core onto his fingers, struggling to control the surge of heat that cried for completion.
He entered her in one hard thrust, impaling her with the thick length of his shaft, hips locked together. Perfect, he thought with a sigh. She fit him like a glove, clasping him tightly in her wet sheath. Easing himself out, he trust himself more deeply, then withdrew, in and out, harder, faster, deeper with each stroke.
He heard her whimper and he stiffened. She sobbed his name, begging for release. He felt something rise up inside him. It swelled and broadened into a need he was hard put to explain.
He was suddenly desperate to keep this woman from harm, to protect her for as long as God gave him breath. Then all thought ceased as Angela cried out, her body wracked by tremors. Then it happened. Everything that had been building inside him exploded. Shimmering waves of scalding pleasure washed over him, through him. Arching his neck, he shouted his ecstasy for all the world to hear.
He shuddered and collapsed against her. Her knees gave way and he fell on top of her. Aware that he was too heavy for her, he rolled away. That was the last thing he remembered before he sank into oblivion.
Rafe awoke to broad daylight. Panic swept through him, until he realized Angela was sleeping soundly beside him. For a moment he feared...but no, where could she have gone? She was right here, snuggled against him, her body warm and rosy from their loving.
He hadn't meant to sleep so long. He'd left his horse near the cave, and though there was water within reach, the poor animal had no food. Obviously he'd been more exhausted than he'd thought. Then he remembered Baxter and knew he had to do something about the man. He had no idea what he would do until he spoke with Baxter.
Beside him, Angel stirred, stretched, and opened her eyes. She smiled up at him. "What time is it?"
"We slept through the night."
She bolted upright. "Oh, no! You have to go. I'll take Baxter to the sheriff after you're gone."
"Not on your life. We're going to leave here together. I'm not going to let you talk me out of taking you with me this time."
He rose and pulled on his clothes. "I'll wash in the kitchen. Pack your things after you've finished dressing. We'll have breakfast before I decide what's to be done with Baxter. I'll scout the kitchen and see what we can take with us. Be sure and bring the cash you happen have on hand."
Rafe didn't give Angela time to object as he hurried out to the kitchen. He was rifling through the cupboards and piling trail food on the kitchen table when he glanced out the window and spied Jim Cady, one of the miners, come rushing out of the mine, hollering at the top of his lungs and waving his hands as if he had just seen a ghost.
