by Connie Mason
This time she stiffened only slightly when he pulled her into his arms. She knew she'd regret it, but resisting this thoroughly exasperating, utterly irresistible man was impossible. Common sense told her he'd break her heart again...and again, that she should turn away from him and not look back. Common sense flew out the window when Rafe's mouth sought the shell of her ear, whispering her name on a ragged breath. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks. He slipped the nightgown from her shoulders and tasted her skin at her shoulder and at the hollow of her throat.
Her nightgown drifted down to her waist. His tongue followed it down, leaving a vertical path of fire between her breasts. Her breasts felt hot and tingly and she arched closer, pushing herself into the torrid heat of his caress.
She groaned a protest when he shifted away. Abruptly she was making this too easy she for him and somehow found the strength to shove him away. Taken by surprise, Rafe fell backward, off the bed and onto his rump.
"What in the hell was that for?" Rafe demanded as he picked himself up off the floor.
Angela's breathing calmed. "For thinking I have no willpower where you're concerned."
He grinned. His gunbelt hit the floor. "Have you? Any willpower, I mean." He tore off his kerchief and ripped his shirt apart. Buttons flew in every direction.
"I like to think so."
He stripped his belt off and unbuttoned his trousers. Air spilled from Angela's lungs as the rest of his clothing melted away. He was fully erect, his shaft thick and pulsating against the rigid muscles of his stomach. Her hands slowly curved in the fabric of the sheets, willing herself to look away, but she was so weak, so utterly, impossibly enthralled with this man.
Struggling to quell her mounting passion, she scooted over to make room for him when he lowered himself to the bed. His hands slowly curved around her waist, bringing her closer. For a desperate moment they shared a single breath as his mouth sealed hers with a heated kiss.
The delicious pressure of his hands on her breasts made her blood thicken and heart pump faster. Her lips parted; his tongue eased inside. Too soon, he broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he searched her face. "You want me as much as I want you, Angel, admit it."
"You know I'm weak where you're concerned. I despise the fact you're using my weakness against me," Angela, sighing despairingly.
"The only thing I want to use against you is this," he said, bringing her hand to his groin and clamping her fingers around his erection.
Angela stared into his face and saw a flash of raw hunger in the depths of his silver eyes. And something else. An emotion that came from within the deepest part of his soul. He was overpowering her with his desperate need, with his words, and with those incredible expressive eyes.
Holding her captive with his gaze, he placed a hand on her belly, pressing it as he stroked, wringing a gasp from her. The raging tumult of blood in her veins, the mad rush of sensation, cleared her mind of everything but Rafe, the man she loved...no, hated. She was so confused.
Thought skidded to a halt as his hand flattened between her thighs. She closed her eyes and parted her legs for him, anticipation mounting. Her body cried out for his and it irked her that he knew it. His mouth took hers again, their bodies melded together, breast to breast, hip to hip. She felt the flesh on his belly ripple, the muscles beneath growing rigid as his need escalated.
His fingers parted her, dipping inside, gently soothing the burning ache. Her body screamed for completion, her hand working him in a sliding motion that drew a guttural moan from him. She tried to draw him inside her. He removed his hand and settled between her legs.
He kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her mouth, as he guided himself into the torrid heat of her body. Her muscles clenched around him. Her body was flayed by fire as the storm of his passion ravaged her. Tossing her high. Tumbling her down. He drove harder, deeper into her core, pushing her toward the summit as cresting waves of sensation buffeting her.
She gripped the corded muscles of his upper arms, staring into his eyes as he held himself above her. Despite her own tumultuous state of arousal, Rafe seemed in no hurry for his own climax as he forged relentlessly on. The end came suddenly, explosively, as she yielded herself to the firestorm sweeping her to sweet oblivion.
Rafe watched her face closely, not slacking his pace as she found rapture. Then he began to move again, seeking his own pleasure. He gave her a startled look when her body stirred around him and she clutched his shoulders.
"Can you come again, sweetheart?"
Angela seemed beyond coherent speech as she raised up to meet his strokes; she seemed as genuinely surprised at her renewed passion as he was. Rafe moved faster, the smell of sex and sweat a powerful aphrodisiac. His stomach clenched, his muscles jumped. If she didn't...soon... Then he heard her cry out, felt the tiny contractions flutter around him, and with a ragged cry of pleasure he spilled himself inside her. His last cogent thought was that he was exactly where he belonged.
"Are you happy now?" Angela asked after the firestorm abated.
For long minutes nothing stirred the air but their harsh breathing. "I want us both to be happy," Rafe finally answered.
Angela turned away. "I want that too but it's not going to happen."
"Leaving you in Dodge City wasn't my idea."
It took a moment to absorb his words. When they finally registered, she gave a bitter laugh. "I suppose you're going to tell me someone held a gun on you while you wrote that disgusting note."
He gave her a strange look. "That's exactly what happened."
"Really, Rafe, I'm not stupid."
"Far from it, but I'm not lying. Dexter got the drop on me in the bathhouse that day. He was the last person I expected to see in Dodge City. He forced me at gunpoint to write that note. If I didn't do as he directed, he would have killed me and claimed the reward. There were still those Colorado warrants for murder Sheriff Jenkins seemed to know nothing about.
"I'd just been cleared of bank robbery charges and you were waiting for me back at the hotel, leaving you was the furthest thing from my mind. Dexter changed it quickly enough. My situation seemed hopeless. I wanted only the best for you, even if it meant leaving you. I decided you'd be better off without an outlaw dragging you from town to town, one step ahead of the law."
"What changed your mind, not that I believe you, mind you."
"Learning that I was no longer wanted for those murders in Ordway gave me renewed hope. After those charges were dropped I felt confident I could find Baxter's killer and emerge a free man, one without a tainted name.
"But those weren't the only reasons. I couldn't stay away from you, Angel. We're soul mates, whether you choose to believe it or not. I could no more leave you than I could cut off my right arm."
Her gaze wavered, then fell away. "I want to believe you, Rafe, truly I do."
"But..."
"I'm afraid of being hurt again. I'd be forever holding my breath, wondering when you're going to disappear again."
"Never," Rafe vowed. "I'm never going to leave you again." Rafe hadn't planned on falling in love when Angel claimed him as her fiancé, but she had sneaked up like a thief in the night and stolen his heart. Unfortunately he wasn't free to declare his love, so he held his tongue.
"Why, Rafe? Why should I believe you?"
Rafe frowned and looked away. "I know I've given you ample reason in the past to distrust me but I don't have anything to offer a woman who has everything."
"All I ever wanted was you. I would have given up everything to hear you say..." She paused, gulping back her words.
Rafe wanted to reach out to her as she struggled for composure and had to forcibly restrain himself from telling her he loved her. She probably wouldn't believe him in her present state of mind, anyway.
"Oh, what's the use," she sighed. The note of despondency in her voice nearly broke Rafe's heart.
"Angel, listen to me, love. I know what you want to hear but I can't say the words until I'm a
free man. You'll just have to be patient and trust me until that happens."
"Like I trusted you in the past?"
"I know I'm asking a lot of you but I'm still a wanted man. I can't even offer you my good name."
"I already have your name," Angela reminded him. "But I expect to change that soon."
The violent sound he made was born of pain. "Dammit, Angel, I don't want you to divorce."
"Exactly what do you want, Rafe?"
"I thought I made myself clear. I want you. I'm determined to find Baxter's killer, and when I do, I'll be free to tell you what's in my heart."
She gave him a disgusted look. "Until then I'm supposed to guess how you feel."
He sent her a look fraught with all the demons ripping him apart. "I'm asking you to trust me, Angel. I have to leave soon. No one must know I'm here."
A slow building of trust moved Angela to offer a smidgen of hope. "Have you a plan?"
"Not yet, but I haven't given up."
"Let me help."
Rafe reared up on his elbow. "Absolutely not! We're dealing with two greedy, vicious men, you could be hurt."
Her blue eyes glittered defiantly. "You have no choice." Even if you hadn't returned I would have pursued this on my own. I overheard Anson all but admit to Desmond that he killed Baxter. I have an idea but it needs more thought."
"Think all you want, sweetheart, I simply won't allow you to become involved. It's too dangerous."
Angela decided to change the subject. Arguing with Rafe was getting her nowhere. "Are you hungry?"
His stomach growled at the mere mention of food. "Starved. I've existed on the sparse leavings in my saddlebags and whatever game I was lucky enough to bag."
Angela rose from bed and pulled on a dressing gown. "I'll fix you something to eat. Then I'll pack up whatever I have on hand for you to take with you. What about blankets? You're staying in the cave, aren't you?" He nodded. "That can't be too comfortable."
"I'll manage."
Angela hurried to the kitchen and lit a lamp. By the time Rafe had dressed and joined her, she had built up the fire in the cookstove, sliced bacon, and set the coffeepot on the burner to boil.
"It will be light soon," Rafe said, glancing out the window.
"This won't take long."
"Angel, I meant it when I said you're to keep out of trouble," Rafe said as Angela cracked eggs in the frying pan and cut thick slices of bread from the new loaf she had baked just that morning.
"You asked me to trust you, Rafe, now it's your turn to trust me."
She set the plate before him and he dug in with gusto. Angela couldn't help smiling at his healthy appetite. While he ate, she placed a loaf of bread, some canned goods, the rest of the slab of bacon, potatoes and whatever else she thought he could use into a pile on the table. She left the room and returned with two thick blankets and placed them beside the food.
"Does this mean you forgive me?" Rafe asked between mouthfuls.
"It means I'm thinking about it," Angela said, not giving an inch. She'd been hurt once too often by this powerfully seductive man.
"I have to go," Rafe said, pushing away his empty plate. He glanced at the supplies Angela had readied, then back at Angela. "How am I supposed to carry all this?"
"In this," Angela said, shaking out the linen pillowcase she had brought with her from the bedroom.
When the pillowcase was filled, Rafe placed it on the table and pulled Angela against him. "I'll be back, Angel." His eyes had darkened with desperate yearning but his humor was still intact as he said, "It would help if you didn't lock the back door. I'm getting too old to climb through windows."
"You say you'll return, Rafe, but I don't know what to believe any more."
"Believe this," Rafe said as his lips settled possessively over hers. His mouth was warm; he tasted of coffee and Rafe. She leaned into him, savoring his unique scent, painfully aware of how easily Rafe had seduced her into trusting him.
He broke off the kiss. "If I don't leave now I'll never leave," he groaned against her lips. "I have a killer to smoke out into the open and taking you back to bed isn't the way to do it. Promise you'll stay out of trouble while I find a solution to our problem."
Angela gave him an innocent stare. "Rafe Gentry, I never get into trouble. Getting people, namely you, out of trouble is what I do best."
"I know, sweetheart, you're my guardian angel," he said with such tenderness it brought tears to Angela's eyes. "But this time you're out of your league with Dexter and Chandler. Let me do this my way."
"Of course," Angela said, crossing her fingers behind her. She pushed him toward the door. "The sun is coming up over the mountains. Hurry, before someone sees you."
"One more thing," Rafe said. "Forget that divorce. I'm not letting you go, Angel."
Wanting desperately to believe him, Angela blinked back tears as Rafe grabbed the sack of supplies, gave her a hard kiss, and slipped out the door. She watched from the window as purple shadows swallowed him and he became one with the wooded hillside.
Turning away, Angela poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to ponder the ramifications of Rafe's unexpected return. Could she trust him this time? she wondered. Had Desmond truly forced him to leave Dodge City without her?
It all made sense when she thought about it. Neither Rafe nor Desmond had known yet that he was no longer wanted for murder in Ordway. Had Desmond shown Sheriff Jenkins the wanted poster Rafe would have found himself behind bars again. Given the choice of fleeing or possibly swinging from the end of a rope, Angela would have chosen the same route Rafe had taken. And Rafe had returned to explain, hadn't he?
Not only had Rafe returned but he'd made love to her as if he truly loved her. He'd done everything but say the words to show her how much he cared. Deep inside Angela believed those words would come when Rafe no longer felt pressured by unfortunate circumstances. The Rafe she knew wasn't a killer, nor was he an outlaw. He was a man unjustly accused of crimes he hadn't committed.
Whether she liked it or not, helping Rafe seemed to be her purpose in life. The reason God had placed her on earth and put Rafe in her path. The Golden Angel had been but a convenient excuse for her to travel West and meet the man created specifically for her.
Rafe Gentry was exasperating, hardheaded, possessive and stubborn. Angela wouldn't have him any other way. Even when she thought she hated him she loved him.
No matter what Rafe Gentry said, she was going to help him find Baxter's killer. She was in a far better position to help him than he was to help himself. Besides, she already had a plan in mind and intended to see it through.
Angela went about her daily chores. No snow had fallen yet so the miners were still at work. Angela found little opportunity to speak to Dexter alone and bided her time. Meanwhile she kept her eyes and ears open.
That evening she left a plate of food sitting in the warming oven, unlatched the back door and waited up for Rafe. He came just after midnight. She took him into the kitchen, poured him a cup of coffee and watched him wolf down the food she had prepared earlier. When he finished, he grasped her hand and led her into the bedroom.
What followed next was a repeat of the night before, only their coupling wasn't as urgent as it had been the previous night. This time Rafe made a leisurely assault upon her senses, arousing her like a lover who had all the time in the world. First he undressed her, exploring her body with a thoroughness that brought tears to her eyes. Her breasts, her nipples, the tender insides of her thighs, the moist cleft and sensitive nubbin at the entrance of her sex. Then he pushed his tongue inside her, bringing her to gasping completion.
When he would have entered her, Angela turned the aggressor, pushing him back against the mattress and plundering him with her mouth and hands. She felt his broad chest quiver as she licked his flat, brown nipples, felt his stomach clench as she nipped and kissed a path to that thick, hardened part of him that gave her so much pleasure.
He n
early shot out of bed when her mouth closed around the head and drew on him. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her against him as her eager tongue licked down the ridged underside and back again.
"No more! You're driving me mad."
With a thick, guttural growl he grasped her shoulders,
hauled her up on top of him, spread her legs and thrust himself into her core. Shaking and whimpering his name, she came almost immediately; he found his own rapture scant seconds later.
Afterward they slept. They awoke before daybreak and made love a second time before Rafe left her sleeping and crept back to his lair.
Angela awoke the following morning more determined than ever to bring Chandler to justice for Baxter's murder. It wasn't right that Rafe should fear to show in face in the light of day. If she ever expected to share a future with Rafe, something had to be done, and fast. Angela knew intuitively that Anson would never admit the truth about Baxter's murder to her. But she was almost certain he had told Desmond. Desmond was a greedy man. Therefore, it stood to reason that Desmond could be bribed to betray Chandler's confidence for enough money.
As if her thoughts of Chandler had conjured him up, he showed up at her cottage a short time later.
"It's time to close down the mine for the winter, Angela," Chandler said as he walked into the cabin and made himself at home. "It's October. The miners fear they'll get caught in an unexpected snowstorm and be unable to return to their families."
"They're probably right," Angela agreed. "They know this country better than either you or I. Inform the men that today will be their last day until spring thaw. I'll prepare their paychecks."
Chandler had no sooner left to inform the men about the mine closing when Lawyer Goodman arrived with the divorce papers for Angela to sign.
"You should move to town," Goodman said after greeting Angela warmly. "Colorado winters are harsh, especially up here in the mountains."
"I know," Angela agreed. "I remember a little about them from my youth. That's one of the reasons Mama divorced Papa. She hated the isolation. But I'm not Mama. I'll manage. Come into the kitchen and share my lunch. I just made some fresh coffee."
