My Angel

by Christine Young

  On their way inside the tent, Alexi was startled to hear his name called then Ivan's. He turned to see one of Ivan's men. The man strode through camp, his hands clenched at his sides, his robes billowing behind him. Ivan clasped the man around the shoulders, greeting him.

  "What are you doing here? You should be with the people, watching over them in my place,'' Ivan said, a frown deepening his brow.

  "Would that I could." The man spoke softly, as if someone might overhear what he said. "I was the only man uninjured after the army of rebels swept down upon us, breaking all the treaties between us. The women and children who are still alive are crying out in hunger. The men are injured and dying. I have no idea which tribe it was. Indeed, I am not sure it wasn't mercenaries, they were so ruthless."

  "Allah..." Ivan whispered.

  "We captured one man, but he died before we could wring any information from him."

  To Alexi's surprise and fury, Angela decided to answer for everyone. "We must go to your people and help them. We have food enough to feed an army. Isn't that what you just said, Ivan?" Angela looked pointedly at Ivan, her lips curved sweetly.

  Alexi could have throttled her then and there, despite his tender feelings for her and the light in her soft blue eyes. She should learn not to speak out. Her advice would never be heeded. If she didn't watch what she said, she could put them both in a precarious position.

  "Ivan, forgive her," Alexi said simply, stepping in front of Angela, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her toward him and to a position slightly behind him--a position of servitude. "She does not understand our customs. I will make sure there are no more problems."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pain simmered deep inside Angela even while she acknowledged the truth of what Alexi had said. "Forgive?" Her whispered question went unnoticed. She was at a loss among these men and the strange customs.

  "Go inside," Alexi said, parting the tent flap.

  To find adventure had been her dream. Now all she wanted was to find a way home, to breathe the clean mountain air once more. She knew Alexi would take a wife and give another woman his name. She didn't want to be here when that happened. Yet even today, her thoughts when she had dressed had spiraled in a mad fashion. She already hated the unknown woman who would become his wife. Even if she had been of a mind to accept the position of mistress, being his lover would never be enough for her. She needed so much more.

  Because she did want Alexi to love her.

  She wanted their children to carry his name.

  All that had transpired between them the last few months failed to matter now, and all that did matter was that she loved him. She loved him for his basic honesty, for his loyalty, for his stubborn determination, for his sense of right and wrong. And she loved the sight of him, the feel of his hands upon her, the way he looked at her with such smoldering intensity and possessiveness.

  She loved the passion that darkened his eyes when he held her close.

  Their lives were too different. They would never be able to reach an understanding, an amenable solution to their problems. He would never be able to put a lifetime of teachings and beliefs behind him, and she would never be able to live the lie he was asking of her.

  Was trust too difficult?

  Perhaps to Alexi it was.

  The problem they faced now had nothing to do with them. She ached to do all she could to help his people and those of his friends. What she'd offered had not been so strange that she needed anyone's forgiveness.

  Alexi sat by her later that night, commenting to Ivan on the strategies they would employ, and on the identity of the men behind the attacks on Ivan's people. He acted courteous throughout the evening, but subdued. His deep brown eyes looked almost black despite the light of the fire reflected in them, and Angela was afraid something was simmering in him that would eventually send her world catapulting apart.

  At times she had the most disturbing premonitions of searing pain and blinding fear.

  She meant to go with Alexi.

  It was very late when the two of them were finally alone, watching the fire outside their tent die down. The embers glowed softly, the breeze from the desert blew warm and dry.

  "Alexi?"

  "I love this land," he said. The reverence she heard in his voice touched her heart.

  Beside herself with emotion, she felt awkward and shy. "I don't want to leave here without you," she said, her voice a whisper. If he left her side, something bad would happen. With the wisdom born of her Sioux heritage, she sensed the future.

  And she was afraid.

  "We don't know what to expect," he said, still staring into the night. He extended his hand in a silent invitation for her to accept him. She did, and he led her inside the tent.

  The long black robes she wore hid her body from view--had been purposely designed to do so. Inside the voluminous material, she felt strangely protected. Still, she was startled when she felt his hands upon the tiny fastenings at her neck. Insecurity gripped her. Even as she needed him to love her, she couldn't help but wonder how she could compare with the woman who would soon become his wife.

  The robe unfastened, she held the black material to her breasts, whispered a thank-you, and stood in front of him wide-eyed and thoroughly distraught. He didn't seem to notice. He had already spread out numerous blankets and arranged the pillows then he lay down, his hands folded behind his head. She let the robe she'd worn over her dress fall to the floor. He paid her little heed as she sat down in the opposite corner, taking her hair down and brushing it out.

  She touched her sapphire earrings. To Angela they signified bold adventure, daring feats and a bit of rebellion. When she wore them, she would always remember Devil Blackmoor.

  Angela took them off and placed them out of sight and out of mind. She closed her eyes and for one long moment tried desperately to forget that what she wanted most was unobtainable.

  "I don't understand what is expected of me," she said softly, determined that he must understand her position in matter concerning her behavior. "We had months on board the ship. You spent hours teaching me the language of your mother's people. You could have explained Turkish customs more thoroughly."

  His gaze shot to her, and she froze uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't spoken. She had felt more at ease when he ignored her. "I won't let you put your life in danger. We don't know who attacked Ivan's village. I don't believe for a second they were neighbors. The treaties have been held and respected for too many years for any one of the neighboring tribes to put that at risk. There is something else afoot here, and I mean to discover the meaning of this outrage. Once, a very long time ago, Feodora's father attacked Ivan's village."

  Fear spiraling deep inside her, Angela wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the shivers racking her body bone-deep. He wasn't listening to her. Instead he spoke of a treachery that must have occurred years past to Ivan's people.

  Something terrible would truly happen to her if he left her alone in this strange place--alone to fend for herself. "You know I can shoot and ride better than most men. If I traveled with you, my life would not be in danger. I might even be of help," she challenged him, hoping he would recant his decision. "And you would be there to protect me."

  "Really?" he questioned, the pause before his next question significant. His gaze bore into her. "Who are you, Angela? What is the truth?"

  She turned from him. "I can't tell you."

  "You expect me to trust you, believe in you, yet you won't trust me with your name?"

  She turned back, and touched his sleeve, imploring him with her eyes. Her lies had gone on too long. If she told him now who she was, he might feel honor-bound to marry her. She didn't want to trap him. She wanted his love.

  "Take me with you." Sam was in the Rocky Mountains, believing she was married to Alexi. Not for a minute would he believe she was about to become Devil Blackmoor's mistress. In her naivete she didn't realize she'd just about told her father all in her
final letter. She could have told Alexi more about herself, but she had been afraid the knowledge might lead to more truth than she wanted him to uncover. She wished heartily she could tell him she was Angela Chamberlain and he'd best treat her with respect and honor.

  "From the start you haven't wanted to believe me. You formed a first impression and stuck with it. If I told you I grew up in a log cabin, that my father taught me to shoot and ride, that my uncle bought me an ivory-handled knife and taught me to use it with the expertise of a Sioux warrior, would you believe me? Would you believe I have a half brother who is a Sioux warrior... ?" she let her words hang in the air, watched for his reaction. To judge him now would be hard, but she had to know.

  He rose on his elbows, his hair disheveled. "No," he said. "I'd believe you were a good storyteller."

  Pain swept through her. She turned her back to him, unwilling to let him see the sheen of moisture gathering in her eyes, unwilling to let him see the depth of her fears. It seemed he would believe only half-truths and lies about her. She would tell him nothing more until he was ready to listen. Quickly she brushed away the tears, stifling a half sob before it erupted.

  "Of course I'm a good storyteller. I learned that craft at my mother's knee. She is half-Sioux. Have I told you that? No? But then had I told you, you wouldn't believe me." She didn't want to belabor a worn-out point. "Apparently we are not going to settle anything this night."

  She heard his exasperated sigh emanating from the blankets, the rumpling of pillows and crinkling of sheets. He seemed restless and out of sorts. The devil take him--he should be.

  "There is nothing to settle, Angela." His voice in the surrounding darkness did little to ease her fears. "We're not in disagreement. Your past makes little difference to me. It is our future and your safety I am concerned with."

  "Alexi, you don't understand. I've not accepted your bargain. I've made a promise to go with you, but my reasons are my own until I choose to divulge them. My background is not worth talking about; even though at times you wish to know about me, most of the time you care not. All you need to know is who I am now and who I will become."

  "My lover," he said, his voice warm with passion. He rose suddenly, walking over to her, and she saw that he had not changed clothes. He had chosen to sleep in his buckskins, just as he'd done every night on the trail. He stood with his feet slightly apart, towering over her, pinning her with his gaze alone. "I know you don't accept the title of mistress, and I know you want something else from me, something I can't give--not because I don't want to but because I can't. Angela, I will prove to you I can take care of you and I'll never neglect you. You will want for nothing, and in time you'll be glad I insisted on this relationship."

  "I'm sure you believe that what you say is true." She watched the moon and the stars through the open tent flap. They gave small comfort.

  "You are stubborn to a fault, but I've come to admire that trait. Together we will have strong children."

  "If things go your way, they will be children without a name," she whispered softly, then prayed Alexi had not heard.

  "And if things go your way?" he asked.

  "There will be no nameless bastards."

  She could sense him stiffen, feel the anger emanating from him. She felt his presence before he turned her toward him, touched and lifted her chin. "You are under my protection, Angela. You will have to see this my way."

  "But Alexi--"

  "Men support and cherish the women they care for, and in turn the women give their love and affection," he informed her for what must have been the hundredth time, his voice rising slightly.

  She tried very hard to control her simmering emotions.

  "I've given you all I'm capable of. You cannot have my heart and soul. I will not allow you to have them. You cannot keep me here, and as soon as I find a way, I will leave.''

  He moved so swiftly she cried out softly, expecting to be swept into his arms and tossed upon the heap of pillows across the room.

  She didn't know what she wanted--except peace.

  But he did nothing other than caress her cheek and whisper softly against her ear: "I swear, Angela, you'll be the death of me before too much longer. I am damned if I touch you and damned if I don't. Go to bed. I'll join you later."

  She was suddenly tired, and felt very strongly just how vulnerable she had become. This wasn't America, and Sam Chamberlain didn't look after her any longer. She was unmarried and on her own in a strange country, with only Alexi's good graces to rely on. She didn't want to make him angry. She wanted to curl up next to him and sleep with his arms around her, feel the warmth of him against her, and know his strength was there to ward off whatever might threaten. She'd wanted him to make love to her, yet now that they were alone again, she prayed for the strength to say no.

  One time with him just wasn't enough, and yet one time had to last for an eternity.

  He turned down the lantern by the bedside and walked to the tent opening, his back to her, his fingers gripping the canvas. He gazed at the same moon and the same stars she did. A slight breeze ruffled the fabric he held.

  She curled up to sleep, turning her back to him as well.

  When she closed her eyes, thoughts of Alexi burned in her mind. All the anger and the misunderstandings surfaced, and, searching her head for a way to convince Alexi of the truth, she found no peace. It seemed to her she lay alone in the bed forever, the wind whispering through the tent flaps, and soft moonglow filtering through the openings.

  He didn't come back to bed.

  At last she fell asleep but her own ear-splitting scream woke her what seemed like minutes later. He was beside her then, the makeshift bed dipping with his weight. He held her in his arms, stroked her back and made soft, soothing noises.

  All she could remember of the dream was searing heat on her back, fire...

  And endless pain.

  The dream had been so vivid even closing her eyes did not make it vanish. Remembering it horrified her even more. She couldn't move. In her dream her wrists had been tied high on a pole, and with every second the fire searing her back raged higher. She cried out for help, but Alexi wasn't there to save her.

  "It's all right, angel," he murmured softly, and with a sigh lay down beside her and pulled her to him. He didn't speak to her or ask what was wrong, and she was so glad that he'd given up his stubborn vigil that she didn't venture to say anything, afraid the fragile peace between them would rip apart at the seams once more.

  She thought he slept, but he told her after a moment, "You need never fear as long as you're with me. I will see that no harm comes to you, Angela. You are mine."

  "But you're leaving me alone," she said.

  "Misha will be with you." The silence chilled her bone-deep. "Angela," he said, the weariness in his tone apparent, "I want your promise you won't try to leave, to escape him."

  She shook her head, backing away from him. "No."

  "Promise me."

  Still she refused. "I can't do that."

  He pulled her close. "I fear for your life. The desert is as treacherous as the mountains are dangerous. You don't know what's out there. Please, angel. When I return, we can talk. If you really want to leave, I will help you. Just give me this one chance."

  His soft pleas blended with the exotic desert sound and stole Angela's will. She wanted to talk with Devil, needed to make him understand. "All right then." She spoke with little hesitation, knowing she would give him one more chance to right the wrongs he'd done. "I promise."

  She heard his sigh, felt him relax against her. She closed her eyes, wondering about the future and what it would now bring. The wind whispered and the moon cast a glow inside the tent.