The baby was his.
His son plucked a small white daisy. Holding the flower in his grubby little fist, he proudly showed the small treasure to his mama. She laughed. Alexi's heart flipped over.
He wanted to race down the hill and claim his son. He yearned to sweep mother and child into his arms and race off into the sunset, never looking back.
Except there was no setting sun.
And the mama would put up one hell of a fight.
No, that wasn't the way to right all the wrongs he'd committed against his lady. Alexi nudged the horse into the shelter of a thick stand of aspen. He wanted to watch his son a little while longer, needed to look upon the child and the mother, until his racing heart calmed. He loved them both. Allah, but it had taken him a long time to realize his love.
Angela kissed the child's finger. The boy chortled in glee, losing his balance and falling on his well-padded rump. Alexi chuckled deep in his throat, enjoying the play, and the experience of watching his child.
The boy was now on his back, his legs whirling madly in the air, his arms following suit. She tickled him and kissed him, blowing on his tummy.
Alexi's heart lodged in his throat.
From a distance he could hear her croon soft words to the child. She put a diaper on the boy, still murmuring words that made no sense.
Mesmerized by the sight in front of him, he watched her undo her shirt and bare one swollen white breast, crested with a taut nipple. Alexi swallowed hard. His legs tightened around the horse. Jabbar, sensing his master's agitation, shifted. She brought the babe to nurse, and all of Alexi's composure vanished.
He had plans.
This was too soon.
He would not go to her.
He would not.
~ * ~
The fine hairs on the back of Angela's neck prickled. Methodically and with grim purpose, Angela's hand closed over her pistol. Her fingers tightened uneasily. The babe gave a frustrated little wail then latched back onto the nipple she offered him. The clearing was still empty, but her sixth sense had kicked in. Someone was out there, watching.
Perhaps coming to this secluded place had not been such a good idea after all. Her father had not objected, though. The winter had been unusually long, and she'd grown so very restless shut up in the cabin. This sunny day had beckoned her, and she'd decided to ride into the high pasture.
A movement in the distance made her nerves dance with apprehension. A tall, broad-shouldered man strode from the line of trees in front of her. She brought the gun up. His long, lanky stride was all too familiar.
"Devil," she whispered. Her heart set up a frantic pounding. The urge to run swept through her, yet she couldn't move. Her fingers tightened around the child in her arms. Her breath came in short, ragged pants.
Slowly she let the safety off the gun and pulled back the trigger. "Don't come one step closer," she said and prayed he couldn't hear the fear in her voice--and perhaps the desire.
She pointed the gun directly at Alexi's heart.
He stopped midstride. The sun directly behind him shaded his features. He was nothing like she remembered. Yet, he was exactly as she remembered.
Hard. Cold. Ruthless. Had he come back to squeeze the last bit of pride from her soul? If she let him, he could do that to her. His gaze focused on the child.
He'd seen the baby.
God, no! "Hold it right there." Her shakiness left, replaced by a mother's fear and determination. Instantly she knew he would do anything necessary to take his child. He would not let go easily.
"I don't mean you any harm." His hands were raised high.
He'd called her bluff. "Don't think I won't." Her voice quavered and her determination faltered.
"Not for a minute, angel." He was walking toward her, his hands away from his gun.
He knew she wouldn't shoot. Slowly she relaxed, the gun barrel now pointing at the grass in front of her. Tears she hadn't shed for over a year began to fall from her eyes.
"I hate you." I love you.
"With good reason.'' He stood by her, his arms outstretched, waiting.
Defeated, she sobbed. Another unearthly wail filled the air as she recognized her greatest fear: out of the blue, Alexi had come for his child.
Not her. Never her.
Her heart shattered into a thousand unmendable pieces. Fumbling with the buttons--and despite a loud howl of protest--she fastened her shirt.
Determined to see this through, she rose to meet him. Her son's tiny mouth nestled against her neck, still pursed and still sucking.
She could see Alexi's face now, his eyes.
Anger radiated from him in searing waves. Still, she stood her ground. He would have to come all the way if he wanted to hold the son he'd sired. She would not meet him halfway. She'd already done that.
He would not take the child from her.
He would not.
Alexi plucked the child from her arms as if she were nothing, as if he owned the child. The babe looked at the man with curiosity in his eyes, his finger reaching out to touch Alexi's chin.
He gurgled delightedly, almost as if he knew Devil was his father.
The smile that slanted crookedly across Devil's face softened his harsh features. Then he looked at her. His coldness returned like the frigid storms that had swept the Rockies this past winter.
"You will not keep the boy from me," he said, his voice tempered, yet so very hard. "He will live in my home. You can decide what you want to do. Either come or stay."
He challenged her, provoked her.
"He's not your son," she returned.
"Liar."
There was no shred of tenderness in the expression or the single word he shot to her--no caring or concern for her. Fear left a cold emptiness inside her.
Alexi would do everything he said. She could not live with him, knowing he wanted only his son. There was no choice.
The child looked dwarfed in his arms, so very small and fragile. Her baby's eyes were the same color as Alexi's own, and his hair the same blue-black. The lie was apparent from the start, and she thought Alexi knew why she'd issued the false statement, why she had lied to him again.
He thought she meant to deny him his child.
But, Lord, it wasn't true. She did not want to keep Alexi from seeing and knowing his child. She was just so very afraid he'd take him from her.
And because of her lies, he meant to do that very thing.
She closed her eyes, resigned to the fate now waiting for her, for them. For a moment she rested her head in her hands, wishing she could change the course her life had taken.
She could not.
Silence engulfed them. Only the soft breezes wrapping around them made any noise at all. It seemed that with her declaration and his counter, the world had stopped turning.
Nothing mattered but her child.
And then he laughed.
"Little liar,'' he said again. "You don't expect me to believe this child is not mine?'' he asked, his tone incredulous. Stepping even closer to her, the child held protectively in his arms, he touched her cheek.
An answer eluded her. The ground she stood on whirled crazily beneath her feet. She swayed, suddenly overcome by the uproar within her. She should have had time to prepare for his arrival.
Unable to restrain herself, she lifted her arms for her child. He didn't move to give her what she wanted.
"Can we sit down and discuss this?" he asked. "He needs a mother and a father."
"You won't take him from me." She didn't know if that was a question or a command. It no longer mattered. She meant every word, and she would meet this challenge he forced on her.
"We need to talk," he told her.
She watched his strong fingers as they gently stroked the child's back, soothing him as he once had soothed her. Tremors ran the length of her spine.
There was nothing to talk about. She was at his mercy, and she understood he would have his way. Even her father would not deny th
at Alexi had a right to his own child. Sam had warned her time and again to write to Devil, to tell him the truth.
Fear had always stopped her.
"I won't hurt you," he said again. His voice just as tender and seducing as she remembered. "I want only to share what's mine and yours."
Nothing she could do would stop the horrid, wonderful sensations just the sight of him gave her.
Get down on your knees and beg my forgiveness. Please.
He settled his long form arrogantly on the tree stump she'd just been leaning against, their child nestled in his arms.
"Why did you run, knowing you were pregnant with my child?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
It was not an accusation. She heard the pain in his voice, the unspoken yearning.
Once again she had no answer. Cold sweat trickled between her breasts and down her back.
"You know the answer,'' she said, unable to look at him. What she'd done had been wrong. Refusing to let him know about the child had been a horrible betrayal. But what he'd wanted from her had been far worse.
How could she tell him the truth?
How could she tell him she loved him?
He would never believe her.
Alexi moved with a fluid grace. Even with a child in his arms, he managed to sleekly close the distance between them and sit cross-legged on the blanket next to her. The baby whimpered, nestling into Alexi's neck, looking for something Alexi didn't have.
"You interrupted his meal." Her eyes lowered, remembering the sight she'd greeted him with only a few moments ago...an eternity.
"Insatiable, are you?" Alexi said to the child, laughing.
Reluctantly he handed the child over to her. Beneath her lashes, she waited for him to turn away. He looked pointedly at her breasts, his eyes hungry.
Insatiable.
There had always been that between them. Desire. Lust.
Shifting her shoulders slightly and holding a small blanket across her breasts, she managed to undo the buttons of her shirt. The boy latched on eagerly.
Alexi laughed again, the smile on his face growing. "We think alike."
Her insides churned. Apprehension and fear were not conducive to nursing. Angela tried to relax.
"Here," he said, and pulled her between his legs so her back rested against his chest, his arms supporting her.
Her feeble protest went unnoticed.
Warmth from him radiated through the layers of clothing separating them. While the child nursed, he massaged her neck and her shoulders with clinical detachment.
"You look tired," he said.
"It goes with the territory," she countered.
The braid she'd plaited this morning unraveled slowly, his fingers shifting through its length. His hand brushed her gently, provocatively now.
"Jasmine." He breathed deeply. "You remembered."
"It was handy," she told him waspishly, then instantly regretted the words and the tone.
Against her back, she felt the deep, low rumbling of his chest.
"The babe's asleep."
Indeed, the blanket had slipped and her entire breast was bared to his view. Heat flared. Instantly she remedied the situation, covering herself, setting the child in a warm nest of blankets and disengaging herself from the intimate contact she could succumb to so easily that it terrified her.
At every turn he tested, challenged anew.
Casually, he leaned back on an elbow. He plucked a blade of grass and chewed on it, always watching her. His eyes were brooding, searching, studying. He delved deeper than she wanted him to see.
Chills spiraled through her.
She swallowed hard.
"You've buttoned your shirt wrong..."
Indeed, she had the whole thing askew. Fingers trembling, she fumbled with the tiny holes and little buttons until she made a disaster of her clothes.
Embarrassment should not have played havoc with her senses. Memories of another time and place lodged in her head. She continued to fumble awkwardly.
"Let me,'' he said, brushing her hands aside, grinning crookedly, heart-meltingly.
He could do that to her.
His knuckles warmed her flesh, his eyes roaming blatantly, possessively.
"No." Her protest was weak.
"Fine."
Once more he leaned back in a negligent, uncaring pose. Nothing seemed to shake the man or rattle his nerves. She finished the chore then covered the child with the blanket she'd draped over her shoulder.
"Does he have a name?"
"What?" Her mind snapped to attention.
"Does he have a name?''
Alexi's patience seemed to be abundant today. He waited for an answer with his head cocked to match his grin.
"Alexander," she whispered, wishing all the while she hadn't named him that.
"What?" His pose changed, no longer quite so arrogant.
For a moment she thought she saw a flash of warmth in his eyes.
It vanished.
"What?" he asked again.
Strength and power vibrated in the depth and tone of the single word. He demanded all.
It wasn't a question, and she knew it. It was a command, a confirmation that she'd lied to him about the child's parentage. He wanted nothing but her complete surrender.
He sounded so very smug in the knowledge she'd just placed in his lap.
"Alexander Samuel Chamberlain," she told him, her chin lifted slightly, her emphasis on the last name.
He flinched. She was determined not to let him know how vulnerable she was. How much she had loved him.
"Popov," he told her, his tone brooking no argument, his gaze shredding her nerves until she trembled.
But there was much to argue. He had never seen fit to offer his name to her. Now he made it sound as if the past were her fault.
Tears swam in her eyes. Once again she broke down in front of him, and she hated herself for her weakness. This time she didn't hold a gun on him, and this time she found herself in his arms, wrapped in the heat and the warmth of the man she'd always loved--but a man who would not return that love.
She had no quick replies to his probing questions. The tears she shed were useless tears and would solve nothing. Yet she couldn't seem to stop. Angrily she brushed them away, but more followed. Unstoppable rivers of pain and anguish pulsed from her, wetting his shirt.
His hands were soothing hands, his words calming words. There was nothing personal or intimate about his gestures. He touched her heart and her soul while she reminded herself he wanted nothing from her except the child that lay sleeping peacefully by her side. For so long she'd held her love for him deep inside.
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