Too many to count.
Fool.
Still, when he pulled her close, when he lifted her chin gently so that his mouth could cover hers, she let him. His tongue exploring, teasing her lips apart, warmed her soul, touched a part of her that had been dead for so long. His powerful, hard shoulders were beneath her fingertips, and she didn't want to let him go. Not now. Not ever.
She explored.
Need blossomed within her. She ran her hands up his thighs, resting them on the seat of his denims, then up his long back until they sifted through his hair.
A whimper of desire pulsed in the back of her throat. She opened to him, accepting his kisses and the yearning she felt inside. His hands were exploring her, resting for a moment on her hips and then moving along her sides until his thumbs touched the undersides of her breasts. Her blouse fell open, and she felt the fabric of his shirt against her tender, swollen nipples.
"Alexi." His name on her lips made him groan his desire, his hands roaming over her breasts. His tongue was deep inside her mouth, plundering.
All she could think was that it had been so long, so very long. She wanted his touch, yearned for his kisses, but she knew she had to have his love first.
That thought--along with his mouth descending to cover a nipple--was like a splash of frigid water on her senses. She gasped a soft "no" and pulled away. Her face heated with embarrassment, desire and anger.
How dared he come here and start what was supposed to be dead and gone? There could be nothing between them. He would only trample her fragile emotions into the dirt.
Frantically pulling her shut together, she bent down to retrieve the sleeping child. Once again he was faster, scooping little Alexi into his arms, a wistful look on his implacable features.
"I won't be your mistress," she told him. "I won't!" This time her words took on a new strength and determination.
"I thought you knew the offer was rescinded a long time ago," he said, his voice husky with need, his eyes reflecting a deep sorrow.
"Don't touch me again,'' she told him, her arms outstretched for the child he wouldn't hand over.
His look was filled with the pain of rejection, but his determination never ceased to amaze her. "I will have you, angel. Don't ever doubt it. You're mine. I thought you understood."
"Never."
The lines of his face deepened, and his eyes lost the warmth of the passion they'd just shared. "Never is a long time." His words were soft and deadly.
"You can't seduce me." She shot out the challenge before she had a chance to think of the consequences.
His smile was roguish. He had been walking toward the horses, but he stopped midstride, his chin tucked neatly into his shoulder as he looked back to her, his eyes all she could see. Everything about him was cool assessment and arrogant command.
She balked.
He could seduce her with that look, and he knew it. She melted with a word of love, with a touch. Only a few seconds ago she'd been sweet and hot and wanting him more than life itself.
She stiffened and moved to the horse.
"I think it's time we moved on," she said.
"Perhaps it is," he said, his words a sultry promise, taking on a meaning all their own. "It seems we have company."
~ * ~
"Hello, there." The voice echoed between the mountains.
"Ivan." Alexi strode forward, the babe still tucked neatly in one arm. Ivan stared at the child, then at the boy's mother, and a look of tender amusement twinkled in his eyes.
Sam rode from the protective cover of the stand of aspens.
"Papa."
Foreboding gripped Alexi. He didn't like the look on Sam's face. For that matter, he didn't like the knowing grin plastered on Ivan's smug countenance.
The two of them had put their heads together, and he didn't think he would like what they had come up with.
"What do you want?" One-handed, Alexi helped Angela into the saddle then mounted Jabbar. The babe chortled and cooed delightedly.
"To escort the two of you to a wedding."
Ivan's voice was soft and cajoling. Alexi had never heard his friend sound so insincere in his life.
"Whose?" Angela's voice trembled with what sounded to Alexi like indignation.
He knew her father was behind this, because even as she asked the question, Sam pointed the shotgun at Alexi's heart.
"Yours and Devil's," Sam said with an irritating calm that rocked Alexi to his soul. When he'd talked to Sam earlier, the man had promised to stay out of this and let him mend the broken fences between them.
Alexi could have strangled Angela's father without a thought. All the steps he'd taken--the care he meant to woo Angela with--had now gone up in smoke, because they were being forced to wed by her father.
"No." She bristled like a little wildcat caught between two grizzlies.
He didn't like her answer at all.
"Would you rather he shot me?" The moment the question left his lips, he was sure he'd regret the answer.
She took long enough to form a reply. And with eyes wide and clear she said, "Yes, Papa. Shoot him."
Sam looked stunned. Ivan appeared ready to throw himself in front of the shotgun, even though he'd been an integral part of all this chaos.
"Not until you have his name all nice and legal, Angela. Then I'd be happy to oblige you."
Chapter Twenty-two
Helpless would sum up all the feelings that churned inside Alexi when he stopped in front of the log cabin and saw White Flower standing beside the door, a shotgun in her hand and a cartful of suitcases and boxes next to her.
Then all sense of control left him when the preacher stepped out of the house, Bible in hand. He could feel Angela stiffen. All the arguments she'd fired at Sam on the way down from the meadow had bounced off Sam's thick skull.
In a few minutes Angela would be his wife.
It was what he'd wanted for over a year now.
She'd be a little hellcat in his arms until he could wrestle with her feelings and convince her he wasn't all bad. That thought sent myriad sensations storming through him like a Texas twister.
Too little, too late, kept popping up in his head. He was over a year too late in marrying her, and he hadn't even had a chance to propose. What woman wouldn't have a bee in her bonnet?
He needed to pull her aside and find out what she was thinking. But he wasn't sure she'd tell him.
She'd had lots of time to succumb to his charms, and it seemed she still wanted to make a point--that point being that he was a low-down, dirty polecat.
He couldn't argue with her there.
But he meant to spend a lifetime making it up to her, if she'd let him.
"Dearly beloved..."
That snapped him to attention. He'd only half concentrated on the unfolding events. He wasn't even sure when he'd dismounted. Angela stood beside him, a nosegay of wildflowers in her hand and tears staining her cheeks.
This wasn't supposed to be happening this way. This hadn't been the bargain he'd struck with Sam. He'd wanted a willing bride.
Words of protest began then lodged in his throat with one warning look from Sam.
Before he could breathe deeply they were married, White Flower hustling them off to the wagon.
A kiss for Angela on both damp cheeks from her mother.
A boost into the wagon from Sam before White Flower handed Angela the sleeping child.
Jabbar and Kangee were tied behind them. Sam gave the horse pulling the wagon a slap, and they started down the trail.
Heavy silence fell between Alexi and Angela, enshrouding them like a cloak of death.
Alexi cleared his throat to speak, then thought better of it and snapped the reins. A cold chill settled in his heart.
The right words wouldn't come to mind. Allah, for this situation there were no right words. The horse plodded on, minutes changing to hours.
What did a man say to an unwilling bride?
The trail wound a
bout the mountain. It would be hours before they reached the trading post. If he had the courage, he'd stop and make camp. He'd never felt so weak-kneed in his life.
Angela swayed, her head nodding.
Alexi knew an instant of panic. Then, the decision made, he called out to the horses, "Whoa."
The horses slowed and stopped. He jumped from the seat and helped a sleepy-eyed and exhausted Angela down from the wagon.
"We'll make camp here," he said, wondering how on earth he was going to sleep next to her and not make love to her--to his wife.
The brief contact he'd just had with her brought an instant hardening to his body, every muscle stiff with tension and a devastating need. Her breasts had pushed up against his chest, and his fingers had found purchase around her waist. The smell of jasmine filled the air around him, reminding him how long it had been.
Little Alexander let out a loud wail of discontent.
~ * ~
While Alexi started the fire and made dinner, Angela fed the baby. Through lowered lashes, she watched Alexi work his magic on everything he touched. She didn't want to give in to him. It shouldn't be so easy for him to waltz back into her life and take up where they'd left off. There should have been some kind of penance for his misdeeds.
Watching him stride down the hill toward her this afternoon had been her undoing. She'd wanted to run to him with arms open wide, yet she held back--held back because she wanted him on his knees and begging her forgiveness.
True, he believed his child should have his name. So did she. He desired her. Beyond that, she yearned for his love.
Perhaps in time.
There was so much that needed to be said. We have to talk.
She couldn't keep those words from her mind. Talking. How much talk could clear up all their problems? An eternity wouldn't be long enough.
He stood over her, a coffee cup in hand. She reached for it. Little Alexander now slept soundly in a shelter Alexi had made for them. It had been a busy day for the child, too. After all, she thought as she looked into the fire, a cacophony of thoughts clattering around in her head, it isn't every day your mommy marries your daddy.
Holding the cup with both hands, she let the heat emanating from the liquid warm her, sipping gingerly while she thought about the events of the day. Alexi settled down next to her, one leg stretched out, the other knee bent, his arm resting on it, his own cup of coffee sitting on a rock nearby.
"I didn't mean for this to happen."
She turned to him, stricken.
"I mean"--he ran his long, callused fingers through his hair--"I didn't want you to be forced to marry me. The minute I saw the baby, I--"
"I know," she told him, a forced smile on her face. "You had to give the child a name. I appreciate all that you've done." She watched her toes curl, feeling helpless and at a loss for words.
He took the cup from her hands, warming her cold fingers with his own. "If you'll let me, I want to do more. I would make a real life for you and our child. Cherish you both."
It seemed he waited for her to look at him. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze; the fear she felt was too powerful. His finger gently touched her chin.
"Angel," he said softly. "How can I make this right? Tell me."
If you have to ask ... "Just be here for him. Don't forget he's your son."
She heard him inhale, a softness to the sound that belied the harsh reality of their circumstances. The bridge separating them was too wide to cross this night. It might take years, even a lifetime. That dismal thought left her quaking.
"I want to make this right for you," he said. He lifted her chin, holding her still so their eyes would meet. His were warm and caring. She shuddered. "What can I do?" he asked again.
Hold me. Love me. Tears filled her eyes. It seemed all she'd done since he'd ridden back into her life was cry. Where had her determination and courage flown?
He pulled her into his arms, his strength comforting. Her head nestled against his chest, and she could hear the power of his heart, feel the steel that exemplified the man. She ran her fingers across his arms and shoulders, wondering if they would ever straighten this out.
To tell him the truth would mean unraveling her heart and soul for his inspection. She'd done that once before. She wasn't sure she could do it again.
For the sake of their child she had to try.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, pulling away from him slightly. The distance between them felt cold and dark. The need to be in the safe shelter of his arms filled her.
"A wife, a mother." He paused to smooth her hair back then to run his finger along the line of her jaw.
It was a tender gesture, a lover's caress. She grew bolder, daring now to blurt out the truth. "I love you," she said.
He looked startled by her words--at a loss. "Do you truly?'' he asked.
A sharp retort came to mind. Instead, she said, "Yes," into the palm of his hand. But the question was and always would be, Do you love me? She was too afraid of the answer to ask.
She kissed his palm and she heard his indrawn breath. Disappointment welled inside her. Living without the words said would be no different now than it had been over the last year. If he didn't love her, at least he'd married her and accepted the child. She would do all she could to make him happy.
"Say it again," he whispered, his teeth nibbling where his ringers had traced. His warm breath sent rivers of heat through her.
"What?" she asked, unsure of him and his motives; but then, realizing what he wanted, she meant to deny the words. She couldn't. The first confession opened a chasm that needed to be closed. "I love you," she said softly into his mouth, which was now ravaging hers and demanding she accompany her words with action.
"Show me." He rained kisses on her face. "Show me, angel, just how much you love me."
Her heart turned over. Angela's fingers speared into his black hair, holding his head hard while her other palm rubbed quickly, greedily up his arm and over his shoulder and chest. She exulted in the familiar feel of him. "I love you," she said again into his mouth.
Angela moved an inch away so she could look into his eyes, but Alexi leaned into her, the movement too poignant for her to ignore. She wanted so much to hear the same words from him. As if it would entice a response, she wanted to say the words over and over again until he reciprocated the feelings.
He didn't. He seized her face between his palms and claimed her lips with a deep, possessing kiss, one she thought she would surely feel forever. Then he broke from her and, without another glance, strode toward the shelter where the bedrolls were laid out and ready.
She found herself shaking her head and pushing back against the log behind her. This was too soon. Too much, too soon. Despite the hot kisses and her revelation of love, she wasn't ready to let him make love to her.
"Alexi..." Her voice wobbled.
He tossed her a wicked, lopsided smile, his eyes twinkling devilishly in the light of the fire. Long, lanky strides brought him to her.
My Angel Page 36
