My Angel (14 page)

"As much as I'd like to play games with you, angel, this isn't the time or the place. I'm getting you out of here while there is still a chance. You're coming with me. All hell's about to break loose downstairs, and I don't want you caught in the middle. Emma will be safe; the Pinkertons, the sheriff and his deputies, they're all out there."

Her heart warmed. She liked the feel of his concern. They were in complete agreement, a quick exodus paramount.

Alexi flung back the curtain. The look of anticipation and then surprise on his face startled her. She gasped, clutching her moccasin to her chest.

"Why you little..."

"Tease?" Without thinking, she spoke the word that was foremost in her thoughts. She wanted to tease and flirt with him. Then, unsure of herself, she smiled at him. Even in this dreadful situation, she enjoyed the easy banter between them. With Devil nearby, she found it easy to forget everything but him and the way he made her feel.

"Devil," he murmured as his avid, strained features focused on her and his horrified gaze ran the length of her--down then up again.

With a slight lowering of her lashes, she countered softly, "Angel."

Standing in front of her, dressed from head to toe in black, he appeared shockingly mysterious, enigmatically hard and definitely the man they called Devil Blackmoor. He looked as if he were ready to tackle the portals of hell. His pants molded his powerful thighs and hips so every male part of him showed clearly, leaving her imagination racing. Broad shoulders strained the fabric of his shirt, which he'd left unbuttoned far enough to entice. She wanted to touch what she saw. She swallowed hard.

He stared avidly at her. "Just what are you wearing?"

She couldn't mistake the anger in his voice. Angela didn't know what to say.
Buckskins
came to mind, but her throat felt paralyzed.

"You're not going anywhere dressed like that."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her from the alcove so quickly she stumbled into him. Her breasts were suddenly thrust against his chest. When she felt the hard, unyielding muscles of his upper body, the sensations evoked memories best not remembered at the moment.

With his hands he explored her. His long fingers traveled the length of her spine and back to settle on her waist. She allowed the heady exploration, reveling in the magical feelings born of his caress.

"Son of a bitch!'' His voice exploded around her, ricocheting off the walls.

She flinched then smiled, a nervous reaction. She knew what he thought, because his roving gaze had stopped as did his hands just below her breasts. He stared at her hardening nipples, clear little imprints against the buckskins. In her haste she'd not had time to put on undergarments. Had she stopped to put on her underclothes, he would have found her naked.

Angela wanted to hide her anxiety behind bluster. With Devil Blackmoor that would never work. She meant to brazen this out and ignore his rising fury. She ran a fingertip along his
collarbone then looked down, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

She'd never really looked at his arousal before. Now she did. Even through the fabric of his pants she saw him hard and pulsing.

"Don't swear so, Devil. It might give the wrong impression." Her words were throaty, and they weren't at all what she wanted to say. With Alexi standing so close to her, how could she think?

"Damnation. I'll swear if I want to."

"Of course you will," she said, making eye contact once more, all the while tracing his collarbone with the tip of one trembling finger and wishing she had time for him. He had short black hair on his chest, and it was soft to the touch. She scraped her nails across his flesh and he almost smiled. She marveled at the control she held over him, suddenly felt empowered and bold.

He stopped her roving fingers with his own, his eyes focusing on her hand then back on her clothing.

"What do you think you are wearing?" he asked again, this time more commanding.

Angela had never heard that particular tone or so much force put behind words spoken to her. Even the second time around, his question seemed unnecessary. Any fool could tell what she wore.

"Well?" he asked again, impatience unraveling his smile and turning his expression cold and dangerous.

She, stepped back, distancing herself from him, hoping the separation would cool her burning nerves and bring calm, rational thought to her jangled mind. Nothing seemed to help. Even with the distance her breasts heaved. She smiled, hoping for time to think. She placed one hand on her hip and turned away.

"My clothes," she said, wondering at his sanity. "I'm wearing my clothes. You've seen buckskins before."

One brow quirked upward, questioning her answer. "True enough," he agreed. "But not on a lady. What else have you got in that bag of yours? I want you to put a dress on--now."

She shook her head no. Angela meant to begin as she would
finish. He would not dictate to her what she would wear or what she would do unless the situation was life-threatening and she agreed with him.

"I'm not changing my clothes. We don't have time. You said so yourself." She paused for breath, shrugging. Her sensitized nipples rubbed against the leather, and she almost groaned from the contact. "Besides, it's none of your business what I have in the bag." She picked up the discarded moccasin, and in one quick movement slipped the soft leather over her bare toes. Angela stepped from the alcove with a toss of her long braid.

She strode toward the back stairs, brushing past him as she went.

"God almighty."

Despite the noise coming from below, she heard his whispered words and flinched at the tone. He would have seen the knife when she walked by. Alexi had a lot to learn about her, one being that she never went anywhere without the knife Dakota had bought her when she had turned ten years old.

He faltered even as he tried to speak. A strangled, "Angel," was all he said.

With that one helpless look, he bolted into her heart like a streak of lightning. His fascination with her was purely sexual, she reminded herself, but she meant to change that fascination to love as soon as possible. Lottie had given her at least one hundred intriguing suggestions. She would take care of his every need.

"Are you coming?" she asked, putting as much sass and flirt into her voice as she could manage.

She wanted a strong man, one she could not bend to her will, but one who would listen to her.

"I'd be crazy not to." His voice was a low rumble deep in his chest.

He caught up to her halfway down the stairs and touching her arm, he turned her.

Angela stared up at Alexi with clear, unblinking eyes, ready, she knew, for whatever he wanted. Right now she wanted him to kiss her, nothing more. Later she wanted him to take her in
his arms and teach her about love and fierce, hot passion, the kind that would last forever.

Angela inhaled an uneven breath, her gaze never wavering from his. "What, Alexi? What do you want?"

"I want you, darling girl. I want all of you."

She watched Alexi close his eyes. Her own eyes were wide open, and guilt assailed her. The thought that she hadn't told her father what she was about to do was like acid eating at her soul. He would worry about her, but if she gave him any indication what she was doing, he'd move heaven and earth to stop her. She wouldn't allow anyone to stand in the way of what she wanted.

She knew she didn't want to live without Alexi.

"I know," Her breathy whisper surprised her. "I want you too."

"You're so damn sweet. One would think ... no," he said.

"Alexi?"

"I'll pleasure you until you cry out my name, until you sleep the peace of a woman well sated."

She wanted to know what he meant--and so much more. "Promise?" she asked. Nervously she moistened her lips. It seemed to Angela that whenever he was near, tension closed in around her, suffocating her.

After long seconds of staring, he lowered his mouth to hers, brushing lightly--almost tentatively--across her lips. But her tongue came out to meet his mouth, to challenge, to take control. She'd had enough of the gentle teasing and mild caresses he'd given her so far.

He sensed the change in her and battled her for dominance. Almost as if he had to make sure she knew who set down the rules and made the decisions, he wound his fingers in her hair, tilted her head back, and commanded and directed the kiss. His lips closing over her, his tongue delving deeply inside her mouth, he continued relentlessly until she moaned softly, melting into his arms. He'd mastered her more easily than she'd thought possible. She was liquid heat in his arms, an inferno about to explode.

He pulled back, grinning, caressing her cheeks with his
thumbs. "That was your first lesson, angel. A very important one, one that you must remember for all time. I am the man here, and I'm the one in command. You will follow my orders, and in turn, I will protect you with my life."

For a moment confusion swept through Angela, but then she flashed him a sassy smile.
And I will protect you with my life,
she added silently.

"Do you understand, darling?'' His voice was soft and deep and very throaty. He kissed her eyes closed then her lips again, this time a soft, feathery kiss, a promise of more--or perhaps the tender kiss was meant to seal a bargain, she wasn't sure.