My Angel (21 page)

Angela disrobed quickly then sank into the hot, fragrant water, blessing Alexi and his thoughtfulness. On a table nearby someone had set a decanter of wine and a crystal goblet. She poured herself a glass and sipped hesitantly, the heady warmth of the wine filling her and relaxing her.

She finished the glass then poured another.

Luxuriating in the feel of the water and the cleanliness she had not enjoyed for weeks, she stayed in the bath until her fingers crinkled and her skin felt waterlogged. The water turned chilly, but instead of adding more, she climbed out. .

Behind the dressing screen Alexi had left a filmy peach nightdress and a wrapper. After dressing in the sheer confection, she blushed when she looked at herself in a mirror. Her damp hair hung loose around her shoulders. Where she'd not completely dried herself, the material clung to her breasts and nipples, her body clearly delineated for Alexi to see.

Brazen
came to mind, and on the wings of that thought came another. She didn't doubt for one moment he might have planned this, her seduction. But he didn't know the truth about her.

He should know. She wanted him to know.

Alexi did want her in his bed, and to some extent in his life. But would he still have those same feelings for her after they made love and he discovered for himself just how inexperienced she was? Would he feel the same when he understood that she had not told him the truth?

Sitting in front of the vanity, lost in thought, she combed her damp hair and wrapped the length into a coil around her head. She pinched her cheeks to make them glow.

She looked carefully at the image she presented. Alexi liked her hair down. She quickly pulled the pins free and let it tumble in wanton curls around her shoulders.

"Angela?"

The door creaked open, and Alexi stood there bold and absolutely gorgeous. His black hair was disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled from his pants. His chest was powerful, his hands large and tender. "I believe it's my turn to bathe. Go on; you can dry your hair in front of the fire. I'll be out in a few minutes."

She didn't know what to say. Her heart lodged in her throat and her pulse danced a jig. "Did I take too long?"

"Yes," he said, his gaze upon her, his eyes roaming the length of her. "Far too long." He smiled, his eyes shining with masculine approval and something else--desire.

On trembling legs she rose and walked toward the door. He didn't move, just kept watching her.

"Alexi?" she asked. She touched his shoulder, her fingers trembling.

"A forfeit before you pass," he said, his voice mysteriously gruff. One of his fingers lifted her face, his mouth moving closer to her lips. She watched, mesmerized by his eyes, frozen with anticipation.

"What is it you want?" she asked.

"A kiss to tide me over until you offer me more, until you show me all you have to give. Until I can see your eyes when I fill you." His lips met hers, his tongue tracing the seam, demanding entrance. She responded, her tongue meeting his, playing and enticing him to give more. He did. He pulled her into his arms, his fingers sweeping through her hair; he deepened the kiss then suddenly there was space between them. He stared into her eyes touching her cheek with the back of his hand, a tender smile on his face.

"Allah, give me strength."

"I'll wait in the other room," she said, watching him, wondering why he needed strength.

His muscles tautly rigid, he set her aside, a dark, foreboding shadow in his expression. "Temptress," he whispered. "Sweet temptress." He stepped back and let her pass. She turned then, watching him shut the door behind her, and wishing she had the nerve to go to him while he bathed.

She did not. She was not the wanton angel he thought she was.

She inhaled deeply, despair in her heart, fear burrowing into the deepest part of her. "What will happen when you find out I'm a virgin? Will you set me aside?" she asked softly. "Will you call me a liar and abandon me here in
New York
, where I know no one? You wanted someone experienced, a lover and a wife who could give you hours of pleasure. I cannot do what you expect. I can only follow your lead."

~ * ~

In the bathing room, Alexi hummed a bawdy tune he'd learned in his mother country. Allah, but his angel was a beauty. She was sensitive and caring, and if he had his way, he'd never let her out of his bed. His mind spun with all the delightful interludes they would have soon.

Too bad she wasn't a virgin, he thought. The idea of her as his wife felt good, but then he thought again. As a mistress she would be at his beck and call. He would find a beautiful home for her near his own estate, and he'd make sure she had everything she wanted --except a horse and carriage, he amended. He would never give her the means to leave him. Angela was his --his alone --and she would be his forever. The thought of losing her left a hollow pit in his heart, one he knew could never be filled.

He ducked under the water, coming up sputtering and still singing. Soap ran into his eyes but he didn't care: He finished washing, dried himself off and dressed himself in black pants and a silk smoking jacket.

When he stepped into the room, the table was set with silver and delicate bone china. Two slim candles flickered and the lights had been dimmed. It was romantic, just the look he'd sought. And outside the balcony doors a full moon stood clearly in the sky. It would be a sultry night of love and romance, a night of new beginnings.

Pleased now that he'd waited for comfortable surroundings, he watched his angel for several peaceful minutes.

Angela sat by the fire, her long hair catching the light from the flickering fire, shadows dancing across the lush curves of
her body. Allah, but she was beautiful, a divine treat sent from heaven meant just for him.

"Angela," he said his voice a throaty whisper in the dimly lit room. She turned, her smile catching him solidly in the gut and throwing him off balance. "A bath--now food. Then you can fill a starving man's heart."

She held out her hand to him, her fingers trembling. He didn't understand her fear. He wanted to change that fear to desire. A woman practiced in the art of loving should not be afraid.

"Devil..." she said.

"Angel..." he answered her. "Why so afraid?" Suddenly the only reason he could come up with for her fear surfaced. "Have you been misused? I'll kill the bastard."

Her cold, shaking fingers rested in his. When she looked at him, her eyes were wide and filled with moisture. A lone tear slipped from a vividly blue eye and ran down her cheek. He brushed it away.

"No," she said. "No, I haven't."

He breathed a sigh of relief, vacillating now in his emotions. "If not abuse, then why the fear? Have I done something? Anything to put the fear of God in you?''

"No." Her smile and voice were hesitant.

He meant to reassure and seduce. Slowly he brought her hands to his lips. Before kissing her, he turned her hand over and touched her palm lightly with his lips, his fingers tracing circles on the underside of her wrist. He led her to the table and made sure she was seated before going to his own chair.

He poured her more wine and watched her eyes sparkle with long-pent-up desire. Good, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She toyed with the food on her plate, and he knew eating first had been a foolish plan.

"Relax," he said, the word soft and meant to soothe. "It's not like this is your first time," he said, and knew immediately he'd wounded her pride.

Alexi watched her slowly stiffen, her back, her arms, even her fingers around the stem of her glass, and he watched her smile fade into a staggering sadness.
Why?

She played with the napkin on her lap, her lashes lowered. He decided the gesture was part of the game she'd played from the very beginning. Tonight he could tolerate games, but after that he wanted nothing but honesty between them.

"Alexi." She paused, her small pink tongue moistening her lips.

Little tease, he thought, but he liked her flirtatious manner and the audacious things she sometimes did. She needed adventure and excitement in her life. He meant to give that to her and more.

"What?" He leaned toward her, wanting to smell the jasmine--and the lady, wanting to learn everything about this woman he claimed as his own.

"The truth is always the best course?" she asked, her fingertips digging into the crystal.

His smile lifted at one corner. "Most of the time," he said. "You want to tell me something you've been hiding these many weeks?"

"Yes." Her voice was pencil thin, stretched to its limit.

Alarm rang in his ears. The worst scenarios he could imagine flashed through his mind at an alarming speed. He knew she'd changed her mind, and she meant to tell him she wouldn't go with him. Traveling across the ocean to lands unknown had been too much to expect. She might give him this night, but she would not give him the rest of her life. He searched frantically for the words that would convince her otherwise, but came up empty. Like dust in the wind, his dreams vanished.

She rose then and moved slowly toward the fire.

He watched her back and the provocative sway of her hips, his nerves suddenly drawn taut.