My Angel (38 page)

"Lock it," he said and was gone.

Then she heard the grappling irons, the grinding of wood against wood, the men yelling and shouting.

Through the window, she looked out across the wide expanse of sea that stretched away from the
Mystic.
Another ship close by unfurled its sails and seemed to hover, waiting in the stillness.

It did not fly the skull and crossbones, but the flag of its country of origin. There was nothing about the flag to spark
fear in her heart. Ships didn't fly a country's colors then attack another ship.

It was unheard-of. It was a declaration of war.

Those thoughts came unbidden to her mind, and raw fear spiraled through her--fear and denial. She pushed her face to the glass, trying to see as much as possible.

Angela's heart raced, thundering loud and clear in the sudden silence that seemed to encompass the ship. As quickly as the sounds had begun, they ended. The men on the
Mystic
must have surrendered. Probably the wisest course, she told herself.

Boots hammered across the ship above her and down the stairs toward the cabin. She clung to the sheet, held it against her nakedness, trembling. She should have dressed. She should have locked the door.

It was too late now. If they meant to harm her, she would fight. There was nothing else she could do.

How many of them were there? A whole shipful. Alexi wouldn't let them have her without a fight. That meant only one thing: he lay dead in a pool of blood on the deck of the
Mystic.

Strangely, she'd heard no sound of swords. Not one gunshot had filled the air. Only the cannon blasts had pierced the lazy day. Lazy, until they'd been boarded by pirates.

She trembled, desperately clinging to the sheet, her back against the wall. Alexi had wanted her, had offered to give her all she desired, and she'd refused him time and again.

Now what would happen to her?

Angela jerked when the door opened, her shoulders trembling with fright at the sight of the man standing boldly in the door. The pirate had come for her, and she knew she'd end up in some Turkish harem.

She heard laughter and shouts, and she wondered at that.

Holding on to her dignity by a fragile, single thread, she rose to her feet. Once again she had a sheet wrapped around her. Suddenly, while she stood trembling with fear, Alexi burst through the men, pushing all but one out of the doorway.

"I told Misha to have you bolt the door." He looked furious.

He had every right to be. She'd told him she would obey him if his commands were reasonable.

The door slammed shut. He glanced at Angela, then at the man standing boldly in the cabin.

"Don't be frightened, Angela," Alexi said, his voice now calm and soothing.

She could barely breathe, could barely speak, and he was asking her not to be afraid. 'What does he want? Tell me what he wants."

Instantly Alexi stood beside her, wrapping her in a dressing gown, hovering in front of her so the man could not see her. He lifted a hand, indicating the seat by the window.

"Alexi," she whispered again, "tell me what he wants."

The man laughed, his gaze focused on her. "I want to meet the woman who has stolen my son's heart," he replied.

The man who stood in front of her was bold and audacious. He was dark and mysterious, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Her heart pounded. "Your son?" The rumors were true. His father was a Turkish sultan.

He nodded.

"And he's about to find out that he shouldn't have barged in here," Alexi said, his anger obvious to Angela.

"Alexi?" she questioned. Her eyes met his.

Angela's gaze returned to the man who'd entered the cabin unbidden, arrogantly assuming he could do as he pleased.

"Father," Alexi implored, "you must leave. This is not well done of you. She is my woman."

His father wore a white shirt and formfitting black pants. He carried no weapons, posed no threat as he stood with his hands braced on his hips. His face was chiseled, strong. His eyes were cold and hard, and they penetrated like ice as he looked her over. His hair was the same shade as Alexi's, his shoulders not quite so broad nor his height quite so intimidating. His mustache and beard were slightly silvered. She should have known this man was Alexi's father.

Alexi was made in his image.

"You've seen too much already." Alexi growled low and deep. "You're my father, but that doesn't give you the right to--"

"Stare at your woman?" he asked, a chuckle following.

"You're more Eastern in your ways than even I imagined and prayed. You do not forsake your real people even while you embrace your new family. This is good." He spoke softly, but the sound carried through the room. Like Alexi, it was the voice of a man accustomed to being obeyed.

Chapter Thirteen

Moonglow shone softly against the backdrop of the warm Mediterranean night. With his father beside him, Alexi stood at the bow of the
Mystic,
Karim's ships cutting the sea protectively around them.

Alexi had expected something like this from his father, but Karim had gone too far when he barged into his cabin to confront Angela. Karim and his bodyguards had seen more of her than Alexi deemed appropriate.

"Why are you here, and why do you take such liberties?" Alexi's fingers bit into the sleek wood, his emotions tempered only by the knowledge that his father must have good reason for acting so brazenly and against a time-honored code.

"You're not glad to see me?" Karim asked, a strange smile slanting across his face.

"I'm honored you've gone to so much trouble, and yes, I'm glad to see you."

Karim stared out at the ocean before turning back to Alexi. "I've received a message from your grandmother." Karim let that statement hang in the air. "Actually, I've received quite a few in the years you've been away. But this is the first one that sparked my interest. I knew you would return home."

Karim stood near Alexi, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze once more focused ahead.

"I'm sure you have received many. I didn't tell her where I
 
was going or what I was about. She would have interfered in my life, and at the time I needed to be left alone."

Alexi turned, trying to relax--not succeeding by any means.

"So it was you who forwarded the letter," Alexi said.

"I knew the missive would bring you home." Karim chuckled and pointed toward the east, his eyes cast there reverently. "The old lady is a powerful force--one to be reckoned with--and stubborn to a fault. I don't believe Attila the Hun could have ignored her for long.'' Once again there was a long pause. "I admire her. She means well, though at times I am hard-pressed to agree with her. She has made a grave mistake this time, and wished for my intervention in the matter. I sent Ivan."

"Ivan?" One eyebrow rose in speculation. "Grandmother is not easy to ignore. All her life she has manipulated events so she would have her way. What is this mistake you speak of?'' Curiosity drew him. His grandmother was also not known to admit to mistakes easily.

"It would not be so in my country. She would understand her place."

"The
Ottoman Empire
is dying, and the ways of the Western world are already creeping into the country. What is it you heard from my grandmother?''

"Natasha writes that she's picked out a wife for you. Her name is Feodora. Do you know her?"

Alexi nodded. "There isn't a nobleman in all of the East who doesn't know of Feodora," he said, his tone filled with sarcasm. "I guessed she had picked a bride for me. I did not know who until just now." His instincts warned him his father had more to reveal--much more--and he'd do so in his own sweet time.

"Do you know anything about her?"

"Very little that isn't founded in rumor. Her noble blood would make her a suitable wife for me or anyone else. Yet if what I've heard of her is true, I'd never know who fathered the children that grew in her belly. She's had countless affairs, lifts her skirts to any man who glances her way." He hesitated. "I believe I would like to find out for myself what the lady is like. Although I'd trust Ivan's opinion."

For
different reasons, Feodora would be no more suitable as a wife than Angela. At least he cared for Angela.

And Angela would be true to him...

Alexi's heart skipped a beat, and he inhaled a ragged breath.
She would be true to me.