My Angel (41 page)

She seemed truly pleased to be there.

"Ah, so this is the exotic beauty, Angela, whom I've heard
so much about," Ivan said as they reached the tent. "Now that
you've finally arrived, perhaps we should go inside and talk
about the trip north. We've food and wine, enough for an army
of men. I've arranged for every comfort and need to be satisfied.
You will want for nothing," he whispered.

"Quite right," Alexi heard himself saying firmly. "Ivan, as
an expert on the desert, please advise Angela she should
take every precaution as we cross."

Ivan ever so slightly arched a brow; in his life, he'd noted that strong women would never bow completely to their husbands or
masters, they would always have their say. A wise man
learned to humor his woman, pretend to listen to everything
she had to say--and then made sure the woman was safe, even
if it meant extreme measures had to be taken.
America
had changed Alexi. He certainly was not at ease with this woman;
it was a new revelation. But Ivan played along with Alexi.

"Alexi speaks true. The crossing is dangerous."

On their way inside the tent, Alexi was startled to hear his
name called then Ivan's. He turned to see one of Ivan's
men. The man strode through camp, his hands clenched at his
sides, his robes billowing behind him. Ivan clasped the man around the shoulders, greeting him.

"What are you doing here? You should be with the people, watching over them in my place,'' Ivan said, a frown deepening his brow.

"Would that I could." The man spoke softly, as if someone might overhear what he said. "I was the only man uninjured after the army of rebels swept down upon us, breaking all the treaties between us. The women and children who are still alive are crying out in hunger. The men are injured and dying. I have no idea which tribe it was. Indeed, I am not sure it wasn't mercenaries, they were so ruthless."

"Allah..." Ivan whispered.

"We captured one man, but he died before we could wring any information from him."

To Alexi's surprise and fury, Angela decided to answer for everyone. "We must go to your people and help them. We have food enough to feed an army. Isn't that what you just said, Ivan?" Angela looked pointedly at Ivan, her lips curved sweetly.

Alexi could have throttled her then and there, despite his tender feelings for her and the light in her soft blue eyes. She should learn not to speak out. Her advice would never be heeded. If she didn't watch what she said, she could put them both in a precarious position.

"Ivan, forgive her," Alexi said simply, stepping in front of Angela, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her toward him and to a position slightly behind him--a position of servitude. "She does not understand our customs. I will make sure there are no more problems."

Chapter Fourteen

Pain simmered deep inside Angela even while she acknowledged the truth of what Alexi had said. "Forgive?" Her whispered question went unnoticed. She was at a loss among these men and the strange customs.

"Go inside," Alexi said, parting the tent flap.

To find adventure had been her dream. Now all she wanted was to find a way home, to breathe the clean mountain air once more. She knew Alexi would take a wife and give another woman his name. She didn't want to be here when that happened. Yet even today, her thoughts when she had dressed had spiraled in a mad fashion. She already hated the unknown woman who would become his wife. Even if she had been of a mind to accept the position of mistress, being his lover would never be enough for her. She needed so much more.

Because she did want Alexi to love her.

She wanted their children to carry his name.

All that had transpired between them the last few months failed to matter now, and all that did matter was that she loved him. She loved him for his basic honesty, for his loyalty, for his stubborn determination, for his sense of right and wrong. And she loved the sight of him, the feel of his hands upon her, the way he looked at her with such smoldering intensity and possessiveness.

She loved the passion that darkened his eyes when he held her close.

Their lives were too different. They would never be able to reach an understanding, an amenable solution to their problems. He would never be able to put a lifetime of teachings and beliefs behind him, and she would never be able to live the lie he was asking of her.

Was trust too difficult?

Perhaps to Alexi it was.

The problem they faced now had nothing to do with them. She ached to do all she could to help his people and those of his friends. What she'd offered had not been so strange that she needed anyone's forgiveness.

Alexi sat by her later that night, commenting to Ivan on the strategies they would employ, and on the identity of the men behind the attacks on Ivan's people. He acted courteous throughout the evening, but subdued. His deep brown eyes looked almost black despite the light of the fire reflected in them, and Angela was afraid something was simmering in him that would eventually send her world catapulting apart.

At times she had the most disturbing premonitions of searing pain and blinding fear.

She meant to go with Alexi.

It was very late when the two of them were finally alone, watching the fire outside their tent die down. The embers glowed softly, the breeze from the desert blew warm and dry.

"Alexi?"

"I love this land," he said. The reverence she heard in his voice touched her heart.

Beside herself with emotion, she felt awkward and shy. "I don't want to leave here without you," she said, her voice a whisper. If he left her side, something bad would happen. With the wisdom born of her Sioux heritage, she sensed the future.

And she was afraid.

"We don't know what to expect," he said, still staring into the night. He extended his hand in a silent invitation for her to accept him. She did, and he led her inside the tent.

The long black robes she wore hid her body from view--had been purposely designed to do so. Inside the voluminous material, she felt strangely protected. Still, she was startled when she felt his hands upon the tiny fastenings at her neck. Insecurity gripped her. Even as she needed him to love her, she couldn't help but wonder how she could compare with the woman who would soon become his wife.

The robe unfastened, she held the black material to her breasts, whispered a thank-you, and stood in front of him wide-eyed and thoroughly distraught. He didn't seem to notice. He had already spread out numerous blankets and arranged the pillows then he lay down, his hands folded behind his head. She let the robe she'd worn over her dress fall to the floor. He paid her little heed as she sat down in the opposite corner, taking her hair down and brushing it out.

She touched her sapphire earrings. To Angela they signified bold adventure, daring feats and a bit of rebellion. When she wore them, she would always remember Devil Blackmoor.

Angela took them off and placed them out of sight and out of mind. She closed her eyes and for one long moment tried desperately to forget that what she wanted most was unobtainable.

"I don't understand what is expected of me," she said softly, determined that he must understand her position in matter concerning her behavior. "We had months on board the ship. You spent hours teaching me the language of your mother's people. You could have explained Turkish customs more thoroughly."

His gaze shot to her, and she froze uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't spoken. She had felt more at ease when he ignored her. "I won't let you put your life in danger. We don't know who attacked Ivan's village. I don't believe for a second they were neighbors. The treaties have been held and respected for too many years for any one of the neighboring tribes to put that at risk. There is something else afoot here, and I mean to discover the meaning of this outrage. Once, a very long time ago, Feodora's father attacked Ivan's village."

Fear spiraling deep inside her, Angela wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the shivers racking her body bone-deep. He wasn't listening to her. Instead he spoke of a treachery that must have occurred years past to Ivan's people.

Something terrible would truly happen to her if he left her
alone in this strange place--alone to fend for herself. "You know I can shoot and ride better than most men. If I traveled with you, my life would not be in danger. I might even be of help," she challenged him, hoping he would recant his decision. "And you would be there to protect me."

"Really?" he questioned, the pause before his next question significant. His gaze bore into her. "Who are you, Angela? What is the truth?"

She turned from him. "I can't tell you."

"You expect me to trust you, believe in you, yet you won't trust me with your name?"

She turned back, and touched his sleeve, imploring him with her eyes. Her lies had gone on too long. If she told him now who she was, he might feel honor-bound to marry her. She didn't want to trap him. She wanted his love.

"Take me with you." Sam was in the
Rocky Mountains
, believing she was married to Alexi. Not for a minute would he believe she was about to become Devil Blackmoor's mistress. In her naivete she didn't realize she'd just about told her father all in her final letter. She could have told Alexi more about herself, but she had been afraid the knowledge might lead to more truth than she wanted him to uncover. She wished heartily she could tell him she was Angela Chamberlain and he'd best treat her with respect and honor.