Redeeming Love (55 page)

Face covered with ash, her throat raw from breathing it, Angel rested.

She was hungry and tired. Every muscle in her body ached, but at least Virgil was feeling more hopeful, even though he had not yet found them a place to stay. The hotels in the area were already full with paying customers 384

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and unlikely to give space in a lobby to those who couldn’t. The thought of sleeping in the street with the cold bay mists was daunting, but she supposed things could be worse. Someone had given them a couple more blankets.

They worked to clear away the charred wood. Angel collected shards of glass from shattered windows in a bucket, dumping it in a pile to be carted away later. Virgil was pale with exhaustion. “I guess we’ll have to camp right here until I can get the money to rebuild the place. The priest has room at the church if you want to stay there. Some of the others are going.”

“No, thanks,” she said. She would sleep in the mud before she went to a church for help.

Virgil nodded toward some men standing in line outside a building across the street. “Father Patrick set up a soup kitchen over there. Go get yourself something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” she lied. She wasn’t going to ask a priest for anything.

But she desperately needed a drink of water. A few barrels had been put out for drinking. She wanted to wash her face, but the only other water available was in a trough. Sighing, she decided it was probably cleaner than she was. Bending over it, she cupped her hands and washed her face. The water felt refreshing.

“Hello, Angel. It’s been a long, long time.”

Her heart stopped. She had to be imagining that deep voice. She raised her head slowly, heart pounding, her face dripping wet.

Duke stood before her, his mouth curved in a deadly smile.

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Thirty

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,

for Thou art with me.

P S A L M

2 3 : 4

Duke’s mocking gaze swept Angel’s soiled gingham dress, his mouth curving into a sardonic smile. “I’ve seen you look better, my dear.”

She froze at the sight of him. When he came close and touched her, she felt faint.

“It would seem no matter how far you run, you can’t get away from me, can you?” He looked down over her. “You’ve grown into quite a beautiful woman beneath all that soot.” He looked around at the burned-out buildings. “Were you working in one of these miserable little hovels?”

When he looked at her again, Angel found her voice. “I was a cook for Harper’s Cafe.” Her stomach was quivering.

“A cook? You?” He laughed. “Oh, that’s rich, my dear. What was your specialty?” As he spoke, he looked over the men working in the burned-out buildings. “I worried about you. I was afraid you would end up with another weakling like Johnny.” His eyes came to rest on Virgil digging through the rubble. “And you ended up with a little rodent instead.”

She recognized that dark look and knew it boded no good for Virgil, who had shown her nothing but kindness. Her palms were sweating, but she had to take his attention off the little man who had helped her. “Surely you didn’t come all the way to California just to find me. You, with so many important things to do.”

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“Look around you, my dear. There’s a fortune to be made here.” His smile was taunting. “I came to take my share.”

Virgil saw them and came toward them. Her look didn’t warn him away.

Quite the contrary, he came all the more quickly. He looked Duke up and down and glanced at her in concern. “You all right, ma’am? This man bothering you?”

What did the poor fool think he could do about it? “I’m fine, Virgil.”

Duke gave him a cold smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, my dear?”

She did so. Virgil had clearly heard the name before and looked stunned.

“You
know
this man?”

“Angel and I are very old and dear friends.”

Virgil looked at her, and she felt the need to say something more, to try to explain. But there was little she could say. “We were acquainted in New York. A long time ago.”

“Not all that long ago,” Duke said, his tone possessive.

“Don’t you own that place across the square?” Virgil asked. “The big one?”

“Indeed,” Duke drawled, amused. “Have you frequented my tables?”

“I haven’t been able to afford it,” Virgil said dryly.

“Shall we go, Angel?” Duke said, his hand tightening beneath her elbow.

“Go?” Virgil looked at her. “Go where?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Duke said warningly.

Virgil drew himself up to his full five feet. “It is if she don’t want to go with you.”

Duke laughed.

Angel was surprised and touched that Virgil would willingly defend her, even against a man like Duke, who could plainly destroy him without much effort. “I—” She felt Duke’s fingers bite into her arm and was afraid what he would do to Virgil if she even hesitated to go with him. “I’m sorry, Virgil.”

The poor little man looked so confused and hurt. He looked at her, and she felt she had betrayed him, too, by not being truthful from the beginning.

Did she really think she could have a different life? What right had she?

“You’ll have to find yourself a new cook,” Duke said. “She’s coming back where she belongs.”

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“You sure, ma’am?”

Duke’s dark eyes burned with annoyance that this little cafe owner thought he could thwart him if he chose. “Perhaps I should deal with him the same way I dealt with Johnny,” he said, glancing down at Angel, eyes dark with impatience.

“Johnny who?” Virgil asked, looking unruffled and ready to make a challenge. For all his lack of size, he had no lack of courage. The only thing he really lacked was common sense.

“Don’t!” Angel pleaded. “Please, Duke. I’ll go with you.”

“You’ve become so polite, my dear.” Benevolent once more, he smiled at Virgil. “Do you own this piece of land?”

“I do,” Virgil said cautiously.

“Would you like to sell it?”

“Not on your life.”

Duke laughed. “No? Well, if you need cash to rebuild, come by and we’ll talk terms. If you have trouble finding another cook to replace Angel, I might even be able to help you there as well.” He looked amused.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, but Angel saw he wouldn’t take Duke up on anything. “Mrs. Hosea, you sure about this?”

“Mrs. Hosea?” Duke said quietly, one dark brow rising as he looked down at her. Her heart was in her throat.

“Yes, Virgil, I’m sure,” she said.

Duke led her away, laughing low as though at some great joke. Angel tried to think what to do, but the firm hand beneath her arm paralyzed her brain.
Michael, oh, Michael!
He had fought their way out of the saloon in Pair-a-Dice, but he wouldn’t be here to fight for her this time. She was alone, and Duke was holding her so tightly she knew he didn’t mean to let her get away again.

“So you married, my dear? Was it entertaining while it lasted? Or just pretense?” He ushered her into a big gaming house. Angel scarcely noticed her surroundings as he walked her between the tables. It was opulent, but then, Duke always did everything on a grand scale.

Men called greetings to him and openly stared at her in speculation. She walked with her head high, eyes straight ahead. They went up the stairs and 389

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down a richly paneled corridor. Panic rose in Angel as she remembered another corridor three thousand miles away and what had waited for her at the end of it. Duke opened a door and propelled her in ahead of him.

A beautiful brunette lay asleep in a rumpled brass bed. Duke walked over and gave her a hard slap. She came awake with a painful cry. “Get out.”

The young prostitute clambered off the bed, snatched up her robe, and fled.

Duke smiled at Angel. “This will be your room.”

She couldn’t just give in. “Do I have a choice?”

“Still defiant,” he drawled and came to her slowly. He gripped her face hard, staring down into her eyes. She tried to hide her fear by glaring back at him, but she couldn’t fool him. He obviously knew she was pretending, and smiled. “You’re home, my dear. Right back where you belong. You should be happy.” His hand slid down and closed lightly on her throat. “You look so in control, but your heart is pounding like a frightened rabbit’s.”

He lit a cheroot and looked at her through the smoke. “You’re so pale, my dear. Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” He kissed her forehead in fatherly affection, mocking her as he had always done when she dared to defy him. “Let’s talk later, shall we?” He patted her cheek as though she were a child and left the room.

Michael awakened in a cold sweat. Angel had called to him. He had seen her standing in the midst of a fire, crying out his name over and over again. He couldn’t get to her no matter how hard he tried, but he saw a dark figure walking through the flames toward her.

He ran shaking hands through his damp hair. Sweat was running down his bare chest, and he couldn’t stop shaking. “It was just a dream.”

The foreboding he felt was so heavy he was nauseated. He prayed. Then he rose from the bed and went outside. It would be dawn soon. Things would look better in the light of day. When dawn came, the sensation that something was wrong would not go away, and he prayed again, fervently. He was full of fear for his wife.

Where was she? How was she surviving? Was she hungry? Did she have shelter? How was she making her way alone?

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Why didn’t she come back to him?

Something ominous hung in the air all day. He could feel it like a blackness covering his soul, and he knew without a doubt it had to do with Amanda. He prayed unceasingly for her.

He knew he was helpless. There was nothing he could do if she was in trouble. He didn’t know where she was or what kind of help she needed, but letting go of her was so hard. He still loved her so much. He trusted God to protect and guide him. Why couldn’t he trust that the Lord would do the same for
her?

Because he knew she didn’t believe.

Angel tried the door, but it was locked. She went to the window and pushed the elegant lace curtains aside to look out. No way out there, either. Duke liked to safeguard his property.

She paced, palms sweating as she thought of what he might do to her.

She wasn’t fooled. He was seething with rage beneath his amiable demeanor.

Leaving her alone worked in his favor. He knew she would eat herself up with all the thoughts of what he could do. “Not this time,” she whispered to herself. “Not again.”

Looking around, she decided she could make the bed and tidy the room.

She could
do
something to keep her mind off the inevitable. Finishing those small chores, she sat at the window and watched the people milling about below. The fear rose again. Closing her eyes tightly, she wrestled with it.

“Michael, Michael, show me what to do.” She pictured him working in the fields. She could see him straightening, the hoe in his hand, the smile on his face. She could see him sitting before the fire, the Bible in his lap. “Trust in the Lord,” he said.
“Trust in the Lord.”

The door opened, and she forced herself to sit calmly where she was as Duke entered. He was followed by a burly man. She feigned indifference as the servant gathered the other girl’s things from the armoire and carried them from the room. Duke stood studying her passively. She looked up at him and smiled faintly.
You won’t make me crawl, you devil. You won’t turn my
mind inside out this time. I’ll think of Michael. I’ll just keep thinking of Michael.

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A Chinese servant came in to strip the bed and put on fresh linens.

Angel sat sedately in the high-back chair, her hands resting lightly on the arms, her heart beating violently. Duke had not moved or said anything, but she knew that look, and fear grew like a knot in her belly. What retribution was he planning?

“Bring the tub up,” he ordered, and the Chinese man bowed. “Make sure she has plenty of warm water.” The Celestial bowed again and backed out of the room. Duke’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face for a long moment.

“I’ll send someone to attend you.” He turned and left.

Surprised, she let out her breath. He had been disturbed by her manner.

She had never been able to fool him before. But then it had been almost three years since she had last seen him. Perhaps he had forgotten her ruse.

And perhaps that would only make matters worse.

A young girl came in to help her undress. She was no more than thir-teen. Angel knew she wasn’t Duke’s mistress, though she might very well have been at one time. She was pretty enough. But Angel knew that as long as a girl was Duke’s exclusively, her face was clean, she wore pastels, braids, and hair ribbons. This girl’s cheeks and lips were reddened, and her hair was spilling in a curly mass over thin shoulders. She had that look of having come through hell.