Johanna Lindsey - Angel

Angel didn’t say any more, just held her awkwardly. But that was all right. At least he wasn’t going off to shed blood — or get his shed. And after a while her hands dropped to rest on his sides, and she laid her wet cheek against his chest.

Until that moment she hadn’t realized his shirt wasn’t buttoned or tucked into his pants. She’d been too upset to really notice. But it was bare skin she was pressing her face against.

She should have pulled back immediately.

That would have been the proper thing to do. But that was the last thing she wanted to do when she felt so utterly content exactly as she was. And that was amazing, since she was usually so nervous around Angel.

But she couldn’t stay like that without an excuse, and hers was gone, her tears dried up, just a few sniffles remaining. So she remained still for only a few moments more before she sighed and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I haven’t cried since this thing started. I suppose I was overdue.”

Their eyes locked for long moments, his so dark and inscrutable, hers glistening bright silver. A tension suddenly filled the air that had Cassie holding her breath as his eyes moved slowly, so slowly, down to her parted lips and stayed there.

“You apologize too much,” he replied in his slow drawl, just before his mouth closed over hers.

It was completely unexpected. It was also nothing like the kiss she had instigated yesterday. Then she had been in a panic and fearful of being rejected. Now she was relaxed and open to a wealth of discovery.

He began tentatively, as if he were the one anticipating rejection this time. She had no thought of that, was too busy savoring the niceness of it. But with not even a whimpered protest out of her, he quickly deepened the kiss, parting her lips, sliding his tongue inside for a tantalizing exploration. New feelings arose, almost frightening in their strangeness and intensity; deep, swirling, hot sensations. And it wasn’t just the kiss anymore. It was also the tightening of his arms that drew her closer, flush with him, her nightgown too thin to resist the details of his body.

Languor spread, a contradiction to the pounding of her heart. She felt weak all over, unable to end the kiss even if she wanted to. She didn’t. He didn’t. And that was the most amazing discovery of all.

She had noticed him staring at her lips during dinner, but she hadn’t thought anything of it She certainly hadn’t thought he might desire her. She just wasn’t the desirable sort. But Angel was kissing her as if there was nothing else he’d rather be doing, and Cassie wasn’t merely flattered that he’d want to, she was liking it too much.

When his mouth turned in a new direction, she was surprised that he wasn’t finished but was, in fact, tasting her skin in other areas. His tongue moved slowly up her neck to flick at her earlobe.

“Honey all over,” he breathed in her ear. “That’s what you taste like.”

Shivers spread in all directions. Cassie was almost trembling now, and getting weaker by the second. And then he leaned back to look at her as his hand slipped between the ripped edges of her nightgown to move slowly, carefully, over her bare, sensitized skin.

It was the most sinfully erotic experience of her life, his hand on her breast, his eyes holding hers with smoldering intensity. It was too much all at once, the feelings he aroused far beyond her experience. Cassie became frightened and stepped back, out of his arms, away from his thrilling touch.

“You — you shouldn’t.”

She didn’t recognize her own voice, nor could she get out more than that. But he just stared at her, and for so long, she thought she’d faint, the tension was so unbearable.

Finally he let out a sigh and said, “I know. Guess it’s my turn for apologies. It won’t happen again.”

She watched him leave, frustrated by the urge to call him back and by a returned sense of what was proper behavior. Kissing Angel certainly wasn’t, nor was liking it so much. So why was there so much regret at the thought that it would never happen again?

Angel wasn’t surprised that they’d set a watch on those high walls that surrounded the Catlin ranch. Someone had to have spotted him a far ways off, because Buck Catlin and two cowboys rode out to meet him before he even got close to the place. And they weren’t taking any chances. The two hired hands had their rifles drawn, their fingers on the triggers.

He wondered if there were more rifles lining those walls. He didn’t bother to look, since being lean of frame had its definite advantages. He was a somewhat smaller target, and this allowed him to move with a swiftness that could get him out of the path of long-distance bullets. Of course, the odds were about half that he’d be moving into the path of a badly aimed bullet that would have missed him if he’d stood still, but he judged folks by his own standards, which were high, so he attributed most of them with at least a halfway decent chance of hitting their target.

He pulled up and waited for the three riders to reach him. He supposed he could take them if he had to. He was simply that fast, and he never missed at showdown range. He might take a bullet in return since two of them were ready for him, but what the hell. His mood this morning was dangerous in that it included a heavy dose of self-loathing as well as the feeling that his stupidity last night deserved some sort of retribution. He should have taken precautions so Slater couldn’t have broken into the house so easily. He should have followed him immediately after he had.

He should never have touched Cassandra Stuart.

Therein lay his greatest misery and confusion. That woman. That irritating, meddling, rarely quiet woman — and her man-eating pet. What was there to like about her? She wasn’t even pretty — actually, last night she had been damn pretty, but last night he and that wine she’d served him obviously hadn’t mixed well together. Why else would he have given in to that incredible craving to taste her again?

The cowboys drew up abreast of him, Buck slightly in the lead. The rancher took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh, a nervous gesture, Angel supposed. The young man did look slightly harassed.

But arrogance was well and truly ingrained in Buck Catlin, so his tone was still damn close to offensive as he said, “Thought my ma told you what would happen if you showed up here again.”

Angel didn’t answer right away. It was times like this he wished he smoked. Rolling a cigarette right now would be a good way to ignore the young rancher and find out if he was willing to back up that threat, or if it was just bravado.

“As I recall, I told her it wouldn’t matter— if I had a good reason to return.”

Buck chuckled. “Mister, you gotta be either the craziest or the bravest man I ever met. Ain’t you realized yet that one word from me and you’re dead?”

“Not dead, Catlin. Wounded, maybe. But I’ll give you three guesses who will be dead, and you’d be right on any guess you make.”

“You can’t be that good.”

“You don’t want to find out.”

Buck glanced to each side at his two men to make sure they were still prepared for any move. Seeing that they were didn’t reassure him as much as he’d hoped.

“Look, Angel, you got no call to come back. We get rid of our own bad apples around here.”

“I’m here for Slater.”

“And I just told you, you’re too late,” Buck said. “When I questioned the men, Rafferty’s friend, Sam, confessed that Rafferty had planned to stampede the cattle. And he wasn’t around yesterday, which verified Sam’s tale as far as I’m concerned. I don’t know what time Rafferty crawled into his bunk last night, but I hauled his ass out of it this morning and fired him. He lit out before sun-up.”

“Where to?”

“He didn’t say, I didn’t ask.”

“Then I’ll talk to his friend, Sam.”

“He’d be out on the south range today. You’re welcome to go find him — but it’s a big range, about two thousand acres. A man can easily get lost on Catlin land.”

The arrogance was back. Angel didn’t feel like putting up with it. “Then you find him and send him to me. It’s not just the stampeding now. Slater showed up at Miss Cassie’s last night, broke into her house, and scared her something bad. I want him.”

There was so much menace in that statement, all three men were glad they had other names. But Angel didn’t wait for a reply. He yanked his horse around and rode back toward the Stuart ranch.

Buck released a silent sigh and turned to his left. “Yancy, maybe you ought to ride south and see if you can locate Sam. I don’t want that man to have another excuse to pay us a visit. I wouldn’t even wish him on a MacKauley.” But then he pictured his sister’s red eyes and added, “On second thought, maybe just on Clayton MacKauley.”

Cassie found one excuse after another not to leave the house that day. She instigated a spring cleaning in December that had Maria clucking her tongue and mumbling under her breath. She took stock of their supplies. She wrote another long letter to her mother to tell her about Angel, then tore it up. Her mother did not need to know that a notorious hired gun was living within shouting distance of her daughter. Nothing would get her down here quicker. And although her mother’s stern, no-nonsense approach to problems was probably just what was needed, Cassie was determined to get through this mess on her own.

Added to the mess, however, was the new predicament she’d allowed to develop last night — her own behavior. Her own wanton behavior. In the bright light of day, she was mortified that she had simply stood there and let Angel take such liberties with her. So she had been flattered that he might want her, extremely flattered, actually, since he’d candidly mentioned that he and ranching didn’t suit. So for once the Lazy S had nothing to do with a man’s being attracted to her.