Johanna Lindsey - Angel

What she got back was heat, spreading rapidly, and so many other sensations and yearnings she didn’t understand. Fear was there, too, because she had no control over what was happening, nor over what she was feeling. Then he groaned, and she was being lifted, her feet dangling, her breasts crushed against his chest, and the kiss took on a savage intensity that she wasn’t experienced enough to meet.

Her fear got the upper hand and she pushed at Angel. He let her go immediately. She slumped back against the door, breathing hard. He stared at her for the longest time, and she knew he was debating, fighting something powerful, primitive even, and she held her breath, waiting, not even sure she wanted him to win the fight.

Finally he said, “I’m not apologizing this time. You come in here again, I’m going to think you want me to finish this, and I’ll damn well oblige you.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. There was a moment of struggling to open the door with trembling fingers, but then she was gone.

Angel stood there for a moment more, staring at the closed door, before he released the urge and slammed his fist against it, then swore a blue streak as the already swollen areas of his hand began to throb. But that wasn’t all that was throbbing.

Why did he keep letting her arouse him like that? Letting her? Hell, there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it, and he finally admitted it. He’d like to teach Miss Cassandra Stuart how to be not so proper. If he stuck around here much longer, he just might.

She worried about it for a week, but Cassie finally came to the conclusion that Angel had kissed her again because Angel had been angry with her. He’d been frustrated over his inability to use his gun hand. And he probably blamed her for the fight he’d gotten into with Morgan.

It really made sense, and it went hand in hand with that threat he’d made the day she’d stomped on his foot. She hadn’t taken him seriously then, but he’d said she owed him for it, and he’d implied he would collect by kissing her. Being angry with her again had probably reminded him of that other time, and he’d decided to go ahead and get even that way. After all, how else could he retaliate against her? He wouldn’t call her out. He wouldn’t even leave, because he wasn’t here for her, but for Lewis Pickens.

It made sense. What didn’t make sense was that he could want her. Men just didn’t— want her, that is. Even those two who had semi-courted her at home had never even bothered to act like they wanted her. It was the ranch house that had interested them, and the number of cattle on the range. Morgan had been different, but she’d found out quick enough that his feelings had been a sham, too, that he’d just been after her wealth like the others.

But with Angel, well, they’d been at odds from the beginning. There was no getting around that. And he had no interest in ranching, so there wasn’t even that to tempt him. And, giving it more thought, she had to discount the night Slater had broken in. Then she’d been in a shameful state of disarray. She’d also been pressing herself against Angel. He’d probably assumed she was asking for it, and he’d been kind enough to oblige. Hadn’t she called her own behavior that night wanton? She had also discounted his silliness the night he had got drunk. The man simply hadn’t been right in the head that time.

To support her conclusion, ever since that last kiss had happened, Angel hadn’t said a word about it, had been acting like it had never happened. He’d been his curt, surly self whenever she came upon him, which wasn’t often, since she’d gone out of her way to avoid him, even changing the hours when she ate so she wouldn’t pass him in the hall as he headed for the kitchen and she for the dining room.

The trouble was, Cassie caught herself more than once wishing she were wrong. Pure foolishness, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She couldn’t stop thinking about that last kiss, either, and regretting that it had frightened her there at the end. If she hadn’t pushed him away…

A confused jumble of mixed feelings was pulling at her. What she needed was someone she could talk to, someone who could help her sort through the mess. At home she would have gone to see Jessie Summers. Here her only close friend had been Jenny, but even if she could get to speak to Jenny somehow, Jenny was too young to offer mature advice. Hell, Jenny needed more help than Cassie did.

It would have been nice if that weren’t so, because to Cassie’s surprise, Jenny Catlin showed up that afternoon. To her further surprise, her young friend looked like a disaster blowing in, her blond hair a tangled mess, as if she’d raced to get there, her clothes rumpled, as if she hadn’t changed them in a week. And Buck hadn’t been exaggerating. Jenny’s blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

Cassie ushered her into the front parlor and tried to get her to sit down, but that didn’t work. Jenny bounded back up after a few seconds and started pacing around the room like a cornered animal.

Frankly, Cassie didn’t know what to say to the girl after all the trouble she’d caused. “I’m sorry” seemed so trite. She tried it anyway. Jenny just waved a dismissive hand as she stopped by the window to glance nervously out.

Cassie guessed, “Your mama doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”

Jenny shook her head as she started another round of the room. “I waited until she and Buck went to town today.”

“Is she giving you a hard time?”

“You mean aside from the fact that she looks at me like I’ve stabbed her in the back?”

Cassie winced, reminding her, “You knew that part wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I know.”

“Then what is it?”

Jenny put her hand on her stomach and then burst into tears. Cassie wasn’t very good at that kind of addition or at charades.

“Tell me, Jenny.”

Jenny hugged her stomach now and wailed, “I just did! I’m havin‘ his baby!”

Cassie’s mouth dropped open. It took her a few moments before she could manage to say, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure more’n a month now. What am I gonna do? I can’t tell my ma. It’s bad enough I married a MacKauley behind her back, but this… she’ll probably kick me out.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“She would!”

“No, she wouldn’t — but if she does, you can come live with me.”

That didn’t dry up Jenny’s tears. Actually, her crying got louder. “I don’t want to live with you. I want to live with Clay, but he won’t have me!”

Cassie sighed inwardly. At least she hadn’t been wrong about Jenny’s feelings, and according to Morgan, she’d probably been right about Clayton’s, too. That was sum consolation when it didn’t matter to the parents how their children felt, but it still relieved Cassie of some of her guilt — though that didn’t solve a single thing. The girl might truly care about her husband, but the situation was hopeless when her husband was too immature to stand up to his father.

Cassie sighed again, aloud this time. “Jenny, how did everything go wrong? You and Clayton were so happy and excited when you left for Austin.”

Jenny finally slumped down in a chair to admit, “We somehow got to talking about who loved each other first. He said he wouldn’t even have noticed me if you hadn’t told him I was in love with him. That made me mad, so I told him the truth, that I hadn’t even thought of him in that way until you told me that he loved me. He blew up then. Said he’d been tricked. I think he was just already scared about what his pa was gonna say when we got home.”

Cassie wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly the reason. She wondered if she ought to tell Jenny that Clayton was probably regretting abandoning her. It certainly couldn’t make things worse.

“If it’s any consolation, I think Clayton is as unhappy right now as you are.”

Jenny sat up instantly, her eyes wide and hopeful. “How do you know?”

“I had an unpleasant run-in with Morgan a couple of weeks ago. He said his brother hasn’t been working, that he ‘hasn’t been right in the head since he came back from Austin.’ Morgan also said that Clayton was talking about ‘rights’ and that he might just go over and collect you, but that R. J. whipped the notion out of him.”

Jenny shot to her feet again, but in a burst of anger this time. “I really hate that old man!”

Cassie couldn’t argue with that, but she pointed out, “Your mama’s just as bad, but you don’t hate her.”

“Who says I don’t?”

“Come on, Jenny, hate’s what started this thing. Love was supposed to end it.”

Jenny stopped to stare at her. “If that’s what you thought, you were dreaming. But I don’t blame you for playing matchmaker. Before we fought on the wedding night, it was wonderful. I don’t regret that I’m having his baby, either. I just don’t know what to do about it.” Tears started gathering again. “I don’t want to be a divorced mother.”

“Then don’t be. Your mama can’t sign those divorce papers for you, Jenny. So don’t you sign them.”

“She’ll make me.”

“Maybe not. Or haven’t you considered that the baby might change everyone’s thinking on the matter? It’ll be your mama’s first grandchild, after all. R. J.‘s, too.”

Jenny sighed. “You still don’t get it, Cassie. Their hate runs too deep. The only way those two will bury the hatchet is in each other’s breast.”

Cassie’s optimism couldn’t hold up to that. “I haven’t been much help, have I?”

“I know you can’t do anything else for me, Cassie. And I’ve got to get back before I’m missed and Buck sends every hand out looking for me. I just needed to talk to someone. Thanks for that.”