My Angel (33 page)

Beside her, he cleared his throat. He touched her gently on the shoulder and she turned to him, her eyes lifted to meet his own. His diamond earring sparkled in the sunlight. "Misha says you're not telling me something I should know. Is that true?" he asked.

They stopped at the bow of the ship. At his words her fingers gripped the railing, biting into the smooth wood. She leaned forward, letting the wind ruffle through her hair and her clothing. More than anything she wanted to tell him what he wanted to know.

Two dolphins played tag in the wake of the ship. She smiled, pointing to themthen laughing at their antics.

"Angela." His hand rested on her shoulder, turning her gently. "Don't run from me."

Once more she wanted to hide, needed to run as far away as possible. She closed her eyes to the bleakness she felt, tried
to push it all to the back of her mind and enjoy the day. She found she couldn't.

Fear stopped her. Fear for Alexi's life kept her from telling him her name.

"I'd like to go back downstairs."

Alexi shook his head and eyed her critically. "Hiding again? I never thought of you as a coward. If you don't tell me what I need to know, Misha will."

Misha will.
Those two words hung on the air.

When she looked at him, his eyes warmed with tenderness. Perhaps she had nothing to fear.

Misha would tell all. But what could Misha know?

Her already frayed nerves unraveled. "I don't understand what you're talking about." Confusion gripped her. "There is nothing that can be said that will solve what's wrong between us."

"Who are you?" he questioned.

She shook her head, denying him what he asked for. Panic, raw and dangerous, danced through her. She could never tell him she was Sam Chamberlain's daughter. The shame would swallow her whole.

His voice turned hard, unforgiving. "Just Angela. That's what you told me in the bordello. Just Angela, as if your name had no meaning or value. Who are you, Angela? What do you hide from me?"

The words left unsaid between them burned like acid in her soul. "When we were at the bordello, I couldn't tell you what you wanted to know. I'd given my word. It was a vow I had to keep."

With the back of his hand, he caressed her cheek, lifted her chin, a promise in his eyes.

"And now?" His voice turned smooth and as warm as the best
Kentucky
whiskey.

"Knowing my name will serve no purpose save to humiliate me. I don't understand why Misha is so persistent."

"He thinks I should keep one eye trained behind me. Misha fears for my life."

"Only if my father followed me, and I told him not to."

Her heart jumped to her throat, and she knew her mistake instantly. Her father would make sure his little girl was safe and protected. He would track her to hell and back.

On her shoulder, Alexi's hand tightened. "Your father? If I were the father of a beautiful girl and she disappeared, I'd follow her trail and I'd never stop seeking until I found her. I'd kill the man who tarnished her reputation, who abused her in any way. Is that the way of it?" he queried, his expression solemn. "Except I didn't tarnish your reputation, did I?" His voice was bitter. "You came to me. You were willing and loving."

"In this case you wouldn't have to, I told him I was with you and that I loved you." She laughed softly but her heart cried. "In my letter I wrote that I was happy and you meant to marry me. Wasn't that terribly presumptuous of me?" she asked, her words a hollow, empty sound whipped away by the wind.

For a brief moment he looked chagrined. Then he smiled, a soft, tender smile. "Are you happy?" he asked her, his voice low and magical. Once again one of his long fingers rested under her chin, lifting it so their eyes met.

Tears pooled in hers, a half sob escaping her. She tried to turn from him. He stopped her.

"No, I'm not. I've never been so unhappy and so lonely in my life." She trembled beneath his touch and the force of his darkening gaze.

"It doesn't have to be that way." He bent close, brushed a kiss across her forehead--a friendly kiss, nothing more. "Agree to my proposal and I'll make you the happiest woman in the world." He seduced her with the warmth of his voice, with the tenderness she knew he felt for her. "It is an honest and heartfelt proposal."

Angela turned in his arms, her heart pierced through to its very center. Yet she leaned against him, used his warmth to comfort and soothe her bruised feelings, used his strength to restore her own determination not to yield to him. "The saddest woman in the world," she whispered, and was sure her words were lost in the wind blowing off the sea.

His arms were crossed just below her breasts. His shirt was of finest lawn and rolled up so his forearms were bared. He smelled of the sea and the summer wind. She turned her face sideways and rested her cheek against him, enjoying his warmth, knowing if she'd give in to his demand, she could feel this way all the time. But if she gave in, she'd never be happy.

"Will you become mine, Angela? I need you. Just say the word and I promise you'll never regret the decision. You'll never regret coming to my bed."

Need, not love.

She wanted both. God, how she loved him and needed him all at the same time. She adored everything about him; his strength, his tenderness, his patience, his stubbornness.

He was her mate. She deserved more than the title of mistress. She deserved his name. Alexi offered her nothing else, nor would he ever.

"What if I agree? What then?" she asked, knowing that by taking this step she was throwing away a lifetime of teachings for a few years of pleasure.

A lengthy pause followed. "I'll cherish you forever."

Cherish, not love.
In the scheme of the universe, did that minor difference matter?

Yes.
She could never live half a life, and half a life would be all he'd give her.

He turned her in his arms once again, his fingers sifting through her hair until her head tilted upward. Their lips met in a bittersweet kiss--a kiss that sealed a promise between them, a promise she couldn't keep.

"Alexi?"

His knuckles rested on her cheek. "You won't regret this decision."

She turned into his warmth, kissed his fingers. /
already do.
She fought the burning tears that welled deep inside and clung to her throat.

She didn't know how to tell him that he'd misunderstood. She still had no intention of coming to his bed.

~ * ~

Why did victory feel bittesweet and so hollow? Alexi asked himself more than once. He'd seen the unshed tears in her eyes, watched her stubborn courage melt away as the days passed, slowly changing into weeks. She wanted him and had been willing to hold out for his name until she realized she would never have it.

From the start all he had wanted was to make her happy. He'd failed miserably. He felt an uncontrollable need to reassure her and make promises he couldn't keep.

He' d suffered, been through hell and back, while she'd played games with him, toyed with his emotions. None of what she did or said had made sense to him.

She'd suffered, too, or had this all been an elaborate hoax, a match, two against two? Had she played with him in hopes of gaining more?

It had all been needless. She'd had at least one other man in her bed, had pretended to be something she wasn't. When he'd discovered the blatant lie, she should have given in gracefully and admitted everything to him.

Still, she trifled with his affections, his honor, his very heart and soul. She thought nothing of loyalty and duty.

He watched her, never taking his gaze from her. To his eyes, her beauty outshone the sun and the stars. Once he'd believed in her and her innate honesty.

Somehow he still did.

Angela sat in the sunshine near the bow of the ship. The wind blew her hair from the pins she'd secured it with, and her face was tilted heavenward. Her pose was angelic, tempting in its purity, beguiling in its innocence.

She'd never looked lovelier than she did right now.

The messages she sent him were always mixed. The picture of innocence. Allah, but he wished...

"You asked her?" Misha suddenly appeared beside him, his arms crossed over his chest, a half smile on his face.

Alexi nodded. "Yes," he said, his thoughts centered on
Angela. He didn't understand, but her sudden compliance disappointed him. She was, he knew, seeking all that he could give her: money, jewelry, clothes. He was willing to lavish upon her whatever she wanted, except his name. But that thought rankled. He had once thought she loved him, wanted nothing from him except the return of his feelings.