My Angel (49 page)

She woke the next morning much later than she'd planned. She ate the berries left over from the night before and started on her way. With each passing day she wanted to believe she grew stronger. But she didn't. Her stomach cramped horribly, and before an hour had passed she had to stop and rest again. Fatigue seemed to sink its ugly claws into her lungs, seemed to squeeze the air from her even as she tried to inhale.

The stream was fresh and clean here. She drank quickly and deeply; then, filling her hands with the cool liquid, she splashed the healing water over her heated face and hands. Leaning her shoulder on a granite boulder, she rested with the sun pouring across her face, drenching her with its heat. Her back was on fire, yet the rest of her felt cold despite the sun, and shivers seemed to take over, sending shudders through her body.

She tried to stand, but the bees stirring up pollen in the wildflowers nearby were pleasant to listen to, as were the birds overhead and the squirrels chattering in the trees. A few minutes more of rest in this lazy, sun-drenched afternoon wouldn't matter. Feodora would not come for her. She was safe.

~ * ~

Sam encountered one dead end after another. He'd always been one step behind Devil Blackmoor. But now that he reached
Europe
, he couldn't hope to catch the
Mystic.
Every time he asked a question about Alexi Popov, as he had learned was Devil's full name, someone sent him in the wrong direction.

He began to think that he should do the opposite of what people told him.

The man should have an enemy or two.

But Alexi Popov had no enemies.

He reached the port town on the
Black Sea
, where Alexi and Misha had landed two weeks earlier. There were no caravans going across the desert, nor was there any hope of finding one in the next few weeks. If the rumors were true, this was Alexi's homeland. There would be no help forthcoming here.

Fear settled in the pit of Sam's stomach. He ached to see his daughter and to know she was well and truly cared for. The letters she had written had bothered him at first, but Sam knew his levelheaded daughter well. She would spirit the truth from the devil, and she would do what she knew was right.

Satan himself could not wrench Angela's self-respect from her--and neither could Devil Blackmoor.

On his third day in the busy port town, he watched two men ride at breakneck speed just outside the marketplace. Their haphazard pace left men shaking their fists at the pair and shouting vile curses. Yet nothing stopped them, not even the wagonload of produce the lead man upended on his mad dash.

Even though he didn't recognize the man dressed in white robes that billowed around his huge body, Sam Chamberlain would recognize the piece of horseflesh he rode anywhere.

"Jabber." He whistled through clenched teeth. "Finally, my prayers have been answered. I've found the devil himself."

The two men streaking past Sam did little to alleviate his fears. His pulse pounded rapidly, his heart near to jumping from his chest. As he mounted his own stallion, Sam said another silent prayer and followed the men from town and toward the purple-cloaked hills to the north.

At long last he had the break he needed. He prayed he followed Devil and Misha. If not, he could well be signing his own death warrant.

The men rode relentlessly through the long afternoon and into the night. Sam's fears doubled then tripled. As the moon
rose and cast light upon the path, Sam let the distance between the men in front of him diminish.

By midmorning of the next day, they'd reached the foothills surrounding the desert. Rocks rose on either side of the narrow, winding road that snaked ever northward. Sam knew the men had set a trap for him and waited for him to pass. At whatever cost to himself, he relished meeting Devil Blackmoor. He had a few things to right with the man. He had waited long enough.

While he'd like to stake Devil Blackmoor out on the desert behind him, it would solve nothing, least of all restoring his daughter's virtue or ensuring her happiness. The shot whizzing past his head didn't take him by surprise, nor did the man who landed square on the middle of his back, knocking him off his horse.

He heard a string of vile curses. Then...

"Sam Chamberlain. Son of a bitch!"

Sam had counted on the element of surprise. Devil Blackmoor didn't know Sam pursued him or why; he could tell by the tone of Devil's voice and the momentary relaxing of Devil's grip around his neck.

That was all it took. The element of surprise was now his. Sam now had Devil by the neck, and he meant to keep the advantage. Sam was on top of Devil, his knife at Devil's throat. ''You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, Devil Blackmoor. You're going to tell me the truth now or you won't live to see another sunset." Sam rose, Devil held against his chest, his knife tucked neatly under Devil's chin. Sam wanted to draw blood. For Angela's sake, he held back.

"Perhaps if you'd give me a clue." Alexi sounded perturbed but not frightened.

Ivan stood on the rocks opposite the two men, his hands folded across his chest. "You two old friends? Or enemies? It's devilishly hard to tell."

"I thought we were friends," Alexi said, his tone menacing even though Sam had the upper hand for now.

Sam pressed the knife closer, still not drawing blood but wanting to. "We were acquaintances until he abducted my daughter. Now he's an enemy. I want revenge."

Alexi felt all the blood in his body rush to his feet.
Angela? Sam Chamberlain's daughter?
So that was what Misha had referred to.

Sam
Chamberlain's daughter.

But wasn't she a whore?
How ironic Sam would follow her halfway across the world.

"Angela's your kin?" Alexi choked on the question, knowing the answer and dreading it at the same time. Confirmation could mean only one thing: Angela was no prostitute. All his preconceived ideas once again shattered into a thousand pieces.

"You know she is," Sam grated out then furiously pushed Alexi aside.

"I didn't. Not until this moment. She never told me. I thought..." Even while Alexi saw Sam's need to kill, to seek vengeance for the wrong Alexi had done Sam's daughter, Alexi knew Sam wouldn't hurt him. Not until he saw his daughter. Not until Sam heard Angela's tale. It would not do to tell Sam Chamberlain what he'd thought his daughter was.
A whore.
No, it would not do at all. Alexi's stomach churned in dismay. He'd never wronged another man in his life.

Allah, but he'd done Angela a terrible wrong--and in the process her father, too.

"What did you think? That she would be easy? That you could use her any way you pleased? I've heard the stories about you, Alexi Popov, and your harem of women."

Ivan laughed. "Harem? My, my, but your reputation precedes you."

''Shut the hell up." Alexi glared at his friend. He had thought of Angela as easy, and yes, he had thought he could do whatever he pleased. "I've no harem." He turned to Sam. "I've no harem," he repeated. "Your daughter came with me willingly. She wanted adventure, and I had no idea who she was."

This was not all his fault. But he felt as if it were.

His stomach turned over once more. Indeed, he'd had no idea, but would knowledge of Angela's identity have stopped him? The answer eluded him. He'd wanted Angela from the first time he set eyes on her, and he'd decided at that moment he'd have her.

No, nothing would have stopped him from seducing her, from making love to her.

Not Sam Chamberlain or Chamberlain's reputation. Not anything.

He wanted her still, even knowing who she was. He needed to undo the wrongs he'd committed against her. He needed to change the fear he'd seen in her eyes when he left her that night in the hotel room. She'd thought she'd done something wrong, and he had done nothing to change that thought.

That lack still haunted him.

He had lashed out at her because of her lack of innocence.

The two men were circling each other now, one ready to kill, the other needing to make amends. Alexi could think of only one way to repair the damage done, and that was to offer marriage. The same obstacle still lay in his path, though. Nothing had changed.

Ivan laughed again, clearly amused by the circling men. He clapped his hands, gaining their attention momentarily. "We don't have time for this nonsense," he said harshly. "Have you forgotten our need for haste?"

Alexi grunted. "Tell that to the father of the wronged woman"

Sam looked at Ivan then Alexi, feeling the subtle tension that passed between the two men. Once again, fear for Angela was paramount in his mind. "You feel it, too," Sam said softly.

Alexi nodded. "There is danger to her. I thought she'd be safe, but the feelings will not leave. There is nothing tangible, just a fear in the pit of my stomach."

Sam nodded, understanding they childishly wasted time here. "We will settle this later,'' Sam said, his voice a low, vehement growl.

Alexi nodded. "We will solve the dispute. Though I fear nothing can be settled."