Redeeming Love (22 page)

“Would gratitude be enough reason?”

“No. It wasn’t in my hands whether you lived or died. That was up to the Lord.”

Angel turned her head away. “Don’t talk to me about your god. He didn’t come back for me.
You
did.” She put her forehead against her raised knees and said nothing more.

Michael started to speak, but the voice held him back.

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Michael, there is a time for all things.

He sighed inwardly, heeding the message. She wasn’t ready to listen to the why and wherefore. It would be acid, not salve. And so he held his silence.

Lord, please guide me.

The fire crackled, and Angel began to relax just listening to the soothing sounds. “I wanted to die,” she said. “I couldn’t wait, and just when I thought I had, there you were.”

“Do you still want to die?”

“No, but I don’t know why I want to live, either.” The siege of emotion passed. She turned her head slightly and looked at him again. “Maybe it has something to do with you. I don’t know anything anymore.”

Joy leaped inside Michael but only briefly. She looked hurt, not happy; confused, not certain. He wanted to touch her and was afraid if he did, she would take it the wrong way.

Comfort my lamb.

If I touch her now, Lord…

Comfort your wife.

Michael took her hand. Her whole arm stiffened, but he didn’t let go. He turned her hand over in his and smoothed his fingers down over her blackened palm and fingers so that his large hand covered hers. “We’re in this together, Amanda.”

“I don’t understand you,” Angel said.

“I know, but give me time and you will.”

“No, I don’t think I ever will. I don’t know what you want from me. You say everything and take nothing. I see the way you look at me, but you’ve never treated me as a wife.”

Michael turned the gold band on her finger. She was his wife. It was time he did something about it. If she didn’t know the difference between having sex and making love, he would have to show her.
Oh, God, I am afraid, afraid
of the depth of my physical desire.
Most of all he was afraid he would not know how to please her.

Lord, help!

Angel watched him looking at the ring on her finger. “Do you want it back?”

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“No.” He wove his fingers with hers and smiled at her. “I’m just as new at being married as you are.” A calm settled over him, and he knew everything would be all right.

Angel looked away. Married men had come to her plenty of times, and she knew what they had to say about it. Their wives didn’t understand them. They married for convenience and progeny. They were bored with the same woman and needed a little change, like having steak for dinner instead of stew, fish instead of chicken. Most said their wives didn’t enjoy sex. Did they think she did?

“What I know about marriage isn’t encouraging, mister.”

“Maybe not.” Michael kissed her hand. “But I believe marriage is a contract between a man and woman to build a life together. It’s a promise to love one another no matter what comes.”

“You know what I am. Why would you make a promise like that to me?”

“I know what you
were.”

She felt an ache inside her. “You’ll never learn, will you?”

Leaning over, Michael tipped her face toward him and kissed her. She didn’t pull away, but she wasn’t moved either.
Lord, I could use a little help
down here.
He shook as he combed his fingers into her hair and kissed her again.

He was so tentative, Angel relaxed. She could handle this. She could handle him just fine. She could even help him along.

Michael drew back. He wasn’t going to allow his desire to become ram-pant. He wasn’t going to embrace sex and lose sight of love, no matter how much more comfortable she would be with that.

“My way, not yours. Remember?” He stood up.

Angel watched him in confusion. “What do you know about it?”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Why do you make things difficult for yourself? It all comes down to the same thing. It won’t be
my
way or
your
way. It’ll just be the way it is.”

A sexual act was what she meant, and he didn’t know how to show her it was meant to be a celebration of love.

All Angel saw was his determination. She stood slowly and joined him.

“If it has to be your way, fine. It’ll be your way.” In the beginning.

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Michael looked into her eyes and saw no hardness. Neither did he see understanding. He wasn’t sure which part of himself to listen to anymore.

He was hard pressed by his physical nature. She was so beautiful to him.

“Let me help you,” she said and took his hand.

Michael sat in the willow chair, his heart in his throat as she knelt before him and pulled off his boots. He was losing control fast. Standing, he moved away from her. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. As he undressed, Michael kept thinking about Adam in the Garden of Eden. How had he felt the first time Eve came to him? Scared half to death, yet surging with life?

When Michael turned, his wife stood naked before the fire, waiting for him. She was breathtaking, just as Eve must have been. Michael came to her in wonder.

Oh, Lord, she is so perfect, like no other creation in the world. My mate.
He swung her up into his arms and kissed her.

As he stretched out beside her on their marriage bed, he marveled at how she fit him, flesh to flesh, molded for him. “Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, awestruck by the gift.

Angel felt him shaking violently and knew it was due to his long, self-imposed celibacy. Strangely, she was not repulsed. Instead, she felt an alien sense of sympathy. She pushed the feelings away, blocking him out of her mind—and was surprised when he drew back from her and searched her eyes, his own filled with so much she turned her face away.

Think of your money in Pair-a-Dice, Angel. Think of going back and
getting it from the Duchess. Think of having something for yourself.

Think of being free. Don’t think about this man.
It had worked for her in the past. Why not now?
Come on, Angel. Remember how you used to
close your mind? You’ve done it before. Do it again. Don’t think. Don’t
feel. Just play the part. He’ll never know.

But Michael wasn’t like other men, and he did know. He didn’t have to die to realize she had brought him to the edge of heaven and slammed the gates in his face.

“Beloved,” he said, turning her face back to him. “Why won’t you let me get close to you?”

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She tried to laugh. “How close do you want to be?” She could feel the difference in this man right through her pores and sought to protect herself from him.

Michael saw the flatness in her blue eyes, and it broke his heart. “You keep shutting me out. Tirzah, stay with me.”

“Is it Tirzah now?”

Oh, Jesus, help me.
“Stop running from me!”

Angel wanted to cry out, “Not from
you!
From
this.
From the mindless, selfish grasping for pleasure. Theirs and yours, not mine. Never mine.” But she didn’t. Instead she challenged him in anger.

“Why do you have to talk?” She struggled, but he was unyielding. Why did he have to keep intruding on and interfering with her thoughts, breaking her concentration? He kept confusing her feelings, stirring them into a boiling mess. He held her and looked into her eyes and was aware of her, and something deep within her shifted.

Her panic grew, and she closed her eyes.

“Look at me, beloved.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t love you? Don’t become part of you? I
am
part of you.”

“This way?”

“In every way.”

“No,” she said, struggling.

“Yes!” He gentled. “This can be beautiful. It doesn’t mean what you’ve been taught. It’s a blessing. Oh, my love, say my name.…”

How could he think this could be anything but vile and simple? She knew everything there was to know about it. Hadn’t Duke taught her?

Hadn’t all the rest? So this farmer wanted to know what it was really like.

Well, she would show him.

“Don’t.”
His rasped command confused her.

“Don’t you want me to please you?”

“You want to please me? Say my name.” His breath mingled with hers.

“You said you wouldn’t say no to anything I asked of you. Remember? I want you to say my name. Anything
,
you said. Can’t you keep your word?”

His calm left.
“Say it!”

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“Michael,” she ground out.

He cupped her face. “Look at me. Say it again.”

“Michael.” Was he satisfied now? She waited for his triumphant grin and instead saw his adoring eyes and heard his tender voice.

“Keep on saying it.…”

When it was over, Michael held her close, telling her how much he loved her and of the pleasure he found in her. He was no longer hesitant, no longer the least unsure, and with his growing assurance, her own doubts expanded.

Some unknown and unwelcome emotion opened deep inside Angel.

Something hard and tight began to soften and uncurl. And as it did, the dark voice arose.

Get away from this man, Angel. You’ve got to get out of here! Save
yourself and flee. Flee!

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Thirteen

But if we hope for what we do not have,
we wait for it patiently.

R O M A N S

8 : 2 5

When Michael went out to do his morning chores, Angel headed up the hill to the road. The faint trail Michael had cut with his wagon during his journeys to camp markets was difficult to follow. On a road less traveled, Angel was soon lost. Everything looked so unfamiliar, she was disconcerted. Was she still walking in the right direction, or had she come full circle and was back near Hosea’s homestead where she had started?

The sky was darkening, heavy gray clouds closing together. Angel pulled the shawl more tightly around her, but the thin wrap did little to ward off the chill in the air.

She headed for the mountains, reasoning that Pair-a-Dice was up there somewhere, and heading that way gave her a better chance of reaching it.

Besides, going east would take her away from Michael Hosea. The farther away from him, the better.

Things had changed between them. It wasn’t that he had finally had sex with her. It was something else, something deeper and more elemental, something beyond her understanding. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew if she was ever going to call her life her own, she had to get away from him.
Now.

But where was the road to freedom? She hunted in vain.

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She saw a creek and, thirsting, she went to it. Dropping to her knees, she scooped up water and drank deeply. Looking around, she wondered if this was the same stream that ran through Michael’s land. If so, surely crossing it and climbing that hill would bring her back to the road again.

The stream looked shallow, the current calm. She had forgotten to bring the buttonhook. Annoyed, she worked at the shoes until she could pull them off. Pulling the skirt up, she bunched it in front and tucked the shoes into the folds for safe keeping before she waded into the stream.

Rocks bit into her tender feet, and the water was so cold it hurt. Though she picked her way carefully, she slipped on a mossy stone and dropped a shoe. Swearing, Angel reached for it and slipped again, falling this time. She struggled quickly to her feet, but she was already soaked. Worse, both shoes were floating downstream. She took off the shawl and tossed it on the far bank.

One shoe filled with water and sank. Angel retrieved it easily and stuffed it securely inside her shirtwaist. The other shoe had lodged in the branches of a fallen tree. She plodded through the water toward it.

The rushing stream deepened and the current tugged, but she knew she couldn’t walk all the way to Pair-a-Dice barefooted. She had to have that shoe. Determined to get it, Angel pulled her skirt higher and waded closer.

When the bottom sloped sharply, she caught hold of a branch and leaned out to reach the shoe. Her fingers brushed it once, and the branch snapped.

Crying out, she slid down sharply, cold water closing over her head.

The current dragged her thrashing into the hollow beneath the tree.

Clawing at the trunk, she pulled herself up and gasped in air. Her skirt caught. She clung with all her strength to the fallen tree and kicked her skirt loose. She grabbed the vines close by. The blackberry thorns cut into her palms, but she held on and pulled herself to the safety of the bank, collaps-ing there. She was shaking violently from fright and cold.