Angel Gone Bad (9 page)

“P
ut me down!” Angel struggled in Rune's arms. “I could be on the train. I could be comfortable and dry. I could almost be back in the Bend. Instead, I'm in the middle of nowhere. I'm wet. I'm chilled. I'm shaken half to death. And that miserable horse you rented almost killed me.”

“Guess you're—”

“And on top of all that, there's no reason for any of this. We're not even being chased by the law. I didn't make the marshal suspicious. You simply have an exaggerated sense of your own importance to the authorities.”

“It's better to—”

“Stay safe!” She elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Do you call this safe? This storm could go on all night. We could be struck by lightning. My clothes are ruined. I don't know how I'll ever get my wig to look right again. I special ordered it from
The Enchanted Lady's Illustrated Catalog
.”

“You can get another—”

“Wig? How dare you! Do you know how much it cost? Even worse, do you know how long it takes to get an order to Bonham from New York City? No, of course you don't. You moved up in the world when you shopped at Harris Mercantile in Paris . . .
Texas
.”

“I don't need much.” Rune suspected there was no way to win this argument. And he had to admit, she had a point. Prison had taught him caution. The AHTA had taught him wisdom. Angel was teaching him,
once more,
that you really don't want to get on the wrong side of a strong-minded woman.

“And do not dare mention Thor and his stupid goats again. I mean,
goats,
of all things. Would stallions be too much? I'd use buffalo before I would
goats
!”

“They're mountain goats, not like the small—”

She elbowed him again. “That's not the point! I'm blaming Thor for my ruined wig. Think he could go
poof
and replace it?”

“I don't think he cares much about wigs, or hair in general, but he
is
a redhead.”

“A redhead! Maybe he'll let me have his hair for a new wig since he ruined mine. I can go from blond to red.” She struggled harder. “Let me off this pea-brained horse. I'm going to walk to the nearest train station and travel the rest of the way in comfort. You can babysit these two poor excuses for mounts from now till Sunday.”

“They're wet and miserable, too.”

“I don't care!” she screamed in frustration.

Both horses spooked, snorting and throwing up their heads as they danced sideways across the road.

Rune fought to bring them back under control while keeping Angel stable across his lap. When he finally had the horses calm, he made up his mind to end this pointless argument. It didn't matter who was right or wrong. They needed to get under cover. He'd seen a pecan grove and turned the horses in that direction.

“Where are you going?” She grabbed the reins and jerked back.

“Stop!” He squeezed her hands till she whimpered and let go. She'd finally made him mad, too.

“That hurts.”

“We don't need any more shenanigans out of you.”

“I told you to put me down. I'm taking the train.”

“You want a train? Bonham's got a real fine station.”

“Bonham?” She grew quiet, shifting uncomfortably against him. “I forgot we were so close. I look like myself. Somebody could recognize me.”

“Dodd City? I'll take you there.”

“Dodd is right next to Bonham.” She shivered. “Nothing along here will do, not with me dressed like this.”

“I thought you wanted to ride the train.”

“I can't! Thor ruined my wig.” She elbowed him again.

“You do that one more time and I'll dump you straight off this horse.”

She grew still. “I apologize. Seems like that's all I ever do with you.”

“There's a lot more you could do with me, but this isn't the time.”

“You kept me from taking a bad fall. Thank you.”

“You mean I saved your sorry neck.”

“I said thank you and meant it.”

He shut his mouth before he said things he'd regret. Bad enough they were caught in a storm, but she could at least be stoic about it. A little more appreciation wouldn't be out of line either.

He guided both horses under the spreading branches of the pecan trees and felt the rain slack off as it hit leaves. Overhead, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. The storm appeared to be settling in for the night. He didn't like the danger of being under the trees, but there wasn't much choice. They needed shelter and they couldn't afford to be seen at a hotel in any of the towns.

He moved deeper into the grove, squinting as he looked for fallen branches or logs that he could use to build a crude lean-to. A little farther in, he thought he saw a gray wall, but he didn't believe his eyes. Be just like Loki to play tricks on the ground while Thor roared across the sky.

“Is that a cabin?” Angel asked, pointing ahead.

“Looks like it could be.”

“If that's a dry place to get out of the rain, Thor can keep his hair and his goats.”

“I'm sure he'll be grateful.”

“Just let it be real.”

Rune guided the horses up to what turned out to be a small shack with a lean-to for animals. The wood was weathered gray and warped with age. It looked like a few shingles were missing from the roof. But all in all, he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I think I'm going to cry.”

“Cry?”

“With relief!”

“Me, too.”

She chuckled, slumping back against him.

“I'm going to ease you down to the ground. Watch your step. And don't go into the shack till I check it.”

“Trust me. I'm not anxious to encounter any snakes or spiders.”

“Hope nothing's living in it.”

He put his hands around her waist, remembering how he'd touched her the same way earlier that day, and felt the old curl of heat in his gut. She was the orneriest woman he'd ever met, but he couldn't get enough of her. He lifted her and slowly let her down. When she was steady on her feet, he quickly threw a leg over the saddle and jumped down beside her.

He handed her the horses' reins and strode over to the shack. He jerked open a sagging door and looked inside. It was too dark to see much. He pulled a tin out of his pocket, selected a match, flicked it with his thumbnail, and held up the light. Except for mouse droppings, spiderwebs, and dust, the place looked clean. It had just enough room for two saddles and two people.

“Is it okay?” she called.

“It'll do.”

And then he realized he had Angel exactly where he'd wanted her for a long, long time. At his mercy.

“I
t's going to be like this.” Rune turned from the open door of the shack. Outside the rain poured down in torrents.

“I don't like the sound of that,” Angel said.

“You're wet. I'm wet.”

“The horses are wet.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling chilled to the bone. She was well aware that her sodden clothes clung to her body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. But his clothing did the same. He was leaner than before, but just as muscular and just as attractive.

He was definitely handy. He must have conjured some Norse goddess to help set the shack to rights while she'd unsaddled the horses. After they'd carried the saddles inside, he'd used a broken piece of pottery as a fire pit where he'd lit a pine knot. Now they had a little light and heat. They even had two dry blankets because he'd wrapped them in oilskin before leaving Paris.

“We can't stay wet or we'll get sick.” Rune took off his leather holster with the Colt .45 and set it near the saddles.

“I suppose you suggest we strip off our clothes.”

He grinned, a wolfish twist of his lips, as he looked her up and down.

“Rune, be reasonable.” She felt her nipples pebble at the heat in his blue eyes and knew he could see the effect he was having on her through the thin fabric of her blouse. She crossed her arms higher, covering her breasts.

“I'll help you, if you'll help me.”

“I don't need help this time.”

“I do.” He took three steps that brought him close. “I've needed help from you for a long time.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat.

“You owe me. You agreed to do whatever I want whenever I want.” He cocked his head. “I want you.”

She closed her eyes to shut out the devastating sight of him, but she could still feel his intent like the unrelenting storm outside. She'd fought her need for him for so long that it hung like an anvil around her neck, a weight that she desperately wanted to release.

“Take my shirt off me.”

“Oh, Rune, I don't want to touch you.”

“Don't you?”

She inhaled sharply, but that only brought the tantalizing scent of him, sage and leather, closer. What had she told herself in Paris? She'd issued a challenge, not just for herself but for what she could bring to her readers. It didn't have to go too far, just a little touch, perhaps a kiss. Beyond that, she didn't know quite what to expect anyway. She wouldn't be bullied or cowed. Instead, she would stay in control. With that in mind, she reached up to the first button of his sodden shirt.

“That's my girl.”

“I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet.”

She struggled to get the button through the buttonhole. Wet fabric made it difficult. Not touching him made it even harder.

He covered her hands with his own, pressing their flesh together. “I remember when you touched me freely, a hand here or there to catch my attention.”

“That was before. This is now.”

Still she went after the first button, feeling the heat of him through the wet fabric against her fingers. When the button gave way, she hurried on to the next, feeling not only his heat but the rise and fall of his chest, the beat of his heart. It made him real where he had been a dream for so long. When she came to his belt, she stopped. Below lay dangerous territory.

“Go ahead. Pull out my shirttail.”

She bit her lower lip as she jerked out his shirt. She quickly unbuttoned the last buttons. She stepped back. All done.

“Thanks. Now take it off me.”

She could handle a clothed Rune, but a bare chest? She hesitated, then reached up, pulled it down over his shoulders, and caught her breath.

He tossed aside his shirt, revealing the thick muscles of his chest tapering to his flat, muscular stomach. A pendant shaped like an anchor at the bottom and a bird's head at the top hung from a thick chain around his neck.

Curious, she reached up and touched the dark metal with the tip of one finger. “Is that a—”

“Thor's Hammer. Forged of iron. Grandfather brought it from Sweden.”

“I've never seen anything like it.”

“Not surprising, but Grandfather said there are plenty in Sweden, Norway, and around the world left by the Norse when they went a-viking.”

“What did they do a-viking?”

“This.”

He tugged her against his chest with one hand while he captured the back of her head with the other. He slanted his head down and pressed his lips firmly against her mouth, then nibbled and teased until she moaned and opened to grant him entry. He thrust inside, pillaging as he stroked down her back to clasp her hips and tug her against him.

When he finally raised his head, satisfaction radiating from his blue eyes, she caught her breath. She touched a fingertip to her lips, now hot and puffy where he'd left his mark. But his kiss had gone much deeper than that, setting her whole body on fire, a slow-burning, molten flame.

“I sincerely doubt Vikings left home in search of a kiss,” she said to gain back some control.

“You're right.” He grinned, teeth white and sharp. “They did this, too.”

He pushed long fingers into her hair, dislodging the pins so that her neat chignon came undone and her hair tumbled down to her hips. He wound her hair around one hand till he held her captive. He tugged back her head with that hand while he used the other to unbutton her blouse, followed by kisses down her neck to her throat to the upper curves of breasts revealed by her chemise.

Angel shivered in his embrace, caught between hot and cold, desire and fear, truth and lies. She wanted him, once more, with a single-minded intensity that made her want to run away as much as it made her want to drag him down to the blankets and have her way with him.

“No clothes, not for a Viking's woman.” He sounded hoarse, as if holding back emotion.

Before she even started to protest, he pulled off her blouse, flung it aside, and then unbuttoned her split-skirt and shucked it downward where it hit the floor in a sodden heap. She stood in nothing but her wet chemise and drawers, and those were little more than transparent white.

He put his hands on his hips and gave her a good, long look before he inhaled sharply, his rising chest setting off a play of thick muscles. “You'll do.”

“I'll do?” He might as well have hit her with a bucket of cold water. Fury ignited her. She put her hands on her hips in imitation of his stance, and looked him up and down. “Well, I'm not sure you will do.”

He grinned, chuckling. “Wait till you strip off my trousers before you make up your mind.”

“Oh! You egotistical, pea-brain, outlaw . . .
Viking.
”

“I like your kisses better than your words.” He smiled, almost gently. “Do you want to hear my next command?”

“No!” She took a step over to the blankets, snatched one up, and wrapped it around her.

He simply picked her up in his strong arms, sat down on the other blanket with her in his lap, and clasped her in his arms. “You need to get out of the rest of your wet clothes.”

“They'll dry.” She wiggled against him to get free, even as she felt her anger turn to lust.

“Better be still.” He spoke in a husky voice as he clasped her ankle in one hand, chaining her to him.

She understood why he wanted her to be still when she felt the hot, hard rise of him against her buttocks. That evidence of his desire set off another blaze of heat that spiraled outward from her molten center.

He stroked in slow, lazy circles up her smooth skin with his rough fingers to her knee. When he massaged there, she almost cried out in impatience, feeling a deep burning sensation that grew more demanding with each moment of his touch.

“What would a Viking do next?” She sounded breathless, knew it, but couldn't bring back her words. Besides, now that she thought of it, she did have her readers to satisfy, along with herself.

He slipped his hand up her inner thigh under her drawers to the apex of her thighs. He cupped the hot heart of her. She moaned at the sudden, intimate touch, feeling her entire body ignite from that one pivotal point.

“Angel, look at me.”

She didn't want to open her eyes. She simply wanted to focus on his touch. But she did. In the dim light of the room, his eyes had turned from sky blue to deep, mysterious lapis.

“Tell me you want me as much as you did before.” He moved his hand in slow circles, gently massaging her hot, tender flesh.

She shivered, feeling a burning chill. “
More
. I want you more.”

“Kiss me.”

She realized that he needed her, too. He needed to know she still wanted him. He needed her to set aside the smart words, the games, the barbs. He'd made himself vulnerable to her. Could she do any less?

She slipped the blanket off her shoulders. She tugged the chemise over her head and tossed it aside. She straightened her back so that her naked breasts thrust out toward him. She watched him watch her, almost as a mortal man might an immortal goddess.

“Kiss me.” She put fingertips to his lips, almost reverently as she might a god named Thor. And thunder rumbled in the distance.