Redeeming Love (19 page)

Angel tried to put space between their bodies, but Michael Hosea filled the bed the same way he filled the cabin.

The same way he was beginning to fill her life.

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Eleven

In the middle of the journey of our life,
I came to myself in a dark wood.

D A N T E

Angel moaned as Duke bent over her. He laughed softly. “Did you think you could get away from the Alpha and Omega?”

Someone called to her from a great distance, but Duke kept drowning out the still, soft voice. “You thought four thousand miles was far enough, but here I am.”

She strained away from him, trying to hear who was calling her.

Duke pulled her back again. “You belong to me. Oh, yes. Always, and you know it. I’m the only one you’ll ever belong to.” His breath smelled of the cloves he chewed after smoking his cheroots. “I know what you’re thinking, Angel. I can read your mind. Couldn’t I always? Hope all you wish, but I will never die. Even when you cease to exist, I’ll still live. I am timeless.”

She fought him, but he was not substance to be pushed away. He was shadow, covering her, taking her back and down into a deep black hole. She felt her body absorbing him as she fell. He was entering every pore until the blackness was within her, and she tore at her own flesh. “No, no!”

“Mara.
Mara!”

She awakened abruptly, her mouth open in a silent scream. “Mara,”

Michael said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. She tried to still the shaking as he brushed her hair away from her face. “You have a lot of nightmares. What are they about?”

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His gentle voice and touch made her relax a little. She brushed his hand away. “I can’t remember,” she lied, Duke branded into her mind. Would he still be searching for her after all this time? She knew the answer and felt cold. She could still see his face. It was as if she had run from him yesterday and not a year ago. He would find her someday. And when he did…

She could not bear to think about it. She didn’t dare go back to sleep.

The nightmare would begin again and take the course it always did.

“Mara, tell me what you’re afraid of.”

“Nothing,” she said tightly. “Just leave me alone.”

Michael laid his hand on her chest and her muscles tensed. “If your heart beat any harder it would come right out your chest.”

“Are you hoping to get my mind on something else?”

Michael took his hand away. “There’s more than sex between us.”

“There’s nothing at all.” She turned her back to him.

Michael stripped the quilts off her. “I’ll show you what else there is.”

“I said leave me alone!” Raw from the nightmare, raw from being with him, she yanked the quilts back up again.

Michael ripped the bedcovers off. Bunching them, he tossed them on the trunk in the corner. “Get up. Now. You’re going whether you like it or not.”

Angel was frightened of him as he loomed over her. She could sense him trying to reign in his temper.

“We’re going to take a little walk,” he said.

“Now? In the middle of the night?” It was cold and dark. She gasped as he scooped her up and set her on her feet.

Pulling on his pants, he said, “You can go dressed or naked. It’s all the same to me.”

She didn’t like the shadows in the cabin, and she wasn’t going out that door into the darkness. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.”

She headed for the quilt, but he caught her arm and spun her around.

When she cowered and raised her arm to ward off a blow, Michael’s anger evaporated. Was that what she expected from him, even after all this time?

“I’m never going to hurt you.” He got the quilt and swung it around her. He found her shoes and held them out to her. She didn’t take them. “You can wear them or walk barefoot. Your choice. But you are going with me.”

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Angel took the shoes.

“What are you really afraid of, Mara? Why don’t we get down to that?”

She threw the buttonhook aside and straightened. “I’m not afraid of anything, least of all a dirt farmer like you.”

He opened the door. “Come on, then, if you’re so brave.”

She could make out the barn, but he took her firmly in hand and headed toward the woods. “Where are you taking me?” She despised the tremor in her voice.

“You’ll see when we get there.” He kept walking, pulling her along with him.

Angel could barely see anything except shapes. They were menacing and dark, some moving. She remembered Rab hurrying her through the dark night a long time ago and was afraid. Her heart beat faster. “I want to go back.” She stumbled and almost fell.

Michael caught and steadied her. “Just once, try trusting me, would you?

Have I done anything to harm you?”

“Trust you? Why should I? You’re crazy bringing me out here like this in the middle of the night.
Take me back.”
She was trembling and couldn’t stop.

“Not until you see what I have to show you.”

“Even if you have to drag me?”

“Unless you’d rather ride over my shoulder.”

She jerked her hand free. “Go on ahead.”

“All right,” he said. Angel swung around to go back but couldn’t see the cabin or barn through the trees. When she turned around, she couldn’t see Hosea either and panicked. “Wait,” she cried out. “Wait!”

Michael caught hold of her. “I’m right here.” He felt her shaking and drew her into his arms. “I’m not going to leave you in darkness.” He tipped her face up and kissed her gently. “When are you going to understand I love you?”

Angel put her arms around him and pressed closer. “If you love me, take me back. We can be warm and comfortable in bed. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No,” he said roughly, fighting his response to her. “Come with me.”

She tried to hold him back. “Wait, please. All right. I am afraid of the 137

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dark. Being out here reminds me of—” She stopped.

“Of what?”

“Of something that happened when I was a child.” He waited and she bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk about Rab or what happened to him. She didn’t want to think about the horror of that night. “Please. Just take me back.”

Michael combed his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back so he could see her face in the moonlight. She was afraid, so afraid she couldn’t hide it.

“I’m afraid, too, Mara. Not of the dark, not of the past—but of you and what you make me feel when I touch you. You use my desire for you as a weapon. What I feel is a gift. I know what I want, but when you press yourself against me, all I can feel is your body and my need. You make me tremble.”

“Then take me back to the cabin—”

“You don’t hear me. You don’t understand anything. I
can’t
take you back. You’re not going to have it your way. It’s got to be my way or not at all.” Michael took her hand. “Now, come on.” He walked through the dark woods. Her palms were sweating, but her hand didn’t lay in his hand like a dead fish anymore. She was holding on as though her life depended on him.

Angel heard sounds everywhere, a constant ringing and humming that came from all directions and penetrated her head. It was a quiet that was so quiet it screamed. She wanted to be back in the cabin, away from the black, moving things around her. Winged demons, watching and grinning. This was Duke’s world.

She was cold and weak from exhaustion. “How much farther is it?”

Michael swept her up in his arms and carried her. “We’re almost there.”

The woods were behind them, the moon above making the hillsides an eerie silver gray. “Just to the top of that hill.”

When he reached the crest, he set her on her feet again, and she looked around in confusion. There was nothing. Just more hills and then the mountains in the distance.

Michael watched the night breeze making her pale hair dance in the moonlight. She huddled into the quilt and glared back at him. “There’s nothing here.”

“Everything that matters is here.”

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“All this way for nothing.” She didn’t know what she had expected. A monument. Something. She sat down, exhausted and shivering from the chill night air. The quilt wasn’t enough. Ten quilts wouldn’t be enough. The chill was inside her. What did he think he was doing dragging her up this hill in the middle of the night? “What’s so special about this?”

Michael sat down behind her. He put his strong legs on either side of her and pulled her back against him. “Just wait.”

She wanted to resist his embrace, but she was too cold to fight him. “For what?”

He put his arms around her. “For morning.”

“I could have waited for that in the cabin.”

He laughed against her hair. Lifting it, he kissed the nape of her neck.

“You can’t understand until you see it from here.” He nuzzled the soft skin beneath her ear. She shivered softly. “Sleep a while if you want.” He tucked her more closely against him. “I’ll wake you at the right time.”

She wasn’t sleepy after the long walk. “Do you do this sort of thing often?”

“Not often enough.”

They were silent again, but she was not uncomfortable with it. The warmth of his body was coming through her. She felt the weight of his arm across her and the solidness of him bracing her back. She looked at the stars, tiny jewels against black velvet. She had never seen it like this before, so close she felt she could reach up and touch each bright speck of light.

The night sky was beautiful. It had never looked like this from a window.

And the smell—thick, moist, earthy. Even the sounds around her became a kind of music, like the birds and insects, like the rain plinking into the tin cans in a dingy wharf shack. Then the darkness lightened.

It began slowly, hardly noticeable. The stars grew smaller and smaller, and the black softened. She stood up, hugging the quilt around her, watching. At her back was darkness still, but before her was light: pale yellow growing brilliant, gold-streaked with red and orange. She had watched sunrises before from within walls and behind glass, but never like this, with the cool breeze in her face and wilderness in every direction. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

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Morning light spilled slowly over the mountains, across the valley to the cabin and the woods behind, and up the hillside. She felt Hosea’s strong hands on her shoulders.

“Mara, that’s the life I want to give you.”

The morning sunlight was so bright it hurt her eyes, blinding her more than the darkness ever had. She felt his lips against her hair. “That’s what I’m offering you.” His breath was warm against her skin. “I want to fill your life with color and warmth. I want to fill it with light.” He put his arms around her and held her back against him. “Give me a chance.”

Angel felt a heaviness building inside her. He had pretty words for her, but words weren’t life. Life wasn’t that simple, that straightforward. It was tangled and twisted, writhing from birth. She couldn’t erase the last ten years, or even the eight before Rab had led her through the streets to the brothel and left her there for Duke to ruin forever. It had started long before that.

She was guilty of being born.

Her own father had wanted her cut out of her mother’s womb and thrown away like garbage. Her own father. And Mama would have done it had she known she would lose him over her small defiance. All those years of endless weeping had told Angel that.

No, not a hundred dawns like this, not even a thousand, would change what was. The truth was there forever, just like Duke said in the dream. You can’t get away from it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t escape the truth.

Her mouth curved into a sad smile, and her soul ached. Maybe this man was all he seemed. Maybe he meant every word he said, but she knew something he didn’t. It was never going to be the way he wanted it. It just couldn’t happen. He was a dreamer. He wanted the impossible from her.

Dawn would come for him, too, and he would awaken.

Angel didn’t want to be anywhere around when he did.

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Twelve

Even if you persuade me, you won’t persuade me.

A R I S T O P H A N E S

Michael felt the change in Angel after that night, but it was not a change that made him happy. She retreated and held her distance. Though her bruises were gone and her ribs healed, she was still walking wounded. She wouldn’t let him get close. She regained the weight she had lost after Magowan’s vicious beating. She grew physically strong, but Michael sensed a deeper vulnerability in her. He gave her work to give her purpose, and the brothel and cabin pallor disappeared. Yet no life shone in her eyes.

Most men would have been satisfied to have such a malleable, hardworking wife. Michael was not. He had not married her to have a drudge. He wanted a woman as part of his life—part of himself.

Every night was a trial. He lay beside her and breathed in the scent of her until his head swam. She made it clear he could use her body whenever and however he wished. She looked at him every night as she took off her clothes. The question in her eyes made his mouth go dry, but he didn’t give in. He waited, praying for her heart to soften.