Johanna Lindsey - Angel

She continued to think that, even when he replied, “A doc can’t fix what’s ailing me now — unless it’s a female doctor.”

“Ours isn’t, and I suggest you try sleep as a second option.”

“Sure you won’t accommodate me on the first?”

“Quite sure.”

“You might like it, Cassie.”

She drew in her breath sharply. He knew who she was after all, and that simple fact had an amazing effect on her. She actually reconsidered. What harm could it do to lie down next to him? The man was certainly in no condition to do more than cuddle, despite the improper remarks he was making, and… She must be mad!

Cassie shot to her feet and hurried out to the balcony, where she’d placed a wet cloth to chill for his eye. Angel let out a sigh behind her. Even drunk, he couldn’t get her off his mind.

She was wearing the same kind of white cotton nightgown she’d been wearing the other night, long-sleeved with ruffles at the wrist, high-necked with more ruffles and a bit of lace, totally without shape — and this one wasn’t ripped up the front. There was certainly nothing there to tempt a man beyond the fact that she was in her bedclothes, which wasn’t about to make a difference to a man in his present condition.

God, he liked seeing her with her hair down. It flowed about her like rich mahogany, looking so soft he ached to bury his hands in it. Didn’t suppose she’d stand for that. She was the very proper Miss Cassandra tonight, though for a second there she’d looked like she might devour him. Had to be the drink making him see what he wanted, not what actually was.

She came back with her lips pursed tightly. “This might help the swelling.” For all her stiffness, she was very gentle in placing the cold cloth over his eye.

He caught her hand before she drew back. “One kiss to put me to sleep.”

“I’m not so sure you’re awake even now. More likely you’re having a dream that you won’t remember come morning.”

“Then make it a pleasant dream, honey.”

For a moment he thought he had her as she glanced down at his lips. But then she jerked her hand away and he sagged into the mattress, suddenly feeling every single ache he had.

“You’re being highly improper,” she told him as she headed for the door.

“I’m allowed, after your ex-beau tried to kill me with his bare hands, all because he thinks I’m your fianc�.”

“Good night, Angel.”

“It could have been,” he grumbled.

A storm blew through that Sunday, severe enough to keep Cassie home for the day. Church had been a difficult experience anyway these past weeks with all of her former friends not talking to her. And Jenny hadn’t shown up for one service since the elopement. After what Buck had told Angel about his sister, Cassie figured that it was probably because she couldn’t stop crying long enough to make the trip to church.

She was glad of the emotional reprieve, but didn’t appreciate Angel telling her she wouldn’t have gone anyway, because he wasn’t up to escorting her. Baldly, he told her that he didn’t trust her out of his sight. She didn’t appreciate that, either, but the man was in a testy mood, so she didn’t argue about it.

In fact, he didn’t leave his bed that day or the next. The one time Cassie stopped in to see how he was faring had been too unpleasant to repeat, so she left him alone with his hangover, sending Emanuel with his meals.

However, when he didn’t come down to breakfast on the third day, Cassie began to worry that he might have some serious injury that he hadn’t mentioned and she hadn’t noticed. But when she knocked on his door and got permission to enter, she found him up and dressed — and practicing drawing his gun. He didn’t stop just because she was there, so she patiently waited for him to give her his attention. He dropped the gun twice, swearing foully each time, before he finally did.

“Well?”

His angry tone should have turned her about without a word. Instead she asked, “Is it broken?”

“What?”

“Your hand.”

“No, just a couple of busted knuckles. MacKauley’s got a rock for a jaw.”

She didn’t comment on that. “Shouldn’t you let it heal before you attempt to use it?”

“With neighbors like yours?”

That derisive question proved he was most definitely still in a lousy mood. “They’ve been quiet since you talked to the one side and I was able to talk to R. J. — at least they’re leaving me alone.” That last got her a dark look that she gave right back when she added, “I thought I expressly asked you not to kill any of them.”

“I don’t aim to kill ‘em, but you still need protecting. I can’t do that without my gun.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Mabel Koch — she’s one of Caully’s biggest gossips — stopped by yesterday to mention you won that fight with Morgan, just in case I wasn’t aware of it. Seems to me you do all right without a gun.”

Her smug tone, obviously on his behalf, got her an even darker look. “I’m not about to take on another MacKauley without one. Once was enough. And I don’t reckon the rest of ‘em are too happy about the outcome of that fight, so I’m expecting more trouble from that quarter. It’s just a matter of when it�ll come, and how.”

Cassie frowned. “Now that you mention it, you’re probably right. R. J. has always been real proud that no one around here has ever come out ahead in a fight with one of his boys. I’m surprised Frazer didn’t come over to tell me his papa has had another fit of ranting and raving. R. J.‘s really good at it, you know. I thought someone was going to die the first time I witnessed him in a temper. But he’s more bluster than not. Just like Frazer implied, his papa seems to enjoy blowing off steam.”

“All the same, I’d as soon you didn’t leave the ranch for a while.”

“Are you asking this time?”

“Cassie—”

She cut off his warning. “Never mind. I suppose you aren’t any good with your left hand?”

“I can hit what I aim at, but my draw is slow.”

“Then I don’t see a problem, since you won’t be participating in any more showdowns that would require speed.”

“There’s rarely much choice about showdowns,” he replied. “But when’s it going to sink in that I’m not taking chances where you’re concerned? So stay home, and yes, dammit, I’m telling you to.”

She stiffened up real quick. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you at all. You’re not only aggravating, you’re — you’re—”

He interrupted her before he had to listen to what would undoubtedly be a very prim, ladylike setdown. “Are you here for a specific reason, or did you just feel like annoying me?”

Pink cheeks clashed with her saffron blouse. “I was wor — never mind. It’s no longer important.”

She turned to leave. He stopped her at the door, and there was a difference in his tone, a definite hesitancy. “Do I — ah — owe you another apology?”

Her back got even stiffer, if that were possible. “Right now you most certainly do.”

“To hell with now. What about the other night?”

She glanced back, giving him a doubtful look. “You don’t remember?”

“Would I ask if I did?”

The possibilities that came with an answer to that question were numerous, and each one flitted across her face, making Angel groan inwardly.

“Actually,” she began, only to pause, obviously changing her mind. “No.”

Wondering what he had done to her the other night was going to drive him crazy now because he really didn’t have much memory beyond opening that bottle of whiskey the barkeep had given to him to deaden his pain on the way home. And he wasn’t going to call her on that lie. He didn’t like apologizing anyway, especially for something he couldn’t help, which was her fault in the first place. If she’d just stop getting prettier every time he saw her…

He wished to hell he knew how she did that. Even now, as irritated as he was with her and her bull of an ex-beau, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. But there were a number of good reasons why he wouldn’t give in to the urges she stirred in him. They were getting harder to keep in mind, though, and right now he was in a mood to forget them entirely. He indulged the mood.

“You really ought to stop doing this, Cassie,” he said in his lazy drawl as he slowly closed the space between them.

She immediately backed up until the door wouldn’t let her go farther. “What?”

“Seeking me out for no good reason.”

That took the wariness out of her expression, replacing it with indignation. “I had a reason. I foolishly thought you might be injured worse than you appeared to be.”

He reached her, deliberately crowding her against the door. Surprise was written all over her face now, and he heard her gasp when his hands cupped her cheeks to tilt her face up to him. He couldn’t resist smoothing his thumbs over her lower lip. It was such a soft, supple lip. He wanted to suck on it — and her tongue — and her nipples, if she’d let him. Hell, he’d like to lick every inch of her. Too bad she wouldn’t let him.

But while he had her confused, he continued. “Concern, Cassie? For a hardened killer like me? I’m touched.”

Cassie didn’t know what was happening. They’d just been snapping at each other, but now he was using those husky tones to mesmerize her. In the dazed recesses of her mind, she thought he didn’t look touched. He looked hungry, and she was apparently on his menu for the day.

She had to stop him. But as his mouth came slowly toward hers, giving her ample time to do so, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would. The fact was, “had to” wasn’t a priority at the moment, having taken second place to anticipation. Just the thought of tasting his mouth again was incredibly exciting.

But that was nothing compared with the actuality, which stole her breath and seemed to be melting her bones. She braced her hands against the door to hold her up, but that wasn’t working, so she reached for his shoulders instead. Better, but she still felt like she’d fall on her face if she were left to stand there alone, especially when her lower lip was drawn gently into his mouth.

A sound purred in her throat; her fingers dug into his muscles. He must have sensed her problem because his hips pressed forward, pinning her to the door, offering support, and she needed it when his thumbs worked her mouth open. It was her tongue he was after now, and he coaxed it, teased it, until she innocently gave it to him.

What she got back was heat, spreading rapidly, and so many other sensations and yearnings she didn’t understand. Fear was there, too, because she had no control over what was happening, nor over what she was feeling. Then he groaned, and she was being lifted, her feet dangling, her breasts crushed against his chest, and the kiss took on a savage intensity that she wasn’t experienced enough to meet.

Her fear got the upper hand and she pushed at Angel. He let her go immediately. She slumped back against the door, breathing hard. He stared at her for the longest time, and she knew he was debating, fighting something powerful, primitive even, and she held her breath, waiting, not even sure she wanted him to win the fight.

Finally he said, “I’m not apologizing this time. You come in here again, I’m going to think you want me to finish this, and I’ll damn well oblige you.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. There was a moment of struggling to open the door with trembling fingers, but then she was gone.

Angel stood there for a moment more, staring at the closed door, before he released the urge and slammed his fist against it, then swore a blue streak as the already swollen areas of his hand began to throb. But that wasn’t all that was throbbing.

Why did he keep letting her arouse him like that? Letting her? Hell, there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it, and he finally admitted it. He’d like to teach Miss Cassandra Stuart how to be not so proper. If he stuck around here much longer, he just might.

She worried about it for a week, but Cassie finally came to the conclusion that Angel had kissed her again because Angel had been angry with her. He’d been frustrated over his inability to use his gun hand. And he probably blamed her for the fight he’d gotten into with Morgan.

It really made sense, and it went hand in hand with that threat he’d made the day she’d stomped on his foot. She hadn’t taken him seriously then, but he’d said she owed him for it, and he’d implied he would collect by kissing her. Being angry with her again had probably reminded him of that other time, and he’d decided to go ahead and get even that way. After all, how else could he retaliate against her? He wouldn’t call her out. He wouldn’t even leave, because he wasn’t here for her, but for Lewis Pickens.