Johanna Lindsey - Angel

“Can’t I? I truly thought I was going to die that day. He could have told me he was on my side, instead of letting me think the worst.”

“If you’d thought any differently, Longnose might have suspected something, and who’s to say you and Angel would have got out of there alive? Now I’m not condoning what he did, but he did have the best intentions. You’d been running from that man for three years without knowing what he even looked like. It was time you knew.”

“I give you only that,” she allowed.

“Well, give me one better,” he said. “If you’d had to waste time guessing who Longnose was when he showed up here in your bedroom that day, you wouldn’t have acted as swiftly as you did, and you might have been dead by the time I got up here to kill the bastard.”

She hadn’t thought of that, but still, she really detested the idea of being grateful to Angel. Pointedly, she said, “You were telling me about his letter. What has you so upset about it?”

Colt grunted. “I’m not upset, I’m baffled.”

“And you’re handling it very well, too.”

He gave her a sharp look. “He says he’ll be home within the week.”

“Wonderful.” She sighed. “In time for the wedding. Just what I wanted to hear. Does he at least own a suit?”

“You’re going to pay for that one, Duchess.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Do you promise?”

He came up to stand behind her. “My brother-in-law has the right idea. A woman’s neck needs to be wrung every once in a while.”

“If you put your hands on me, Colt Thunder, I can’t promise we’ll be available when your sister arrives.”

He bent down to lick the bare skin on the inner side of her camisole strap. “Jessie would understand.”

“Philippe wouldn’t.”

“That’s all right,” he assured her. “I feel like shooting that temperamental French chef of yours once a day anyway. So today I give in—”

“Stop!” She chuckled. “What else did your wretched Angel have to say?”

The frown was back as Colt glanced again at the letter in his hand. “He asks me to keep an eye on his meddling wife until he gets here.”

“I didn’t know he was married,” Jocelyn said. “Have I met her?”

“How the hell should I know?” he replied. “I haven’t met her yet myself.”

Her frown appeared to match his. “Then how does he expect you to keep an eye on her?”

“I’m damned if I know,” Colt said in exasperation. “It’s not like Angel to be cryptic— well, it is, but not that cryptic. He must think that I’d know who he’s talking about, but I’m damned if I do.”

“Did he describe her?”

“Honey, I told you word for word all he said. Two damn sentences.”

“Well, actually, he does describe her— as meddling. Do you know anyone like that?”

“There’s only one woman in these parts that anyone refers to as meddling, but it couldn’t be her. She was visiting her father in — Texas.”

“Isn’t that where Angel went when he left us in New Mexico?”

He shook his head, not in answer, but in bafflement again. “I refuse to believe Angel married Cassie Stuart.”

“There, you see, you did know who he was talking about after all.”

“Jocelyn, Cassie Stuart is a very proper, very well-brought-up young lady. She and Angel would be so mismatched if d be laughable. Her kind scares the pants off him.”

“That would certainly be interesting.” She grinned at him through the mirror. “I rather hope it is her, though, of course, that means I’ll have to start feeling sorry for the girl immediately.”

He placed his hands slowly around her neck.

“What do you mean, you know?” Jessie scowled. She hated having a good surprise spoiled. “Cassie just told me today. When did she tell you?”

“She didn’t,” Colt replied, his bafflement back. “I got a letter from Angel. But I still refuse to believe it. Angel and Cassie?”

“Thars what I said,” Jessie told him. “But it’s true enough, though how long it remains so is another matter. They didn’t get married because they wanted to. They were helped to it by some angry Texans.”

“All right, now that’s a little more believable,” Colt allowed. “Though I still can’t imagine why Angel would let it happen.”

“Maybe because he wanted it to happen.”

Colt, Jessie, and Chase all looked at Jocelyn in surprise. It was Colt who asked her, “Where did you get that crazy notion?”

The duchess shrugged. “If he didn’t want to be married, would he be in the habit of calling her his wife when referring to her, instead of by name? Would a man who hates to be indebted, as you’ve assured me he does, ask you to keep an eye on this lady when he’s going to be here shortly himself? And by the way, why would he be so concerned about her? Is she in some kind of trouble?”

It was Chase who answered, since Jessie and Colt were still mulling over Jocelyn’s astounding logic. “If you knew the lady, you wouldn’t have to ask. Cassie Stuart is in the habit of always being in trouble of one kind or another because of her meddling.”

“I don’t like that word, Chase,” Jessie complained in defense of her friend. “Cassie just has a big heart and likes to help people—”

“Whether they want help or not.”

Jessie gave her husband a dark look for that interruption. Typically, he merely smiled back at her.

And to dispute some of Jocelyn’s logic, Colt added, “Cassie’s mother is perfectly capable of keeping her out of trouble. She’s been doing it for years.”

To which the duchess simply tossed out another bit of logic for them to chew over. “So maybe Angel feels that’s his responsibility now.”

“She may have a point there, Colt,” Jessie conceded. “After all, Angel insisted on having a wedding night, when if he’d kept his hands off the girl, she could have had that shotgun wedding annulled.”

“Well, that must have been an interesting conversation you two had this morning,” Chase remarked with a chuckle.

“Cassie actually told you that?” Colt asked his sister, a bit embarrassed himself.

Jocelyn, seeing his flush, laughed. “Men do seem to have that problem every once in a while.”

“I’m more than likely to have it tonight,” Chase said.

His wife threw her napkin at him from across the table — but she didn’t push his foot away. It had slipped beneath her skirt and was presently rubbing up and down the back of her calf. She concealed a secret smile that only he recognized.

“Well, I don’t care what you say,” Colt said to the table at large. “I happen to know Angel better than the rest of you, and I’m not accepting any of this until I hear it from his own mouth. But in the meantime, I guess I better go over to the Lazy S tomorrow and make sure Angel’s so-called wife is behaving herself.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jocelyn volunteered. “I’d like to meet this poor, unfortunate girl for myself.”

“Duchess—” Colt began, only to be cut off.

“It doesn’t matter what you say, Colt Thunder. I am never going to like that particular friend of yours.”

“You weren’t planning on telling his wife that, were you?” Colt wanted to know.

“Certainly not. I hope I have better manners than that — though someone ought to encourage her to get a divorce while she still can.”

“But you won’t, Duchess,” Colt said without expression. “We only allow one meddler in each county, after all. We shoot the rest.”

“More Western customs?” she asked in a tone quite as dry as her friend Vanessa’s had ever been. “How quaint.”

Angel hadn’t expected to be back in Cheyenne before the end of the month. But the plain fact was, he couldn’t stay away. The short time he’d spent with his family had actually given him a new sense of self-worth. They’d accepted him as he was, without looking down on him for the profession he’d drifted into. It had made him rethink his situation with Cassie, and once he had, there was no way he was going to delay doing something about it.

That was what he’d thought when he left St. Louis. But when he was only a few hours’ ride away from her, the doubts had started to resurface — not enough to change his mind about the decision he’d made, but enough to put brakes on the urgency that had been hounding him.

He was going to tell Cassie that he wouldn’t give her a divorce. No, maybe he ought to ask her first if she wouldn’t mind staying married to him. If she said she did mind, then he’d tell her, “Too bad.” And he’d keep her in bed indefinitely if he had to, until she changed her mind. In bed they were compatible in every way. It was only out of it that she could find a hundred reasons why they would never suit. He aimed to convince her otherwise.

Now it was just a matter of getting up the nerve to do it. Seeing Catherine Stuart right after he’d arrived hadn’t helped. She’d been on her way to the bank and had seen him, too, but hadn’t acknowledged him other than to fondly caress the gun on her hip.

That lady was definitely going to be a problem. Trying to get on her good side would be pointless. She didn’t have one. So his best bet would probably be not to deal with her at all. He didn’t exactly need her approval to win Cassie, he just needed Cassie’s.

That decision put one of his worries to rest, but it was a short rest. The knock on his door came before he’d even had a chance to unpack. He thought it was Agnes, the owner of the boardinghouse where he lived whenever he was in town, but when he opened the door, Cassie’s mother was standing there looking her most formidable.

She didn’t waste any time getting to the point of her unexpected visit. “There’s twenty-five thousand dollars in this bag. Find yourself another town to live in.”

He glanced down at the black bag in her hand, took in her stiff posture, the determination in her expression. He didn’t close the door in her face, though he sure felt like it. He didn’t invite her in, either.

“I like this one,” was all he said to her.

“So find yourself another one to like.”

Angel kept his tone polite — just barely — and only for Cassie’s sake. “Keep your money, Mrs. Stuart. I’ve got no use for it.”

“It’s not enough? You want more?”

“Ma’am, I earn five thousand a job, sometimes ten, for just a few days’ work. I don’t want your money.”

She wasn’t expecting to hear that. It turned her expression even more sour than it was. “If you’re so damn rich, why don’t you retire?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Catherine scoffed. “You won’t. You’re not suited to anything else.”

“That’s what I always figured — but there does happen to be something else I can do now,” he said in his slow drawl. “I can be a husband to your daughter. Keeping her out of trouble would be a full-time job.”

He said it to rile her. She’d made him angry, thinking she could buy him off. And it worked.

She damn near screeched, “You stay the hell away from my daughter, or I’ll—!”

She didn’t finish her warning. Angel grinned, guessing her problem. “Can’t think of anyone who’s fast enough to kill me, can you?”

She about-faced to march off, without giving him the satisfaction of a reply. “Mrs. Stuart?” he called after her. She didn’t stop. “You can tell Cassie I’ll be out to see her soon.”

“Step one foot on my—”

“Yeah, I know, you’ll shoot me yourself. Folks just love to tell me that” He said the last to himself, though, since she was already gone.

Her mama was late. Cassie had taken care of the few purchases they’d needed while Catherine had gone to the bank and to the depot to see if Madame Cecilia’s gowns had arrived yet. They’d had lunch first in one of the several restaurants Cheyenne boasted, then gone in different directions to complete their errands.

She didn’t mind waiting in the carriage on a day when the sun was out, but this afternoon the sky was looking kind of gloomy. She hoped the snow would hold off for another two days, until after Colt�s wedding.

Imagine him coming by the ranch just to introduce his duchess to her and her mama the other day. That had been an unexpected surprise, but one that Cassie had appreciated. It gave her the opportunity to mention to him that Angel was in St. Louis. She’d hoped he might know how to reach him there to invite him to the wedding, but Colt hadn’t taken the hint, at least not that she’d noticed, and she wasn’t bold enough to come right out and make the suggestion.

She’d tried talking to him about Angel when her mama wasn’t there, but he kept changing the subject. In fact, now that she thought of it, about all he’d been interested in was knowing if she’d found anyone who needed her special “fixing” skills since she’d been back.