Silver Angel (34 page)

He drew in his breath sharply. “God’s mercy, are all Vikings as brazen as you?”

“What you call brazen, I call honesty. Would you rather I lie and say I hate you, that I despise the sight of you?”

“How can you not hate me? I have enslaved you. I keep you shackled and I know you hate the chain. I think you do hate me, that you tempt me apurpose, hoping to have revenge by bewitching me.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I am through telling you what I hope for, through speaking the truth to you when you will not believe it. Think whatever you like.”

She turned her back on him, but was tense, waiting for him to walk away. He did not do so immediately. She imagined he was fighting to control a new fury that she would dare dismiss him like that. She would have been much appeased if she had seen that his eyes had simply moved over her, revealing for one unguarded moment the yearning in his soul.

Once a Princess

What woman hasn’t dreamed of being Cinderella, of being rescued by a handsome prince to a better world than the one she lives in? In
Once a Princess,
that fantasy comes alive for Tanya, but the lovely orphan isn’t quite ready to believe that fairy tales can happen for her
.

Tanya couldn’t hold back the incredulous thought any longer. “Do—do you know who my parents are?”

“It is possible—if you carry a certain—birthmark that is—hereditary.”

She didn’t even notice his hesitation over those pertinent words. She was trying to tamp down her excitement, because what he was suggesting was just too unlikely to be true. And yet—ever since she’d found out that she was unrelated to Dobbs and Iris, she’d wondered about her real parents, where they came from, what they were like,
who
they were.

Other girls had backgrounds, rich in detail and color. Her life was a blank page begun in a tavern. Now here were four strangers hinting at knowledge she craved as much as, if not more than, her independence. To finally have a real identity, a family history, possibly even relatives still living—a birth date! It was just too wonderful to be true, and if she allowed her hopes to be raised, she’d be doomed to disappointment. And to have it all hinge on a birthmark?

“We are certain of your identity, mistress. The mark that will prove it should be found on the underside of your seat, on the left cheek. It will no doubt require a mirror for you to examine it, but go and do
so now, and do so carefully, so you may return and describe the mark to us.”

“And if I won’t?”

“Then you may possibly be offended when we locate the mark ourselves, to end all doubt, you understand.”

She was quickly learning that Stefan could be cruel in his remarks. Her cheeks flaming, she hissed, “You bastard,” but he merely crooked a brow at her, showing her how little it mattered to him that he’d insulted her—again. “What happens if the mark
is
there?”

“Then you will return with us to Cardinia.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s a small country in Eastern Europe. It’s where you were born, Tatiana Janacek.”

A name. Her name? God, this was becoming real again, her hopes soaring again. “Is that why you’re here? To take me back?”

“Yes.”

“Then I have family there? They sent you to find me?”

“No.” His tone softened for the moment. “Regrettably, you are the last of your line.”

Up and down, these hopes. Why did she let herself be lured in by possibilities? All right, no family. But a name, a history—if they were telling the truth, and if she had the mark.

“If I don’t have any family left, then why did you bother to find me?”

“These questions are pointless, mistress, until you prove to us all, yourself included, that you possess the mark that names you a Janacek.”

“I don’t care how pointless you find my questions, I’m not moving an inch until I know the real reason you came here.”

Stefan took a menacing step closer, but she didn’t budge. He growled down at her, “For no other reason than to collect you and return you—”

“Why?”

“For your wedding!”

“My
what
?”

“You are to marry the new King of Cardinia.”

Angel

Angel never thought of himself as a hero. He was just a man with a gun and a reputation who had always walked a solitary path. But when a debt lands him in a marriage with a refined young woman who interferes in everyone’s life, including his own, the inscrutable loner finally learns what it means to need someone
.

“Are we divorced yet?”

Cassie woke with a start, that soft drawl echoing in her ears. “What?”

“Are we divorced yet?”

She knew instantly who he was, she just couldn’t believe he was there. “Angel?”

His hand slipped into her hair as his body moved to cover hers. “Just answer the question, Cassie.”

“We’re not. I just haven’t had the time—”

His mouth came down to cut off the rest of her explanation. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in her excuses just now. But what he was interested in was bundled up in warm flannel.

“How come you don’t sleep naked?”

It was a question born of frustration, not one for a
lady to take seriously. Cassie answered anyway. “I do in the summertime.”

He groaned, knowing full well an image of her naked was going to haunt him now. And his tongue slid in deep, eliciting an answering groan out of Cassie. It was a while before they drew breath.

“You got the sweetest, softest lips I ever did taste,” he said against them.

“Your voice makes me tingle, Angel.”

“What does my mouth do to you?”

“It makes me weak.”

His mouth moved up to suck on her earlobe. “What else?”

“Hot,” she whispered.

“Oh, God, Cassie, I’m going to burst if I can’t get inside you right now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughed and kissed her again. Then he rolled to her side to shove the covers off her. She tore the top of her nightgown open, popping off three buttons in her impatience to get it off. He yanked his shirt out of his pants and sent his buttons to join hers on the bed and the floor. In seconds he was back, pressing her into the mattress. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, locking him in place. And then he was inside, deep inside, and that familiar throbbing came so quickly, bursting on her senses, pulsing around him, drawing his own climax to mesh with hers.

Cassie lowered her legs slowly. Her toes slid against leather. Angel was still wearing his boots, and his pants. She wanted to laugh, but she felt like crying.

God, how she hated the reality that surfaced after the passion was spent. She resented that. She resented Angel, too, at the moment. And she particularly resented the fact that he hadn’t taken off his boots.

She let him know it with the curt admonishment, “Next time take off your boots.”

“I’ll take them off now.”

“No, you won’t. You aren’t staying.”

“I’m not ready to leave yet, Cassie. And that was too intense. We’re going to try it again, slow and easy.”

Her stomach fluttered in response to those words. She suppressed the feeling.

“No, we aren’t,” she told him stiffly. “You’re going to get out of here before my mama hears you and comes charging in with her gun blazing.”

“Where is she?”

“In the next room.”

“Then we’ll have to be quiet, won’t we?”

“Angel—”

His mouth was back, slanting across hers with tantalizing skill. She couldn’t let that work this time. She couldn’t.

She did. She’d missed him too much, wanted him too much, to be sensible about it. And there had been the thought, haunting her ever since he’d ridden out of her life, that she’d never know his touch again.

Now his touch was breaking the last of her resistance with a slow sweep of his hand over her breasts and belly. Gooseflesh followed in wake; nipples tingled to hardness. She’d just had the most incredible explosion of pleasure imaginable, but her body was firing up to experience it again. And in no way did Angel hurry her toward that end. He’d said slow and easy, and that was exactly how he proceeded.

It was nearly dawn before Angel finally got his fill of her. Cassie was too sated to feel any more resentment. And he’d been right. The first time had been over with too quickly. The rest…Lord love him, the man was as good at loving as he was with a gun.