My Angel (59 page)

She could see Alexi's face now, his eyes.

Anger radiated from him in searing waves. Still, she stood her ground. He would have to come all the way if he wanted to hold the son he'd sired. She would not meet him halfway. She'd already done that.

He would not take the child from her.

He would not.

Alexi plucked the child from her arms as if she were nothing, as if he owned the child. The babe looked at the man with curiosity in his eyes, his finger reaching out to touch Alexi's chin.

He gurgled delightedly, almost as if he knew Devil was his father.

The smile that slanted crookedly across Devil's face softened his harsh features. Then he looked at her. His coldness returned like the frigid storms that had swept the
Rockies
this past winter.

"You will not keep the boy from me," he said, his voice
tempered, yet so very hard. "He will live in my home. You can decide what you want to do. Either come or stay."

He challenged her, provoked her.

"He's not your son," she returned.

"Liar."

There was no shred of tenderness in the expression or the single word he shot to her--no caring or concern for her. Fear left a cold emptiness inside her.

Alexi would do everything he said. She could not live with him, knowing he wanted only his son. There was no choice.

The child looked dwarfed in his arms, so very small and fragile. Her baby's eyes were the same color as Alexi's own, and his hair the same blue-black. The lie was apparent from the start, and she thought Alexi knew why she'd issued the false statement, why she had lied to him again.

He thought she meant to deny him his child.

But, Lord, it wasn't true. She did not want to keep Alexi from seeing and knowing his child. She was just so very afraid he'd take him from her.

And because of her lies, he meant to do that very thing.

She closed her eyes, resigned to the fate now waiting for her, for them. For a moment she rested her head in her hands, wishing she could change the course her life had taken.

She could not.

Silence engulfed them. Only the soft breezes wrapping around them made any noise at all. It seemed that with her declaration and his counter, the world had stopped turning.

Nothing mattered but her child.

And then he laughed.

"Little liar,'' he said again. "You don't expect me to believe this child is not mine?'' he asked, his tone incredulous. Stepping even closer to her, the child held protectively in his arms, he touched her cheek.

An answer eluded her. The ground she stood on whirled crazily beneath her feet. She swayed, suddenly overcome by the uproar within her. She should have had time to prepare for his arrival.

Unable to restrain herself, she lifted her arms for her child. He didn't move to give her what she wanted.

"Can we sit down and discuss this?" he asked. "He needs a mother and a father."

"You won't take him from me." She didn't know if that was a question or a command. It no longer mattered. She meant every word, and she would meet this challenge he forced on her.

"We need to talk," he told her.

She watched his strong fingers as they gently stroked the child's back, soothing him as he once had soothed her. Tremors ran the length of her spine.

There was nothing to talk about. She was at his mercy, and she understood he would have his way. Even her father would not deny that Alexi had a right to his own child. Sam had warned her time and again to write to Devil, to tell him the truth.

Fear had always stopped her.

"I won't hurt you," he said again. His voice just as tender and seducing as she remembered. "I want only to share what's mine and yours."

Nothing she could do would stop the horrid, wonderful sensations just the sight of him gave her.

Get down on your knees and beg my forgiveness. Please.

He settled his long form arrogantly on the tree stump she'd just been leaning against, their child nestled in his arms.

"Why did you run, knowing you were pregnant with my child?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

It was not an accusation. She heard the pain in his voice, the unspoken yearning.

Once again she had no answer. Cold sweat trickled between her breasts and down her back.

"You know the answer,'' she said, unable to look at him. What she'd done had been wrong. Refusing to let him know about the child had been a horrible betrayal. But what he'd wanted from her had been far worse.

How could she tell him the truth?

How could she tell him she loved him?

He would never believe her.

Alexi moved with a fluid grace. Even with a child in his arms, he managed to sleekly close the distance between them and sit cross-legged on the blanket next to her. The baby whimpered, nestling into Alexi's neck, looking for something Alexi didn't have.

"You interrupted his meal." Her eyes lowered, remembering the sight she'd greeted him with only a few moments ago...an eternity.

"Insatiable, are you?" Alexi said to the child, laughing.

Reluctantly he handed the child over to her. Beneath her lashes, she waited for him to turn away. He looked pointedly at her breasts, his eyes hungry.

Insatiable.

There had always been that between them. Desire. Lust.

Shifting her shoulders slightly and holding a small blanket across her breasts, she managed to undo the buttons of her shirt. The boy latched on eagerly.

Alexi laughed again, the smile on his face growing. "We think alike."

Her insides churned. Apprehension and fear were not conducive to nursing. Angela tried to relax.

"Here," he said, and pulled her between his legs so her back rested against his chest, his arms supporting her.

Her feeble protest went unnoticed.

Warmth from him radiated through the layers of clothing separating them. While the child nursed, he massaged her neck and her shoulders with clinical detachment.

"You look tired," he said.

"It goes with the territory," she countered.

The braid she'd plaited this morning unraveled slowly, his fingers shifting through its length. His hand brushed her gently, provocatively now.

"Jasmine." He breathed deeply. "You remembered."

"It was handy," she told him waspishly, then instantly regretted the words and the tone.

Against her back, she felt the deep, low rumbling of his chest.

"The babe's asleep."

Indeed, the blanket had slipped and her entire breast was bared to his view. Heat flared. Instantly she remedied the situation, covering herself, setting the child in a warm nest of blankets and disengaging herself from the intimate contact she could succumb to so easily that it terrified her.

At every turn he tested, challenged anew.

Casually, he leaned back on an elbow. He plucked a blade of grass and chewed on it, always watching her. His eyes were brooding, searching, studying. He delved deeper than she wanted him to see.

Chills spiraled through her.

She swallowed hard.

"You've buttoned your shirt wrong..."

Indeed, she had the whole thing askew. Fingers trembling, she fumbled with the tiny holes and little buttons until she made a disaster of her clothes.

Embarrassment should not have played havoc with her senses. Memories of another time and place lodged in her head. She continued to fumble awkwardly.

"Let me,'' he said, brushing her hands aside, grinning crookedly, heart-meltingly.

He could do that to her.

His knuckles warmed her flesh, his eyes roaming blatantly, possessively.