Glorious Angel (12 page)
“Oh, he is, is he?” Angela said icily.
She picked up the one small suitcase she had kept with a few changes of clothes in it. Naomi had taken the rest of her luggage. And then Angela walked stiffly out of the cell and continued to the entrance, not waiting for anyone to tell her whether she could or not. She was stopped, but only to be handed her cape and jacket. She donned them quickly and left the building.
The bright morning sun blinded her when she walked out the door. That and the recently fallen snow made everything a white blur for a moment and she had to stop to get her bearings. But with squinting and shading her eyes with her hand,
she finally saw him just a few yards from her, standing in front of a small coach.
She walked toward him, deliberately taking her time, her eyes riveted on his face. He was smiling, actually smiling! That was the last straw. She stopped only inches from him and then her hand snaked through the air and cracked against his cold cheek.
Bradford was genuinely surprised. “What was that for?”
“You dare to ask!” she shouted furiously. “If I had a gun right now I would shoot you. I would honest to God shoot you dead!”
“Lower your voice, damnit, or you will have the police out here to arrest you again.”
“Yes, by all means, throw me in jail again!” she stormed. “You can say I assaulted you.”
Bradford’s eyes narrowed. “Get in the coach.”
“I certainly will not!”
He grabbed her arm and shoved her roughly through the coach door, tossing her suitcase in after her. Quickly, he was inside and the driver started them off down the street.
Angela crawled up on the seat opposite him and glared at him murderously. “You stop this coach right now and let me out! I refuse to go anywhere with you!”
“Shut up, Miss Smith, and stop acting as if I wronged you. You stole from me, remember? I could have left you to rot in jail.”
Angela felt a tight knot swell in her throat. Her
lower lip began to tremble and tears sprang to her eyes.
“You didn’t have to be so cruel,” she said in a tiny voice. “I offered to give your vest back, but your lawyer said that wasn’t good enough. All along, it was your fault I took the vest to begin with.”
“My fault? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Her body stiffened and her eyes glistened with anger again. “I needed you that day to fasten my dress, but you were passed out. That was why I needed your damn vest.”
“So that’s why you took it?” Bradford laughed. “My dear, there were any number of women below who would have been glad to assist you.”
“I couldn’t go down there and risk running into that horrible Maudie.” Angela was aghast.
“So you fled, and fortunately left your jacket and cape behind.”
“Fortunately?”
“That’s how we found you. I had a man sent there in case you returned, and he discovered from the doorman that you had left the articles behind. It was lucky for you he swiped them before Maudie found them.”
“I wouldn’t call it lucky if it led you to me,” Angela snapped.
“Would you rather Maudie found you? She was determined to, you know.” He grinned when she remained silent. “I didn’t think so. At any rate, there was a piece of note paper in the pocket
of your jacket, math notes written on school stationery. My man went to the school and you were recognized from a description.” When she still did not speak, he sighed. “Angela, I didn’t want to have you arrested, I only wanted you to be here when I returned.”
It took all of Angela’s willpower not to strike him again. “Are you saying that I spent the last three days in jail, not because I took your vest, but because you wanted to make sure I would be here when you returned? Of all the contemptible, loathsome—”
“That’s enough!” Bradford cut her short. “If you want to talk about what is contemptible, let’s talk about you. You are a student in an exclusive school, you obviously come from a good background, yet you went to a brothel to prostitute yourself.”
“I did not!” Angela gasped.
“Then what would you call it, Miss Smith?” he asked her pointedly. “Do you deny I paid for you? Or are you going to say I raped you?”
“What I did doesn’t excuse what you did!”
“Miss Smith, I took something from you that day that I didn’t expect or ask for, yet it ended up costing me another five hundred dollars.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your virginity.”
Angela gasped.
“I think you owe me an explanation. What were you doing in a place like that?”
Angela felt trapped now. “I saw you outside and I—thought I recognized you. I didn’t know what kind of place that was. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, we certainly talked, didn’t we?” he said sarcastically. “And here I wasn’t even the man you thought you knew, was I?”
“No, you certainly aren’t the man I thought you were,” Angela replied with a meaning only she understood.
“So why didn’t you make your excuses and leave as soon as you knew you had made a mistake?”
“I—” She couldn’t go on, not without telling him the truth.
“What’s the matter, Miss Smith?” he taunted her. “Are you ashamed to admit you were just looking for some fun and excitement? There are a lot of girls like you who want the best of both worlds, but not many as daring as you.”
Angela blushed hotly. “You’re wrong! I wasn’t looking for fun and excitement.”
“Then enlighten me. If you didn’t just want to get rid of your virginity so you could enjoy a promiscuous life, why did you give yourself to me?”
Angela drew herself up. “I don’t have to answer your question, Mr. Maitland.”
Bradford frowned, then shrugged. “I suppose I can let it go for now. But I promise you, I
will
get the answers I want before I’m finished with you.”
Before he was finished with her? What did that mean? It sounded like a threat.
She finally became aware of how much time had passed and, looking out the coach window, she recognized open country. “Where are you taking me?” she asked in alarm.
“You are going to be my guest for a while.”
“I certainly am not!”
“Angela, settle down.” Bradford shook his head. “I really should know better than to try to predict a woman’s behavior.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, my dear. I was so sure that you would be grateful to me for not pressing charges, that you would be happy to comply with my suggestion that you spend the rest of the holidays with me. I even went so far as to procure a house in the country for us. We are going there now.”
“
You
can go there, or drop dead, for all I care. I’m going to South Hadley and hope to God I can forget I ever met you,” she said stiffly.
“What has happened to the girl who was so worried she wouldn’t please me?” he asked her pointedly.
Angela blushed and looked out the window, unable to face him. “That girl spent three miserable days in jail and found out what a bastard you are.”
“Let me make it up to you, Angel,” Bradford said quietly.
Angela turned dark violet eyes on him. “Can’t you understand that I despise you? You have no
right to kidnap me. And to put me in jail—I hate you!”
“Angela, you don’t know me well enough to hate me.”
“Yes I do,” she replied coldly.
He leaned forward in his seat and reached for her hand, but she quickly snatched it away. “Look, I am sorry for the way I’ve handled things thus far. I don’t want to fight with you. I want you. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ve gone to all this trouble.”
Angela didn’t reply. Slowly, Bradford sat back and watched her. They remained silent for the rest of the journey.
Angela showed little interest in her surroundings. The huge bedroom was warm and cozy, with a fire burning in the grate and thick carpeting to sink her bare toes into. It was a luxurious room, but as far as she was concerned, it was just another jail.
It was utterly inconceivable that she was here, but she was. The door was locked from the other side, and the windows were two stories high—and Bradford would be joining her soon.
“You’re going to be mine for a while, whether you like it or not,” he had said after dragging her inside the large country house and carrying her upstairs. “I’ll give you the afternoon to think it over and see that there is nothing you can do about it. For your own sake, I hope you’re more congenial when I join you tonight.”
The afternoon had dragged by while Angela
paced the floor in a rage and screamed her throat raw demanding release. And what made it worse, what made it so unbearably frustrating, was that just a few days ago she would have been ecstatic to be with Bradford.
She gathered every available weapon in the room—books, vases, a clock, two small iron statues—and piled them on the bed, ready to hurl them the moment the door opened. And if that didn’t keep him out, then the iron poker from the fireplace would at least keep him away from her.
Bradford had spent most of the day downstairs, pacing. He knew he had no right to keep the girl here against her will, that he could very well end up in jail himself because of it. But he didn’t care. Damned if he wasn’t willing to pay that price.
He spent the latter part of the afternoon preparing dinner, then grimaced at the disaster he had made of the kitchen. Soon, he set a tray of food down on a table next to Angela’s room, then moved to unlock her door. Locking her in had disturbed his conscience, but he could see no other way. All she needed, he reasoned, was time to calm down. After all, she had opened her arms to him before. She must have liked him.
There was no sound from inside the room. Bradford turned the key in the lock and opened the door. He gasped and stepped aside as an ob
ject sailed past his head and shattered in the corridor behind him. When he saw Angela on the other side of the bed with a book raised to throw, he quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door again.
He frowned. This was going to be difficult.
“Angela, this won’t work,” he called out to her. “I’m still coming in.”
“You do and you’ll be hurting in the morning.”
“I brought food. You have to eat.”
“I’ve gone without food. I don’t want anything from you.”
Bradford shook his head. Many people had gone without food during the war. It made him wonder where Angela Smith had spent those hard years. There were so many things about the girl that he wanted to know, and he was determined to learn everything. In the next few days he would come to know all about her.
He scanned the corridor for a shield, saw the tray of food and quickly removed everything from the tray. Holding it in front of him, he opened the door slowly and poked his head in. As soon as an object hit the door, he rushed inside. A vase struck the tray and a book bounced off his thigh before he reached the bed.
Angela stood rigidly with an iron poker in her hand and he laughed. “You don’t give up, do you, Angel?”
“Don’t call me that!” she shouted before she swung at him.
But his reflexes were well trained. He stepped out of the way and then grabbed her wrist before she could raise the poker again.
“Now what will you fight with?” he asked after he jerked the weapon out of her hand.
“This!” She raised her other hand to strike him, but he caught that too.
“And now what?” he chuckled.
He drew her to him and then fell with her across the bed, gazing down at her and grinning at the anger sparkling in her eyes, now a dark violet-blue.
“Don’t be mad anymore, Angel. Don’t fight me.”
“You can’t keep me here like this!” she hissed at him. Ignoring her words, he bent over her and buried his face against her neck. Angela gasped as his lips caused goose bumps to spread across her arms. She shivered as her legs were pressed hard against his. She tried to get her hands loose, but he held her tight and continued his onslaught against her sensitive skin.
“Stop it,” she protested, but she heard the weakness in her voice. “Please!”
Bradford answered by claiming her lips. She felt his hunger, was overpowered by it, and then she felt her own hunger being drawn out. She tried desperately to remember that she hated him. She ought to be repelled by his touch, she told herself furiously. Instead, she was arching
her back to get closer to him, damning the clothes that separated them.
“Love me, Angel,” he whispered huskily as his lips moved along her throat. “Be mine, as you were mine before. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.”
“No,” Angela moaned with the last of her resistance.
“Yes,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she sighed.
After that first time, she rejoiced in the week they had together in the beautiful country house. He couldn’t get enough of her, nor she of him. She quickly learned that she was quite passionate. All Bradford had to do was touch her and she wanted him.