Glorious Angel (30 page)

“Then, after I felt my world was right again, you desert me for Grant.”

Angela was stricken speechless. She felt relief, regret, and then soaring joy. He had told Jacob he was going to marry
her
, not Candise!

“Bradford, I—”

“Save it!” he cut her off harshly.

“But I never deceived you, Bradford,” she said quickly, her eyes brimming with tears again.

“More heartless lies to add to the others?” he replied, his eyes a golden blaze.

“But I’m not lying!”

“What kind of fool do you take me for?” he snarled cruelly.

“Bradford, I love you!” she cried. There, she’d said it, and just then she realized it was true, fully true. “I’ve never stopped loving you!”

Dear God, how he wanted to believe her! But he would not be drawn into her web again. In his mind’s eye, he saw her entwined with Grant, saw it so clearly that his eyes flashed even brighter. His voice was like steel and his fingers dug cru
elly into her shoulders. “I believed you once, but I won’t make that mistake again!”

She wanted to plead with him. But pride took over. Outrage gripped her.

“What about Candise Taylor, Bradford?” she whispered furiously. “What about the fiancée you had
all the while
you swore you loved me?”

He stared at her for a long moment. She felt a glimmer of satisfaction in his confusion. And then he smiled cruelly.

“You mean my wife? We were married shortly after you disappeared.”

She could hardly breathe. Silently, Bradford put on his robe and crossed to the door. Without looking back at her, he said coldly, “I suggest you leave here if you don’t want this to happen again.”

He was gone. And with him went all the hope that had come to life for a flickering moment.

Forty-three

“Did you sleep well,
amigo?”

Bradford cast a sideways glance at Hank, who was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee braced in his hands. Did his friend know what had happened last night? Had he heard anything?

“I slept fine. And you?” Bradford replied, pouring coffee for himself.

Hank laughed. Bradford was getting used to hearing that laugh. “Like a baby, as soon as I hit the pillow. But I am not used to such quiet nights as you have here. It’s not like the noisy hotels I am accustomed to.”

Angela wasn’t up yet, but Bradford told himself he wasn’t worried. He didn’t care. What would it take to get her out of his system once and for all?

“Your thoughts are far away this morning, eh?” Hank broke the silence.

“Not so very far,” Bradford muttered, then grinned. “Tell me, how is it a man of your heritage has a first name like Hank?”

Hank laughed heartily. “My mother was an Anglo. She gave me the name just before she died, not giving my father a chance to object. Out of respect to her, he let me keep the name.”

“You don’t seem to find your mother’s death a tragedy. Does anything ever hurt you?”

Hank shrugged. “You cannot cry over the loss of someone you never knew.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Bradford grinned. “But you, I’ve noticed, take everything with a smile.”

“And why not,
amigo?”
Hank asked. “My grandfather always told me that it is easier to smile than to frown.”

“It is a nice philosophy, but not suited to all of us,” Bradford remarked slowly.

Just then the door to Angela’s room opened and a moment later she appeared in the kitchen. The men were taken aback by her attire. She was wearing breeches, tight against her hips and thighs, and a crisp white blouse that was just as tight, outlining her firm, round breasts.

Bradford sat up stiffly. He wanted to thunder at Angela for the way she was dressed, but he stopped himself. Why the hell should he care? But Hank Chavez was staring at her. And, Bradford noticed, her eyes were riveted to Hank’s face.

“What are
you
doing here?” she snapped with
out thinking, her eyes darkening. He looked just as she remembered, with the addition of a black moustache.

“I might ask the same of you,
menina,”
Hank replied, his smile returning.

Bradford jumped up, looking from Angela to Hank and then back to Angela.

“How do you know Hank?”

“We met in Mobile,” she said quickly, realizing that she had heard the bandit’s name for the first time.

Angela smiled impishly at Bradford. “If you must know, I met this man when he held up the stage I was traveling on.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Bradford stormed.

She managed to keep the smile. “As a matter of fact, Bradford, I don’t care what you believe,” she said coolly.

She walked past them to the stove and poured herself a cup of black coffee, deliberately keeping her back to them. Hank sat grinning silently, relieved that Bradford did not believe the holdup story.

“I’m going for a ride before breakfast,” Angela said.

“I would like to join you,” Hank said quickly, rising from the table.

Angela finished her coffee and left the kitchen, not waiting for Hank to catch up with her.

The early morning was pleasantly cool. The
sun was shining brightly, but it would be a while yet before it would make itself felt. Winter was approaching.

Hank finally caught up with Angela when she reached the barn, and offered to saddle her horse for her. Since none of the hired hands were nearby, she agreed. She was bursting with questions, but she held back. It would serve no purpose to have an argument here. Bradford might overhear.

With the sleek brown mare saddled, Angela mounted her without Hank’s assistance, then waited while he saddled his own horse. But before he finished, Bradford appeared at the front of the barn.

He glared at her. “Just where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” he demanded, taking hold of her horse’s muzzle.

“I’m going riding,” she replied hotly.

“Not like that you’re not!”

Angela sat tensely, clutching the short riding crop in her right hand. “You are my partner, Bradford—my
equal
partner. You have no authority over me. I am my own woman—answerable to no one!” she stormed, fury evident in the deep blue-violet appearing in her eyes. “I will do as I please. Is that clear?”

“What you’re going to do is get down from that horse!” he growled.

At that point, she lost control of her fury. “You go to hell, Bradford Maitland!” she cried, slashing her riding crop against the horse’s flank.

The animal reared once and then bolted out of the barn in a swift gallop. Angela clung desperately to the mare’s neck. Her hat flew away from her head, the thin string attached to it cutting into her throat. Only when the horse slowed a little did she look back.

A rider was just leaving the barn, half a mile behind her. Angela relaxed now and slowed her horse even more, giving Hank time to catch up. She rode over a small hill and down to an out-cropping of trees on the other side of it. There, she pulled her horse up, out of view of the house and barn, to wait for Hank.

She had quite a few things to say to him, and this was a good place to do it. Dismounting, she tethered her horse to a low branch. She paced fretfully, tense, and still bristling over Bradford’s audacity. He had no right to issue orders.

When she heard the other horse approach, she turned around swiftly, glad to have something to occupy her mind instead of Bradford. But it was not Hank who jumped down from his horse and came bounding over.

“I ought to horsewhip you!” Bradford said as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly.

Angela pushed away from him and stumbled backward. She didn’t feel quite so reckless out here in the open, alone with him. Suddenly she wanted to crawl away and hide from his anger, but she wouldn’t let her feelings betray her.

“How dare you go out like that? Look at you!” he continued storming, his eyes running the length of her body. “That damn getup leaves very little to the imagination. There’s no telling who you might run into out here!”

“Unfortunately, I ran into
you!”
she snapped. “Where is Hank?”

His eyes narrowed. “Was it your intention to seduce him out here? Is that why you’re dressed like—”

“Stop it, damn you!” Angela screamed. “I didn’t even know the man was here when I got dressed to go riding. I can’t very well ride in a skirt, unless I pull it all the way up to my thighs. Would you prefer that?” She waited for him to answer. When he didn’t, she continued more calmly. “I haven’t had a chance yet to get proper riding clothes made. And I can’t help the fact that these breeches have shrunk through so many washings. They are the only pair I have right now.”

He approached her slowly, but Angela refused to flinch. She stood proudly, inches from him, and boldly met his eyes.

Angela waited for him to strike her. When he didn’t, she started trembling. Suddenly she found herself crying.

“You told me you loved me once,” she cried. “How can you hurt me so after all we shared together?”

He turned abruptly away. “How dare you bring up the past to me, when it was you who killed our love?”

Her eyes widened with confusion. “For God’s sake, what did I do?”

“Damn your whore’s heart!” he growled, turning back to her. “Did you really believe I would never find out about you and Grant? How many others have there been, Angela? Is Hank one of your lovers too?”

She was utterly stunned. “Is that what you think? Is that why you hate me?” She threw her hands out to him in an imploring gesture. “There has never been anyone but you! The only man who has ever made love to me is you.
You
. Damn you, Bradford!”

He could not allow himself to believe in her. “Don’t play innocent with me, Angela! I said I found out about you and Grant. Do you think I would say that if I were not sure?”

Angela didn’t wait to hear more. He was set against her, and she couldn’t make him listen. She ran for her horse and quickly mounted it. She turned back to look at Bradford once, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m beginning to find that hate comes easily, indeed,” she said bitterly.

She rode away without looking back.

Neither Bradford nor Angela was aware of the man concealed on a faraway bluff, with a spyglass turned on them. The place where he was ly
ing was worn, for he had come to this spot often. He was waiting, waiting for the opportunity he prayed for daily. Angela couldn’t always be protected. One day would find her alone on the ranch, with no hired help about and Maitland out of the picture. One day…

Forty-four

Angela stood on the porch, leaning against a post, looking up at the star-studded sky. She pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders and felt her teeth begin to chatter. It was very cold outside, but she preferred that to the different kind of cold inside the house with Bradford.

Now she understood why Bradford had been so cruel, why he hated her. He felt that she had betrayed him. And he wouldn’t believe her when she denied it.

Condemned, but innocent. She might as well be guilty of his accusations. But no, she just didn’t want to bed a man she didn’t love.

Angela sighed. Maybe she should leave the ranch.

“You look very unhappy,
menina.”

She started. “Do you have to sneak up on a person?” she snapped.

Hank stood close by her side, the ever-present smile gracing his lips. “If you had not been so lost in your troubles, you would have heard me.” He stretched languidly. “It is a beautiful night—and I finally have you alone.”

“Where is Bradford?”

“Your partner has retired for the night,” Hank said lightly. “I guess he feels it is safe to leave me alone with you now, since he has warned me that you are off limits.”

Angela’s expression turned incredulous. “Did he really say that?”

Hank laughed. “Those were not his exact words, but he made himself clear. I think that if Bradford did not feel indebted to me, he would have kicked me off this ranch by now. As it is, I am sure he regrets his invitation.”

“You make it sound as if he were jealous. I can assure you that is not so.”

Hank quirked a slim brow. “What else could cause the blind rage he has been in all day? I have never seen a man so furious over a woman before.”