Kiss an Angel (26 page)

"You're holding that target so far from your body that you could dance Swan Lake and I wouldn't hit you."

There was a certain truth to what he was saying. The paper tube in her hand was a foot long, and she held it with her arm extended, but every time he cracked the whip, slicing off the end of the tub, she winced. She couldn't help it.

"Maybe I'll open my eyes tomorrow."

"You're going into the ring in three days. You'd better do it before then."

Daisy's eyes snapped open at the sound of Sheba's voice, caustic and accusatory. The circus owner

stood off to the side near the place where one of Alex's whips lay coiled on the ground. Her arms were crossed and her unbound hair gleamed hellfire in the sunlight.

"You should be used to this by now." She bent over and snatched up one of the six-inch tubes lying on the ground. Those were the real targets Daisy was supposed to hold in the performance, but so far Alex hadn't been able to bully her into practicing with anything shorter than a foot.

Sheba rolled the small, cigar-shaped tube between her fingers, then walked over to stand next to Daisy. "Move out of the way."

Daisy backed off.

Sheba regarded Alex with the glint of challenge in her eyes. "Let's see what you've got." Turning in

profile to him, she brushed her hair behind her shoulders and placed the tube between her lips.

For a moment Alex did nothing, and Daisy felt as if an entire history passed between him and the circus owner, a history of which Daisy knew nothing.

Sheba almost seemed to be daring him, but daring him to do what? So suddenly that she barely saw the motion, Alex drew back his arm and flicked his wrist.

Crack! The whip popped just inches from Sheba's face, and the end of the tube flew off.

Sheba didn't move. She stood there as serenely as a guest at a garden party while Alex cracked the whip again and again, each time sending another piece of the tube flying. Inch by inch, he destroyed it until only a stub was left between Sheba's lips.

She removed it, bent down to pick up a fresh one, and held it out to Daisy.

"Now let's see you do it."

Daisy knew a challenge when she heard one, but these people had been raised to court danger. Whatever amount of courage she'd been born with, she'd used up when she'd faced down Tater. "Maybe later."

Alex sighed and tossed down his whip. "Sheba, this isn't going to work. I'll keep doing the act by myself."

"Is this what it's come down to, Alex? Five generations of circus in your blood, and you've given the Markov name to someone who doesn't have the guts to go into the ring with you."

Her green eyes darkened with scorn as she regarded Daisy. "No one's asking you to walk the high wire

or ride bareback. All you have to do is stand there. But you can't even manage that, can you?"

"It's—I'm sorry, but I'm just not good at this kind of thing."

"What are you good at?"

Alex stepped forward. "That's not fair. Daisy's been taking care of the menagerie, even though she doesn't have to work there anymore, and the animals are in the best condition they've been in in years."

"Bully for her." Daisy felt the impact of Sheba's eyes as sharply as the crack of the whip. "Do you know anything about the Markov family?"

"Alex doesn't say too much about his past." He didn't say much about his present, either. Whenever she tried to ask him about his life away from the circus, he changed the subject. She gathered that he'd been to college and that the icon he wore was a family piece, but little else.

"Leave it alone, Sheba," he warned.

Sheba walked past him, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Daisy. "The Markovs are one of the most famous circus families in history. Alex's mother was the greatest bareback rider of her time. Alex might have been a champion equestrian, too, if he hadn't grown so tall as a youngster."

"Daisy doesn't care about this," he said.

"Yes, I do. Tell me, Sheba."

"His mother's family goes back five generations to Russia where the Markovs performed for the czars. The interesting thing about the Markovs is that the family traces most of its history through its women. No matter who they've married, they've kept the Markov name and passed it on to their children. But the Markov men have been great performers, too, masters of the bullwhip and some of the finest horsemen the circus has ever known."

Alex began stuffing the paper tubes in an old canvas bag. "Come on, Daisy. I've had enough for the day."

Sheba's expression grew bitter. "The Markov men have always honored tradition and chosen their wives carefully. At least until Alex came along." She paused, her eyes icy with contempt. "You're not fit to stand in his shadow, Daisy, let alone carry the Markov name."

With that, she turned and walked away, her bearing so dignified she made her shabby surroundings seem regal.

Daisy felt vaguely nauseated. "She's right, Alex. I'm not good at any of this."

"Nonsense." He coiled the whips and looped them over his shoulder. "Sheba regards circus tradition the way some people regard religion. Don't pay any attention."

Daisy stared at the bag of small paper tubes. Numbly, she reached down and picked one of them up.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to be a Markov woman."

"For God's sake, put that down. I told you to ignore her. She has a distorted view of Markov history, anyway. There were a lot of scoundrels in the family, too. My uncle Sergey was the meanest bastard

I've ever known."

"You're just trying to make me feel better, but I can't ignore what she said." She walked over to the

place she'd been standing earlier and turned in profile to him. "I'm tired of coming up short all the time."

As she raised the tube to her lips, her knees were shaking so badly she was certain he'd notice. If Alex missed, he would hit her face and, perhaps, scar her for life.

"Stop it, Daisy."

She closed her eyes.

"Daisy. .."

She removed the tube, but she didn't look at him. "Just do it, Alex. Please. The longer you wait, the harder you're making this for me."

"Are you sure?"

She wasn't sure at all, but she put the tube back in her mouth and closed her eyes, praying she wouldn't flinch.

Crack!

She screamed as the noise exploded in her ears and a fierce current of air lashed her face. Her ears rang from the sound. Tater opened his mouth and bleated.

"Did I hit you? Damn it, I know I didn't hit you!"

"No ... no ... it's fine. I just—" She bent over and picked up the tube she had dropped, noting that a small piece had been sliced off the end. "I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

"Daisy, you don't have to ..."

She put the tube back in her mouth and closed her eyes.

Crack!

She screamed again.

Alex's tone was dry. "Daisy, your screaming is starting to make me nervous."

"I'll be quiet! Just don't get nervous, whatever you do." She picked up the tube—much shorter now than it had been earlier. "How many more times?"

"Twice more."

"Twice?" Her voice squeaked.

"Twice."

This time she placed only the barest tip between the very edge of her lips.

"You're cheating."

A trickle of perspiration slid between her breasts as she repositioned it. She took a deep breath ...

Crack! Another vicious air current whipped a lock of her hair against her cheek.

She nearly fainted but somehow managed to swallow her scream. Only one more. One more.

Crack!

Slowly, her eyes eased open.

"You're done, Daisy. It's over. All you have to do now is style for the crowd."

She was alive and unmarked. Stunned, she turned to him and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I did it."

He smiled and tossed down his whip. "You sure did. I'm proud of you."

With a great whoop, she ran toward him and leaped into his arms. He caught her automatically. As he drew her close against him, a slow sizzle coursed through her body. He must have felt it, too, because he jerked away and set her back on the ground.

She knew he was unhappy over her refusal to make love with him since that afternoon of sweat and sex that had so deeply disturbed her. Her period had given her an excuse for a while, but that had stopped several days ago. She'd asked him to give her a little time to sort her thoughts out, and he'd agreed, but he hadn't been happy about it.

"There's just one more trick," he said, "and then you're done for the day."

"Maybe we should wait till tomorrow."

"It's an easier trick man the one we've just done. Let's get it over with before you lose your nerve. Go stand back where you were."

"Alex..."

"Go on. It won't hurt. I promise."

She moved reluctantly back over to the place where she'd been standing earlier.

He picked up the longest of his bullwhips and held the butt loosely in his hand.

' 'You can go ahead and close your eyes."

"I don't think I want to."

"Trust me on this, sweetheart. You definitely want your eyes closed."

She did as he said, but her right eyelid began to twitch.

"Raise your arms above your head."

"My arms'?"

"Above your head. And cross your wrists."

Her eyes sprang back open. "I think I forgot to tell Trey about Sinjun's new feed."

"Every Markov wife in history has done this trick."

With a sense of inevitability, she raised her arms, crossed her wrists, and closed her eyes, telling herself

all the while that nothing could be as bad as having him cut the tube from her mouth.

Crack!

The snap of the whip had barely registered in her brain before she felt the lash coil tightly around her wrists, securing them together.

This time her scream came all the way from her toes. She dropped her arms so quickly she felt a wrenching in her shoulders. In disbelief, she gaped at her bound wrists. ' 'You hit me! You said you wouldn't hit me, but you did."

"Hold still, Daisy, and stop yelling. It didn't hurt."

"It didn't?"

"No."

She stared down at her wrists and realized he was right. "How—?"

"I cracked the whip before I let it touch you." He flicked his wrist, taking the tension off the lash so that it loosened and she could slip free. "It's an old trick, and the crowd loves it. But after I snare your wrists, you've got to smile at the audience so they know I didn't hurt you. Otherwise, you'll get me arrested."

She rubbed one wrist and then the other. To her amazement, they were perfectly fine. ' 'What if—what

if you crack the whip after you catch my wrists?'

"I won't."

"You could make a mistake, Alex. You can't always get every trick right."

"Sure I can. I've been doing this for years, and I've never hurt an assistant yet."

He began collecting his whips, and she marveled at his perfect arrogance, even as it made her uneasy.

"Things went a little better this morning," she said, "but I don't see how I can go into the ring with you

in two days. Jack said I'm supposed to be an untamed gypsy maiden, but I don't think untamed gypsies scream like I do."

"We'll think of something." To her surprise, he gave her a swift kiss on the end of her nose, began to walk away, stopped, and turned back. He looked at her for a long moment then returned, dropped his head, and settled his mouth over hers.

Her arms entwined his neck as he pressed against her. While her mind told her that sex should be sacred, her body craved his touch, and she couldn't get enough of him.

When they finally drew apart, he looked down at her for a long, sweet moment and whispered, "You taste like sunshine."

She smiled.

"I'm going to give you a few more days, sweetheart, because I know this is new to you, but that's all."

She didn't have to ask what he meant. "I may need a little longer. We have to get to know each other better. Build mutual respect."

"Sweetheart, when it comes to sex, I've got nothing but respect for you."

"Please don't pretend not to understand what I'm talking about."

"I like sex. You like sex. We like having it together. That's all there is to it."

"That's not all there is! Sex needs to be sac—"

"Don't say it, Daisy. If you say the s-word, I swear I'll flirt with every truck stop waitress between here and Cincinnati."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'd just like to see you try. And sacred isn't a dirty word. Come on, Tater, we have work to do."

She flounced off with her elephant trotting behind. If she'd thought to look back, she would have seen something that would have surprised her. She would have seen her tough, humorless husband grinning like a teenager.

Despite Alex's protests, she'd continued to work in the menagerie, although Trey now did many of the routine daily tasks. Sinjun eyed Tater as they approached. Elephants and tigers were natural enemies, but Sinjun seemed more annoyed by Tater's presence than anything else. Alex said he was jealous, but she couldn't imagine attributing such an emotion to the cranky old tiger.

She studied Sinjun with satisfaction. Between adjusting his feed and his daily showers, she thought his coat already looked healthier. She gave him a mock curtsy. "Good morning, your majesty."

He flashed his teeth at her, a gesture she interpreted as his way of reminding her not to get too cute

with him.

She hadn't experienced any more of those mystical moments of communication with him, and she'd begun to think they'd been induced by fatigue. Still, just being near him filled her with awe.

She'd left a bag of treats she'd bought with her grocery money near a stack of hay, and she carried it

over to Glenna's cage. The gorilla had already caught sight of her, and she pressed her face between the bars, patiently waiting.

Glenna's quiet acceptance of her fate combined with her yearning for human contact broke Daisy's heart. She stroked the petal-soft palm extended through the bars. ' Hello, love. I've got something for you." From the produce bag, she drew out a ripe purple plum. The fruit reminded her of the touch of Glenna's fingers. Firm, smooth skin. Softness beneath.