Johanna Lindsey - Angel

Morgan had found himself thinking about her a lot before her visit ended last year, and he’d been in a fighting mood all that summer because he hadn’t realized before she left that he wanted her. Then she hadn’t come last winter and his interests had turned elsewhere, nothing serious, but he’d buried his feelings for Cassie, forgot about them — until she’d showed up again.

Strangely, upon his seeing her again, it was like the first time, nothing much to make a man sit up and take notice. He thought he must have been a bit crazy the previous year to have let her into his thoughts and even his sexual fantasies. But it had taken less than six months for his feelings to turn around this time. He was back to wanting her within the first month of her arrival, and he was serious enough about it to ask his pa’s permission to marry her.

It was telling of R. J. MacKauley’s hold over his sons that his approval was the only one they considered needful for whatever they wanted. Charles Stuart’s blessing on the courtship of his daughter was secondary, Cassie’s not even considered. MacKauley men were unbelievably arrogant when it came to taking some things for granted.

That was one of the things R. J. held against Cassie, that she’d managed somehow to convince his youngest son to break from tradition and do as he damn well pleased, without R. J.‘s permission. That what Clayton “pleased doing” was with an enemy just threw salt on the open wound. But Morgan’s wound was open and festering, too, because he still wanted Cassie and knew he’d never have her now.

He didn’t blame his father, who was too rigid and set in his ways to change. He didn’t blame a feud that he didn’t even know the cause of, but that had been going on for as long as he could remember. He blamed Cassie for butting her nose in where it didn’t belong. If he had married her, he would have broken her of that interfering habit she had. Now he’d never have the chance.

But she’d never know how he still felt about her. Not by look or deed would he let her know. And come the end of the week, she’d be gone, and he could get on with the business of forgetting her again. Looking at her now, he decided it couldn’t happen soon enough to suit him.

Cassie wasn’t paying attention to the fact that Morgan’s green eyes were drifting over her diminutive form as they stood there. Despite the embarrassing way he’d put it, she pounced on the possibility that Clayton MacKauley might be regretting returning his bride to her family. The idea was so unexpected, so guilt-relieving, she grasped it and hugged it to her breast. It meant her instincts hadn’t been so far off the mark after all. It meant her plan to join the two families in marriage to end their feud still might work— eventually. Of course, she wouldn’t be around to see it happen.

“What are you doing with that, Cassie?”

She focused her eyes back on Morgan to see him frowning at the rifle in her hand. He was surprised enough at seeing it that he’d forgotten to call her Miss Stuart. But then, this was the first time she had run into him since she’d started arming herself.

“I had some trouble with… actually… never mind what I’m doing with it,” she ended on a stubborn note.

But she was chagrined with herself for still trying to keep the peace between the two families, as she’d been in the habit of doing before the trouble started, when it was just as likely that Morgan wouldn’t get upset over what the Catlin hired hands had done to her if she mentioned it now. He would probably applaud them instead for the fright they’d given her. So she wouldn’t mention it.

But Morgan’s frown just got deeper as his eyes fixed on hers. “What kind of trouble?”

She didn’t answer him. She tried one more time to walk past him. And he didn’t move to block her this time. He grabbed her arm instead, which was much more effective in stopping her.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

If she didn’t know better, she might think he was displaying some unexpected concern over her welfare. But when his own family intended to come and set fire to the Double C at the end of the week, that just couldn’t be. Perhaps it simply annoyed him that the Catlins had her more worried than the MacKauleys.

At any rate, she didn’t owe him any answers, truthful or otherwise. “You have no right to question me, Morgan MacKauley,” she said stubbornly, and twisted around to free her arm. “Now let me—”

Her demand for release lodged in her throat, her movement having turned her enough so that she nearly faced the street, and was able to catch a flash of bright yellow out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head the rest of the way to see that Angel had come up behind her at some point and was casually leaning a shoulder against one of the posts that supported the saddle shop’s overhanging roof.

He didn’t give the impression that he was with her. In fact, he seemed no more than a casual observer of the interesting scene she and Morgan were enacting. But his casual pose was deceiving if you bothered to look closely. The thumb of his left hand was hooked through a belt loop, his mackintosh was open and tucked back, his right hand rested loosely on his hip — directly over his Colt.45.

He was about seven feet away, close enough to hear — close enough to aid. And Cassie was absolutely horrified, imagining what could happen in the next few seconds.

She jerked her eyes away from him, pretending she didn’t know him, hoping Morgan hadn’t even noticed his presence. No such luck. Morgan was looking directly at Angel now, having followed Cassie’s wide-eyed stare, and his frown hadn’t lightened up any.

“You want something, mister?”

Cassie winced upon hearing the aggression in Morgan’s tone. The trouble with MacKauleys was that their huge size gave them a feeling of superiority as well as invincibility. But a bullet had a way of cutting a man down to size, evening up the odds real quick. Angel would know that from experience, which was probably why he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t seem the least bit impressed by the bigger man, didn’t even seem like he would answer. And no response would be even worse. No man liked to be flat out ignored, and a MacKauley would take exception to that, since no one ever ignored them.

Cassie jumped into the prolonged silence to distract Morgan, saying the first thing that came to mind. “Tell your pa I’m not leaving until he agrees to speak to me.”

That got his eyes back on her instantly. “I told you he won’t—”

“I know what you said,” she cut in anxiously, “but you give him my message anyway, or it’s going to come down to the day of reckoning, Morgan. Will you set the torch to the house with me still in it?”

“Don’t be… now listen here… dammit, woman!” he ended, so flustered he couldn’t get any more words out.

Cassie was pretty flustered herself, not to mention appalled at her own daring. She hadn’t intended to call the MacKauleys’ bluff, if bluff it was. She wouldn’t have had the nerve to do it if she had given it any thought. But she hadn’t thought. She’d just wanted to get Morgan’s hostile attention off Angel — which wouldn’t have been necessary if Angel had kept his distance.

And unfortunately, her ploy gained only temporary results. If Angel had simply left during the time she had distracted Morgan, it would have been worth it. But he was still there, still watching them with those black-as-sin eyes, still provoking with his mere presence. And Morgan, embarrassed over stammering and at a loss as to how to deal with female stubbornness, figured he had a convenient outlet for his current frustration in the form of a nosy stranger. He hadn’t yet made the connection that this was the stranger he’d asked Cassie about.