Charlie followed, and as soon as her father was past the threshold, he kicked the door shut. Then he locked it and leaned his forehead against the wood. A long sigh escaped him.

Angelina stood in the middle of the room. She was married now-one half of a larger whole.

Then why did she feel more alone than she'd ever felt in her life?

Chapter Thirteen.

Charlie turned away from the door and Angelina flinched. What did he expect of her now? She had a vague idea of what went on between men and women from eavesdropping on her brothers, and being raised on a horse farm had taught her some things. Her mother had tried to talk to her the night before she'd been dragged to the church to marry Juan. But that conversation had consisted mainly of exhortations to trust in God, submit to her husband, and dream of her children. Not a very helpful bit of instruction, all in all.

Charlie took a step toward her, and Angelina took two steps backward in quick succession.

"Hell and damnation, Angelina. I'm not gonna attack you. Settle down." Charlie pushed his fingers through his long hair in an impatient gesture, then crossed the room to sit on the bed.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I'm goin' to sleep. This has all been a little tirin' for me." He yanked off his boots and let them fall to the floor-twin thuds against the wood planks.

"Y-you mean to sleep in my bed?"

"Yeah. It's the only one in the room. I don't relish meetin' up with your padre and his pet shotgun in the hall, so I'm not leavin' here until mornin'. By then we'll all have a chance to cool off."

"I'll sleep in the chair." She nodded at the rocker near the window.

Charlie shook his head. "You'll sleep in the bed, same's me. We're married now; there's nothin' sinful about it. Though, to my mind, makin' love to someone you care about is a long way from sinful. But then who am I to argue with the church?"

Sinful. How many times had her mind shouted that very word to her? Countless times-every single time she'd imagined herself and Charlie together. Like this. Charlie began to unbutton his shirt.

"No!" The word burst from between her stiff lips. "I can't sleep with you. I don't know-" She trailed off.

Charlie stopped what he was doing, though he had already finished unbuttoning his shirt. The garment hung open, framing his chest and giving her peeks of golden skin and hair as he shifted to look at her.

"I know you don't understand, Angelina." His tone was the softest she'd ever heard it. When he spoke so gently, she could barely distinguish anything amiss with his voice. "We won't do anything tonight but sleep. I promise. I didn't marry you for sex."

He stood and, moving around the room, blew out all the lights. The room became shrouded in silver moonlight and velvet shadows. Charlie returned to the bed and pulled off his shirt, carefully keeping his back turned away from her. He didn't know Angelina was already aware of the scars upon his back, but now was not the time to discuss her spying. When he stood to remove his pants, Angelina looked away, staring out the window until she heard him get into bed.

"Come to bed. You're tired. I won't hurt you."

Charlie was right. She was so exhausted from the emotions and events of the day the room swayed before her eyes. Moving to the bed, she sat, then reached behind her to unbutton her dress.

At the first touch of rough, masculine fingers, she stiffened. But Charlie brushed her hands aside and finished unfastening the garment with ease. The air of the room, which had before seemed stifling, now brushed against her exposed skin and made her shiver. Charlie's hands hesitated at the base of her spine, then withdrew.

Angelina breathed a sigh of relief until he began to pull the pins from her hair.

"No." She gasped, reaching up to stop him. "You promised."

"I promised I wouldn't hurt you. I won't. But let me take down your hair. I've always wanted to see it loose."

"If I don't braid my hair for the night I'll end up with a nest of tangles."

"I'll comb your hair for you in the mornin'. Please," he whispered, the word drifting across the exposed nape of her neck. "For me."

The thought of Charlie brushing out her hair in the morning after they'd spent a night in the same bed sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. The intimacies of marriage had only just begun. Angelina released his fingers and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed until he finished unbinding her hair. The thick dark mass slid downward, tickling her neck, shoulders and back. Charlie ran his fingers through the strands for several seconds, then moved to rub her shoulders and neck.

"Relax," he said.

She did with a low moan of pleasure. No one had ever touched her so. It was wonderful. The sensation of his flesh against hers was like nothing she could ever have imagined. He gently pushed her head forward and proceeded to rub her neck.

When had his fingers slid her gown from her shoulders? She didn't notice until his magic touch reached her collarbone. But what he was doing to her felt so good, and she was so lethargic, any thought of resistance drifted away on a long river of thick need.

"Take off your dress and lie down." The whisper seemed to come from inside her head. She complied, removing her petticoats as well, but leaving her chemise in place. She lay back against the pillows. Charlie sat up next to her, a dark shadow against the indigo of the moonstruck bedroom. His golden hair created a halo of light around his head, and though she could not see his face, his eyes shone in the darkness.

Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her. His body hovered near, not quite touching, but close enough so the heat of his body reached her. His lips, hard at first, softened against her mouth. He stroked her compressed lips with his tongue, and the shiver his caress created rippled from her mouth throughout her body. Giving the rest of herself up to the river of longing within, Angelina wound her arms around Charlie's neck and pulled him to her.

He was naked. The hard, heavy length of his body pressed against hers, the heat of his flesh warming her through the fine cotton of her shift. He held himself very still, as though he didn't want to frighten her, but she could still feel the strength of his desire pressing against her secret woman's place.

The kiss went on and on, lips to lips, tongue to tongue. Charlie's large hand cupped her breast. Instead of being shocked, she moaned into his mouth and arched into his palm. Her nipple tightened to an almost unbearable peak. He removed his mouth from hers and lowered his head, taking the taut bud into his mouth through the material of her gown. The contrast of warmth and wetness rubbing the thin cotton against her straining flesh made Angelina clench her fingers into his hair. He trailed kisses across the valley between her breasts and took her other nipple into his mouth, at the same time he flexed his lower body against her. Angelina cried out from the shock and the pleasure. She knew she should put a stop to what they were doing. But she couldn't think past the incredible sensations that had sapped her will. Her body answered a different call.

Charlie pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck, then pressed his face there, his breathing harsh and fast. He arched against her once again, and the world exploded into a shower of stars before her closed eyes. The ripples of tension radiated outward, centering warmth wherever Charlie touched her. She clutched him to her until the waves receded, then stroked his hair until he raised his head and kissed her brow.

The bed creaked when he rolled away from her. He lay, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

She lay next to him, stiff as a stick, and observed the fascinating ceiling as she had done all afternoon.

She had done something wrong. But what?

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Charlie swore, and Angelina closed her eyes and held her breath. Now she was certain she had done

something wrong.

"That shouldn't have happened, Angelina. I just wanted to touch you and kiss you. Then when you

responded, I couldn't think. I should be able to keep myself in control better than that. I don't know what's the matter with me." His voice roughened with anger and the bed shifted as he tensed.

"I knew I did something wrong."

"No." Charlie's voice became gentle once again, and he pulled her closer to nestle in the crook of his

arm, her head on his shoulder and her body tight against his. "What we did wasn't wrong. We're

married."

"Are we, truly? I know enough about sex to know we didn't make love, so the marriage isn't consummated."

"That's right. And I intend for it to stay that way."

"What?" Angelina tried to sit up, but Charlie held her tight to him. After a second of useless struggle she relaxed. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Charlie sighed. "Sometimes I forget how young you are. You act so damn self-sufficient all the time.

Though now that I've met your father, I can see why you couldn't depend on him or your ma for

anything."

"I don't know why you keep calling me young. I'm twenty. Most of the young women around here get married when they're sixteen. I'm an old maid, really."

"When you're thirty-seven, twenty is a lifetime ago. I can barely remember the man I was at twenty."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it. That was before the war, before Mosby-" He trailed off. When he spoke again, his voice

was so low Angelina had to strain to hear the words. "Before a lot of things."

Angelina bit her lip. There was so much she didn't know about Charlie, about his past and his family and

why he had become who he was. Would she ever know the entire truth? Did she want to? And most important of all her questions...

"Why did you marry me?"

Charlie pondered for a moment before answering. "To protect you. I guess it's all over town about us

travelin' together. Your father was in an uproar. He swore he'd make you marry someone. I figured you'd be best off with me."

She hated the thought he had gotten into this mess just to protect her. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, you've done a great job so far," he said sarcastically, then put two fingers to her lips to staunch the angry words trying to tumble forth "Listen to me a minute. Miguel Reyes holds all the power over you until you're a nun or you're married. Now you're married. He won't be able to tell you what to do ever again."

"What I want to do is become a nun."

"If that's what you want, you can have it. Angelina, I'm still a wanted man. There's no tellin' what'll happen to me in the future. When I'm out of the way, you can go back to your convent."

Cold dread washed over Angelina at his words. "What do you mean by out of the way?"

His shoulder shifted beneath her cheek as he shrugged. "In jail. Missing. Dead."

"Stop!"

"You've got to face facts. You said yourself you don't want to be married. You want to be a nun. I took the easiest route to get you what you wanted."

"And what do you want, Charlie Coltrain? You say you won't make love to me, but you want to. You're my husband now. No one will stop you. Why didn't you take what you wanted before? I was more than willing."

"You sound like your father," Charlie muttered.

Angelina stiffened. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothin'."

"No. I want to know. What did he say to you?"

"Just that I could have you. He would pay the convent a sizable dowry to accept you later if things didn't work out."

"Does he know who you are? That you're wanted?"

From Charlie's start, Angelina discerned he hadn't considered that question.

"I don't think so," Charlie said slowly. "If he'd known, he wouldn't have had to bribe me. He would've settled for threats. And I doubt if I would have been considered a suitable candidate to save his daughter's reputation."

"True." Angelina remained quiet as she mulled over the thought that kept returning to the forefront of her mind. After what she'd just experienced in Charlie's arms, she found herself wanting more. As he'd said before, they were married, they could make love and their coming together would not be a sin. In fact, the church would expect them to consummate the marriage. Charlie wanted her. Why had he stopped before teaching her everything? He had ignored the question before, but she wanted to know the truth. Gathering her courage, Angelina repeated her question. "Why didn't you make love to me? You said yourself we're married. I was willing."

Charlie turned his head toward her, and she felt a light touch to the top of her head, almost as though he had kissed her hair. "I'd like nothin' better than to show you what it's like to be a woman, Angelina. I've been burnin' every night and day since I first met you. Knowin' I couldn't have you only made me want you more. Right now I'm achin' worse than I ever thought I would in my life. But one thing I won't do is leave a child of mine behind without a father. I lived through that nightmare myself, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, let alone my own flesh and blood."

Angelina remembered Charlie's tale of his life with Richard Bakker and understanding dawned within her. At least he had enough sense to look ahead to the consequences of their actions. "You're right. I wasn't thinking. Forgive me."