Angelina let out a hiss of irritation and sat down on the ground. "I'll pay you back for this, hermanos," she yelled at their retreating backs. "Just see if I don't."

The two men didn't look back. They just kept riding and eventually disappeared into the dusk.

"Revenge isn't a very charitable emotion, Sister," Charlie murmured as he sat down beside her.

"My brothers don't deserve any of my charitable emotions. They make me so mad I want to scream. They always have."

Charlie put an arm around her shoulder, and with a sigh she leaned against him. Anger was not an emotion she'd been rewarded for as a child or as a postulate. But right now it felt so good to be angry and to know that Charlie understood. He might joke with her, but he would always understand. She could be herself with him as she'd never been able to be with anyone else in her lifetime.

"To be honest," Charlie said as he stroked her hair. "I'm not much on my new in-laws either. But bastard that your father is, he still made you. I guess he can't be all bad."

Angelina turned her head and surprised something in Charlie's eyes-an emotion he quickly banked as he looked away from her toward the cabin. If she hadn't known better, she might have considered the hidden emotion love. But since she had no idea what love looked like in a man's eyes, she must certainly have been mistaken.

Charlie removed his arm from her shoulders and stood. He held out a hand to help her up. "Let's take a look at where we'll be livin'. I wouldn't put it past old Miguel to send us to a leakin' shack."

Since Angelina wouldn't put it past her father either, she followed Charlie with trepidation. She hoped the place was habitable. She knew where they were, and without horses it would be next to impossible to walk from the cabin to civilization. They were stranded here until her brothers returned.

Charlie opened the cabin door and peered inside. "Too dark to see a thing. You stay here until I find a lamp," he said and went in.

He stumbled over something and cursed, but a few moments later a soft orange glow came toward Angelina, and Charlie reappeared in the doorway holding a kerosene lamp. He beckoned her inside.

The cabin was rough, but not as bad as she'd feared. From what she could see in the semidarkness, the place was clean. A stove stood in one corner; a table with several rough hewn chairs occupied the middle of the room. A small bed covered by a faded quilt resided under the single window, which consisted of a hole cut into the log wall and covered with canvas. Some bedrolls were stacked at the foot of the bed.

"I've seen better," Angelina said.

"I've seen worse," Charlie said.

He set the lamp on the table and stepped outside. When he returned he plopped the bag of food onto the table next to the flickering light.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"No. Exhausted. Even that bed looks good right now."

"Yeah. You take it. I'm used to sleepin' on the ground."

Angelina stared at him in surprise. After what had happened between them the night before she'd assumed.... Well, she understood why he didn't want to consummate the marriage, but she'd half hoped at the back of her mind they could repeat the wondrous experience of their wedding night.

"You don't have to sleep on the ground. We can share. Like last night."

"No," Charlie said firmly. "We can't. I'm not sayin' I didn't enjoy kissin' and touchin' you. But there's only so much of that a man can take. It's goin' to be bad enough bein' alone with you here for a week. I'd better not test myself any more than I already have.

At the mention of the word test Angelina froze. There it was, when she wasn't even thinking about it. A message from God. A reminder that Charlie was her test. She was failing so far, but she must stand firm and not fail the ultimate test. As long as she and Charlie kept their marriage in name only, she could still follow her calling. If she conceived a child there would be no going back to the life she had coveted for so long.

"Of course. You're right." Angelina crossed to the bed and started to unbutton her dress.

"Ahem." Charlie cleared his throat, and she looked up at him in surprise. He was turned away from her. "I'll just go outside and give you some privacy." Without waiting for her answer, he went out and shut the door.

Well, she'd certainly changed if she could begin to undress in a room with a man and not even realize she was doing it-and then embarrass someone like Charlie Coltrain, who had probably seen hundreds of naked women. Angelina wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hide for the duration of the week.

When Charlie returned, she lay under the quilt in her chemise, pretending to be asleep. He took one of the bedrolls and spread the covering out on the floor a few feet away. When she opened her eye a crack she saw him remove his shirt and lie down. He glanced her way, and she hurriedly snapped her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry this turned out the way it did, Angelina," he said. "I underestimated your father. I've been doin' a lot of stupid things over the past few years. Just goes to show that age creeps up on a man."

Angelina gave up pretending and turned on her side, staring across the darkness separating them. There had always been a sadness in Charlie, something she sensed hovering just under the surface that had scarred him even more deeply than the marks on his back.

"Tell me," she whispered.

For a moment she thought he would ignore her. Then he began to speak, his ruined voice lending a rough emotion to the words that tore at her heart.

"My half sister Annie."

"Yes, you told me about her a bit. She died."

"Yeah. She was always such a little thing, all eyes and hair and bony elbows and knees. When she was real small, she used to play with my hair when I held her." His voice lowered, sounding almost shy as he continued. "When she got older she made me promise not to ever cut my hair. Might be silly, but I kept that promise at least. She idolized me even though I didn't deserve it."

"I wish I could have felt like that about at least one of my brothers. Annie must have seen something in you worth loving."

"I suspect so. But I failed her, just as I failed my ma. When they needed me the most, I wasn't there. I was off fightin' the war and killin' Yankees when the one Yankee I should have killed was back home killin' my ma and violatin' my sister."

"Bakker," Angelina breathed.

"Yeah. The night Bill and I went off to join up with the Confederacy, Bakker got drunk and-" He stopped and drew in a shaky sigh. "He beat Ma to death."

Angelina caught her breath, but refrained from saying anything. After a moment, Charlie continued. "Bill and I heard she was dead while we were fightin' the war, but we never found out how she died until we came home. We heard the fascinatin' details in the local saloon. Of course no one had seen anything. No one could be bothered to interfere in family matters, so Bakker got away with killin' her. For a little while. Annie was still livin' with him, so we lit out for the house to get her." Charlie paused again, as though he hadn't spoken of the incident for so long he had to dredge the facts from the depths of his memory. Perhaps he did. "When we walked in, we thought no one was there. I heard somethin' in the back bedroom and I opened the door." He made a garbled sound, halfway between a retch and a sigh. "The son of a bitch was rapin' her. And it wasn't the first time. I pulled my gun, but Bakker had one, too. He held it to Annie's head. I tried to talk to him, to get him to give us Annie and we'd leave. I talked so hard I forgot about Bill behind me. Just when I thought I was makin' some progress. Bill shot Bakker in the shoulder. Old Dick wasn't bluffin' when he said he'd blow Annie's brains out if we tried somethin'. Before I could do anything, he pulled the trigger."

"Dear God," Angelina said on a sob.

Charlie ignored her, deep in the pit of his hellish past. "I emptied my gun into the bastard before Annie hit the floor. Then I buried her next to my ma and headed for Second Chance."

Tears running down her face, Angelina threw back the covers to go to him.

"No." The word cracked in the tense air between them and she froze, sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet just touching the dirt floor. "There's more. Now that you know that much, I may as well tell you the rest."

"You don't have to tell me any more. I understand now. I understand your hatred for the Yankees. I understand why you became what you did."

"You're goin' to hear it all, right now. Then maybe you won't look at me like I'm a damned fallen angel anymore. I told you about Second Chance. How we spent a year terrorizin' the folks. The Pinkertons broke up the gang, killed Bill, and I headed south. On the way, I couldn't resist robbin' one more stage. I was spittin' mad and just achin' to prove I could still do a job. God, I was stupid." He sighed, more of a groan than anything else. "Happened in Arkansas. Things were goin' just fine until a little girl ran away from her mother. She was between me and the stage. She looked so much like Annie when she was little, I froze. One of the drivers saw his chance and took a shot."

Angelina closed her eyes against the pain. She knew what was coming even before Charlie's raw voice spoke the words. "He killed the little girl. She fell right at my feet." He shifted and must have brought his hands up to cover his face because his next words were muffled. "Every night I dream of the mother's screams. Every damn night."

"What happened then?"

Charlie's next words were clearer, as he recited the rest of the story. Where the earlier words had been filled with feeling, what followed was as devoid of emotion as a dead fish. "I shot the driver, then got on my horse and rode away. No one else tried to stop me. They were too busy takin' care of their dead. I stayed in San Antonio for five years. I played cards and drank myself half to death tryin' to forget. Couldn't bring myself to start another gang, even though I had plenty of opportunity. I just wanted to be alone. Finally I decided to sign on with a cattle drive, earn money the honest way for once and buy a ranch. Then, on the first day of my new life, I came across this woman-"

"I know the rest."

"Yeah, I guess you do. Even though I haven't done nothin' outside the law for five years, I'm still wanted. I didn't rob that train or kill that engineer, but I guess it don't really matter. I've done enough other things I never got punished for. I'm sure some of those were hangin' offenses. If I hang for the one thing I didn't do, I guess it will be a twisted sort of justice." He laughed without humor, and Angelina flinched at the harsh sound. "The only kind of justice I deserve anyhow."

Angelina's head ached with the tale Charlie had just related. She desperately wanted to go to him and soothe away the pain. But he would not accept her sympathy. Right now the depths of his past had arisen to trap him in memories and guilt.

Angelina lay back on the bed, flipping the quilt over her legs and closing her eyes with determination. But she found she could not go to sleep without at least telling him what she thought.

Opening her eyes, she stared into the darkness. Her eyes teared as she spoke, though her voice remained calm and soothing. "What you did, Charlie, was nothing worse than what most men would have done in your place. Your hate is understandable. If you can get past the hate and see the way to forgiveness, your guilt will leave you."

"Don't prophesy to me, Sister," he growled. "I know what I am. What I'll always be. A no-good thief and murderer."

Angelina bit her tongue against the angry denial that sprang to her lips. Charlie wouldn't hear her now. He would argue with anything she said. But how would she ever convince him to let go of the past and look forward to a brighter future?

As she did whenever she had a question of great importance, Angelina folded her hands and gave her problem up to the contemplation of her God.

For the third day in a row Drew Winston stared at the ranch below him. Unless Coltrain was hiding inside, he wasn't staying at the main ranch in the Reyes empire. The girl Angelina wasn't there either. He had a hard time believing he wouldn't have seen either of them outside in three days if they were hiding out at this ranch. Which meant only one thing.

He would have to check all six ranches belonging to her brothers. Charlie and the girl had to be somewhere, and he'd bet his horse Angelina had run to her family.

Drew had asked at a few ranches and learned the extent of the Reyes holdings. But no one had seen Angelina or Charlie pass by. Those he had spoken to knew nothing about Charlie Coltrain, and Drew did not inform them. He wanted to catch Coltrain himself. Only then would his thirst for revenge be satisfied. It wouldn't do to let someone else step in and take care of Charlie before Drew got his hands on him again.

Next time, Charlie Coltrain would not get away.

Charlie had finally figured out what Miguel Reyes had been trying to do when he sent them to the cabin. He had been trying to drive Charlie insane.

The plan was working.

Four days had passed since he and Angelina arrived at the cabin, and each day Charlie's lust mounted. He couldn't be in such close proximity to Angelina and not want her. That they were man and wife, and living as such in all ways but one, made his body rebel.

To Angelina's credit, she did her best to avoid him, as well as she could when they lived in a one-room cabin. Since the night he'd told her his secrets, she had kept her distance. When he'd started telling her his past, he'd only wanted to get everything out in the open, to have her see what he was really like so she could understand him better. When he'd gotten halfway through the tale, he'd realized he'd lit on a good way to keep Angelina at a distance. After what he'd done, no woman would want to remain his wife-not even one as forgiving as Angelina.

The way she was avoiding him proved he'd been right about that. Deep down, he had to admit he was disappointed. Angelina might have saved him if she'd tried. But he knew she was destined for the church, and a nun could not help him in the way he needed to be helped. He needed someone to love him for himself, to understand him with all his faults and forgive him his legion of mistakes. He'd come to see over the past few weeks that Angelina was the only woman for him. Just his luck, her heart belonged to Christ. Which put him right back where he'd started-an aging outlaw with too high a price on his head and nothing to live for.

He told himself over and over he needed her to keep her distance so he could leave her when the time came. If she continued to look at him as if he was some kind of hero, he might start to believe the fantasy himself. Such a belief could be dangerous-to both of them. He had to remember who and what he was and who was after him. Getting soft would only get them both killed.

Angelina came out of the house, wiping her hands on a towel. Charlie assumed she'd just finished washing the dinner dishes, one of the few tasks available during their enforced solitude. One of the worst things about the situation was the lack of anything to do-anything but thinking and wanting and dreaming of what could never be.

For the first time in several days, Angelina approached him. She sat down next to him where he leaned against the cabin wall. A sidelong glance showed him she sat much farther away from him than she once would have.

"I've been thinking," she said.

"Haven't we all."

"Well, I've been praying, too. But I can't seem to come up with an answer. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

He shrugged. "After what I told you the other night, I've got nothin' to hide anymore."

"I was wondering why you told me so many things, but you never mentioned what the Ranger accused you of. What do you know about his Claire?"

Charlie frowned. He hadn't been expecting that question. Then he remembered something and scowled even harder. "How did you know about that? He told me about her when you weren't around."

Angelina flushed and looked away. "I have to confess, I eavesdropped on the two of you at the stream."

"So you've known all this time, and you've never said anything?" Anger flared in him anew at her unfounded trust. The woman was going to get herself killed if she kept depending upon the good in all men. "How could you travel with me and trust me not to kill you? Accordin' to the Ranger, I murdered his woman. What makes you thing you're so special I wouldn't do the same to you?"

"According to him, you killed Claire. I want to hear what you have to say about it."

"And you'll believe me?"

"Of course. You've never lied to me."

She said it with such conviction, Charlie almost believed it himself. Thinking back on their relationship, he started in surprise. She was right. He had never lied to her. Fancy that.

"I don't know nothin' about no Claire. Yes, I raided in Bloody Kansas, but I took pains not to kill women. Never had the stomach for it. And I did my best to make sure my men followed my rules."

Angelina nodded, as though pleased with herself. "I didn't think you could do such a thing."

Charlie sighed in irritation. "I didn't say I didn't kill her. I said I tried not to kill women. In the mess of the Border Wars, a lot of people got killed who shouldn't have." Charlie rubbed his forehead, trying to remember a point that kept tickling at his brain whenever he thought of the Ranger. "There's somethin' though. Somethin' about what he said that makes me think he is wrong about me bein' the one who killed her. I just wish I could remember what it is."

"Don't think about it and then you'll remember. That always works for me." Angelina patted his hand like an elderly schoolteacher. Charlie flinched away. Even though she'd meant the touch as a comfort, his body reacted in anything but a comforting way.

Angelina frowned at her hand as though her flesh had suddenly turned an odd color. Then she shook her fingers. When she noticed Charlie staring at her, she stood and brushed off the back of her skirt.

Charlie watched her movements, wishing he were the one dusting off her bottom. Then he pulled his gaze away with an effort before she saw the direction of his thoughts. It was too demeaning to have a woman-child like his wife know just how much he wanted her.

He cleared his throat, and she looked at him with her eyebrows raised in question. "Angelina, I hope you aren't this trustin' with everyone. You could get hurt."

"I'm not a total fool, Charlie. I know you're trustworthy. I felt it in my soul the first time you looked at me."

He hated it when she talked like that. No matter what he said, she'd never change her opinion on that score. He could only hope once he was gone, she didn't take the notion into her head to trust a cold-blooded murderer.

He still sensed a hesitancy in her that had not been there before the revelations of his past. Though that hesitancy pained him a bit whenever he saw the shadows in her eyes, he had to admit her withdrawal from him was for the best.

"I'm going to bed." Angelina's voice brought his attention back to where she stood at the door to the cabin. She smiled at him, all womanly softness and sultry Spanish eyes, even sexier because she had no idea what she did to him. Charlie swallowed, hard. "I'm sure my brothers will show up tomorrow or the next day to take us back. We'll have a long day's ride ahead. Then if we can get away, I'm sure we'll have a long ride after that. I know you can make the trip, but I'd better rest up."

Charlie nodded and said good night, his voice even more hoarse than usual. Little did she know she would not be riding away with him when he left. The plans had changed. Though he had thought to take her with him when they escaped her father's ranch and return her personally to the convent once he could safely do so, Charlie knew he couldn't. He had to get away from her as soon as he could or he would never be able to let her go. Every day she showed him how much she believed in his essential goodness -a goodness that didn't exist beyond her own imagination. Because of her belief in him-a belief no one else had ever shown for him throughout his life since Annie-he would make sure she achieved her dream. And the only way to be certain she forgot about him and returned to the convent thinking herself a widow was to disappear from her life without a trace.

If he did things right, then maybe, just maybe, she would hate him enough to go on with her life.

Chapter Fifteen.

Two men approached the following evening. Charlie automatically reached for his gun, cursing profusely when his hand encountered only his Levi's. He hated being helpless. Never before in his life had he been caught without his gun. He vowed never to let the same thing happen again.

The sound of his curses must have reached Angelina, for she emerged from the cabin and squinted into the distance.