"Good," Charlie said.

Angelina didn't answer for a second; she continued to stare at herself in the mirror. Then with a suddenness that surprised him, she snatched a bottle from the nightstand and threw it against the glass. The mirror shattered into hundreds of tiny shards, raining down onto the floor. She spun back toward him, the train of her dress swirling with her movement. His blood showed stark red against the white satin of her bodice; matching spots of red stood out against the bright paleness of her face.

"Yes," she shouted. "It felt good. He hurt you. I wanted to kill him." Her chest heaved with the force of her emotion. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Dear God, what's happened to me? I wanted to kill another human being because of you. When does this stop? I don't even know myself anymore."

Charlie sat up and reached for her, but she shrank back, staring at him as though he were a stranger. Then without another word or touch, she ran from the room.

Angelina successfully avoided another confrontation with her father by hiding in the attic. Not very courageous behavior on her part, but she didn't care. She'd watched from the window as he'd supervised Matthew and Mark loading Juan into a wagon. Then he'd gone inside to bed, and her brothers had driven away with Juan into the night.

Despite Charlie's wound, they would have to leave at dawn the next morning. Now that most of the countryside knew her husband was a wanted man with a sizable bounty on his head, he wouldn't last another day at the Reyes hacienda.

Angelina sighed and turned away from the window. She had cried so hard her eyes ached. She was so very tired, both in body and in soul, but all her tears and her anger did not change the truth.

She had failed God's test. She loved Charlie Coltrain-as a woman loved a man.

When she'd seen him on the ground and feared he was dead, the truth had come to her in a flash. She loved him. She would always love him.

She could return to the convent and become a nun as she had always wanted, but would such an action be right? Mother superior had always told them they must believe in the life they vowed to enter with all their hearts. There was no going back. That was one of the reasons the good woman had insisted Angelina wait a while longer before entering the novitiate. She wanted all her Sisters to be certain the convent was meant to be their life.

Though Angelina still loved God, part of her heart belonged to Charlie. She could deny her love and follow her calling, but would it be right to become a bride of Christ when what she truly wanted was to remain with Charlie for the rest of her days?

If only she had someone she could talk to about the dilemma. Her angel had been stubbornly silent ever since his last visit, and her mother was next to useless when conflict of any kind might be involved. And Charlie.... Well, this was not something she could discuss with him. Yes, he'd married her, but that didn't mean he loved her or wanted her to remain his wife. According to her father, Charlie had married her for the money. While she had not believed such an explanation for long, she knew Charlie hadn't married her for love. Maybe out of gratitude, or to protect her, but not for love. With all the things he'd told her about himself and his life, she had serious doubts he knew the meaning of the word.

Angelina leaned her head against the window-pane. The smooth, cool glass soothed her hot, aching forehead.

Her angel had said she must find her way. She should learn what was missing from Charlie's life. Then she would be worthy.

Could love be what was missing from Charlie's life? If she loved him, might her love save Charlie from his self-destructive path? If so, then she would need to stay with Charlie and be his wife in every way, forever. Such a thought sent a spark of joy through her despair, and she raised her head from the window, her brow creasing in concentration.

Was that what her angel had meant about being worthy? Not worthy of becoming a nun, but worthy of being Charlie's wife. Worthy enough to turn him away from the path of destruction and toward a life he could be proud of.

Angelina fell to her knees and clasped her hands together. "Santo Dios, I need a sign. Am I right? Will my love for Charlie save him? Is this what I am supposed to do? Or am I supposed to resist this feeling and return to the convent? I was so arrogant in my certainty that I was destined for the church. I don't understand anything anymore. Help me. Por favor, Dios. Help me to see the truth."

The attic remained silent, the echo of her voice fading away into the darkness. Angelina listened, straining her ears for the slightest hint of an answer. Several moments later she gave way to her exhaustion and lay her head down on the floor. Sleep claimed her soon after.

And the angel came.

"Praise God," she whispered. "I needed you desperately and you came."

"Calm your fears, child. You have chosen the correct path. You were never meant for the church. For everyone there is someone, and for you there is Charlie Coltrain. Marriage is a sacred vow, as well. Honor yours."

"I will. But why did you show me the convent? Why did you make me think I should go there?"

"You were supposed to go there. Your sojourn with the Sisters was part of God's plan. Would you have met Charlie if you had not gone to the convent?"

"No, I suppose I wouldn't have. I would have been married to the wrong man."

"Precisely. God has a plan for all his children. Your vow of marriage to Charlie is just as sacred as your vow to the convent would have been. Trust in God as you always have, Angelina. There are still dark days ahead for you. Keep your faith. Strengthen your love. With love and faith, you can win against all adversaries."

With those final words ringing in her ears, Angelina awoke. A glance at the window showed the night was at its darkest. She couldn't have slept for more than half an hour.

Hurrying from the attic, she went toward her room. When she'd left it last, her emotional state had been the worst she could ever remember. Now, upon returning, she was once more at peace.

Opening her bedroom door, she quietly slipped inside and approached the bed. Charlie slept, his face relaxed in slumber. He looked younger, less forbidding, but still sinfully handsome. Careful not to disturb him, Angelina walked around the bed and sat in the rocking chair.

Though knowing she trod the correct path helped her peace of mind, there were still many obstacles to overcome before their lives could be peaceful. Charlie was still wanted. Drew Winston would show up eventually. Either Charlie had to prove his innocence, or they must travel far enough away from Texas to leave his past behind them.

And that problem wasn't even the worst of her worries. The hardest task of all would be to convince Charlie they were meant to be together. After his reaction the last time she had told him about her angel, she didn't think informing him of the latest visit and message would do much good. No, she had to find another way to make him understand that their marriage should not be dissolved.

He thought he was too old for her. He believed himself a no-good outlaw whose failure to protect his mother and sister had resulted in their deaths. Angelina knew better, but she had to make Charlie see the truth and believe those truths as deeply as she did. Convincing him was her true mission, and she would not fail. Charlie might be ready to learn how to love if he could forgive himself and come to recognize his own worth.

Charlie muttered something in his sleep and shifted, throwing the covers back. Angelina got up and moved across the room, drawing the blanket over his bare chest. For a moment her fingers lingered against his flesh, warm but, thankfully, not fever hot. He had a beautiful chest-firmly muscled, tanned to a golden brown with a light dusting of blond hair.

He mumbled something again, a word that sounded suspiciously like Annie, and her heart shifted in sympathy. He had suffered so much and so long for his sister. She started to turn away but Charlie spoke, and what he said was as clear as a hot summer sky, though he was still sound asleep.

Angelina returned to the rocking chair. She smiled to herself as a tiny kernel of hope sprang to life within her.

Charlie had not been muttering his dead sister's name. Instead, the word he'd murmured in his dear, ruined voice had been her own.

Charlie awoke, his shoulder on fire. Groaning, he tried to sit up in bed, then fell back with a curse.

Angelina appeared in his line of vision. She rubbed her eyes and tried to smooth her rumpled dressing gown. He was glad to see she'd gotten rid of the bloody ball gown. If he'd had to see it one more time, he might have been tempted to yank the gruesome thing off her.

When she moved her head, she flinched and reached up a hand to massage the side of her neck. Obviously she'd fallen asleep in the rocking chair while watching over him. The thought warmed Charlie inside. No one had cared in a long time whether he lived or died.

"Mornin', Sister." He smiled and she smiled back, a radiant smile somewhat out of place in the situation. Immediately, Charlie quit smiling and wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"What happened?" he asked, watching her walk around the edge of the bed and sit down beside him.

"You don't remember?"

"Hell, yes, I remember last night. How could I forget with my shoulder hurtin' like you dug out a cannonball. I meant, why are you so all fired cheerful this mornin'?"

She shrugged and smiled at him again. Instead of answering she reached for his bandage. "Let me take a look at that shoulder."

Charlie caught her wrist before she could touch him. "I'm fine. Thanks to you. What I need to do is get outta here. Everyone in the area's gonna show up soon lookin' to make a thousand dollars."

"I know. As soon as I change, we'll leave."

Charlie looked at her closely. He had the feeling he was missing something in this conversation. "No, we won't," he said slowly, clearly. "I'll leave. You're stayin' here."

The eager look on her face disappeared. She swallowed and yanked her wrist from his grasp. "I'm your wife. I go where you go."

Charlie shook his head, uncertain he had heard her correctly. She was his wife? Where had this sudden determination to be his wife come from? Before last night she had wanted to be a nun. The last time he had seen her she'd run from the room in tears since she'd almost killed a man because of him. Now, here she was this morning, all smiles, insisting she was his wife. Did she feel guilty because he had nearly gotten killed while masquerading as her husband for the benefit of her reputation? Or was she back to pitying him for the sorry life he'd led? Either way, he had to disabuse her of the notion she was going anywhere with him. Not only would the situation be getting too dangerous, but he couldn't continue to traipse all over the countryside with her at his side, night and day, and not make love to her. And once they made love, he didn't think he could let her go. He had to turn her away.

Now. Forever.

"You are not my wife, Angelina. You know as well as I do our marriage was just for show. And there's no way on God's earth you're goin' with me. There'll be a hundred men after me now. It's too dangerous. Your father will see that you get back to the convent."

She stood and planted her feet, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm not going back to the convent," she said through her teeth. "I'm going with you."

Charlie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He hated to be downright mean, but she was being stubborn as his ma's old mule. "Sister, you wanted to be a nun. You've been screamin' it at me since the day I met you. Now I'm leavin' here. Alone. We didn't consummate the marriage. Have the damn thing annulled and go back to Corpus Christi. Your father will be thrilled to help you now that he knows what I am. It's as simple as that."

"Is it?"

The sound of a horse below echoed Charlie's growl of irritation. They both tensed and glanced toward the window. Charlie started to get out of bed but Angelina waved him back and went to look out herself.

"Just one horse. Whoever it is already went inside. Must be one of my brothers come to see father."

She came back and sat down again on the bed. Her closeness tempted him, but he tried once more to convince her. If being ornery wouldn't work, maybe reason would. "Listen, Angelina," he said in what he thought was a reasonable voice. He couldn't be sure since he'd never tried to reason with anyone before. He usually just growled and glared and everyone fell into line. Angelina obviously didn't know the rules yet. "I appreciate what you've done for me. But I think we can call things even between us now. We've both got to get on with our lives. You know what you want. Now you go on and fulfill your dream. I have a dream, too. I want to go to Montana. I want to start my ranch. By myself."

He waited, holding his breath. He didn't know what he'd do if she kept insisting that she was going with him, that she was his wife. The thought of taking her with him, making her his wife in truth, living out the rest of their days together in Montana was almost too enticing to resist. But even as he let himself contemplate such joy, one look at her young, innocent face forced him to see the truth.

He could never do such a thing to her. She deserved better than a life on the run. Even if they got to Montana alive, one day his past would come knocking on their door. Life in a convent would be much safer than life with Charlie Coltrain. She couldn't really mean what she said anyway. What young woman would want to tie herself forever to an old outlaw? Certainly not a beautiful woman like Angelina Reyes, who had her entire life in front of her. If she really wanted to be married, she could do much better than Charlie.

Angelina opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, the door slammed open, hitting the wall with a thud.

Charlie narrowed his eyes at the person who stood in the doorway and again reached for a gun that was no longer there.

Angelina jumped up and spun toward the sound. Her gaze darted around the room as she looked for a weapon. Finding none, she placed herself between Charlie and the intruder.

"Move aside. Miss Reyes," Drew Winston drawled. "No matter what you do, I'm takin' him back to Texas to be hanged."

Chapter Seventeen.

Angelina stared at the gun in Drew Winston's hand. A movement behind him made her glance into the hallway. Her father hovered outside. Anger flooded her at the sight of his smug face.

"You," she shouted, pointing a finger at her father. "You led him here. You could have gotten rid of him if you tried. But you saw a way to get what you wanted, and you sold my husband out." Fury propelled her forward. Charlie grabbed the skirt of her nightdress and yanked her back. She sat down heavily on the bed, her rear end bumping against Charlie's legs.

"Sister," he growled, amusement lacing every word, "the lawman there is holdin' a gun on us. I don't think hell take too kindly to your runnin' at him like that."

"I wasn't running at him. I was running at my father."

"I know that and you know that." He nodded toward the hallway, now empty of anyone but the Ranger. "I think even your father knows that. But old Winston there might not. I don't want you splattered all over your bedroom. Wouldn't be pretty."

Angelina swallowed. She hadn't thought of what the Ranger might do. She'd only thought of what her father had done. She glanced at Winston. He shrugged and continued to hold a gun on Charlie.

"Did I hear you right, ma'am? Did you say this man is your husband?"

"Don't answer that," Charlie growled.

She shot him a perplexed look. "I don't see why not. I'm not ashamed of it. Yes, Mr. Winston, I'm Charlie's wife."

"Hmm. Sorry to hear it, ma'am. You know the story. He's going back to Texas with me."

"You can't take him now," she said, a bit desperately. "He's hurt. He can't travel."

"I'm sure he was planning on leaving here today. If he can run away, he can go to Texas."

"I don't run away from nothin', Yank."

"Then what are you doing in Mexico? If you're as innocent of that train robbery as you claim, why didn't

you stay and prove it?"

Charlie snorted. "Right. With a thousand-dollar bounty on my head? I'd be lucky if I lived long enough to see the judge. I don't count on my life bein' worth beans once I'm out of sight of this ranch neither."

Angelina gasped and jumped to her feet. She had to do something to keep Charlie out of the Ranger's

hands. She looked back and forth between the two glowering men. Then she marched up to Drew Winston.

"I saved your life, Mr. Winston."

He looked down at her, his blue eyes startling in his sun-darkened face. "Yes, you did, ma'am. I'm grateful, but I'm not letting him go if that's what you're thinking."

Angelina bit her lip. She had been thinking exactly that. She should have known better than to hope for

such a concession.

Angelina tried another tactic. "You blame Charlie for Claire's death. I understand your pain. But he would never have done such a thing."

Winston's face became closed and cold at the mention of his dead fiancee. "You don't know anything