Desert Storm by Ryan Nan

Author:Ryan, Nan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2012-10-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

HOLLOW-EYED AND HAGGARD, Angie watched the longest night of her life finally turning into the cold gray of dawn. She’d not slept. She might never sleep again. When the first flood of tears had abated, Angie had bathed in water so hot she had very nearly been scalded. Anxious to remove any traces of Pecos, she had scrubbed and scrubbed until she could no longer lift her tired arms.

Shamed, brokenhearted and miserable, Angie drew one of the many untouched nightgowns from her bureau and slipped it over her head. It was the first time she’d ever worn one. She had found, even after Miss Emily had insisted that she have a dozen new white nightgowns, that she preferred to sleep naked. While the soft white cotton slid down over her hips, Angie silently cursed herself for being naked when Pecos had entered her room. Maybe if she’d been wearing a nightgown, it wouldn’t have happened. Foolishly, Angie promised herself she would never sleep without one again.

Angie gasped when she dragged herself tiredly back to the bed. Drops of blood on the silky yellow sheets gave testimony to what had happened. Angie’s tears began anew and she whirled about, refusing to get back into the bed. She sat up all night, head resting against the tall back of a winged chair by the cold fireplace, knees pulled up against her aching chest. Angie sat the long night through, never closing her red-rimmed eyes.

It was a night of agony. A tidal wave of emotions flooded through her—disjointed, strange, frightening. Weakness would overcome her and Angie would squirm, remembering the glorious lovemaking that had changed her into a woman. Again and again she would feel Pecos’s heated lips, his practiced hands, his long, lean body on hers; hear his deep, persuasive voice murmuring endearments while beside them a sweet, tinkling melody sprang from the gold-and-pearl music box.

Close on the heels of remembered, golden pleasures, the sight of Pecos rising from her in disgust, tossing money at her feet, calling her a prostitute, sprang before her eyes and her heart contracted. She groaned in despair and hatred. She did hate Pecos. She hated him more than she knew it was possible to hate another human being. And she feared him; he was cruel, cold, without feeling. He’d used her, debased her and then laughed in her face.

Angie shivered. He’d be back. He’d come to her again when his animal urges dictated and take her with no consideration of her feelings. Could she fight him off? If he wanted her again, could she stop him? Could she keep herself from giving in to his lust? To her own? He had only to walk across the courtyard and fling himself upon her. Barrett and Miss Emily slept upstairs; neither would hear or see Pecos coming to her room, just as neither had seen or heard tonight. She was virtually unprotected against an unprincipled, uncaring man with an avaricious sexual appetite. He had no use for

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