Kiss an Angel(15)

“I’m too damned tired to attack you tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His words failed to reassure her. “If you don’t intend to attack me, why are you threatening me with that whip?”

He looked down at the coil of braided leather as if he’d forgotten it was there, which she didn’t believe for a minute. How could he be so casual about it? And why was he carrying a whip this late at night if he wasn’t trying to threaten her? Another thought struck her, one that sent chills through her bloodstream. She’d heard plenty of stories about men who used whips as part of their sex play. She even knew some specific examples. Was that what he had in mind?

He muttered something under his breath, closed the door, and walked over to sit on the bed. The whip uncoiled onto the floor, but the butt dangled over his knee.

She eyed it apprehensively. On one hand, she’d promised to honor her marriage vows, and he hadn’t actually hurt her. But on the other hand, he certainly had frightened her. Confrontation wasn’t something she was good at, but she knew she had to do it. She braced herself.

“I think we need to clear the air. I have to tell you that I’m not going to be able to live with you intimidating me.”

“Intimidating?” He inspected the butt of the whip. “What are you talking about?”

Her nervousness grew, but she forced herself to keep going. “I suppose you can’t help how you are. It’s probably because of the way you were raised, not that I believe for a moment that Cossack story is true.” She paused. “It isn’t, is it?”

He looked up at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“No, of course not,” she said hastily. “When I refer to intimidation, I’m alluding to your threats and that”—she took a deep breath—“that whip.”

“What about it?”

“I know a little about aberrant behavior, if you have sadistic tendencies, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me right now instead of just hinting around.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re both adults, and there’s no reason to pretend you don’t understand.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to spell it out.”

She couldn’t believe how obtuse he was being. “I’m referring to your hints of—of—sexual perversion.”

“Sexual perversion?”

As he continued to regard her blankly, she cried out in frustration. “For goodness sake! If you think you can beat me and then have sex with me, just come out and say it. Say, ‘Daisy, I get my kicks from whipping women I have sex with, and you’re next on my list.’ At least I’d know what’s going on in your head.”

His eyebrows lifted. “That would make you feel better?”

She nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“We have to begin communicating.”

“Well, all right then.” His eyes glittered. “I get my kicks whipping women I have sex with, and you’re next on my list. Now I’m going to take a shower.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.

Daisy caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Somehow that hadn’t gone quite as she’d planned.



Alex chuckled as the water sluiced over him. That beautiful little airhead had given him more genuine amusement in one day than he’d had in the past year. Maybe longer than that. In his experience life was a serious business. Laughter was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford when he was growing up, so he’d never developed the habit. Still, it felt good, even though he’d been forced to put up with a whole truckload of aggravation for every laugh.

He remembered her comment about sexual perversion. Even though she wasn’t his type, he couldn’t deny that he’d been having sexual thoughts about her. But he didn’t think they were all that perverted. A man would have been hard pressed not to think about sex when he was confronted with those crushed violet eyes and that soft mouth that seemed to have been made for deep kisses.

It would have ruined the fun if he’d told her that he always carried a whip when he knew the workers had been drinking. Traveling circuses resembled the Wild West when it came to handling trouble—they took care of their own problems—and just the sight of the whip was a powerful deterrent to hot tempers and old grudges.

She didn’t know that, of course, and he wasn’t in any hurry to tell her. For both their sakes, he intended to keep Little Miss Rich Girl right under his thumb.

As much as he’d enjoyed their last encounter, he had the feeling his amusement was going to be short-lived. What had Max Petroff been thinking of when he’d handed over his daughter? Did he hate her so much that he had willingly submitted her to a life that was so far beyond her realm of experience? When Max had insisted on this marriage, he’d said Daisy needed a fast course in reality, but Alex had a hard time believing he had anything more than punishment in mind.

Daisy’s na?veté, coupled with her rich girl’s cockeyed value system, made a dangerous combination. He’d be surprised if she lasted more than a few days with him, but he’d promised he’d do his best with her, and he’d keep his word. When she decided to leave, it would be because she’d given up, not because he was kicking her out or paying her off to get rid of her. He might not like Max, but he owed him.