Linda Lael Miller WANTON ANGEL An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 SimonandSchuster This book is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to nonhistorical figures are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 1987 by Linda Lael Miller All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 ISBN 978-1-4516-1114-4 First Pocket Books printing July 1987 10 9 8 7 6 POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Illustration by Matthew Frey—Wood Ronsaville Harlin Inc. Manufactured in the United States of America For Irene Goodman, my agent and my friend. Thank you for sharing this dream with me, and for helping to make it come true. Contents Part One Angel In Disgrace Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Part Two Angel Of Vengeance Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Part Three Angel Ensnared Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Part Four Angel Of Light Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Dear Readers, Old and New, It is with joy that I give you one of the novels written earlier in my career. Some of you have read it, and will feel as though you’re meeting old friends; to others, it will offer a completely new reading experience. Either way, this tale is a gift of my heart. The characters in this and all of my books are the kind of people I truly admire, and try to emulate. They are smart, funny, brave, and persistent. The women are strong, and while they love their men, they have goals of their own, and they are independent, sometimes to a fault. More than anything else, these stories are about people meeting challenges and discovering the hidden qualities and resources within themselves. We all have to do that. We are blessed—and cursed—to live in uncertain times. Let us go forward, bravely, with our dearest ideals firmly in mind. They’re all we have—and all we need. May you be blessed, Linda Lael Miller BOOKS BY LINDA LAEL MILLER Banner O’Brien Corbin’s Fancy Memory’s Embrace My Darling Melissa Angelfire Desire and Destiny Fletcher’s Woman Lauralee Moonfire Wanton Angel Willow Princess Annie The Legacy Taming Charlotte Yankee Wife Daniel’s Bride Lily and the Major Emma and the Outlaw Caroline and the Raider Pirates Knights My Outlaw The Vow Two Brothers Springwater Springwater Seasons series: Rachel Savannah Miranda Jessica A Springwater Christmas One Wish The Women of Primrose Creek series: Bridget Christy Skye Megan Courting Susannah Springwater Wedding My Lady Beloved (writing as Lael St. James) My Lady Wayward (writing as Lael St. James) High Country Bride Shotgun Bride Secondhand Bride The Last Chance Café Don’t Look Now Never Look Back One Last Look PROLOGUE Northridge, Washington Territory April 1886 THE CHILD RAN, scrambling, wild dark hair tumbling over a tear-streaked face, past one tar-paper shack after another, captive sobs burning in her throat. Reaching the farthest shanty, the one closest to the raging green river, she stumbled over the shoe-scuffed wooden crate that served as a stoop and hurled herself into the tiny, dimly lit room beyond. “Gran!” she wept, in fury and in pain. The shanty had but one room, twelve feet square, and there was no window to let in the spring sunlight. Gran stood at the cookstove sandwiched in between a narrow bed and an even narrower cot, an iron-gray tendril escaping an otherwise severe hairstyle at the nape of her neck. The steam whistle in the smelter works up on the hill rose over the thunderous din to tell the time: twelve noon and too soon by three hours for Bonnie Fitzpatrick to be back from school. Gran was a gentle woman, but she brooked no nonsense and now her lips thinned. “What is it, child, that sends you runnin’ home before lessons is through, and lookin’ as though the Devil himself were right behind you?” The old woman paused to cross herself with the quick deftness of the very devout. Bonnie swallowed, suddenly ashamed. The Mackerson twins had triumphed, not by their torment, but by making her run away. Now she’d be in trouble right and proper, not only with her teacher, but with Gran and maybe Da, too, when he got home from his shift up at the smelter. And, on top of that, she’d have to go back and face those pampered hellions, the daughters of the smelter’s resident manager, with them knowing they’d bested her. “Well?” Gran demanded, not unkindly but not charitably, either. With a sigh, she left her wooden spoon in the soup kettle and sat down on the edge of the