Angelia was in the stable going over the past day in her mind. She attempted to clean the stables as best she could. But couldn’t get Lexy out of her mind. She could have made a huge mistake. If Lexy remembered her "conversation" with Gauntlet the snare would be sprung to soon, and the past twenty years of her life would have been wasted.  Her father would be very disappointed in her.

Then her mind went over John Turner. He was a real piece of work. When the whole plan started to weave itself, she had not planned on falling for a gentleman that on his best day could be described as a snake in the grass. But then she remembered what people in her village used to call her. Some of it could not be repeated in polite society.

He was handsome. And yes, she had thought about what it would be like to be "close" to him in a more physical way. But that would need to wait. At least she hoped it would. And the fact that he shared the same hatred for the Logans as he did certainly helped fan her physical needs for him as well.

Angelia looked up for a second when a shadow crossed the stall she was cleaning. John stood there as if some sort of statue, there was a gleam of anger in his eyes that she had never seen before.

"You saved the life of a Logan?" His voice had a deathly calm to it. He was trying to suppress his rage in the best way that he could. But this woman was on his last nerve. He slowly stepped forward two steps. He had his riding crop in his hand he gently caressed the leather tail with his hand.

"It was the daughter, the younger one. I just couldn’t leave her there to die. I do have some element of morals."

"You had the chance to allow a Logan to die. Younger Logans grow to adult Logans. It would have been a small price to pay. Ned Logan would have been to upset to have a horse run in the Derby."

"You are insane…"

With that Johns riding crop came across her bare face. It stunned Angelia as the pain surged through her. She had not anticipated that from John. The back of her hand came up to the stinging cheek; she wiped the blood from her face. "You work for me. You will do as I say on this ‘farm’ as you call it. I can make you or break you in this town. And since no one knows you that well, you would not be missed much if you had a rather tragic accident. Do I make myself clear to you Angelia?"

"Are you quite finished with your display now Mr. Turner?" John was taken aback by the question. He had expected tears from her; instead she looked up at him and almost laughed into his face. "You are not the first to hit me Mr. Turner. And you will probably not be the last. Just remember—what I know about Gauntlet could easily get to the Logans. You need me—as much as I need you. We are joined in this web together. We either succeed or die together."

John was even more angered inside. But then she was right. He needed her—as much as she needed him, in more ways then one. "Do not double cross me again Angelia. You may not live long enough to regret it."

"Then Mr. Turner I should tell you…that I know about your—shall we say your extra curricular activities. How long do you think you would be employed here if the Winters found out that you have been skimming off the tobacco crop and selling it yourself for a small profit?" She smiled at him as a Cheshire cat.

John almost laughed. This woman was as diabolical as he was. He liked that. His fingers came up and gently touched the red welt that appeared on her soft cheek  "As long as we have an understanding Angelia. As long as we are perfectly clear on who is in charge."

Angelia took a half step forward, he watched her fingers gently rest on his shoulders. "Of course I know who is in charge…Mr. Turner….we are. Now are we finished with the fire and brimstone? It’s so tiring after a while."

John looked down at the small woman. He had just struck her in the face, and now she wanted him to kiss her. She did not know who was more insane, him or her at that point. But then who was he to argue with her needs as well as his own. He glanced up through the doorway to the barn. The barn door was half-open, Vivian was in town, and her idiot brother was in Frankfort on business. No one would know. He looked back down into her green eyes. <Oh the hell with it.>

John took the small woman into his strong arms and pushed her against the wall of the stable. His mouth covered hers. He felt her arms go around his neck and began stroking the back of his neck. She groaned inside. It had been awhile since someone had brought out her passion, a very long while. John pulled her closer to him she felt one of his strong hands go up her back to the neckline of her dress, and then pulled. "Your mine Angelia, all mine. Once and for all." His hot breath breathed into her ear. She made no attempt to argue with him. She felt herself being pushed down the wall and into the soft hay. His face covered hers once more.

"John, I want you."

He broke his kiss and looked down at her. A wry smile came across his face. "I know you do. But I will not ruin my gentleman reputation for you…." Angelia looked up with a look of both disgust and shock on her face. She watched John stand up and brush the hay from his clothing. "When I am ready…then I will have you…not before." With that he turned and walked away from her.

Angelia quickly stood with of look of total hate on her face. At that moment she hated him as much as the Logans. "You bastard!" She grabbed a handful of horse manure and threw it at him, hitting him on the back.

He stopped for a moment and slowly turned. "And your point is….?" With that he turned and walked from the barn and out of her sight.

"Damn you Turner."

PART XV

Angelia lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Damn him. Damn all of him. Who did he think he was—teasing her like that? And who did he think she was a common strumpet? Damn him. The anger seethed inside of her. She got up from bed. She needed to get this out once and for all. And he would be on the receiving end…this time. Then she remembered what her grandfather used to tell her….lie down with dogs….

She grabbed her robe. She didn’t even bother to get dressed. She looked up at his bedroom window. Good the son of a bitch was still up.

Angelia didn’t care if she was dressed appropriately or not. She wanted to have a conversation with Mr. Turner, and now would be a fine time.

She pounded her way up the stairs, and didn’t even bother knocking on his door. She just walked in.

John sat in his bed and barely looked up in her direction. He took a long swallow of his drink and gently set it down on the table next to his bed. "Finally, I didn’t think you would ever show up."

"You may regret the fact that I walked through that door…"

"And why is that?" He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. He walked across the room. He looked at her in the dim light. True, the cloth that made up her bedclothes was not as appealing as he would have hoped: but then that could be corrected without too much trouble. John then stepped over to the side and began to remove his shirt, and then he poured some water from the water into his basin.

Angelia could not believe his gall. But then after this afternoon, nothing could surprise her. "Do you think that…."

"What I think is that you are going to spend the night with me—Angelia…" He looked at her reflection in the mirror. "And I do appreciate the fact that you did not bother to wear all that uncomfortable contraptions that are so hard to remove."

"And what in the hell makes you think that I would lie down with a dog like you?" She almost walked across the room and slapped his face off for even implying that she would.

"Because Angelia you and I are two of a kind. A cut from the same cloth." John Turner walked across the floor and stood in front of her. He raised his hand to lock his bedroom door. "You want me and I want you. You wanted me in the barn didn’t you? "

He looked down at her. Angelia stared up at him with a look of disbelief. Yes, he was right. She had forgotten what it was like to feel passion. Passion that she could no longer stop or deny. She felt Johns fingers come up and gently touch her soft cheek. The same cheek that felt the sting of his riding crop.  Damn he knew what buttons to push and when. How could he know her so well—so quickly? "Don’t deny it Angelia. Not now. Not when we have the chance—"

"Shut up John! You’re confusing me!" Angelia turned to leave—but John held his hand to the door to prevent it from opening. She looked up with tears in her eyes. She stared right into his hazel eyes and felt herself beginning to loose what little control she had left.

"I’m not going to shut up. I’m going to take you into my arms, lift you off your feet and carry you to that bed over there. And then you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to make you feel like a woman. The way I’ve wanted to make you feel all day long." With that Angelia felt her feet leave the floor. John’s arms circled around her shoulders, and the other went under her knees. He quickly made it to the bed in three steps—then she felt herself be lowered to the soft sheets underneath her. He looked down at her, a look of surprise and bewilderment on her face. His fingers quickly undid his belt buckle as he spoke to her—"Now Angelia—if you wish to leave—go. Otherwise, I’m going to make sure that you have a very long night with very little sleep." With that he slightly bent over and turned off the light next to the bed.

She felt the bed squeak underneath his weight. The sheets were pulled back as John went underneath her. "Angelia." His face buried itself into the soft skin of her throat. His breath almost burned her skin. She felt her own fingers move up and weave themselves through his hair. She panted for breath like she had run a mile. His sweet mouth came  up and covered hers. She groaned as she felt one of his strong hands glide up her this waist and cup one of her breast through the cloth. "Angelia, take off your clothes. Let me make love to you tonight."

Angelia sat up and tore the cloth from her body like she couldn’t wait to be rid of them.
"John, I shouldn’t---"

"No shouldn’ts not now. Just let me have this one night…" His face bent down and gently suckled her nipple. Her leg came up to his hip and rested there.

"Damn you John Turner." With that she kissed his mouth and gave herself to the temptation.
 
 

PART XVI

 Angelia woke up with the sunlight streaming through the windows. It took her awhile for her to get her bearings. But then she realized that what happened was not a dream, but reality. She looked up to see him putting his tie on. She was confused. She had come to America for the sole purpose of revenge. Revenge for her father that she had sworn to. She had made a blood oath on his grave that she would have no pleasure in life until her family was vindicated. Well, so much for that. She hid her face in the pillows.

"What’s wrong?" John looked at her reflection in the mirror. He had a busy day ahead of him. And so did she. He needed to see how Gauntlet was doing.  And that would be her job.

"I vowed that I would not have pleasure until my family curse was fulfilled. I have broken that word."

John looked at her with almost a smirk. "I promise I won’t tell a soul. Especially your father."

"Don’t mock me! I made a blood oath that the Logans will pay dearly for what they have done to my family. And I plan on fulfilling that promise."

"And you will Angelia. The both of us will make sure of it. We will take away the one thing that means more to them then anything else—"

"And what is that Mr. Turner?"

John crossed the room and sat on the bed, remembering the pleasure and passion from last night. "That my dear—you will need to wait and see…"
 

Ned Logan had gone through his Bible until his eyes almost fell from his head. He still had no idea why this Irish woman would want to see him dead. But if he had an enemy he would need to know why.

He then thought about his mother’s diaries. Strange, it never occurred to him that the books might hold more information on his family history then the Bible he was holding. The only problem was…he didn’t know where in the huge attic they were, but then that’s what daughters were for. Lexy always wanted to know about her family’s past….and heaven knows she wanted to go into the attic.

Ned walked onto the porch and called Lexy to him. Her bright smile was so much like her sweet mothers; it almost broke his heart. "Lexy I have a special job for you."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to go to the attic and find you grandmothers diaries. It’s very, very important. Now, I don’t know what they look like, or exactly where they are…but I real need you to find them for me. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure. It doesn’t sound that bad."

If she only knew, the attic was huge and she was a small little girl, trying to find the needle in the proverbial haystack.

Lexy went about her task with her usual enthusiasm until she saw the size of the attic, and the number of trunks. This would take her some time, but then her father was worth the effort.

PART XVII

Lexy had searched most of the day for the diaries her father had wanted. Finally she had narrowed the search down to the last of six trunks. She had to keep reminding herself that her father was worth this effort and if the need was this great—she could not let him down.

Lexy opened the huge trunk and found some rather moth eaten lace lying on the top. She assumed that it was supposed to be a tablecloth. Then she lifted it up and saw what her father desperately needed. Books and about forty of them. She slowly opened one and the dust made her sneeze. Inside was the inscription: Rose Mary Logan—1801. It was one of her grandmothers’ diaries. She only hoped that her father would let her read them when he was finished.

She ran down the ladder to get her father. He would be so proud of her.

Jeremy stood in the doorway of the study. Lexy bounced down the stairs with renewed enthusiasm. At first he barely recognized the child with the dust, and cobwebs still attached to her.

Her father looked up from his books to see his daughter beaming proudly towards him.
"I take it you found them—good girl. Why don’t you show Jeremy where they are? And he’ll bring them down for us to read."

Jeremy had no idea what he was expecting to "bring down" but it could not be that much.
Then he saw the trunk. This would take some effort.

After some time passed, Ned looked at the diaries in the middle of the study. He would go through them one at a time starting with number one and finishing with the last entry made one week before his mother was called home.

He poured himself bourbon and began to read.

It was midnight when he reached the courtship of his mother and father. They were in Ireland. And began to invest in horses for racing. They had formed a partnership with another Irish family named McNaughton.  The only problem with the union was that the Logans were Protestant, the McNaughton’s were Roman Catholic. Because of that situation, they could not sell horses to either religious group. The only people who would buy their horses were English, and that was even worse.

Ned turned the pages a little faster. Now, it was beginning to get interesting. He brought his drink to his lips, and swallowed deeply.

The McNaughton’s had a girl, and a son named Adam. The Logans were working with Ned’s Uncle James. He was barely out of his teens, and according to his mother, was not suited to working with horses. <I guess the Logan trait tends to skip a generation once in awhile.> They had a rather strained relationship to say the least. According to his mother, James had a fierce temper. He did not like Catholics, and he hated the English even more. Ned looked up for a second and rubbed his brow, this was a brawl waiting to happen.

The next diary, Ned’s mother didn’t write as much. She did she write about the strained relationship between his father and his uncle. And also how the partnership with the McGivers was also wearing thin. They were almost bankrupt. They had not sold a horse in months, and the tensions were increasing. Blame was being shoved back and forth. Which of course was not helping things any.

The weeks went on, and evidently James had a fistfight in a pub and accidentally killed an English military officer. His life was not worth a halfpenny.

Ned’s parents did not have the money to afford a trail or to send James out of the country. But they did have enough left in the meager savings to buy the witnesses. But someone had to be blamed for the death of the officer, or there would be no peace in the village.

The next pages were stained with what Ned assumed to be tears. The diaries shocked him. They made his stomach turn.

To save the life of James, his parents had Adam framed for the murder of the officer. Since the family was Roman Catholic, it was easy to hate them. It was easy to make them the Judas Goat.

The McNaughtons lost the only son. The carrier of the family name was lost—for the salvation of the Logans.

Ned slowly stood up and walked to the fireplace and stoked the logs with the poker.

Damn. Why did he read the diaries? He had held the Logan name up on a marble pedestal. And now the pedestal crumbled beneath him like it was made of sand. His family was responsible for the death of a man, and the loss of the family name of McNaughton.

No wonder Angelia wanted his family ruined. Her brother had paid the price for the arrogance of the Logans’. How could he explain this to his children? He had always said the Logan was a name that was one of honor and one to be cherished. Now, he was not so sure. To send an innocent man to the gallows was not something he could be proud of. It made his stomach turn to think about it.

Ned then threw his full glass of bourbon into the fire and watched the flames consume it. Damn you father. Damn you to hell.

Ned returned to his chair and finished reading the diary. Patrick McNaughton arrived one evening with the small girl in his arms. He was crying since he had watched his only son, his innocent child, executed in front of him, his wife and his daughter.

The last words written in the diary were his curse:

"Angelia, you will make sure before you die, that the Logans will pay with what they hold the most dear, just as I have paid tonight."

With that Patrick turned and left in the darkness of the night. But the look on the little girls’ face haunted Ned’s mother for the rest of her life.

The Logans left the country for America the next week. They left everything behind and escaped with only the clothes on their backs.

There was nothing else written on the McNaughton family.

There was nothing else--until now.

And now was all that really mattered to Ned Logan.

PART XVIII

Angelia walked over to the window inside John’s room. He laid in bed still lost in sleep. That was for the best. She needed the time to think things through. She sat down in a chair and day dreamed out the window.

She could barely remember the early days in Ireland. She could remember her mother and father clearly, even though they were long since dust. But all she had was a picture of her brother Adam to remind her of the purpose of her existence. She wanted to tell John about what had happened to her family in Ireland. But she felt that was useless. He could not understand, since he was not of her kind.

John Turner slowly began to awaken. He saw Angelia staring out the window lost in her thoughts.

"Good morning Angelia."
"Good morning John."
He slowly pulled himself out of bed and wrapped his arms around her bare shoulders. "What’s wrong? You look like you are a thousand miles away?"

"I was. But I’m back here now. I was remembering why I hate the Logans so much. I do not want to forget the purpose of my life."

"Hate is a poor reason to live, Angelia."

"It keeps me warm John Turner. Just like you do." She softly kissed his forehead.

John sat in the chair and began to dress himself. "Have you broken the mare in the west pasture yet?"

"Yes. I did that yesterday. He will be ready for sale—tomorrow."

"Excellent. May I take you to dinner this evening?"

"That sounds lovely. I would like that. What time should I be ready?"

"Six."

"I will be ready by then. I will see you this evening." She watched him leave through the door. She turned and began to dress in her clothes from yesterday. Her dark skirt and white blouse fit her loosely. She had been loosing a great deal of weight. Her days with the Winters’ family were long and hard ones. But then she needed to remind herself that payback was coming shortly. It was now two weeks to the Derby. She was hoping that John would ask her to go to the race with him tonight. She pulled her hair back from her face and tied it with some cloth.

It was then that she looked up and saw Ned Logan arriving. She gnashed her teeth together. John Turner greeted him at the front porch and shook his hand. Ned Logan than dismounted and talked to him for a few moments. They then walked inside.

Angelia walked down the stairs. She stopped about half way down and glared at Logan. John looked up at her and made a mental note of expression on her face. It was one of total repugnance.

"Miss McNaughton. I would like to trouble you for a few minutes of your time if I may?" Ned Logan attempted his best to be civil, but with the look on her face—that was difficult at best.

"I’m afraid that I can not do that right now. I have work to do." She finished the stairs and headed to the door without so much as a glance towards Ned.

"Angelia, you can spend a few minutes with Mr. Logan. I’m sure the Winters’ will not mind if you spend a few minutes to talk to a friend of theirs." Angelia turned to look at her suitor as if her were insane. He had to be more than a little aware of how much she hated the Logan family. He had to have a death wish. "Angelia, it will only be a few minutes. You and Angelia may use the study. Angelia after you are finished, you may begin in the west pasture. I will wait for you there."

Angelia gave a slight nod to John as he walked past her. Ned looked at the two of them, there was a match made in hell if there ever was one.

Angelia then turned and walked into the study, Ned Logan followed. He turned to close the doors.

"Mr. Logan if you do not mind, I do not wish to have this meeting— misconstrued as a social visit. Whatever you have to say to me—Mr. Logan—let’s get on with it."

"I have discovered why your family, and you in particular have a hatred for my family. I did not know about the way that my father had betrayed your family."

"And your point is Mr. Logan?"

"My point is Angelia that I was hoping that you could except my humble apology and allow bygones to be bygones."

"You must be joking. Mr. Logan, your father is solely responsible for the death of my brother…"

"I am well aware of that…"

"Then are you also aware, Mr. Logan, of what happened after your cowardly family ran?"

"No…I’m not."

"Then allow me to fill you in on some details that you may not be aware of. My father killed himself. My mother turned herself into a whore in order to support me. I also blame that on your family Mr. Logan."

"Again, I have said that I’m sorry…I do not understand what else you want from me?"

Angelia smiled at him. "Not enough. Your apology will not bring back my brother or father. But the curse stands; I will take away from you the one thing that means more to you than anything else. You have your worst nightmare in front of you. You have more to fear from me, than the devil himself. Now if you will excuse me, Mr. Logan, I have work to do. I believe we have said everything that needs to be said." Angelia stood up and walked from the room. She left Ned alone with his thoughts.

 Angelia walked past the hired hands on the porch. She had an appointment with John. And she had already kept him waiting.

She placed her horse into a full run. She needed to explain to John why she hated the Logans. If they were going to be partners in this, she could not be trusted to be alone with her nemesis. She could easily be convicted of murder. And this time, she may not be so lucky to escape with her life.

She slowed the horse down, when she saw him leaning up against the fence. Enjoying one of his hideous cigars. "So, Angelia, you didn’t kill him. Good. I was beginning to worry as to what was taking you so long."

"Don’t ever do that again Mr. Turner."

"Or else what? Let’s face it Angelia, we have each other in Check at the same time. Why don’t we just concentrate on the Logans’ and the Derby and be done with it."

"Agreed. Now you wanted to talk to me John?"

 "In order for my plan to work—you will need to be at the Derby with myself and the Winters. You will be going as an employee—not as a social obligation."

"I understand. What exactly is expected of me—besides the more personal nature of our relationship?"

"I will tell you when the time is right. Right now—I have an appointment in Lexington to keep. You will need to see Gauntlet tomorrow. Is there going to be a problem with that?"

"No. Of course not." Angelia looked at him. She watched him take the reigns of his horse and mount.

"I shall see you this evening then. Say about nine tonight—we’ll go for a walk in the gardens. By then Vivian will be asleep."

"I’ll be in my quarters then."

With that he rode away. Angelia reached into her pocket and pulled a single lock of red hair from it. "I know Mama, I don’t trust him either. But for right now…we need him."
 

To be continued....

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