Delilah's Flame

by Parnell, Andrea

  He knew what she had been saying downstairs. Her life didn’t allow time for the pre-mating rituals. She had to sidestep them. Of course she would want what semblance of it could be fitted into a night, the civilized dinner, conversation. He didn’t mind. Those things, too, heightened the anticipation. Only the way his body was reacting just to the sight of Delilah, he wasn’t sure he could be civilized for long.

  “Good evening, Miss Delilah,” he said, forcing smoothness into his voice.

  Smiling, he removed his hat. As he did, the silver medallion on the band flashed with the light of a candle. Delilah saw it and gasped. Suddenly weak-legged, she caught hold of the table to steady herself. For an instant everything in the room turned black and she was once again a young girl surrounded by riders. The medallion and another like it shone from the stirrups of one of those riders. A man named Stanton. This man.

  Stanton had started to get off his horse and help. But his noble thought had been quickly crushed. She wondered if he had any regrets. If he even remembered what he had done that night.

  “Ma’am? Delilah?” Seeing the color wash out of her face, Tabor started toward her. “Anything wrong?”

  “No. N-not really,” she stuttered. “I...I twisted my ankle. I’m fine now.”

  “Here. Sit down.” Before she could resist, he helped her to a brocade-covered settee and insisted she get off her feet. “Let me have a look.”

  “Oh no. Really. It doesn’t hurt now.”

  But he was kneeling before her and gently massaging one ankle. Tiny shock waves started through her.

  “Not that one,” she said, snatching her foot away. It was a useless defense. He immediately set about massaging the other ankle, with exactly the same result.

  “Better?” he asked. Black silk stockings. Trim ankles. Curvy calves. Pink satin slippers. The hour’s wait would be worthwhile. He’d enjoy peeling off the silk and satin and lace.

  “Much better.” Wanting to break the physical contact, Delilah got hurriedly to her feet, but immediately found herself swept into Tabor Stanton’s arms.

  “Good,” he said, his lips muffling her objections. The kiss, brief but thorough, stunned her and sent unwarranted pleasure spiraling through her body. For a few seconds afterward Delilah stood speechless.

  The first words to come back surprised both her and Stanton. “You low-lyin’ side...” She stopped short, her eyes incredibly wide. What was she saying? She could ruin everything. Delilah quickly turned her back so he couldn’t see the confusion registered on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stanton.” It galled her to pretend politeness, but she didn’t want him losing interest so soon. She softened her voice. “I’m not accustomed to a man being so forward.”

  Tabor arched a brow. Low-lyin’ sidewinder? Something a boomtown woman might say, but from the well-bred Delilah, more of the puzzle. “I owe the apology, ma’am,” he drawled. “Guess I misunderstood your invitation.”

  She kept her back to him, completely missing the disarming grin on his face. His words were right but the tone lacked conviction. The arrogant bastard. He thought she was nothing more than a well-dressed whore. Incensed, she braced herself to remain calm, swearing the mistake would cost him.

  Eyes twinkling, and with a new hold on her composure, Delilah looked over her shoulder at Tabor. “Maybe not, Mr. Stanton,” she cooed. “A lady needs a little time to make up her mind about a man, a little time to anticipate. Let’s see how we both feel later in the evening.”

  Tabor dropped a hand on her shoulder. The skin was warm and smooth. He turned her around. The lady liked games. Fine. He supposed it affronted her dignity to fall into a man’s arms without a few preliminaries. Damn, she was good to look at! A magnificent woman. Full breasts almost spilling out of her dress, a waist he could reach around, eyes that were hard to look away from. The lips had been soft and sweet. Maybe he could wait—a while.

  Heat waves started where his hand rested. She felt a tiny shudder, not of revulsion but of enjoyment. This was inexcusable, to feel anything resembling excitement from this man’s touch. She abhorred the thought of it. She couldn’t let herself be distracted just because he had a handsome face. That medallion on his hat reminded her he was a man without courage or conviction, a man with a hollow heart.

  She breathed in a deep breath. Self-command was imperative. “Some champagne, Mr. Stanton,” she said smoothly.

  “Call me Tabor, please. Formalities have always been a nuisance. May I?” He offered to open the bottle. When the cork popped and a stream of foam shot into the air, they laughed together. Before much of the champagne was lost, Delilah got the glasses.

  “Ummm. This is good.” She sipped contentedly. “I adore champagne. Do you, Tabor?”

  He nodded. “Mostly bubbles. But it’ll do.”

  When Seth knocked and said he had the supper tray, Delilah was still sipping her first glass, Tabor, at Delilah’s prompting, his third.

  Halfway through the meal Delilah realized Tabor was staring at her in a peculiar way. Those intense gray eyes made her edgy. A slow flutter of panic started down in her stomach. He couldn’t possibly suspect...No. It had to be something else. She gathered courage and spoke. “Is something bothering you, Tabor?”

  Tabor shook his head. “Not a thing.” Without warning he clasped the hand she rested on the table, finding it warm but slightly shaky. “I was just sitting here wondering how you tell a beautiful woman she’s beautiful in a way she hasn’t heard a hundred times before.”

  Delilah sighed and relaxed a bit. Her smile was purely theatrical. “You’ve done just that, Tabor.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand and squeezed. “Thank you,” she said.

  Silently she congratulated herself. He wasn’t so different after all. He wanted her. A man in that condition was like a rutting deer, blind to everything but his lust. The fact that he had stirred her a little only made her angry. Tabor Stanton would topple like the others. She would enjoy watching him fall.

  Seth came in later to take the supper dishes. When the door clicked shut behind him, Delilah turned her charm on Tabor full force.

  “It is warm in here isn’t it?” She lifted the curls from her neck and fanned herself with a silk Japanese fan. “I wonder if you’d pour me another glass of champagne? It does make me feel cooler.” Tabor complied. When he handed her the glass, she looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “Do you play poker, Tabor?”

  “I’ve played a few games.” The long months at sea, he’d occupied many hours playing poker and had gained an expertise that kept his fellow officers low on funds most of the time.

  “I find a few hands relaxing after dinner,” she said innocently. “Would you indulge me?” The long reddish lashes swept her cheeks. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

  His desire for her intensified. “I like the stakes,” he responded.

  Delilah dealt the first round in her clumsy, misleading way. A few rounds later she had lost a sizable stack of gold coins.

  “Oh!” Delilah showed her hand and then Tabor his. Her lips went into a soft pout. “You are entirely too skilled for me, Tabor. You’ve won again.”

  “Looks that way.” He grinned. He should be complimenting her on her skills. She was quite a woman. Every word, every gesture, every glance designed to ignite a man’s passion. And it did. For the last hour he’d felt that he had a volcano inside him. If she wanted him at a fever pitch when they made love, she would have her wish. With every minute that passed, he was more fascinated with her. She was a better poker player than she let on, too good to lose every hand. That too had to be deliberate. Maybe she thought it swelled a man’s pride to win.

  “More brandy, Tabor?” She stood for a moment and refilled his snifter, brushing her arm against his shoulder as she placed it on the table. “You aren’t by any chance a professional gambler, are you?”

  “Not at cards,” he returned, feeling a jolt as her flesh touched him and the scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils.

/>   That was the third glass of brandy she had forced on him. He could swear she was trying to get him drunk. But why? If she opened another button on her bodice, he would gladly do anything she asked. Maybe she wanted to be sure she could stay in control of the situation. His easy grin widened. “I do enjoy the excitement of taking risks. How about you?”

  “Oh, I rather like following the tried-and-true. Maybe that’s why I so seldom win.”

  “At cards?”

  Annoyed, Delilah almost forgot to smile. She wasn’t accustomed to having a man tease her. The problem was, Tabor held his liquor too well. He wasn’t the least bit tipsy and now he’d stopped drinking. At least she’d learned enough about him to feel confident her hasty plan would work. He’d been in the navy until recently and evidently never in Mexico. The detective had done a poor job tracing Stanton. He seemed to have no roots. He mentioned no family. As best she could tell, he drifted around living on what was left of his navy pay.

  “You haven’t touched your brandy,” she said as she dealt another hand.

  He lifted one eyebrow devilishly. “I don’t like drinking alone.”

  “We’ll have to remedy that.” Delilah quickly rose to her feet and poured herself another snifter of brandy. She wished she’d added the powder when she poured his. Maybe she could distract him and slip it into his glass at the table. She didn’t want to prolong this encounter. She didn’t like the way those smoke-gray eyes looked as if they could see right through her. She didn’t like the way that grin softened his face and made it look so...appealing. She wanted to be done with Tabor Stanton as soon as possible.

  Damn! Delilah swore under her breath. The little silver snuffbox with the powder wasn’t in her pocket. She’d been so upset about Dinah, she’d forgotten to get it from Loo. She felt like crying. This might be a long night after all. She had no choice but to get Tabor genuinely drunk.

  “Drink up,” she said, and took a generous swallow of brandy. “Let’s play another hand. My luck might change.”

  “Or mine might,” he quipped.

  She lost, again and again. Looking forlorn, Delilah cast her luminous blue eyes on him and said a bit thickly, “Pour me another brandy.”

  Tabor got unsteadily to his feet. “Brandy’s all gone,” he reported. “Champagne too.”

  Delilah watched him bump the chair and breathed a sigh of relief. “Sherry, then, and tell me about the Admiral.”

  “Which one?”

  “The four-legged one. The one you spent your severance pay on.”

  Tabor grinned. “You ought to see him. Black as midnight, almost seventeen hands at the withers, long powerful legs, good bloodlines, and he’s smart, smarter than most of the scalawags I sailed with.”

  “And you spent all your money to buy this horse, the Admiral?”

  Tabor settled back in his chair. Christ! His head was swimming. Was she trying to stroke his passion or put it out? “All I could save from the last five years of navy pay. When a man’s had nothing steadier than a rolling deck under him for years, he wants a good horse. The Admiral’s the finest piece of horseflesh west of St. Jo.”

  “Would you sell him?”

  His heavy dark brows flew up. “Sell him? Hell, no! I’ve got plans for the Admiral.” His words slurred, “Ranch...a few good mares.”

  “A ranch costs money.” Tall plans for a man who was little better than a saddle tramp. The Admiral was probably a fleabitten nag. But the horse was apparently the only thing of worth Tabor Stanton owned. And that wouldn’t be for long.

  He clinked the coins from his stack of winnings and slid most of them into a vest pocket. “A few more poker games and who knows.”

  She knew. Delilah fumed beneath her pasted-on smile. He had a high opinion of himself. And this encounter had gone on long enough.

  Delilah placed a hand to her temple to steady her head. How much could one man drink? She could handle perhaps one more glass of sherry. Tabor was several ahead of her. She hoped one more would be enough to drop him.

  “A toast to luck,” she said, sporting a sugary smile. The glasses clinked.

  “Always ready to drink to luck,” Tabor told her. “Your deal.”

  He started to pick up his cards, but Delilah stopped him. “Let’s change the stakes,” she suggested. “Make the game more exciting. Let’s wager something we value.”

  “What would that be?” he asked, mesmerized by what he saw glistening in her sapphire eyes.

  “I believe I have something you’d like to possess,” she said. Tabor slowly nodded. “Suppose you wager the Admiral and your winnings against—” She paced out her words. “—anything you’d like from me.”

  “Anything?” He felt the jolt of desire in his loins. Damn, she knew how to make a fire hotter. “Do I have to name my pleasure before we play?”

  She moistened her lips. “That would make it more interesting. What would you like?”

  But if you love Delilah, there’s a terrible price...Tabor flooded his lungs with oxygen. Christ! It was all in the song. What a game she played. The lady was a spider. She built a man up, then snatched the ground out from under him. If he had the picture right, she’d win the next hand, have his horse, then call those two buffoons to drag him out. She didn’t want to make love to him. She wanted to castrate him. Damn her! All his passion turned to raw fury. It was time Delilah met a man she couldn’t geld.

  He nodded his consent and gave a smile the devil would have envied. “I’m going to remember this game the rest of my life.” He paused while he rolled a cigarette and lit it. “What I’d like is to have Delilah as my love slave for one entire week.” He exhaled a smoky breath. “Agreed?”

  She didn’t hesitate, though she would have liked to scratch his eyes out for even thinking such a thing. “Agreed,” she said, and winked. “Sounds tantalizing.” The dolt! He’d remember this game the rest of his life, all right.

  Slowly Tabor and Delilah picked up their cards and looked at the hands dealt. Delilah frowned. Tabor hardly restrained himself from bursting out with laughter. She’d dealt him a pair of kings and a pair of queens. She wanted him to fall hard. Her frown deepened. She was a magnificent actress.

  “Cards?” she asked, sounding worried.

  Tabor rubbed his eyes and reeled in his chair. She wanted him drunk. Let her think he was. “I’ll hold what I have,” he mumbled. “Go ahead.”

  Her former clumsiness with the cards vanished. She handled them with expertise and finesse, discarding and quickly dealing herself two more.

  Her expression changed from one of worry to one of joy. “I believe my luck has changed, Tabor,” she said sweetly.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. She just didn’t know how right she was. “I’m sure it has,” he replied. “No changing the ante?”

  “No changing.” Delilah stroked beneath her chin with one slender finger. “Shall we do this together?”

  “By all means.”

  In unison they spread the cards on the table. His eyes went to the full house she’d dealt herself.

  “You lost.” Her eyes glowed with triumph.

  “I’ll be damned!” His fist slammed the tabletop. “Never saw anything like that. Well, hell.” He nodded complacently. “Fair’s fair. I reckon you’ll want a written claim for the Admiral. You’ll find him down at the livery. Just promise you’ll treat him good. He’s a fine horse.”

  “I’ll get paper and a pen,” she responded, turning her face away from him to conceal her haughty smile. At the dresser she opened a drawer and removed the needed articles. She quickly scrawled out a few words, then laid a paper before him which lacked only his signature. Tabor hastily signed his name to it.

  Delilah folded the title and tucked it in her bosom. Being sotted obviously made him more agreeable. She couldn’t believe he wouldn’t offer more fight if he were sober. If she could get him to take one more drink she was sure he’d pass out. Then she could carry out the remainder of her plan.

  “I don’t
suppose you’re going to give me a chance to win the Admiral back?” he mumbled, sliding down in his chair a bit.

  “Maybe,” she lied. “Let’s have another drink while I think it over.”

  He staggered to his feet. “Don’t mind if I do.” Spilling half of it, Tabor attempted pouring sherry in his glass, and failing, forgot the glass, picked up the nearly empty bottle, and stumbled across the room toward the bed. He downed the amber liquid, unsteadily deposited the bottle on the bedside table and himself on the bed. His eyes snapped shut.

  Delilah watched. “Tabor?” She got no answer. Imagine that. And so easy. She approached him. “Tabor?”

  Delilah stood over the sleeping cowboy a few moments, listening to his heavy breathing. One of his arms hung off the bed, the other sprawled across the opposite side. He looked amazingly different with his eyes closed, boyish, harmless. Had she called him passably handsome? Now she had to admit he was much more. The dark shadow of a beard covered his chin. Not sure why, she ran a finger over the fine bristles and got a surprising ripple of delight.

  Angry at herself, Delilah quickly drew her hand away. The gold coins were in his vest pocket. They had been part of the stakes. She reached for them.

  A flurry of silk skirts whirled over the bed. Tabor, moving like lightning, trapped Delilah and pinned her beneath him, his arms holding hers above her head on the pillows. Outraged, she spat out a profanity and glared at the diabolical face above her.

  “You took your time,” he whispered, smiling.

  “Let me go, you mangy bastard!”

  Holding both her wrists with one hand, Tabor clamped his other one over her mouth. A devilish look flared in his eyes. “Watch that gutter language,” he warned. “You’ll spoil the illusion of Lady Delilah.”

  His taunting gave her time to think a little more clearly. She tried a calmer approach and her most ladylike tone. The hard glare in her eyes softened as her voice did. “You are making a mistake, Mr. Stanton. I implore you to let me go.”