Lisa Plumley

by The Honor-Bound Gambler

  After all, Cade believed she could bring him good luck. There was no reason to suspect she couldn’t improve her own fortunes at the same time. With Cade still ensconced, so far as she knew, in his luxurious room at the Lorndorff Hotel—her next intended destination—there was no time like the present.

  There was no time like now to truly fly. With Cade.

  Fired up now and full of newfound verve—not to mention a budding hope that what existed between her and Cade might grow into something more—Violet gave Joseph’s arm another squeeze.

  Then she turned hurriedly to leave.

  “By the first snowfall, we could both be engaged to be married,” Violet told Joseph as she left. “Let’s hope so!”

  “For your sake,” Joseph vowed sincerely, “I do hope so!”

  Was that more doubt suffusing his voice, making him sound uncertain and wary? Violet didn’t think so. Assuring herself she was doing the right thing, she offered Joseph a heartfelt goodbye. Then, with her documents hugged to her chest and her heart filled with a heady mix of bravado and sheer until-now-untapped determination, Violet left the train depot and headed for the tall, two-story opulence of the Lorndorff Hotel…and somewhere inside it, Cade Foster’s scandalously enjoyable embrace.

  *

  To be a good gambler, a man had to be both observant and detached, interested and wary. He had to be willing to risk everything on the turn of a card or the roll of a dice. He had to possess sufficient grit to stay the course even when fortune didn’t spin his way. Most of all, he had to keep his word. Otherwise, he’d rightly be labeled a liar and a cheat, and the gambling world would snap shut to him for the rest of his days.

  That’s why, last night when Cade had lost his wager with Reverend Benson, he’d had to accept the consequences. He’d had to move forward like a man. For the sake of his reputation, he’d had to smile at Violet’s father, nod in acceptance of his fate and move on straightaway.

  Last night, Cade had done all those things. Today, in the unforgiving light of a bleak new morning, he almost wished he hadn’t. The stakes that Reverend Benson had set—and Cade had foolishly and arrogantly accepted—were just too high.

  If you win, the minister had said, you may court my daughter. You may call on Violet and entertain her in public. Eventually, if she agrees, you may even marry her.

  And because, to a whiskey-soaked and overconfident Cade, that prize had sounded nigh irresistible, he’d agreed readily.

  But if you lose, the minister had gone on to caution him, wearing a peculiar smile, you must agree to find yourself honest work, as an honest laborer, and give up all your gambling ways.

  Even the “gambling ways” that have benefited your church coffers and your own pocketbook? Cade had asked with a grin. It was just like a pious man, he’d reckoned then, to try to reform him…even while he profited from his supposed debauchery.

  But the wager had been all but set at that point. There’d been no way Cade could foresee losing a bet to a fumble-fingered, outlandishly overoptimistic minister—especially one who let tender emotions overrule common sense. No self-respecting professional sporting man could have. So Cade had merely shook hands with Violet’s father, requested a fresh deck of cards from Harry, Jack Murphy’s able barkeep, and begun a new game.

  Two hours later, Cade had stared in patent disbelief as gray-haired, newly jocular Reverend Benson had scraped all his winnings into his overturned hat, issued an incomprehensible bit of scripture as a final condolence, then bade him farewell.

  Don’t forget! his parting words had rung out. Honest work! In an honest trade, with a fair exchange of labor for wages.

  Cade scarcely knew what that meant. And he scarcely knew how to explain this disastrous misstep to Blackhouse, what’s more. His benefactor wouldn’t be pleased with this wrinkle in their plans. Whatever Blackhouse’s reasons for wanting to find Whittier were, they’d kept him in the hunt for a long while. The bachelor ne’er-do-well of the rails was unlikely to quit now.

  Considering the thorny issue of explaining himself to Blackhouse, Cade dragged his arm over his eyes. He wanted to shield himself both from the daylight shoving its way through his hotel room draperies and from his own recriminations.

  How could he have been so brash? So reckless? Not only had he put his search for Whittier in jeopardy, but he’d also cut himself off from seeing Violet. She would never understand this.

  Wondering if the reverend would tell his daughter the truth about their situation, Cade groaned. Of course he wouldn’t. He’d wanted to force Cade to stay away from Violet, and he had—in a fashion that Cade could neither argue with nor back down from.

  I believe you’re a man of honor, Reverend Benson had told Cade as he’d made ready to leave the gambling table and Murphy’s saloon last night. For Violet’s sake, I’m glad of it.

  That was him, Cade thought now with a new sense of irony. An honor-bound gambler: the first and last of his kind. Because when it came to Violet and what she deserved from him, honesty was paramount…but honor came hard on its heels. For Violet, Cade would have clung to the merest of honorable intentions. How else to explain why he’d entered into such a foolish wager at all?

  Sprawled amid his tangled bed linens, beset with regret and the rough aftereffects of too much Old Orchard whiskey, Cade groaned again. The only thing to do was get on with it. If he went on lying here, turning over the events of last night in his mind, he’d surely lose the will to get up altogether. Judah had found him that way once, Cade recalled unwillingly, half-drunk and entirely naked, stuck in a nameless hotel room from which he’d felt no inclination to leave for almost a week.

  He’d lost track of Whittier on that occasion, too. That had been years ago now—years and many disappointments…the latest of which had left Cade completely averse to carry on fighting.

  Get up, his brother had urged him. You’re scaring me.

  Judah’s blue eyes—so like their father’s—had looked especially large and fearful that day, set against the youthful features of his familiar face. He’d been not quite twenty then. Cade had just turned twenty-four. It felt a million years ago now.

  Please, Judah had said then. I need you to keep trying.

  But now Cade’s brother was hundreds of miles away. There was no one to rouse him from his bed this time. There was no one to lie to him and tell him there was still hopefulness left.

  A sharp rap at the door startled Cade.

  Judah? he couldn’t help thinking. Had Blackhouse really brought him there, as he’d suggested he’d do so many times now?

  Impossible. “Go away.”

  Another knock. It sounded more determined this time.

  “Leave me alone.” Maybe it was the maid. Yesterday she’d flirtatiously suggested using her feather duster to tickle his fancy. Cade hadn’t been interested. “I don’t need anything.”

  That was a lie. He did need things. He needed answers and resolve and maybe a kind word or two. He needed Violet Benson.

  “I don’t need anything you can give me,” he clarified with a certain belligerence. He swore. “Go bother someone else.”

  The knocking quit. An instant later, the doorknob turned.

  Cade gawked at it. It rattled vigorously. Next came the distinctive click of a key being inserted into the lock.

  Hellfire. Probably Blackhouse had bribed a hotel employee into unlocking Cade’s room—possibly for the express purpose of gloating over Cade’s loss to Reverend Benson last night. Cade didn’t think anyone knew about the outcome of their wager. But during their acquaintance, Blackhouse had proven surprisingly adept at collecting information—at least when he could be bothered to bestir himself from his usual pleasurable pursuits.

  With an even more raw and heartfelt swearword, Cade heaved himself from his bed. Bleary-eyed and shirtless, he padded across his hotel room’s plush Oriental rug. With one eye on the door, Cade dragged on his trousers. He’d just buttoned them when the lock finally gave way. The door burst op
en with a bang.

  Violet Benson stood there, her arms full of books and ledgers and papers, all held higgledy-piggledy in her grasp. Her face was flushed, her breath was hurried and her smile was enchanting. Cade knew he must have imagined her. He must have conjured her from some devilish mixture of despair and regret, specifically to taunt himself over losing the chance to be with her. He could be unforgiving that way, he knew. He could be cruel, especially when it came to himself and what he needed.

  “I don’t want to bother anyone else,” Violet piped up with giddy, adorably girlish certainty. “I only want to bother you!”

  She looked real enough. She sounded real enough. She even reacted realistically enough when she belatedly noticed that Cade was tellingly tousle haired and mostly undressed.

  Unlike him, Violet did not appear at ease with his near nudity. Blushing even more furiously, she gave a one-handed wave in his direction. “But I can wait until you’re dressed. To bother you, I mean. I don’t mind waiting for, um, you to—” She broke off, obviously floundering. “That is, I did come here on purpose, you see, but I was not quite prepared for such a speedy entrée into the world of, well, courtship and…things.”

  “Courtship? And things?”

  “Indeed.” A nod. “Although I believe it’s customary to be dressed, at least for the initial stages. So you should—”

  “You haven’t spoken with your father yet, then?”

  Violet gave him a puzzled look. That only convinced Cade he was probably losing his mind—or maybe was still a little drunk.

  Perhaps, he thought with the sudden insight of the formerly sober, he shouldn’t have chased his Old Orchard with mescal.

  “My father was ministering to a congregant this morning,” Violet informed him. “So no, I haven’t spoken with him today. But if you’re concerned about earning Papa’s permission—”

  “I’m not.” Not with this Violet, Cade wasn’t. With this Violet, he still had a chance to indulge all his fantasies.

  Intrigued by the possibility—even if he had fabricated an inconveniently prim version of her—Cade took a step nearer.

  Violet’s upswept hair was mussed, he noticed. Her skirts were askew, as though she’d run all the way upstairs to his room. Which she couldn’t have done, of course. Because a proper young woman like Violet Benson— a minister’s straitlaced daughter, no less!—certainly wouldn’t risk her reputation by taking herself alone to visit a scurrilous gambler like him.

  That all but proved he’d conjured her somehow. Whether through some consequence of the liquor he’d drunk or simply his own overwhelming desire to see her, he’d imagined her there in his room. Still watching her, Cade realized that if this Violet wasn’t real—if this wasn’t really happening at all between them—then he didn’t need to be gentlemanly or restrained. He didn’t even need to watch what he said for fear of scaring her away.

  “You’re lucky I’m wearing even this much,” he said as a test of his theory, gesturing at his low-slung trousers. “Until I heard the knock at the door, I was lying in bed entirely naked.”

  Her gaze skittered to the unmade bed. Her eyes widened. She was picturing the sight, Cade reckoned…exactly as he’d meant for her to do. If this was the real Violet, she’d scurry away now.

  Instead, she lifted her chin. “I bet that was…comfortable.”

  Cade raised his brow. His imaginary Violet was sassy. He liked that about her. “It was. You should try it sometime.”

  She nodded, biting her lip in apparent deliberation. At that, Cade’s imagination truly galloped away with him. Wholly unbidden, it offered up a tantalizing vision of Violet lying there in his bed, with her skin bare and her luscious curves ready for him to touch. Swallowing hard, Cade shook his head to clear it…even as Violet nodded in thought once more.

  “Yes. That’s a marvelous idea. Perhaps I will try lying in bed naked.” She eyed the bed and its rumpled covers as though considering the notion more carefully. “Perhaps very soon.”

  As if that outrageous statement were simply a long-expected promise, she met his gaze squarely. Cade scarcely dared to wonder what his make-believe Violet would say or do next.

  “I’m here to ruin my reputation, Cade,” she announced firmly. “With you.”

  Stunned by that scandalous notion, Cade couldn’t speak.

  But Violet didn’t seem to mind. “I’m here to make some thrilling memories,” she went on, “and maybe change my future while I’m at it. And we’ve already wasted a great deal of time, so—” perkily, she smiled “—shall we get started?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Get started?” Cade repeated. Did she really mean what he thought she meant? That they should be together…intimately?

  “Yes.” With an air of plucky certainty, Violet set down her books and papers and leather-bound ledgers. “We should have all the time we need, so don’t worry about that. I told the hotel clerk that I was here on a charitable mission for the church.”

  “The church?” Cade repeated dumbly, still stuck on the possibility that Violet might willingly lie naked in his bed.

  “Yes. I embark on altruistic works all the time, you know,” Violet assured him. “Everyone in Morrow Creek is aware of that. So they won’t find it the least bit questionable that I’m here visiting you like this. After all, you’re new in town, and you’re most certainly in need of ministering to. It’s undeniable. I mean, just look at you!” She beamed at him as if delighted by his debauchery. “I felt immensely clever when I realized that on my way here. Isn’t it utterly convenient?”

  “Yes.” It was convenient, Cade realized. Ingenious, too.

  Contrary to all expectation, Violet’s logic suggested that a virtuous woman could misbehave far more readily than a scandalous one could…and not be suspected of being anything less than upright in the process. No wonder Violet seemed so all-fired pleased with herself. She had a veritable license to sin.

  And she wanted to use it with Cade.

  “No! No, it isn’t convenient,” he blurted, realizing too late that he had to backtrack. For honor’s sake. “Everyone will find it very questionable that you’re here. Alone. With me.”

  I’m here to ruin my reputation, Cade. With you!

  “You can’t ruin your reputation,” he insisted. “You made me promise that I wouldn’t ruin your reputation. This is madness.”

  “It’s not. It’s actually quite sensible. Besides, my feelings have changed on the matter of my reputation. Given our newfound…closeness, I think this will be fine.” Her satisfied smile seemed to settle the matter. “The desk clerk remembered you coming in intoxicated last night. He remembered you swearing about losing your latest wager. Because of that, he was fully prepared to believe I’m here to reform you.” Violet paused to deliver him a suggestive look. “However long it takes to do so.”

  For a moment, Cade couldn’t breathe. His entire existence was taken up with imagining the authentic Violet Benson seducing him this way…with wondering if she would have wanted him like this. He thought she would have. After all, he hadn’t concocted the attraction between them. It had seemed unlikely to him at first. But very quickly it had felt real and true—and tempting.

  “I think you’re mistaken about what ‘reform’ means, Miss Benson.” Cade couldn’t help cracking a grin. Damnation, he wished she was real. He wished Violet’s idea of “reforming” him really did include alluring looks and promises to lie abed naked with him. “But I confess to liking your take on the notion.”

  “Yes. I thought you might.” Surprisingly, Violet grinned too, leaving him feeling overcome by the impish beauty of her smile. “The truth is, I wasn’t intending to go this far when I set out for the Lorndorff a little while ago. But partway here I realized this might be my only chance to experience lovemaking, Cade. You might be my only chance. I don’t want to miss it.”

  “Miss…lovemaking?” Cade repeated, scarcely able to form the words. Her frank way of talking left him electrified. He’d
never expected to hear such things coming from Violet’s mouth.

  Then, too, he wanted to be her only chance, just as she’d said. God help him, he wanted to be the one to introduce her to lovemaking and all the pleasures it had to offer. He wanted her.

  But this…wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

  Trying to recover his wits, Cade shook his head. Somehow his harmless fantasy had grown fangs. Now it was torturing him.

  Violet was off-limits. Violet was proper and good. Violet didn’t want a man like him—a man without a future to offer her.

  “Yes. Lovemaking,” Violet said firmly. “I might never be married—not the way things are going, anyway—and I can’t see why I should be penalized for that. So I have to make this good. I have to do whatever I can to feel alive before it’s too late!”

  Recognizing his own words on her lips, Cade groaned. He aimed his gaze heavenward, desperate now to end this reverie—if that’s what it was. He was beginning to have serious doubts.

  “I’ll never touch a drop of whiskey again,” he swore fervently, hoping to snap out of his fantasy. “I swear it.”

  “See?” Violet’s ever-comforting smile touched him. “That’s very well done of you to play along! Anyone passing by would believe I’ve been partially effective in reforming you already.”

  As if tardily realizing then that any idle passersby could indeed glimpse them, Violet punctuated her statement by pushing Cade’s hotel room door completely closed. Its thudding slam alerted him to the fact that perhaps—almost certainly—he wasn’t imagining things. He wasn’t imagining her.

  What, exactly, was happening here?

  “But even if I’ve licked your awful problem with drinking, there’s still the matter of your terrible gambling impulses to deal with, Mr. Foster.” Violet’s expression turned alarmingly teasing. She seemed almost cocksure…for her. “You need my help. You really do,” she insisted earnestly, crossing the room to come nearer to him. When she arrived to stand almost atop his big bare feet, she smiled up at Cade coquettishly. “When Henry—he’s the desk clerk…I’ve known him since we were both in the schoolhouse together—gave me my own key to your hotel room, he wished me good luck in coping with your…uncontrollable urges.”