The Gambler

by Lois Greiman

  He was mocking her. "You both have black hair."

  "Jude's hair is grey."

  "Well, it used to be black. And his skin is dark like yours." Charm scowled. "Or used to be. When he was healthy. Liquor!" She turned her frown toward the contents of her cup. "It's an evil thing."

  There was a momentary silence, in which Raven watched her face. It was beautiful with silly upturned lips and a pointed chin that boasted a tiny dent in its center. "Was he good to you, Charm?" he asked softly.

  Her gaze lifted. "He saved my life." Her answer came quickly, as if she needed to say the words before he disputed them.

  Raven was quiet, watching her. "Saved you from the hat man?"

  She was on her feet in an instant, her eyes wild and her nostrils flared. "He wasn't my father! He tried to kill me! Broke into my room!"

  Raven raised his gaze to her face but remained seated. "Some men deserve to die, Charm. Even fathers. I didn't say he wasn't one of them."

  Her lips moved, and though Raven thought she would question him, she didn't.

  "The hat man wasn't my father." Her tone was perfectly controlled.

  She might be right, of course. Raven couldn't be sure his suspicions were correct. But he'd seen a brown tintype of Randall Grady. He had a lady-killer smile, fair hair, and a hat, tilted to the side. He'd been young and handsome and cocky when he'd given the photograph to Caroline. But how had he looked ten years later, when he'd written old lady Sophie concerning Chantilly's well-being?

  Perhaps Raven was wrong, for it was all speculation, but the timing was right. Couldn't it be that Jude had somehow found Chantilly and taken her into his care? Then ten to twelve years later, Grady learned of Chantilly's whereabouts, tried to take her back, but was killed by Jude instead? Wasn't that possible?

  "Do you know anything about the man Jude killed, Charm?"

  "I know he wasn't my father," she snapped. "Jude wouldn't kill my father. Jude is my father!" She sounded near panic again and ready to flee.

  Raven shook his head slowly. “There's nothing here to hurt you. No one to raise a hand to you. Sit down," he urged quietly.

  She watched him, realizing with her gut as well as her mind that he was being honest, at least about that. He had never hurt her, despite all they'd been through. She returned stiffly to the log but sat on the ground now, with her back to its smooth expanse. "Sometimes I think I'm insane." She dared not look at him, for what if, in his expression, he showed that he agreed with her assessment and thought she truly had lost her mind?

  "Show me a man without fear and I'll show you a lunatic." He stood slowly to pace the short distance between them and finally squat down before her. "You're not crazy, Charm. The world is. Sometimes. Crazy, and inexplicable and frightening. But you've no reason to fear me."

  He was very close, only a few feet away, with his warm mahogany gaze steady on her face and his strong hands holding the cup and bottle. "Here." He raised the wine. "Let's drink to peace."

  She sighed. Peace sounded good. Even temporary peace. In the moonlight, Raven's hair shone with a deep sapphire gleam while his broad throat looked dark and smooth in the opening of his white shirt. "To peace," she said, and raised her cup.

  He filled it and they drank together.

  "All I want is to get you to St. Louis." Raven took another swig and, watching her face, knew he was lying, knew he wanted much more. "Then it's your decision. To stay with your kin there, or to return to Jude."

  Her gut twisted and she tightened her grip on the metal cup. "It can't be true."

  Silence. Deep and secret as the night.

  "Jude's my father," Charm whispered into the quiet. "He said he was." She raised her gaze to Raven's, wanting the truth, yet terrified by the possibilities. "Why would he say that if it wasn't true?"

  "Perhaps everyone needs someone to love."

  His eyes looked to be a rich russet brown in the flicker of the firelight. For one undisciplined moment, Charm wondered if he spoke of himself. "He does love me, you know," she murmured, "in his own way."

  Raven's gaze remained level.

  "He does," she repeated, softer still, but he merely nodded and she scowled. "But how... I mean how..." Her voice cracked and she felt her throat bind with tension. "How..."

  "Shhh," Raven whispered.

  "I want to know how! How?" she cried in anguish, and suddenly Raven abandoned the bottle to wrap her in his arms.

  For just a moment, panic swelled, but then her head dropped against his shoulder, drawn there by the incredible appeal of his quiet strength.

  "I don't know what to believe," she whispered and shivered.

  "Shhh, Lucky Charm."

  She felt his hands on her back, and though she told herself to draw away, she failed to do so. "Was he really my father?" she asked hoarsely.

  "I shouldn't have said that," he murmured, brushing his breath against the sensitive skin of her neck. "But back at the inn, when Jude and Clancy, damn his hide, busted in, I needed to get you out of there. Needed to leave right away. I knew you'd do anything to save Jude... even leave with me if I threatened his safety. But I was only guessing at the truth."

  Charm could feel herself relax somewhat, which, perhaps, made no sense. "You lie all the time," she sighed.

  "I know." He reached up, caressing her neck with gentle fingertips, brushing back her hair. "It's a gift."

  "How do I know you're not lying about Eloise Medina? About everything?"

  His lips grazed her ear.

  She shivered and let her eyes fall closed. "Why would I do that?" he asked.

  "I don't know. But you might have a reason."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know."

  "You must have thought of some possible scenarios." His fingertips traced the rim of her ear, raising goosebumps on her arms.

  "Maybe you're going to..."

  His lips replaced his fingers, making her gasp silently for breath and causing her mind to lose its line of thought.

  "Going to what?"

  "To take me to a... You know."

  "No." He drew away slightly, watching her. She could feel his gaze on her face.

  "To a... you know." She still couldn't quite say it. 'To sell my body," she whispered.

  “This body?" His left arm tightened around her back, pulling her slightly closer, while his opposite hand skimmed, feather soft, down her throat. "There are a thousand things I could do with this body, little Charm. Selling it wouldn't be one of them."

  She knew it was true. The idea had seemed ridiculous, even in her most terrified moments.

  "Maybe you're a bounty hunter."

  His fingers traced the outline of her homely bodice. "Have you done something for which a bounty would be warranted?"

  She drew breath through her teeth, feeling his touch burn her soul. She'd had no way of knowing how a man's fingers would feel against her skin. "I stole a peppermint stick once. When I was six. I didn't mean to," she added quickly, feeling as if she had somehow slipped from her body into another dimension. "I thought Jude had paid for it, and..."

  "That's pretty serious," Raven said and ever so gently, like the soft caress of a spring breeze, kissed her throat. "But the posse's probably given up the chase by now."

  He was very close, pressed up against her, in fact, with his hard chest warm and his lips heavenly against her neck.

  "Any other possibilities?"

  "What?" She could barely force out the single word.

  "Have you thought of any other reasons why I might want to abduct you?"

  "Oh." The word was no more than a sigh, for his kisses had slipped downward and found the sensitive hollow between her collar bones. "Perhaps you're trying to seduce me."

  His kisses ceased. She could feel him draw away, but only far enough to look into her face. Charm opened her eyes, finding his gaze warm and steady on her.

  "Would I do that?" His voice was husky, his eyes fathomless.

  Her nod was very stiff, a
nd his kiss, when it came, was full force and hungry.

  Charm could do nothing but answer back. Too many years had she been starved. Too many nights had she been lonely. Their lips slanted across each other's, their tongues touched and caressed. Sparks seemed to be ignited at every point of contact.

  Breathing was harsh, hands shaky. His kisses hurried downward again, over her chin to her throat, where they spread out in a hot rain of sensuous stimulus.

  "Charm, we should..."—his breath was warm against her neck—"we should stop."

  "Please." Her arms tightened about him of their own accord. "Please don't stop. Please don't."

  Somehow her buttons came open. She didn't know how and neither did she care. All she was certain of was that suddenly his hands were against her skin, and now the fire that he had ignited was spreading wildly lower, like a tide of pleasure.

  Sleeves slipped from her arms, followed by his kisses, hot and exhilarating and breathtaking. Laces were loosened, straps eased downward and suddenly, inexplicably, she was naked, but for the blanket he had pulled about her shoulders. Her fingers reached for the buttons of his shirt. They fell open, revealing the hard, sloping planes of his chest.

  Charm touched him with breathless reverence. She marveled for a moment at the beauty of him before he groaned and kissed her again, easing his body down upon hers.

  They were hip to hip and heart to heart now. Everything from Charm's breasts to her loins ached with a burning need. And she could feel his need, could feel the hard shaft of his desire even through the unwelcome barrier of his pants.

  Her arms were wound about his bare torso. Every inch of him felt hot—hot and sensuous and so lovely that she felt she would surely die of sheer ecstasy. His kisses were running wild again, leaving her lips to blaze new trails down to her shoulders and beyond. But her grip on him was too tight for them to go far, and so he returned with a groan to reclaim her mouth.

  "Charm..." His breathing was very harsh. "Really, we must quit."

  "No!" She pulled him more tightly against her, lifting her hips in an attempt to ease the burning ache there. "Please. I've never..." She pushed up again then caught her lip between her teeth as the pleasure of this new pressure momentarily overcame her ability to speak. "I've never felt like this before. It feels so... good." She pushed up again, feeling the heat of his desire press just so against her need.

  Her moan came in perfect unison with his, and suddenly he had pulled from her grasp and was unbuckling his belt.

  Fear came to her like a sudden stab of conscience, sharp and quick.

  "Charm?" His hands had gone still and his voice very low. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes." She swallowed, still ridden hard by desire. "Don't stop."

  His gaze held her face for a long moment, and it almost seemed, even in her fuzzy state of unreality, that he was fighting some battle she didn't quite understand.

  "Don't stop," she said again, and reaching up, placed one palm on the hot expanse of his bare chest. "Please."

  He groaned. The tone was deep and needy and somehow sounded pained.

  "Please," she whispered again, no longer feeling fear, but only the achy need to be his. "Touch me. Don't quit."

  "No," he said, his tone perfectly level now. "No, I won't quit. Roll over."

  "What?" She heard the wariness in her own tone.

  "Trust me, Charm," he said quietly. Leaning down, he kissed her.

  Though the caress was ever so gentle, she could feel him tremble. "All right," she whispered, and when he'd moved aside, she rolled onto her abdomen, feeling suddenly foolish, and naked and stiff with fear.

  His hands were very warm against her shoulders when they massaged her there. She remained as she was, barely breathing, waiting. He kneaded gently, down one arm, rolling the aching muscles in his strong palms.

  Charm let out a sigh, beginning to relax, absorbing the lovely feel of flesh against flesh. Raven's hands worked up again, toward her shoulder and then down along the length of her back. His kisses felt like warm liquid against her spine, his hands like magic even when they massaged the intimate tenderness of her buttocks.

  She noticed with rather dim surprise that a blanket was beneath her and that her body felt very limp and warm, as though it had been dipped in tepid water and had been lying in the sun to dry.

  Raven's kisses followed his hands, over her buttocks, down her legs. Her eyes fell closed. His hands kept moving, across her calves now, easing away the ache there and finally kneading the soles of her feet.

  Charm shivered as his lips touched her toes, but she failed to open her eyes as she pressed her hips weakly into the blanket below.

  The kisses were traveling upward again, over every yielding curve of her body to finally stop at the nape of her neck.

  "Please," she whispered, forgetting everything but the soft waves of darkness that welcomed her. "Don't quit."

  "No," he said, and kissing her shoulder, gently folded her into the soft comfort of sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Raven watched her awaken. It had been a new experience for him, watching her sleep, watching the shadows be replaced by light upon her lovely features. He had helped her find rest, had lulled her with his hands into slumber. It was a heady feeling, this one night of owning her trust.

  But she sat up with a start now, looked down in wordless awe at her shocking nudity, and grasped the blanket close to her chest with one shaky hand. "How dare you?" she gasped, looking like nothing more than a wild-eyed wood fairy caught in a compromising state of undress.

  "How dare I what?" he asked, keeping his tone steady, though he felt tense and starved for something he could not quite define.

  "Where are my clothes?" Her question was breathy, her hair tousled and glistening in the early morning light.

  Without a word Raven handed over her garments. Their gazes caught and their hands touched, shocking them both with the contact. She yanked away as if seared, but her gaze remained on his. Her expression showed a mosaic of confused emotions before she turned her face rapidly away.

  He felt he could see her thoughts, could read them as though they were his own. "We didn't do anything wrong, Charm," he said softly. He wanted to take her into his arms and cradle her against his chest, to smooth away her fears, to do the very thing he had disallowed himself to do last night. But it would indeed be wrong. For all she had wanted was to be touched, to be held, to be loved. Whether she knew it or not, it was true. While he wanted much more... or was it, in fact, much less? "There's no need to be ashamed."

  She swung her gaze wildly toward him again, and then, like a fragile doe leaping away, she fled, hugging blanket and clothes to her bosom and scurrying into the cover of the trees.

  She was silent again that day. What had he done to upset her so? True, he'd gotten her drunk. Well, not drunk exactly, only slightly tipsy. And besides, he hadn't done it. Hadn't... Words, even mental words, always failed him at this point, for the thought of making love to Chantilly Charm Grady Fergusson made his hands sweat and his throat go dry. Perhaps he'd been a fool to resist her. But... His gaze traveled sideways, finding her wide eyes again. She still looked frightened.

  "We'd best stop for the night," he said, feeling weary. It was an unreasonable fatigue, he thought, for in the past, he'd been known to gamble through several consecutive nights without undue strain. But her reticence, her fear, her very presence, was wearing on him. "Angel threw a shoe."

  They'd come to another break in the prairie, a rocky knoll with a smattering of trees and a small, precious water source.

  Again she made the fire and again he unsaddled the horses before leading them down a sandy decline to drink. It had been a hot day, and still the air hung heavy and unmoving. Raven's horse drank before sampling a few sparse blades of grass that survived the current, but Angelsplashed in the stream, playfully tossing his homely head as the water sprayed up to douse his face and chest. Raven watched his silly antics, but he thought of Charm, how her lips
parted when he kissed her, how she arched her breasts against him and set his being on fire.

  Angel's water play became more subdued, and finally he buckled his knees to slouch into the water. Raven watched—and thought of Charm, how her breathing escalated when he touched her, how she begged him not to stop.

  The spotted gelding rolled now, sloshing water in every direction before clambering to his feet to collapse on his opposite side. Raven watched, and still he thought of Charm.

  "Christ's sake," he finally said aloud. Disgusted with himself for his perpetually wandering imaginings, he clamped his teeth shut, as though that might force the girl from his mind.

  Refreshed by his impromptu bath, Angel finally stood and shook, spraying water over the pair on the bank before pulling on the reins in an effort to reach the nearby grasses. Raven moved along with the geldings for a few minutes, watching as they grazed, and finally he hobbled them in a sheltered spot where the turf was deep and green. In a moment he went back to the stream where he filled the canteen before returning to Charm.

  Her top two buttons were open!

  It was the first thing... no... it was the only thing Raven noticed. His gaze riveted to that space where her gown separated to reveal a modest vee of flesh. It was no more than nine square inches of skin, and yet...

  Raven's feet dragged to a halt. Their gazes met. Charm straightened slowly, looking dazed and stunning. Their breath stopped in unison.

  "Charm... I..." He took one unconscious step forward. She lifted her chin slightly, not breathing, her eyes wide. "I need a bath," Raven murmured on an exhalation and, turning stiffly about, fled toward the stream.

  *

  Charm chopped the potatoes into small bits. They were old and wrinkled and would cook quickly amidst the bits of beef jerky broth that boiled over the fire. Putting water in a small kettle, she hung it, too, over the blaze, and then she sat, wringing her hands and biting her lip.

  It wasn't as if she had any desire to watch Raven Scott bathe. No. That would be indecent. She bit her lip again and found, however, that her gaze had strayed in the direction of the stream.

  The sun had set, and her fire burned clean. She wouldn't be needed to watch the meal. Her hands separated nervously. She tapped her fingers on her thigh, still kneeling by the blaze and thinking.