The Gambler

by Lois Greiman

  He rose with a lurch. Drawing back his arm, he crashed his fist against the side of her head.

  Charm whimpered in reeling shock, cowering away as he raised his hand again, but in that second the door crashed open. Phelps staggered about, staring at the man silhouetted against the vague light.

  "Who's there?"

  "Hit her again, Phelps, and I'll break your neck," said a gravelly voice. "Right here. Right now."

  "Scott!" Phelps's tone held none of the even certainty of Raven's. "What the hell are you doing here? She don't want you!"

  "Maybe not." Raven didn't move, nor did the steady tone of his voice change. "But I want her. So if you leave now, I'll..."—his head tilted slightly, showing a sudden glint of white teeth in his dark silhouette—"I'll only break your legs."

  "Goddamn you cocky bastard!" roared Phelps. Bolstered by the intoxicants of liquor and victory, he rushed forward, head low and fists doubled.

  Raven's knuckles caught him in a neat uppercut to his jaw, slamming the heavier man back into reverse. But he stumbled only a few steps before steadying his weight and leveling a glare at Raven's dark form.

  "You're gonna regret that, boy," he growled, pulling a handgun from his pocket, but already Raven was driving himself forward.

  The impact of his body knocked Phelps flat onto his back. The gun exploded nearly in Raven's ear, but rage possessed his senses. He slammed his fists into the other's belly again and again, oblivious to the empty clicking of Phelps' derringer.

  "Hey!" someone shouted from behind. "Hey!"

  "Joseph! Don't kill 'im!"

  "Scott! Quit. Quit now or my boys will have to stop you."

  Sanity washed back in cooler shades of temper. Raven rose slowly, barely feeling the deep stab of pain in his ribs as he pulled Phelps to his feet.

  Four large toughs leveled guns at him, but Raven only lifted one bloody corner of his mouth. "Shoot me if you like, but he's going over the side."

  "Shoot him! Shoot him!" croaked Phelps, still holding his useless gun and staggering in his opponent's grip. Raven merely turned, meeting each tense gaze in the light of the lanterns before stepping forward, dragging Phelps behind.

  The rail wasn't far away. There was a gasp of terror and outrage from Phelps. "Shoot him!" he screamed again, but the last word was no more than a moan as he was yanked from the floor and heaved, like a sack of rotting potatoes, over the side. A shriek issued upward, followed by the sound of an overweight body meeting water.

  Raven turned, not waiting to see if Phelps surfaced. He was surrounded now by onlookers. Clancy, Ralph, Fields, his four goons, and a bevy of bleary-eyed passengers in nightshirts who stared from him to Charm with loose jaws.

  Absolute silence held the place.

  "He was staring at my wife," Raven explained casually. As a unit, the men turned to gaze at Charm, and then, like so many leaves in the wind, they scurried into their prospective rooms.

  "You came." Charm's words were barely audible, but Raven turned, sensing her presence more than hearing her voice.

  Her face was pale and her dark hair tumbled about her shoulders like a tide of silken waves.

  "I tried to let you go, Charm. To let you walk out of there with another man. But it seems I'm not as strong as I once thought. Still, I'll do my best."

  "Raven," she breathed, and though it took every ounce of strength he had, he managed to turn and walk away.

  Chapter 30

  "Raven, please," Charm called through the solid door that stood guard between them. He'd refused to talk to her on the previous night, and he refused again now. "Let me in."

  "She's beggin' again," said Clancy from the far side of the door. "God, Joseph, I hate it when she begs. It sounds so damn pathetic."

  "Go away, Charm," Raven said quietly.

  "I need to talk to you, just for a little while."

  "I'm sleeping."

  She scowled then slammed her palm against the door. "At least you could have the decency to make your lies believable."

  "It was the best I could come up with on short notice."

  "Why won't you let me in?" she asked, feeling like a fool with her ear pressed to the portal.

  "Because I'm weak."

  She knew what he meant. Somehow she knew, and somehow it made her chest ache with hope and longing, but she pretended she didn't understand, perhaps just to hear his voice again. "You bested three out of four, Raven. I don't think that means you're weak."

  There was a moment of silence, and then Clancy's quiet, chuckled rejoinder which she couldn't quite hear.

  She remained as she was, listening, imagining how Raven would look. "Please let me in."

  Still no response.

  "Raven!" She kicked the door, losing her carefully contained patience and hurting her foot. "Clancy! Let me in."

  "He's sleeping."

  "Damn it, Clancy! He is not sleeping."

  "Well, he says he is."

  "Let me in, Clancy, or you'll regret it. And I mean it. I still owe you for hitting me, you know."

  There was a moment of silence again, a prelude to Raven's rumbled question, which didn't quite meet her ears.

  Clancy's response was quick as he tried to explain his reasons for striking her. "She was determined to come to you, Joseph. And you'd said not to let her. What else was I supposed to do?"

  "You hit her?" Raven's voice was not so quiet now.

  "I wouldn't call it 'hit' exactly. 'Tap' maybe. I tapped her. Real gentle like, and just on the jaw."

  She could not quite make out Raven's growled response.

  "You told me to keep her safe," Clancy objected quickly. "And I was scared she'd go attackin' one of Fields's hired bulls. Get herself really hurt."

  Another rumble from Raven.

  "Well, you wouldn't go sayin' she's just a girl if'n you saw Ralph's eye. Looks the color of rotten meat. And don't think I ain't seen yer chest. Now, don't go givin' me them looks. You didn't see her with them Injuns neither. Cougar Mouse they called her, and got the hell outta there. And me, I didn't see no reason to get myself killed so I just popped her on the jaw a little. Just a little—"

  "Oh, for heaven's sakes!" stormed Charm, having heard enough. "Let me in!" she ordered, kicking the door again so that it reverberated under her assault.

  "Shall I assume my door has done something to offend you, Mrs. Scott?"

  "Captain." Charm turned to him in a fresh state of near panic. "Raven won't let me in."

  "Then may I suggest that you go to bed? After all, you've been here since dawn. It must be quite fatiguing, battering innocent doors."

  "I don't want to go to bed," she all but growled. "I want to talk to my husband."

  Captain Fields shook his head. Taking her arm in a firm grasp, he turned her away from the abused portal. "It seems, to the dismay of this door and my entire crew of passengers, that your Mr. Scott has decided you need more time to learn your own mind."

  "Well, he's wrong." She stopped, pulling Fields to a halt with her. "I know my mind. I know exactly what I want."

  He watched her intently then nodded. "Good. That's fine." He urged her down the stairs toward her own cabin. "But he wants you to meet your aunt, realize what you've missed, claim your rightful inheritance... Need I go on?"

  "If you want to be punched in the nose," Charm mumbled irritably, but her lips quivered when she said it and for a moment she feared she might cry.

  "Charming. Tell me, was this Jude quite sober when he named you?"

  "My mother named..." she began, then stopped. "Who cares who named me? I can be charming if I want to be, but there's no point now, because I'm not even allowed to see him." Her eyes had filled with tears, but she sniffed and held them back.

  Captain Fields watched her, then shaking his head with a soft sigh, opened her cabin door to shove her gently inside. "Take heart, Mrs. Scott, for I fear no man could hold you at a distance for long. Now go to sleep."

  "I don't..."—the door closed in her face
—"sleep," she finished wearily.

  Charm paced the room for about fifteen seconds before she came up with a plan. It wasn't a great plan, but it was sound, serviceable, and acceptably diabolical. In less than five minutes she'd found a roustabout, bribed him with two bits, and hidden around the corner to Raven's room, where she held her breath and waited.

  The roustabout rapped perfunctorily on the portal she had kicked only minutes before. "Mr. Bodine, I was t'tell y' there'll be a poker game startin' in a couple a minutes. You's invited."

  "Poker game?" Clancy's enthusiastic voice responded. "Who's playin' ?"

  Charm held her breath. She'd neglected to go into much detail and hoped that for two bits, the roustabout could formulate a viable lie.

  "Some of them rich gents from N'Orlens. You know, the ones that smoke them fat ceegars and mess ashes all over the Belle when they gets drunk."

  Drunk, rich gamblers. There was nothing Clancy would like better. If only Raven didn't find the temptation too much to resist. She heard a murmuring from the room, and though she failed to make out the words, she knew the outcome in a few moments when Clancy opened the door to step into the hall. Slipping into his coat, he whistled a few tuneless bars and strode off in the opposite direction.

  Charm glanced carefully about her, and then, quick and furtive as a cat, slunk into Raven's room. In a moment the door was closed behind her and they were face to face.

  "Raven." His name slipped from her lips, and though she'd carefully planned what she'd say to him, the words were stuck now, jammed in her too tight throat.

  He was beautiful, dark and alluring and whole. His brown eyes were warm and steady, his massive chest bare above the sheet as he reclined upon the corn husk mattress.

  "I..." Her chest ached, and more than anything in the world she wanted to hold him. "I needed to see you."

  "Charm... " he began, shaking his head, but she stopped him.

  "Please don't send me away. Not right now. Not yet."

  For just a moment she could have sworn she saw the light of hopeful passion in his eyes, but finally he shook his head.

  "You don't understand, Charm."

  "What?" She could hear the tension in her own voice, could feel it like a cold draught of air, freezing her hope, her chance at life. "You don't care for me?"

  He said nothing.

  "Don't you?"

  The tension seemed tangible.

  "You're an heiress to a great fortune, Charm. You're not going to want me tying you down. You'll be flooded with suitors and balls and—"

  "Say you don't care for me at all then. Say it and I'll walk out of your life right now," she said, tears welling. "I'll go to my aunt, drown myself in suitors and champagne." She paused, holding her breath and failing to notice the tear that slipped over her lower lashes. "I will."

  He looked pale suddenly, and against the bedsheet his hands formed into fists. "I don't care about you, Charm," he intoned into the silence.

  For a moment her body went absolutely tense, and then, letting her air out in a sudden rush, she threw herself against his chest.

  Without thought, his arms wrapped about her and his eyes fell closed. She felt like heaven, like food to a starving man, but reality was a hard thing for him to ignore, and it nudged him finally, so that he pressed her away a gentle inch.

  "Did I misunderstand myself?" he asked quietly. "Or did I just say I didn't care for you?"

  "You did," she whispered, and in that moment he felt her fine, slim body shiver against him. "But you made fists. You always make fists when you lie."

  "I do not."

  "Yes you do," she sniffed.

  "Charm..." He tried to push her away.

  "You saved me," she said, refusing to let him go but drawing back slightly so that she was looking into his eyes with an earnestness that made him ache. "You came when I needed you. I know you don't want to believe it, Raven, because I've been so difficult. But you care for me a little. And maybe, someday..."

  He saw her throat constrict and the tears well up again.

  "Maybe some day, if I try really hard you'll..." She stopped speaking, and another tear fell, following the salty course set by its predecessors.

  It made his chest ache. Against his will Raven lifted his hand to gently swipe it away. His fingers were shaking, he noticed with some despair. "Don't make me say it, Charm," he whispered. "Leave me some pride."

  Her emerald eyes looked frantic. With hope? He wondered, but squelched the thought, refusing to allow himself to believe.

  "Why? Why pride?" she asked. "What good has it done us so far?"

  He watched her closely and realized with rare clarity that she was right. Pride was a fool's excuse to fail, but he was scared, more scared than he'd ever been in his life.

  "Just for this moment," she whispered. "Just for now, let's be honest."

  "You want honesty?" he asked suddenly, his muscles painfully tight. "Then I'll tell you honestly. I'm a selfish bastard, Charm. Just like my father. Not some—"

  "I love you."

  Her words slashed across his senses, rattling his world to a halt.

  Neither breathed. Her face was very pale, and against his back her hands shook.

  Never in Raven's life had he been more frightened than now. He swallowed hard. "I love you... more than life itself," came his broken response.

  For a moment she stared at him with her soul in her eyes, and then her head fell against his chest and she hugged him with quaking fierceness.

  Time halted, binding them together like lost children.

  "Were you aware that my ribs are cracked, Charm?" Raven asked finally.

  "Oh," she breathed and eased quickly away, wiping at her cheek with a hand that still shook. "I'm sorry."

  "That's all right," he said and managed a grin.

  She smiled back tentatively, making his chest hurt with the familiar pain. "What can I do to make it better?"

  "Charm—" he began.

  "Shh." She leaned forward, carefully avoiding his ribs as she set a finger to his lips. "Perhaps there might be something I could do."

  "Charm..."

  "There must be something, Raven. Bandages, ointments," she whispered. Leaning forward, she kissed him.

  Every ounce of good sense fled, and for a moment Raven was kissing her back, but he pressed her away finally, employing every bit of quivering self-control he could dredge up. "Damn it, Charm," he rasped. "What the hell are you doing? This doesn't change anything. You think love makes everything right? Well, it doesn't."

  "Then why did you make love to me the first time?" she whispered.

  "Because I'm a weak-willed fool."

  "I don't believe you."

  "I am, but I'm not going to ruin your life. I'm not going to."

  She bit her inner lip, and in that instant, he saw the light of hope flare boldly in her eyes. "Where does it hurt?" she whispered huskily.

  It hurt in his soul, every time he looked at her, every time he thought of her turning away from him. "Dammit, Charm, this is no game."

  "You think I believe this is a game? You think I'm not scared too?"

  She was. He knew it. But she was braver than he. Women just were. His mother had been.

  "I'm scared too, Raven. But what if we don't take the risk? What then?" Her fingers slipped, feather soft over his cheek, as if memorizing each line.

  "Where does it hurt, Joseph?" she whispered again, and now she kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth and the base of his throat, where his pulse leaped to meet her lips.

  "Charm." He barely forced her name out on a warbling breath.

  "Lower?" she whispered, and now he felt her kisses rain across his chest, eliciting a moan from his own body even before her tongue teased his nipple.

  "God!" Raven groaned, gripping the bedsheet with frantic fingers.

  The door swung open. "There ain't no... Hey!" said Clancy, coming to an abrupt halt. "What's going on here?"

  "Save me, Clancy," ple
aded Raven pathetically.

  Clancy shook his head. "You crazy?"

  "Clancy!" snapped Raven.

  "All right. All right. Come on then, Miss Charm," said Bodine, approaching the bed. "Let's leave Joseph alone with his insanity."

  Charm lifted her head and smiled. Raven loved her. She wasn't about to give up now. "Back off, Clancy!" she said sweetly. "I've got a fork in my garter."

  "A fork? In your garter? Really?" He sounded intrigued. "I think she's threatening me, Joseph, but I'm not certain."

  "Get her off me, Bodine. Don't let her scare you."

  "Her bark is worse than her bite?"

  "No," said Raven. "Her bite is pretty much deadly, but if you don't remove her soon, it'll be too late."

  "Too late for what?"

  "Just—" Raven drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Get her off."

  "Come on, Miss Charm," coaxed Clancy again. Taking her arm, he tried to pull her away. Charm, however, had latched onto the sheet beneath Raven's body and held on tight.

  Clancy pulled again then straightened. "Damn. Tough as a coon in a trap. I think you're stuck with her, boy."

  "Get her up," ordered Raven.

  "I'm not leaving you." Charm had lifted her body slightly from his, so that she could look directly into his eyes. "It doesn't matter what you do. I'll be back if I have to break out your window and tie myself to your bed. If I have to scream down the boat until the captain insists that you take me in."

  "Good God, Charm!"

  "I mean it, Raven. I won't leave you."

  "She's just a pretty little mosquito, ain't she?" asked Clancy, chuckling.

  "Can't you do anything more constructive than make inane comparisons?" asked Raven woefully.

  "Nope. Don't think so."

  "I'm not leaving, Raven."

  He rolled his eyes. "All right. Just... Sit up."

  She did so, slowly, carefully, still gripping the bedsheet in white-knuckled hands.

  He took another deep breath. "You wanted the truth, Charm. So I told you the truth. What more do you want?"

  "You."