The Lady's Hand

by Bobbi Smith

  "I'll stay," he said with confidence, grinning widely at her.

  "I'm taking two."

  Brandy looked less than pleased with her draw and reluctantly laid down her cards. All she had was a pair of twos. It was better than nothing, but not by much. Rafe revealed his hand, and at his easy win, she took off one earring. She was very glad that she hadn't changed into the negligee yet.

  "Your deal." Brandy shoved the cards across the table to him.

  She did not notice his slight of hand or that the ace he'd been holding was not in the cards he began to shuffle.

  The playing continued, and to Brandy's dismay, she was losing more than she was winning. It hadn't mattered at first, for she was shedding jewelry, then petticoats, shoes and stockings, but as they got closer and closer to actually removing garments, she tried harder and harder to concentrate with poorer and poorer results. It occurred to her that Rafe had always been a good card player and that his win that night onboard the Pride hadn't been a fluke. She focused solely on her hand, wanting to beat this man once and for all.

  "Three eights," she announced proudly, laying out her cards.

  "Beats me," he admitted, tossing in his hand and unbuttoning his shirt.

  Brandy tried not to look the least bit concerned that he was going to be half-naked, but she had never been in a bedroom with a half-naked man before. Oh, sure, she'd seen the men working on the levees without their shirts on, but this was so much more ...intimate, that she found she was holding her breath.

  Rafe was very aware of Brandy's gaze upon him as he shrugged out of his shirt, and he loved it. Under normal conditions, he would never have dreamed of cheating, but tonight the time had come. He had hidden the few cards he needed while she'd been distracted, and he was ready to attack. At any other time, he would have been appalled at planning such a deceitful strategy, but this was more than war. This was his wedding night.

  He dealt to himself from the bottom of the deck and waited.

  "I'll take three," Brandy announced, disgusted with the hand he'd given her.

  She picked up the cards and stared down at the pitiful assortment of numbers and colors. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She swallowed nervously as she waited to see what he would do. She had nothing left to take off except her gown.

  It was bad enough, sitting there staring at Rafe's tanned, lightly furred chest. There was something so intimate... so raw about seeing him exposed that way. Not that he was unattractive. Far from it. His shoulders were wide and powerful, his arms heavily muscled. She wondered what it would feel like to touch him, then brought herself up short at the thought, wondering what was wrong with her.

  "I'm staying," Rafe said easily. "What have you got?"

  Brandy laid out the cards slowly. She was not good at handling defeat. Of course, there was always the off chance that Rafe had a worse hand than she did.

  Rafe did not speak but smiled widely as he spread out his hand a full house.

  Brandy flushed and bit back a groan of mortification.

  "Will you need any help, my love?" Rafe asked.

  "I'll manage," she said tightly as she rose and started for the dressing room.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I was going to undress in there."

  "There's no need. Right here will do. Go ahead, I'm in no hurry to continue play. I'll just sit back and enjoy the view."

  Gritting her teeth, she worked at the buttons at the back of her gown, finally freeing them far enough down so she could slip out of the dress. She let it fall, and it dropped to the floor at her feet in a white silken pool. Clad only in her undergarments, she gracefully stepped out of it, then picked it up and spread it over a chair nearby. She glanced up to find Rafe's gaze upon her. She could almost feel the heat of his regard as it raked over her. A flush stained her cheeks, yet she did not cower or try to hide herself from him. Giving a defiant lift of her chin, she moved back to the table.

  Rafe thought he had never seen a more magnificent woman in his entire life. He still remembered that first night when he'd seen her on the steamer and how lovely she'd looked then. But that night had been nothing compared to now.

  He watched her every move as she walked toward him. Her body was perfect, her legs long and shapely. The chemise she wore covered just enough to titillate his imagination-and he had a very active imagination.

  The realization that she was his wife, and before the night was over she would be his, sent a surge of desire through him. He picked up the cards and began to shuffle once more. In all his wildest dreams, he'd never thought he'd be playing poker on his wedding night, but right now, he found there was nothing else he'd rather be doing. Never before had he wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Brandy. He was determined to win.

  He dealt quickly, then watched and waited. They were down to two garments apiece. This shouldn't take long. He let his gaze slip past her to the bed beyond. It looked wide and comfortable, and he had a vision of laying her gently upon its softness.

  Brandy was concentrating with all her might on her cards, but things weren't going quite as she'd hoped. She'd thought that by getting him to play she might distract him from the purpose of the night. She'd thought maybe he would drink too much and maybe he would be tired and fall asleep, so she'd be saved-at least for tonight. All her plans were for naught, though. Rafe had barely touched the champagne, and he seemed more determined than ever to see this through to the end.

  She picked up each card saying a silent prayer that it would be better than the one before, but to her dismay, she'd been given a dismal mix again. As she looked at her last card, she was relieved. At least now she had a pair of fives. It wasn't much, but it was better than her last hand. She schooled her expression to one that revealed nothing as she looked up at Rafe.

  "I'll stay," she announced. She looked over at him, wanting to project an image of confidence. Instead, she found herself staring at the way his muscles rippled as he reached for his own cards. She had not thought that watching a man move could be sensuous, but she was fascinated by the play of his muscles and the way his skin gleamed golden in the lamplight.

  Rafe studied his hand, then looked up at her as he announced, "I'm taking three."

  He slid the three discards to the center of the table, then dealt himself three more. One by one, he picked them up, studying each one judiciously, revealing nothing.

  Brandy could feel the tension within her growing as she watched him. She knew now there was no saving herself from her fate. He was her husband, and no matter what happened in the card game, by morning, she was going to be Mrs. Rafe Marchand in more than just name only.

  "Let's see your cards," he said, his gaze boring into hers across the width of the table. He had read her look of confidence, but he'd also known from the nights of playing her on the Pride that she didn't have a very good hand. She had not changed the way she was sitting, and she had not straightened her shoul ders as she met his regard.

  He waited eagerly to see her cards. He knew what was coming next. His shameless trickery had been worth it to claim her as his prize. His gaze swept over her again, taking in the swanlike arch of her neck and the tops of her breasts revealed now above her chemise. Her skin looked satiny, and he wanted to reach out and touch her, to caress that silken flesh, to...

  Brandy laid out her hand, hoping against hope that her pitiful pair would take the day. She knew instantly that it was over as his gaze darkened with the heat of his intent.

  "It looks like you've lost, my sweet," Rafe announced, showing her his hand. He was holding three aces.

  She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. She knew she should stand and shed the chemise brazenly. But this defeat was too much like the one she'd suffered on the Pride. He had beaten her. She had lost. There was no escape.

  As she thought it, though, and as Rafe rose from across the table from her, looking tall, and handsome and powerful, she wondered fleetingly if she really wanted to escape.

  Escape what?
She knew to her despair how wonderful his kisses were. She knew to her despair how devastating his touch could be. And tonight ...tonight... she was his wife.

  A sad pain knifed through her. If only he truly cared about her. If only it had mattered that she was his wife. But it didn't. To him, she was nothing more than a brood mare, acquired through a financial arrangement and being put into service to deliver a child. Nothing more.

  But as Brandy watched him coming toward her around the table, her soul was crying out.

  If only....

  "Let me help you with that," he said in a husky voice. He wondered how he was ever going to continue to play and to concentrate with her sitting across the table from him naked to the waist. It wouldn't be easy.

  Brandy lifted her eyes to his and saw the hunger there. She couldn't stop herself from slowly rising from her chair, and she stood before him-an offering... waiting.

  Rafe reached out and untied the ribbon that held the chemise at her breasts. He unlaced the garment in a sensuous exercise, caressing the inner curves of her breasts as they were partially revealed to him. As he finished, he paused to let his burning gaze sweep the length of her body. Her breasts were almost fully revealed to him now, and desire jolted him to the depths of his soul. Bending toward her, his mouth sought hers, and as their lips met she moved closer into the circle of his arms. It was that movement, that surrender, that defeated his control, and he crushed her to him.

  "I want you...." he growled, any thoughts of poker gone forever.

  Rafe's kiss was urgent and devastating, and all Brandy's resistance crumbled. She hated to admit it, but she had wanted this... she had wanted him. The preamble of his kisses in the carriage was nothing compared to his uninhibited passion now. A low whimper came from her as he stripped away the chemise, baring her breasts completely to his gaze and touch. She shivered before the power of the hunger she saw in his expression.

  "Rafe..." She said his name in a whisper.

  He did not speak but gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, lowering her onto it with infinite care, then following her down. His touch was bold as he stripped away the last vestige of her clothing that had barred her complete beauty from him. He settled beside her on the bed.

  "You're more beautiful than I ever imagined," he told her as he kissed her again and drew her against him. Desire pounded through him and hardened his already firm resolve to know all of her love this night.

  Brandy felt shattered. Rafe's embrace was proving to be her heaven and her hell. She couldn't stop herself as she responded wantonly to his every kiss and caress. She had never known loving could be this way. His touch was gentle, yet arousing, driving her need to higher and higher peaks until suddenly sensations unlike anything she'd ever known before burst upon her, sending her to ecstasy. Desperate to be closer to him, she grasped at his shoulders, clinging to him, needing him, wanting to feel his hardness against her. It was mindless passion that left her clinging to him, and as the rapture swept over her, tears streamed down her cheeks.

  But Rafe wasn't through. He moved away from her only long enough to shed his pants, then moved over her. He saw the widening of her eyes as she saw him for the first time and realized that all Ben had told him might be true. She had carefully safeguarded her reputation on the Pride, but Rafe had never seriously considered that she was a virgin until this moment. The knowledge thrilled him.

  "I'll be gentle," he promised, moving between her trembling thighs and positioning himself to claim her.

  He kissed her, his mouth on hers in a loving exchange that swept her up and away from reality. He truly meant to be gentle, but as he thrust forward, the heat of his desire rent that which was the proof of her innocence. Brandy tensed and cried out softly, surprised by this passionate male invasion.

  "I'm sorry," Rafe murmured. Her innocence had been no lie.

  He wanted to tell her how special the gift of her innocence was and to ease her fear of what had to be a frightening experience for her, but he could not deny the driving need of his body. Later there would be talk. For now there was only love.

  Rafe couldn't stop himself. He began his rhythm, seeking to please her again as he claimed his own release. The tightness of her body, the sweetness of her kiss, the softness of her womanly curves against him drove him mindless with need, and he strained against her, seeking, then reaching, that peak of passion that could not, would not, be denied. He loved her.

  Rafe lay with his weight still upon her, their bodies melded in love's embrace, savoring the moment. He had known many women. He was no inexperienced youth, but nothing in his past had prepared him for what had just taken place with Brandy. Even Mirabelle, with all her skillful, learned ways in the art of love, was no match for the sweet gift of innocence that Brandy had just given him. She had been so responsive to his touch. Her kiss had been as sweet as wine and her loving pure ecstasy. Rafe kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment, relishing the rapture of their joining. He had known when he'd made the bargain with her that making love to her would not be an unduly harsh duty, but it had turned into a reward more exciting than anything he'd ever known. Unconsciously, he tightened his arms around her.

  Brandy hadn't been sure what to expect. She had heard tales of what making love to a man was like, and had seen enough of the drunks from NatchezUnder-The-Hill to have an idea of what to expect, but she had never thought it would be like this. She knew Rafe to be a harsh, unyielding man. True, she had seen him be kind on a few occasions, but she'd thought it mostly an act. She hadn't been certain what would happen once they were alone, and now she wondered why she had been so afraid. His kiss had been thrilling, his touch ecstasy. She had thought he would be quick, harsh and thoughtless in his taking of her. She'd had no idea he could evoke such feelings within her body. She trembled as she remembered the force of the rapture that had throbbed through her willing body. She had been pliant in his hands, unable to deny him, unable to refuse him anything. His gentleness had aroused her completely, where anything else would have left her unmoved and in control.

  A lone tear trickled down her cheek. It would have been so much better if he had been hard and cold with her. She could deal with him that way. It would have been business between them from the start. But now...now, she didn't know what to think or what to do....

  Brandy had learned the hard way how to deal with the cruelties of life. She did not know how to deal with the gentleness. She knew a moment of terror as she realized how precarious her situation was. It was one thing to have lost that hand to him and be forced to be married to him this way, it was another completely to lose her heart and her soul to him.

  Rafe stirred and levered himself up above her on his elbows. He kissed her again then, and once again all rational thought fled Brandy. There was only Rafe, and his touch, and his kiss, and the sensuous world he created for her.

  They loved through the night, and only slept as the sky in the east lightened.

  Brandy came awake first, and she lay quietly, studying the slumbering man beside her. Rafe was handsome when he was awake, but asleep she found him even more devastatingly attractive. The guardedness about him was gone, leaving him looking almost youthful. She wanted to reach out and touch him-his arm, his chest, his cheek-but she didn't dare. She was safe while he was sleeping safe from the power he held over her, safe from the confusion of her own emotions.

  An ache grew within her heart. It had been one thing to contemplate his demand that she bear and abandon a child. It was another to fall hopelessly in love with him and then be forced to give him up, too.

  As she gazed at Rafe, she hardened her heart. She couldn't afford to feel this way about him. True, he had introduced her to the beauty of physical love, but he did not love her. He never had. He never would.

  Brandy turned to stare at the ceiling, and after a few moments, she knew what she had to do. She had to find a way to get the money she needed to pay him off. She wracked her brain in desperation, seeking a quick
solution to her problem, but found none.

  As time passed, she became so desperate that she even considered the possibility of approaching Claire with her dilemma and asking her for a loan. But as quickly as she thought it, she dismissed the idea. Claire had proven to be a friend over these last two weeks, but she had been hired by Rafe specifically to be that her friend. Claire worked for Rafe. If she confided in her, Claire might go to him and tell him what Brandy was planning, and she couldn't let that happen. She had to get the money on her own to pay him back.

  Finally, Brandy came to understand what she would have to do. She would pretend to be Rafe's loving bride; although, in truth, it would not be a difficult role. She would bide her time, doing what he expected of her, but when the opportunity came, she would do whatever she had to to survive. Her sanity depended on it.

  Brandy did not fall back asleep, but lay silently in her marriage bed until Rafe stirred and came awake over an hour later.

  "I wondered how long you were going to sleep," she said teasingly as he turned to her.

  He braced himself up on one elbow to look down at her.

  "How long have you been awake?" Rafe asked.

  It surprised him that she looked even more beautiful this morning than she had last night. He rarely spent the night with a lover, and the few times he had, the women definitely lost their appeal in the bright light of day. Not so with Brandy, though. She looked fresh and beautiful and well loved.

  "A while," she said softly. "But if you'd slept much longer I was going to see about changing our reservations on the steamboat."

  "You could always have gotten me up," he said in a low growl of a voice as his gaze roamed over her.

  From her flushed cheeks, to the swell of her breasts beneath the sheet, to the length of her silken leg pressed against his, she was all woman his woman. He hardened just at the thought of tasting of her again. Rafe reached for her hungrily, wanting more of her sweetness, wanting to prove to himself that last night's loving hadn't been a dream.