A Cowboy's Fate

by Gini Rifkin

  Snatching the card up off the floor, she added it to the pack, slipped them into their velvet bag, and set them aside. Then chin up, she met his gaze.

  “Yes. It’s what I want,” she answered. “The cards never lie.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your cards, Britania. I want to know what you want.”

  She wanted him, with her whole heart and soul. Wanted him with a need both uplifting and agonizing. Wanted him regardless of circumstance or consequence.

  He just stood there, apparently unconvinced by her words, yet what more could she say? Red-hot, unrepentant desire burned away any lingering restraint, and in a final answer to his question, she slid completely free of the comforter, and sat up straighter on the edge of the bed. Watching his face, she slowly untied the ribbon holding together the edges of the camisole. As the lace parted, revealing her breasts, she heard his breath catch in his throat. And when she eased her legs apart and beckoned him come stand between her naked thighs, the boots and wet denims hit the floor with a thud.

  Accepting her offer, he stood so close she felt the heat of his body, and leaning forward, she pressed her cheek against his abdomen just above the towel, just above the part of him she coveted tonight. Easing her arms around him she drew him near, her thighs straddling his, her body nestled against him.

  With a groan, he laced his fingers in her hair, holding her captive, the action full of desire and desperation. “Are you sure?” he asked, gruffly.

  She canted her head back and stared up at him. “Yes. It feels too right to be wrong.” Then she glided her hands farther up his back, lightly digging her fingernails into his flesh.

  His grip gentled, and he smoothed her hair away from her face. Eyes dark with passion and the promise of what he’d like to do to her, his gaze held hers as he dropped down to kneel between her legs at the edge of the bed. He kissed a path along the inside of one thigh and then the other, and leaning back on her elbows, she gave herself over to him.

  A soft moan curled deep inside of her chest, building with intensity, fueling the sensations gathering in her belly and spreading lower. He slid one arm beneath each of her legs, easing them farther apart as he drew closer to taste her more deeply. Teasing and nipping, he tongued and explored her body—tenderly, demandingly, bringing to life sensations she never knew existed. She gasped in a shuttering breath. He groaned as if her enjoyment fed his desire.

  Slipping his hands beneath her, he gripped the cheeks of her bottom, raising her hips closer to the pleasure he offered. The moan she’d held back grew stronger and found freedom, followed by another and another. Hands twisting in the covers, head back, she cried out his name, and the world around her shattered into a blaze of color and sensual release.

  Twinging with aftershocks, she sagged back on the bed, her body limp from head to toe. She had never reached a climax so fast, and it had felt even better than imagined in her dream. Cody levered up and over her body, and she cradled his hips with hers. The thin layer of towel all that lay between his probing male intentions and the part of her still throbbing with fading flashes of delight. Supporting his upper body on his forearms, he leaned in, and captured her lips in a hungry kiss.

  “My turn, darlin’ ” he whispered against her mouth.

  He pushed off the bed, standing long enough to shed his shirt and the towel. The sight of him hard and ready to renew her pleasure almost sent her over the edge a second time. She scooted back upon the bed, and shimmied free of the last remnants of the camisole.

  Joining her, he stretched out at her side. She reached for him, stroking gently at first then faster and more insistent, sending spasms through his body as renewed anticipation tingled through hers. He strained against her touch, and turning toward her, slipped one hand between her thighs, his fingers sliding across tender skin, skin made slick from his kisses and the pleasure he’d given her. He leaned closer, his mouth roughly taking hers, and like a wildfire, a glorious sense of freedom swept through her body fanning smoldering passion into a renewed wall of flame—obliterating thought, leaving nothing but sensation. Only the here and now existed, no memories of despair or sorrow, no worries over what the future might bring.

  The need to join with him became unbearable, and she placed her arms around his neck, urging him on top of her body. “I want you inside of me,” she keened. But he resisted, rolling onto his back, wrestling her astride his thighs. Following his lead, she rose up and lowered herself onto him, slowly, so slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time. Then the desire to have all of him, right now, became overwhelming, and with a gasp of pure pleasure, she slid into place, and he became a part of her.

  She rode him, unrestrained, her dream coming true, giving pleasure, taking pleasure. With his hands around her waist, he held her steady, rising up beneath her, driving deeper, pressing harder against that extraordinary place from where all pleasure started and ended. Sensations pounded through her, colliding in the middle, then exploding outward.

  They found the primitive rhythm lovers have shared since the beginning of time, and the wonder of connecting to another living soul in this manner defied description, filling a void in her heart. Slow sensuous movements grew rough and demanding, driving them to the frantic end they both sought, a mindless all-consuming need—leaving her begging for release. Just as the point of no return seared through her, he cradled her face in his hands, those deep brown eyes gazing into hers as she lost control. Then he urged her down for one more kiss, absorbing her final cry of delight—stifling any forbidden words of love as he tensed and gave all.

  After heartbeats calmed and breathing slowed, they continued to hold one another, afraid to end a precious moment that might never come again. Afraid to talk or even think about what they had done.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Britania awakened first, her mind a flurry of emotions. She felt joy for what they had shared, hunger at wanting to do it again, wistfulness at knowing it probably shouldn’t-couldn’t be.

  She glanced over at Cody. Apparently exhausted from wrestling the team and wagon up the mountain for the past three days, he continued to sleep—so handsome, so virile, even at rest. The desire to awaken him with a kiss skittered across her mind, but she couldn’t face him yet.

  Their shared passion belonged to the night. In the light of day, dreams tended to dissolve away. She had no qualms about their lovemaking, just hoped to preserve the closeness and keep the magic alive a little longer, unsullied by excuses or regrets. They would reach Leadville today, and the fantasy would be over. As long as he slept she could enjoy the illusion a few moments more.

  Slipping from the bed, she nicked a stale roll off the uneaten dinner tray, nibbling at it while she dressed. Then tiptoeing down the creaking stairs, she awaited Cody in the lobby. Twenty minutes later, according to the pendulum clock in the corner, he came storming down the steps.

  Grabbing her arms, he yanked her to her feet. “What the hell.” Although the words were uttered in a low, deadly tone through clenched teeth, his anger roared loud and clear. “I thought something happened to you,” he added, releasing the painful grip he had on her. “And another thing,” he fumed. “When I bed a woman, I expect to find her there the next morning.”

  “Well… I…” He made her feel like a White Chapel doxie, doing the deed, and then disappearing into the night. She glanced around, thankful the lobby remained empty at this hour.

  “Well, what,” he prodded.

  Surprise and confusion turned to unmitigated ire. She hadn’t meant to cause such a rumpus, had wanted to spare him the necessity of explaining why it had been a chance encounter and he couldn’t stick around for anything more. And his term “bed a woman” certainly put things in perspective. Could he have possibly come up with an expression more lacking in endearment?

  How could he be so cruel? But fault lay just as much with her. She shouldn’t have let this happen, shouldn’t have given in to her loneliness and desire to be needed. Hurt and ang
ry, she balled her hands into fists. On the other hand, he had no reason to accost her because she preferred to wait for him in the lobby.

  “You insufferable bloody bore. A gentleman would have made sure to arise first, ordering breakfast to be sent to the room with a token of appreciation, awaiting his lady’s pleasure as she attended her ablution in privacy.”

  He took a step back, as if her rush of words had thrown him off balance.

  “I never claimed to be a gentleman,” he said.

  “No, you didn’t. It was an illusion of my own making. A mistake I shall not fall prey to again.”

  His mouth slanted into a tight-lipped smile, the expression holding ridicule, not mirth, making her all the more irate. Doffing his hat, he gave a slight bow, stepping aside for her to precede him into the dining area. “We better eat before we hit the trail, your ladyship,” he suggested. “That is, if madam so desires.” His sarcastic tone not even poorly veiled.

  “Madam does, Mr. James,” she threw back at him, like a dagger. Then with an audible huff, she flipped a tail of her shawl over one shoulder.

  “So it’s back to Mr. James. That’s not the name you were screaming last night,” he pointed out, as she stormed passed and led the way.

  ****

  The day crawled along excruciatingly slow, and so, it seemed, did the wagon. They had eaten breakfast in chilled silence, neither one willing to swallow their pride along with the meal.

  Britania opened her mouth several times to speak, but being rather baffled by how their feelings had taken this terrible turn, the words wouldn’t come. Cody seemed just as reluctant to broach the subject, and she resigned herself to the adage better to remain silent and wonder what he might be feeling than to know for sure he felt nothing at all.

  Once again rain threatened, but oddly enough, as the sky darkened, her mood lightened. They had finally reached Leadville. She glanced at Cody, hoping their arrival might put him in a better humor. But he remained enigmatic, looking straight ahead, not seeming to notice the clamor of activity or the stunning view of the surrounding mountains.

  The town appeared bigger than she had imagined, the streets bustling with people, the advertisements on the numerous storefronts promising every comfort and necessity. Tattered billboard posters on Tabor’s Opera House claimed Harry Houdini, Oscar Wilde, and Sarah Bernhardt had tread the boards of the elegant brick building. What an exciting place to begin her new life.

  Cody brought the team to a halt. “Here you go, Miss Rule,” he said, the sound of his voice taking her by surprise. “I have it on good account this is the biggest gambling hall in town. It must be the one you’ve been hired to manage.”

  What could he be talking about? She stared up at the building front. The Silver Moon had been etched in freshly painted letters on the sign over the grand doorway. Then she remembered the impromptu story regarding her reason for coming to Leadville. He’d taken it to heart. Since he already seemed in a mood darker than the sky, she didn’t dare tell him she had no job waiting and it had all been a lie.

  If only he would say more—say anything. After all, this sentence constituted the longest one he’d spoken since leaving Frisco. Instead, he silently assisted her down from the wagon and began unloading her trunks.

  “Oh dear, I haven’t paid you. Are you staying here in town?” What were his plans, she must find out.

  “I’ll be around, Miss Rule. Although I guess you won’t be needing me anymore.”

  Not need him. Lord above, she thought she loved him, how could she not need him? But if he didn’t wish to stay on his own accord, she had nothing left to offer. She had already given him the most valuable thing she owned—herself—and it hadn’t been enough.

  He looked so dejected. She wished to fling herself into his arms, to kiss him right there on the street in front of God and everyone.

  “If you want,” he said, fidgeting with a latch on one of her trunks, “I could sell the wagon and horses, and bring you the money. We can settle our account then.”

  Settle our account—how cold and business-like. Now she felt betrayed as well as desperate. Surely she meant more to him than simply fulfilling his needs like a hot meal. Even though there had been no promises, she refused to let him walk out of her life.

  “Yes, that will be fine. How may I contact you?” she added, grasping at anything to keep them connected.

  “I’ll find you.”

  He climbed back onboard, grabbed the reins, and clucked the horses into action. She stared at his broad back disappearing down the street, and it took all the strength she possessed not to run after him.

  “Until later, Cody James,” she called.

  In stony misery, she stood rooted beside her luggage on the boardwalk, not caring about the curious looks thrown her way by the people stepping around her.

  Then it started to rain, how fitting. Big cold drops, splashing down upon her cheeks to mingle with the tears she no longer bothered to hold back. Cody’s figure grew smaller, and as he turned up his collar and hunched his shoulders against the rain, she thought it had to be the saddest thing her heart had ever known. Was he cold and lonely too? She had never felt more desolate. Even the pain of leaving her Mother Country did not compare to what she suffered now. It felt like being lost in a black void—and quite ridiculous.

  She hardly knew the man, wouldn’t let him control her feelings a minute longer. She stepped back under the shelter of The Silver Moon’s awning. She must take matters in-hand, and get on with things. This is what fate had called her to do—the bloody cards said so.

  ****

  Like an emperor surveying his domain, Jubel stood at his second floor office window.

  When he’d seen the shabby wagon making its way up the main street, he had dismissed the occupants as another pair of fortune hunters. Optimistic fools hoping to make good with a pick and shovel, or a deck of cards. But as the couple drew closer, the fair-haired woman riding up front had caught his eye. He’d always been partial to blondes. Then the man beside the woman grabbed his attention, leaving him momentarily stunned. Mild interest transformed into shock, followed by rage—well-honed and years in the making. He could barely believe his eyes.

  A plan coalescing in his mind, he closed the window and hurried from his room down to the street.

  ****

  “May I be of assistance?”

  Startled, Britania turned to gaze at the tall black-haired man who had spoken. Although he didn’t seem offensive in any manner, he stood close, too close.

  “Pardon me,” she returned, stepping back, “am I blocking your progress?”

  “A woman as pretty as yourself, could never be in the way.” A smile crimped his mouth, but his eyes didn’t seem to hold any warmth. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jubel Stokes, proprietor of this establishment and admirer of beautiful ladies.”

  Oh my, apparently thinly-guised come-ons transcended continents, but she might as well take advantage of the situation.

  “I’m Miss Rule. Perhaps you could recommend a proper place of accommodation. I’m not familiar with Leadville.”

  “Please take no offense, but might I enquire if you are also seeking employment?”

  “Why yes, I am. But I’m rather particular.”

  “As well you should be, Miss Rule. Especially in a town as untamed and notorious as this one. I suspect a lady of your caliber might be learned in figures and a bit of ciphering?”

  “Yes. I’m fairly proficient in both.” Her plans for creating a parlor of spiritual enlightenment had included long hours of struggling to learn her letters and basic calculations. Now she felt even more grateful for the effort she’d put in.

  “Excellent, my dear. I’m in desperate need of a manager. I prefer to supervise the day to day, or rather the night to night running of the business. It necessitates my being up until the wee small hours, leaving me too tired to oversee the accounting side. Hence the bookkeeping has become an unbearable task. You would be doing me
a great favor by taking over that aspect of the job.”

  What unbelievable luck. Her white lie had become a reality. But good fortune often came at a price. She couldn’t help but be leery.

  “Perhaps, you would be more comfortable discussing such dealings inside. I’ll have someone bring along your baggage while we chat about the particulars.” Without awaiting approval, he took her elbow and squired her inside The Silver Moon.

  The barred windows of the sumptuous gambling parlor were dressed in flowing red draperies, and like strategically placed jewelry, ornate mirrors and pictures hung upon the red-flocked walls. Sparkling chandeliers added the crowning touch.

  But above it all, in the center of the ceiling, a magnificent stained glass window resided, the motif, a silver half-moon surrounded by stars. Doves carrying pale-hued streamers in their beaks, and a border of white clouds framed the spectacle. Why even in the gloomy weather, it gleamed and glowed, seeming unnaturally bright, the effect mesmerizing.

  Dragging her gaze from the celestial display, she glanced around with a more discerning eye noting that despite the early hour, there were already several men occupying the bar and gambling tables. Women in skimpy costumes hovered near the patrons, encouraging them in both pursuits. But false gaiety showed on the women’s faces as they laughed and quickly maneuvered out of the way of roaming hands, a fine line existing between keeping the customer satisfied and keeping one’s self-respect.

  Jubel smoothed back his richly-oiled hair, and as his gaze skimmed her figure, a flash of alarm and indecision shot through her.

  “There’ll be no need for you to be in this part of the house,” he said, as if privy to her concerns. “The room to let is located on the second floor. I can offer it to you as part of your salary, and you can use the back outside entrance, avoiding this type of ballyhoo altogether.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Stokes.”

  “I’m prepared to pay you one meal a day and ten dollars a month. And don’t forget the room. It’s clean and quiet, and no one will even know you are up there. You could start immediately, and if you need an advance on your salary, it can be arranged, no questions asked.”