Midnight Flame

by Lynette Vinet

  With resolve in her eyes, she left the window and began to dress before Gincie could offer to help her. She threw on her best petticoats and over these donned a blue-and-white-checked gown with a deep ruffled flounce and a low, off-the-shoulders neckline. Instead of pulling her hair atop her head, she had Gincie pull the sides back with white combs and brushed to such a gleaming brightness that it hung in reddish-brown waves to her waist.

  She pirouetted before the mirror, pleased with the result. Would Seth like what he saw? She found herself thinking in an attempt to drive Tony and her dream from her mind. She imagined herself in Seth’s arms, responding to his kisses. She was determined that today she would forget Tony Duvalier forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Arthur sat in the shade of the porch and watched his friends and neighbors milling about. He saw Laurel standing beneath a spreading oak tree. She was looking fresh and lovely, as she talked with some women. He smiled, seeing that she appeared to be enjoying herself. His eyes searched for Lavinia. She was nowhere in view, and he hoped she wasn’t getting into some mischief. Lavinia had been acting rather pettishly lately. A deep frown creased his wrinkled brow, as he realized his stepson hadn’t yet returned from San Antonio. It was just like Seth to miss Lavinia’s party, Arthur decided. The two of them had never gotten along, and he wondered if their dislike of each other was because of him. Had he treated Seth differently because he was his stepson? He hadn’t meant to, but then again, he had sent Lavinia away because he couldn’t bear to look at her after the sordid incident with Jim Castille.

  Either way, each of his children could attest to the fact that he hadn’t been the best of fathers. Especially Laurel. He let his eyes settle upon her again, feeling the same bittersweet pain he always felt when he looked at his beautiful younger daughter. She resembled her mother physically and also reminded him of Emily in other ways. The way she would tilt her head at an angle when she listened to a person, as if she were truly listening and not just pretending to hear. So many times he had seen Emily staring at him in just that way, that seeing Laurel do the very same thing tugged at his heartstrings.

  He had loved Emily Delaney with a fierceness he had never experienced before he met her or afterward. Lavinia’s mother never made him feel the way Emily had, and certainly not dear Anna, Seth’s mother. He had never loved any woman but Emily. From the moment his brother had brought her home with him, he had known that if he couldn’t possess the beautiful brunette, he would never be happy. But he was married to Lavinia’s mother, and Emily was engaged to his brother. He had thought he would die at Sylvester and Emily’s wedding. He still remembered the way he had wanted to grab her from his brother’s arms and carry her away on his horse, never to be seen again by anyone.

  He hadn’t said anything to her, however, and had never told her how he felt until after his wife had died from childbirth fever. By that time he and Sylvester had started the Little L, named for baby Lavinia. Emily had taken care of his daughter, loving her as her own mother would have loved her. Sometimes, when he returned early from the range, he would find Emily alone, cooing softly to the auburn-haired baby in her arms. At these times, he would pretend that Emily was his wife, and Sylvester didn’t exist. Guilt at loving Emily had torn at him. He had wanted her so badly that one day he couldn’t contain himself and grabbed her, kissing her with a violence that stunned her as well as himself. She had slapped him and run away. At supper that night, he was unable to look at her or Sylvester. Arthur would never forget how Sylvester had accosted him after Emily had gone to bed. His brother had witnessed the whole incident and told him never to come near his wife again. The only reason they stayed at the ranch had been because the child needed a woman to look after her, and Lavinia filled an emptiness in Emily since she had been unable to conceive. And Arthur stayed away from Emily, though thoughts of her were always with him.

  One night Sylvester and Emily had argued, though Arthur had never known why. He had been asleep in his room on the other side of the house, but the loud voices had woken him. Minutes later Sylvester had left, riding off into the night, and hadn’t returned home that night or the next. Emily had been beside herself with worry until one of the hands told her that Sylvester had been spotted at a fancy house in San Antonio. Arthur remembered the way her face had fallen, how shattered she had looked. He would never forget how she had turned to him, took his hand, and led him into the house to her bedroom.

  None of the women he had bedded in his lifetime could compare to the one night he had spent in Emily’s arms. He had loved her and hoped she loved him, but then Sylvester had returned, and once again, Emily had become the proper wife. He had felt he was living a nightmare, unable to cope with Emily’s desertion of him. When he asked her to leave Sylvester, she had refused. She had told him that she cared about him but she loved her husband and would never leave him. In fact they had decided to head for Louisiana where Sylvester wanted to buy a plantation. They could all start over again, and he must forget her and the night they had shared.

  Not until the day Emily left had he learned from Sylvester of her pregnancy. In his heart he had known she carried his child, not his brother’s, by the way she hadn’t been able to look at him or do more than nod at his congratulations about the baby under Sylvester’s watchful eye. After they had gone, he had found a letter under his pillow from Emily.

  She had told him that she cared for him, but she couldn’t leave Sylvester. They had shared one night, a night she would treasure all her life. He had given her a child, she wanted him to know about the baby, not to torment him but to allow him to rejoice in her happiness. If he loved her, he would not contact her again and would never tell anyone that she had borne her brother-in-law’s baby. She loved Sylvester and would never leave him, so nothing he might do would matter in the end.

  Emily hadn’t been heartless. Though he wanted to believe she was cruel, he would never hurt her. Truly, she and the baby were better off in Louisiana, living in luxury rather than the hard life of ranching. It hadn’t been until five years later, when the ranch finally began to turn a profit, that he hoped he had done the right thing in doing nothing.

  Now his fondness for Laurel was expressed by the slight smile on his lips. He hadn’t felt well that day, but just seeing that she was happy and beautiful, so like his Emily, caused him to feel better. His lawyer, Carson Turner, joined him on the porch and noticed the soft, loving gaze Arthur sent in Laurel’s direction.

  “Everything’s all taken care of,” Carson said and heaved his bulky frame into the chair next to Arthur’s. “All of your children will be well taken care of in the event of your death.”

  Arthur nodded. “Good. I don’t expect to be around much longer.”

  “You say that every time I see you. You’ll outlive me, you old goat.”

  Arthur didn’t dispute him. He felt death was near, but he wasn’t frightened of it. “When will the new buyer be here?”

  “Funny you should ask that.” Carson withdrew a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to Arthur. “Received this telegram at my office yesterday. Your buyer will be coming within the next month, as soon as things are settled on his end.”

  Arthur read the terse message and handed the telegram back to Carson. “You keep it. I don’t want this to get in the wrong hands before then.”

  “You’re afraid Seth might read it.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want Laurel finding it. She might get cold feet and skedaddle out of Texas. Remember, Carson, it’s imperative that she know nothing about the Little L’s new owner until he gets here, or until after I pass on, whichever comes first. Promise me.”

  Carson smiled, thinking that Arthur would be around for a long time. If ever there was a man who could recover from physical setbacks, it was Arthur Delaney, his old and dearest friend. “You’ve got my word, old friend.”

  ~

  Leaning against the post of the corral, Lavinia watched Buck Dawson, one of the ranch hands,
attempt to break in a wild stallion. The blood pumped swiftly through her veins, and excitement grew within her. At that moment, nothing could compare to the engrossing combat of one man’s will against that of this magnificent beast. The stallion was ivory in color, and a more beautiful animal Lavinia had never seen. She knew Buck was trying to impress her, but when the horse reared up and deposited Buck unceremoniously on his backside, she sent up an inward cheer for the horse.

  Buck looked sheepish as he limped to the gate and joined her on the other side. “That horse ain’t never goin’ to be tamed,” he said and brushed the dust from his pants with the brim of his hat.

  “I thought you told me you knew all about taming animals.”

  “I do. I can tame any filly of the two-legged variety. Horses just take a mite longer.”

  Lavinia sidled up to him, drawn to Buck only by the fact that he was an attractive male. It had been a long time since she had been kissed by a young, handsome man. “Do you think you can tame me?” she asked in a breathy, suggestive whisper.

  “Honey, I’ll have you purring like a little kitten before you know it.”

  Grabbing her around the waist, Buck planted a wet kiss on her lips. His hand fumbled with a button on her lawn gown. Instinctively Lavinia realized that Buck was probably all talk and didn’t know much about pleasing women, but she decided it might be fun to teach him a thing or two. Just at the moment she was about to close her eyes, she noticed a man on horseback watching them. She broke away from Buck almost as if she hadn’t invited his touch.

  “Who is that?” she asked Buck.

  “Huh?”

  “The man on that horse over by the barn.”

  Buck turned in aggravation to look at the man. A weather-beaten hat hung low over his darkly bearded face, and long black hair reached his shirt collar. Lavinia couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew he was watching them and took no pleasure in their kiss. But as he leaned forward to observe them, his broad shoulders blocked the sun, and he appeared in no hurry to glance away.

  “That’s Jamie somethin’ or other. I’m not real sure he has a last name, or if he does, he don’t seem to know it. Tom Evans hired him on when he was in San Antonio last week. He’s a good worker, I guess, but don’t say nothin’ to nobody. Just minds his own business.”

  Lavinia’s heart beat faster. He was watching her, only her, and he knew she was aware of his gaze upon her. He seemed to be taking mental inventory of her body, causing an unfamiliar flush to scatter across her flesh. Her legs felt wobbly, and for a moment she thought she was going to fall. Something about him was familiar, so achingly familiar that she couldn’t put a name to it. She felt drawn to him, almost as if this stranger was beckoning her to come to him. She made a movement forward, but Buck held her arm.

  “Where you goin’, Lavinia? Don’t start trouble with that fellow. He may be quiet, but I think he’s mean. I don’t want no trouble with the likes of him.”

  Buck’s warning stalled Lavinia. She would have gone to him, but the man turned the horse around and galloped in the direction of the open range. Somehow his leaving caused her to feel slighted.

  Buck hugged her to him. “Now that nobody’s watchin’ us, let’s say we go in the barn and roll around in the hay.”

  “What?” Lavinia barely heard him. Disentangling herself from Buck, she shook her head. Any flicker of desire she might have felt earlier for Buck was now dead. “I have a headache,” she protested when Buck tried to kiss her again. “Maybe some other time.”

  Maybe never, she thought and ceased to think about Buck. She barely realized he had stomped away. Her sapphire eyes followed the man on horseback until he became a speck in the distance.

  ~

  Seth came charging down the road and halted his horse by the front door. Still in a hurry, he jumped off with barely a civil nod to Arthur and Carson Turner. Laurel, standing nearby in the company of some of Texas’ most handsome and eligible young men, heard Arthur ask, “Where you been, boy?”

  Seth, his face half hidden beneath the brim of his hat, replied, “San Antonio.” Before Arthur could say another word, he entered the house in a flash of dust and grime.

  Arthur shook his head in seeming dismay, and Carson Turner pretended to take an interest in a piece of barbecue chicken. Laurel politely broke away from her group of admirers and went around to the back entrance of the house.

  Inside, she made her way up the cool, shadowed passage of the kitchen staircase to the upper landing that ran the length of the downstairs parlor until she came to Seth’s door at the end of the hallway. The door was slightly ajar, and she saw Seth standing, shirtless, at the washbasin and wiping away the vestiges of his trip. She entered unannounced, intent upon berating him for his terse reply to Arthur, for not having had the courtesy to arrive sooner, knowing that Arthur wanted his whole family together for Lavinia’s birthday celebration. But when he heard her enter and turned to face her, a gasp escaped her. Seth’s left eye was a patchwork of blue and purple, streaked in places with red. It was so swollen that only a tiny slit remained for him to see.

  “What happened? Did you get in a fight?”

  “You might say that,” Seth remarked, his movements quick and agitated as the washrag skimmed across his bare chest. “How’s the party?”

  “Very nice.” Laurel realized that his eye must hurt unbearably, but he was giving a good show of a rough and tough cowpoke. Her hand touched his, stilling his movements. She took the rag from him and pointed to the bed. “You better rest for a while. I’ll take care of your eye.”

  He appeared about to protest, but he wearily lay on the bed. Laurel dipped the washrag into the large porcelain basin. She wrung out the excess water before placing it on Seth’s swollen eye. He grimaced. “I don’t mean to hurt you,” she told him.

  Seth held the cloth in place. “You didn’t. Sit beside me and talk to me for a spell.”

  He appeared so pitiful that Laurel sat down, her blue-and-white skirt billowing about her. “Who did you fight?”

  “Just a fellow with a big fist.”

  “Does he look as awful as you?”

  Seth barely nodded. He couldn’t tell her that Ortega hadn’t laid a finger on him. Claudio’s large fist had done the damage, and that was all it had taken to convince him to pay off his debts to Ortega. He dreaded to think about how he had agreed to repay the bastard, but he would do it and do it gladly. He knew he would die at Claudio’s strong hands if he defied Ortega’s orders, and he was too much of a coward to resist.

  The night had passed for him in a haze of pain, but now just looking at Laurel, so beautiful and dainty with her hair falling with abandon around her bare shoulders, eased the ache in his eye. Desire for her flared within him. He doubted she would be as fiery or well tutored in the art of love as Simone, but she must have learned something from her marriage to Duvalier. He decided that the sooner he seduced her, the better and safer his own life would be.

  One second Laurel was gazing at Seth, and the next he had dragged her down, pinning her body against his. She made a weak attempt to push away, but Seth held her tightly, seemingly not concerned over his injury any longer. With one arm around her waist and the other hand cupping a breast, his mouth devoured hers in a kiss that left no doubt in her mind that he wanted her then and there. Her early morning resolve to supplement Tony in her mind with Seth washed away. She had been determined to respond to him, but now she found his kiss and embrace too possessive, and she began to struggle. So many times Tony had loved her in the same way, and she had reveled in his passion, eager and willing to be taken. This time the knowledge that Seth wanted her and would have her unless she put some distance between them lent fury to her fear.

  Laurel’s hand shot out and raked the other side of his face with her fingernails. Seth yelled in pain and sat up as she bounded from the bed to take a position behind a rocker. “What in the hell did you do that for?” Seth cried and used the wet cloth to staunch the blood on his cheek. “
I wasn’t going to rape you.”

  “It seemed that way to me.” Laurel trembled and clung to the back of the rocking chair for support. “I’m not some sort of whore that you can bed and then forget, Seth.”

  So that was it, he thought. She didn’t want to be used and cast aside. He had no intention of doing that to Laurel, at least not yet, not until he got her to trust him and to give him the money he needed. Ortega’s advice about how to pay off his debts wouldn’t yield him as much as he could get in one fell swoop from Laurel. But he must tread carefully with her. If she could love the way she fought, he didn’t want to lose her money or her body. His cheek stung and inwardly he cursed her, but outwardly his face expressed surprise and concern.

  “How can you think I’d be such a cad? Haven’t I been a gentleman?”

  “Yes…”

  “I’ll have you know that my intentions are honorable, but Texans just go about things differently than other men. We’re a breed of men who like our women willing and full of fire. I’d never take you against your will. You have to know that.”

  After Seth got up and went to the washbasin to clean his cuts, Laurel felt terrible. He looked so hurt and helpless that she inched her way toward him and took the cloth to daub at his wounds. “I’m sorry.”

  Laurel’s apology instilled a sense of hope and daring in Seth. Not wanting her to see his pleasure, he showed a face of pain. He went to his bureau, took out a leather box and placed it on top of the bureau. Removing an emerald ring surrounded by tiny diamonds from the box, he held it out to her.

  “This was my mother’s engagement ring from Arthur. I want you to wear it. I … want … you to marry me.” Just the right amount of hesitancy in his voice, he decided, to sway Laurel’s cold heart.

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t marry you. I’m not sure how I feel about you, Seth. My divorce from Tony isn’t even final.”