The Gambler (25 page)

"I'm not going to hurt you, Charm. Not ever."

She remembered to breathe, and she nodded mutely.

"Lie down."

She did so finally, lying flat on her back and feeling very like a piece of lumber ready for the mill. Just as stiff, just as breathless, just as doomed.

Raven eased down beside her, keeping almost a foot of space between them and staring into her eyes. "Nervous?"

"No!"

He laughed, very low in his throat. "Oh, come now, you can lie better than that. Let's try it again." He paused, still watching her. "So, Miss Charm," he began slowly, "are you nervous?"

Why didn't he just kiss her and get it over with? But he seemed determined to play games, so she took a deep breath and said, "No," in a voice that almost sounded seductive in its breathlessness. "Why should I be?"

He laughed again. The sound felt strange, like the rough stroke of a kitten's tongue, shivery, yet gentle. "Very good. I decided when you lied to Clancy for me, right after the lynch attempt, I decided you could lie with the best of them. Maybe even better than Clancy, damn his hide. May I touch your hair?"

She opened her mouth to deny his request and his assessment of her abilities, but he interrupted smoothly.

"I wouldn't actually be touching
you.
No skin, of course. Just hair."

Somehow he made it all sound very silly, and she could do nothing but nod.

He reached for that wayward lock that always escaped bondage. It lay across her left breast, and though she held her breath, he was true to his word and avoided contact. His fingers connected with the hair where it touched nothing but air near her neck.

"Very soft." He caressed the lock between his thumb and fingers. "Like living water in cinnamon hues."

He was a poet. Who would have thought?

"May I take it down?"

"What?" Her inhalation was sharp.

"Should I take that as a 'no'?"

"Take what down?"

"Your hair. It's coming loose."

"Oh." Her breath came slightly easier now, for in her frantic imaginings, she had thought of all sorts of things that could be taken down. "Well..."

"No skin," he promised. "And just one hand." He replaced the wayward lock to lift his right hand as evidence. "Surely you can't sleep with those pins in anyway."

"I don't sleep," she reminded him breathlessly.

"I could help you."

"What?"

He remained absolutely silent, watching her. "Nothing. How about the hair?"

"All right."

He was lying on his numb arm and reached for her with his right hand. She felt his fingers brush her scalp, felt a pin tugged free. The knot loosened at the back of her head. His hand appeared again to place the pin between their bodies before returning for a second, and then a third. It was a breathless sort of endeavor. His fingers just barely caressed her hair until all the pins lay before her, and the heavy mass of her tresses was set free.

"You should wear it down all the time," he said, and reaching behind again, drew it gently forward to stroke the ends against his face. "Can I come a little closer?" But before she could answer he was already a few inches nearer. "This is a hard job to do from back there." He grinned, reminding her of his promise to kiss her. "Are you ready?"

Charm almost pulled away, almost jerked to her feet. Instead she remained as she was, feeling panic swell around her like a wild tide. He moved nearer, his gaze boring steadily into hers. Breath knotted in Charm's throat. His eyes were sleepily seductive. His lips were parted. He moved nearer still—and kissed her cheek.

"Good night, Charm," he said casually and turned his back.

"You cheated."

Raven woke to the sound of Charm's voice. Opening his eyes, he found her staring at him from only inches away. It was a shock to his already shocked system. After all, who would have thought he would actually have the strength to kiss her cheek and draw away? It was amazing what he could do when he set his mind to something: pretend to faint to prevent her from leaving, pretend to sleep to prevent her from leaving, pretend to be content with kissing her cheek to prevent her from leaving.

"Do you realize it's the dead of night?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"You really don't sleep, do you?"

"Only..."

"Snatches," he finished for her and sat up wearily. "Was there something you wanted?"

"A kiss."

He was immediately wide-awake and cursed himself for it, trying to feel sleepy. "I already did that."

"But you cheated."

"Explain or go away," he said, feeling impatient frustration ride him with more force than he thought possible.

"It wasn't a real kiss."

"I beg to differ."

"It wasn't even... frightening."

"You want to be scared, take your clothes off." He hadn't meant to say it, but the words were out. He could see the fear in her eyes and cursed himself again, but fatigue and celibacy had made fools of better men than he. "Let sleeping dogs lie, Charm," he said more softly.

She drew a quiet breath. "You're not sleeping."

He frowned, wondering if this conversation was making as little sense as he suspected. "Are you calling me a dog?"

"You don't know what it's like, living with this fear."

"Is that why you don't sleep?"

She looked away. "I have dreams. Had them as long as I can remember. Of a big man with blond hair. He wears a hat... cocked... to one side. He's very handsome." She took three full breaths, doing her best to fight the fear. "He wakes me up. Smiles. Always smiles. And then..." She shook her head, knowing the motion was jerky. "He hurts me. He wakes me up. And... hurts me."

"Charm..."

"Once..." She interrupted him quickly, though for a moment words failed her. "When I was about twelve a man came into my room. He was so big..." She paused, remembering his hands on her, remembering her consuming fear. "And he was wearing the hat."

"The source of the nightmares."

"No!" She shook her head wildly. "I dreamt of him before... before I saw him! It was as if... as if I had conjured him up in my dreams." Her voice was a whisper. "I can't afford to sleep."

"What happened that night?"

Although she heard his question, she refused to answer. "Can't afford to sleep," she murmured again.

"What happened, Charm? Did he hurt you?"

She swallowed, feeling as if she would surely die. "Jude came. Saved me. Killed him," she whispered and nodded. "With his bare hands. Beat him to death." A strange sobbing sound rattled from her throat, surprising her. "Left him dead. All beaten..." Her voice broke as her eyes closed and Raven caught her in the strength of his arms.

"Shh," he whispered, holding her against him.

"Jude killed him."

"Are you sure he was dead?"

She closed her eyes, remembering. "No one could have lived through that."

Raven's jaw tightened. "Good."

She drew a sharp breath between her teeth and drew abruptly away. "What if it was my fault?"

Raven scowled and reached for her again, but she shook her head and drew back.

"What if I created him in my head? Called him in my dreams?"

"That's crazy."

She sat very still, feeling sick to her stomach. Never had she spoken of that night. "I
am
crazy," she whispered.

"No." Raven's expression was somber and hard. "You're not crazy, Charm. You're just a survivor. It doesn't make you guilty."

"But the man in the hat—"

"Deserved to die," Raven interrupted. "You did the world a favor."

She tightened her fists, trying to allow the relief he offered.

"I wish I could make it better for you, Charm. Take away all the pain. But—"

"But maybe you can," she said softly. "I mean, I'm a grown woman, Raven. There's no longer any reason for me to fear men as I do."

"Most men are... aren't to be trusted," Raven said quietly.

"Trust!" She laughed shakily, then swallowed and paused a moment. "I'm not talking about trust. I'm talking about..." She shook her head. "Sleep. About being able to sleep. To breathe. Just to be... normal."

"You're better than normal, Charm," he whispered.

She studied the intensity of his face. "Kiss me," she whispered back.

He shook his head. "I don't think a single kiss will—"

"You asked me why I wore the gowns."

"What?"

"You asked if Jude made me wear those gowns. Well, he didn't. I did it on my own, and you know why? Because it gave me power. Because when men look at me, I can feel their lust." She paused. "I know I have something they want but can't have. I feel the derringer in my pocket. The knife in my garter. And I know I can kill them if they touch me. It's a power," she said more quietly, "that's all mine."

He said nothing, and she wondered numbly if he hated her now, after admitting something she hadn't known herself.

"I want to get over it, Raven," she whispered.

There was a moment of absolute stillness, and then he reached for her. She squeezed her eyes closed and waited. His touch was very soft against her cheek, and when he leaned closer, she could smell the tangy fragrance of woodsmoke and sweet tobacco.

The kiss was gentle, very soft and very brief. Yet, it ignited sparks of something other than fear. They flashed from her lips to her breasts and downward in curling flames of surprise. She could sense him leaning back and opened her eyes to find him watching her.

"So what do you think?" he asked quietly.

"That's it?"

One corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smile. "'Fraid so."

"Well..." She sighed, not sure if it was relief or exhilaration. "That was almost... bearable."

His laughter was a beautiful thing. "You're very hard on a man's self-esteem, Lucky Charm."

She smiled, feeling suddenly as if she could fly, as if she had stood the test of fire. "And you're very cautious."

"How's that?"

She bit the inside of her lip, wanting to laugh. "I think you can kiss better than that," she said, and turning her back to him, lay down.

*

The little imp! Raven remained awake for the rest of the night, staring at her back and wondering if she were snatching sleep. She was driving him insane, of course, tempting him, threatening him, wounding him, tempting him again, and then smiting him with the tender emotions raised by her fears and memories. And if
that
wasn't enough, she had begun teasing him.

Yes, teasing! Who would have thought? He smiled despite himself and waited for dawn.

By the time they reached Jordan, the only stage had already left, and Raven decided to use the time to purchase a few supplies and find them a room. His worrying over Charm's preference to spend the night with him or alone turned out to be a moot point, for there was only one room available in town. Calling them Mr. and Mrs. McBain, he rented it with a mental smile that he knew should shame him. Supper was a simple affair. Afterward, he accompanied his pretend wife up the stairs, noticing the other men's glances and feeling a strange swelling in his chest that he feared might be pride.

The door closed quietly behind them. Charm turned to watch him.

"There was only one room." Raven knew he had told her that before, but it seemed worth repeating. He hoped she wouldn't consider the fact that he
could
conceivably spend the night in the stable with the horses. "Would you like a bath?"

"What?"

"A bath." He grinned, knowing he shouldn't tease her. "I could wash your back."

Her lips parted in silent astonishment.

"Or not," he said, widening his grin. "But... you must feel gritty. I wouldn't look. In fact I could—"

"All right."

His jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes narrowed. Surely he hadn't heard her correctly.

"You did say you wouldn't look."

He
had
heard her correctly, for Christ's sake. For a second Raven was certain the world was coming to an end. He stood waiting for a bugle call, or something that would signal the termination of life as he knew it. But nothing changed, so he closed his mouth with an effort. "I don't think you understood me correctly."

"You said you wouldn't look if I took a bath."

By God, that was what he'd said, so why was he still living? Surely there was some kind of weapon close at hand with which she might attack him. "Maybe I lied."

"I don't think so."

The realm of unreality seemed foggy. "What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"When you lie you tighten your right fist."

Raven tried to think of something to say, some clever rejoinder, but no words came. It was as though he had broken through the floor and was now floundering for footing. What the hell should he do now?

"I'll, uh... order the bath," he said, and turned numbly away.

In a short while, the tub was filled by an Oriental woman with a quick smile and a limited use of the English language. Raven eyed the oval vat longingly, not because he felt dirty, but because he could imagine Charm in it, looking charming... and naked... and unarmed.

"I'll wait downstairs," he said, and using every bit of the self-control he thought he didn't possess, left again.

He wandered about town for a bit, checking on the horses before finding a poker game. But in the end, games of chance seemed unappealing, partly because he thought it wise to remain as unseen as possible, and partly because of his thoughts of Charm. Damned if she hadn't been flirting with him, and damned if he hadn't run out of there like a hound with a broken tail.

Finally he found his way back to the room to knock twice on the door. He knew he should wait for an answer. But he didn't, and when he stepped inside he found it impossible to think he had made the wrong choice.

Charm was there, standing in the middle of the room. Her long, mahogany hair was wet and slick, her sweet luscious body wrapped in a white sheet that she'd apparently yanked from the bed in the seconds before he'd entered.

"She took my clothes!"

Raven raised his brows and tried to think coherently. She had very nice shoulders. They were the color of rich cream and were smooth, not hidden by the sleek hair that was pushed behind her ears. "What's that?"