The Gambler (28 page)

"Which means what exactly?" she asked, her tone perfectly level.

There was not the slightest bit of fear in her voice, Raven noticed. Three days ago he would have been thrilled by that fact. But three days ago she had asked to watch him undress and now she asked to watch him hang. Things were progressing nicely.

"Have a drink, Charm, maybe it'll help you sleep. It sure as hell will help me."

She remained silent and unmoving.

"It's just wine."

The little copse was quiet. The horses grazed not far away, stamping their hind feet now and then to ward off mosquitoes.

"You're scared to let down your guard, aren't you?" He watched her closely. "Still think there's not a man alive that can resist you?"

She knew he was trying to goad her into drinking, and she almost smiled to herself, for he was playing right into her hands. It was true, liquor did cause sleepiness. She'd seen it happen a thousand times. It was, in fact, one of the reasons she didn't allow herself to drink. Because she couldn't afford to relax. But this once she would chance it, for she was an insomniac and certainly wouldn't fall asleep now, not when her enemy was so near. Raven, on the other hand, was accustomed to getting a full night's sleep. Sleep he'd been deprived of lately. So she'd drink and encourage him to drink. Soon he'd be unconscious and she'd be gone.

"I think there's not a man alive that can resist anything," she said coolly, not wanting to give in too easily, lest he become suspicious.

"Well, you're wrong, my dear girl. Again. But I see you're too scared to take the challenge."

She held his gaze to the count of ten then lifted her tin cup.

Charm had never tasted wine, and though it didn't particularly appeal to her, it wasn't repulsive either. She drank slowly, taking small sips while she kept on planning. "So what are you going to do with the reward money?"

His brows rose as he lowered his cup. "Does this mean you believe you're Chantilly Grady?"

"No. I just think you're deluded, and that you believe I'm Chantilly Grady. But let's pretend I am, for argument's sake."

Jude often had visions of grandeur and would talk for hours about the things he would do when he became wealthy. And as he talked he would drink, until finally there would be no more words and he would fall into a drunken swoon. She had loved him even then, hoping that some day he would care enough to leave the liquor and talk anyway. "Will you build a grand house and live in style?"

Raven snorted softly and gazed into the rosy liquor. "I have no spectacular plans, Charm," he said and took another draught of wine from the metal cup.

"Not like Jude then. Not in that way at least."

Raven drained his portion and watched her. "Are you saying we're alike in other ways?"

“There are similarities."

Raven raised the bottle, pointing the top toward her. "More?"

"No. But go ahead."

He raised one brow. "Not unless you do."

Well, hell. She pursed her lips, wanting to give him her well-trained, sweet smile, but knowing he'd be suspicious. "All right. Just a little more." She was a nonsleeper. No matter what. A little wine wouldn't affect her, while a lot of wine would certainly affect him.

He filled her cup. "You were telling me about the similarities between Jude and myself."

She shrugged, wanting to keep him talking, keep him distracted from his impending drowsiness. "You sing."

He drank again and canted his head. "Most people sing, Charm."

"I don't."

"Never?"

"No."

They took a sip in unison.

"Anything else? Maybe even
more
significant?"

He was mocking her. "You both have black hair."

"Jude's hair is grey."

"Well, it used to be black. And his skin is dark like yours." Charm scowled. "Or used to be. When he was healthy. Liquor!" She turned her frown toward the contents of her cup. "It's an evil thing."

There was a momentary silence, in which Raven watched her face. It was beautiful with silly upturned lips and a pointed chin that boasted a tiny dent in its center. "Was he good to you, Charm?" he asked softly.

Her gaze lifted. "He saved my life." Her answer came quickly, as if she needed to say the words before he disputed them.

Raven was quiet, watching her. "Saved you from the hat man?"

She was on her feet in an instant, her eyes wild and her nostrils flared. "He wasn't my father! He tried to kill me! Broke into my room!"

Raven raised his gaze to her face but remained seated. "Some men deserve to die, Charm. Even fathers. I didn't say he wasn't one of them."

Her lips moved, and though Raven thought she would question him, she didn't.

"The hat man wasn't my father." Her tone was perfectly controlled.

She might be right, of course. Raven couldn't be sure his suspicions were correct. But he'd seen a brown tintype of Randall Grady. He had a lady-killer smile, fair hair, and a hat, tilted to the side. He'd been young and handsome and cocky when he'd given the photograph to Caroline. But how had he looked ten years later, when he'd written old lady Sophie concerning Chantilly's well-being?

Perhaps Raven was wrong, for it was all speculation, but the timing was right. Couldn't it be that Jude had somehow found Chantilly and taken her into his care? Then ten to twelve years later, Grady learned of Chantilly's whereabouts, tried to take her back, but was killed by Jude instead? Wasn't that possible?

"Do you know anything about the man Jude killed, Charm?"

"I know he wasn't my father," she snapped. "Jude wouldn't kill my father. Jude
is
my father!" She sounded near panic again and ready to flee.

Raven shook his head slowly. “There's nothing here to hurt you. No one to raise a hand to you. Sit down," he urged quietly.

She watched him, realizing with her gut as well as her mind that he was being honest, at least about that. He had never hurt her, despite all they'd been through. She returned stiffly to the log but sat on the ground now, with her back to its smooth expanse. "Sometimes I think I'm insane." She dared not look at him, for what if, in his expression, he showed that he agreed with her assessment and thought she truly had lost her mind?

"Show me a man without fear and I'll show you a lunatic." He stood slowly to pace the short distance between them and finally squat down before her. "You're not crazy, Charm. The world is. Sometimes. Crazy, and inexplicable and frightening. But you've no reason to fear
me."

He was very close, only a few feet away, with his warm mahogany gaze steady on her face and his strong hands holding the cup and bottle. "Here." He raised the wine. "Let's drink to peace."

She sighed. Peace sounded good. Even temporary peace. In the moonlight, Raven's hair shone with a deep sapphire gleam while his broad throat looked dark and smooth in the opening of his white shirt. "To peace," she said, and raised her cup.

He filled it and they drank together.

"All I want is to get you to St. Louis." Raven took another swig and, watching her face, knew he was lying, knew he wanted much more. "Then it's your decision. To stay with your kin there, or to return to Jude."

Her gut twisted and she tightened her grip on the metal cup. "It can't be true."

Silence. Deep and secret as the night.

"Jude's my father," Charm whispered into the quiet. "He said he was." She raised her gaze to Raven's, wanting the truth, yet terrified by the possibilities. "Why would he say that if it wasn't true?"

"Perhaps everyone needs someone to love."

His eyes looked to be a rich russet brown in the flicker of the firelight. For one undisciplined moment, Charm wondered if he spoke of himself. "He does love me, you know," she murmured, "in his own way."

Raven's gaze remained level.

"He does," she repeated, softer still, but he merely nodded and she scowled. "But how... I mean how..." Her voice cracked and she felt her throat bind with tension. "How..."

"Shhh," Raven whispered.

"I want to know how! How?" she cried in anguish, and suddenly Raven abandoned the bottle to wrap her in his arms.

For just a moment, panic swelled, but then her head dropped against his shoulder, drawn there by the incredible appeal of his quiet strength.

"I don't know what to believe," she whispered and shivered.

"Shhh, Lucky Charm."

She felt his hands on her back, and though she told herself to draw away, she failed to do so. "Was he really my father?" she asked hoarsely.

"I shouldn't have said that," he murmured, brushing his breath against the sensitive skin of her neck. "But back at the inn, when Jude and Clancy, damn his hide, busted in, I needed to get you out of there. Needed to leave right away. I knew you'd do anything to save Jude... even leave with me if I threatened his safety. But I was only guessing at the truth."

Charm could feel herself relax somewhat, which, perhaps, made no sense. "You lie all the time," she sighed.

"I know." He reached up, caressing her neck with gentle fingertips, brushing back her hair. "It's a gift."

"How do I know you're not lying about Eloise Medina? About everything?"

His lips grazed her ear.

She shivered and let her eyes fall closed. "Why would I do that?" he asked.

"I don't know. But you might have a reason."

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

"You must have thought of some possible scenarios." His fingertips traced the rim of her ear, raising goosebumps on her arms.

"Maybe you're going to..."

His lips replaced his fingers, making her gasp silently for breath and causing her mind to lose its line of thought.

"Going to what?"

"To take me to a... You know."

"No." He drew away slightly, watching her. She could feel his gaze on her face.

"To a... you know." She still couldn't quite say it. 'To sell my body," she whispered.

“This body?" His left arm tightened around her back, pulling her slightly closer, while his opposite hand skimmed, feather soft, down her throat. "There are a thousand things I could do with this body, little Charm. Selling it wouldn't be one of them."

She knew it was true. The idea had seemed ridiculous, even in her most terrified moments.

"Maybe you're a bounty hunter."

His fingers traced the outline of her homely bodice. "Have you done something for which a bounty would be warranted?"

She drew breath through her teeth, feeling his touch burn her soul. She'd had no way of knowing how a man's fingers would feel against her skin. "I stole a peppermint stick once. When I was six. I didn't mean to," she added quickly, feeling as if she had somehow slipped from her body into another dimension. "I thought Jude had paid for it, and..."

"That's pretty serious," Raven said and ever so gently, like the soft caress of a spring breeze, kissed her throat. "But the posse's probably given up the chase by now."

He was very close, pressed up against her, in fact, with his hard chest warm and his lips heavenly against her neck.

"Any other possibilities?"

"What?" She could barely force out the single word.

"Have you thought of any other reasons why I might want to abduct you?"

"Oh." The word was no more than a sigh, for his kisses had slipped downward and found the sensitive hollow between her collar bones. "Perhaps you're trying to seduce me."

His kisses ceased. She could feel him draw away, but only far enough to look into her face. Charm opened her eyes, finding his gaze warm and steady on her.

"Would I do that?" His voice was husky, his eyes fathomless.

Her nod was very stiff, and his kiss, when it came, was full force and hungry.

Charm could do nothing but answer back. Too many years had she been starved. Too many nights had she been lonely. Their lips slanted across each other's, their tongues touched and caressed. Sparks seemed to be ignited at every point of contact.

Breathing was harsh, hands shaky. His kisses hurried downward again, over her chin to her throat, where they spread out in a hot rain of sensuous stimulus.

"Charm, we should..."—his breath was warm against her neck—"we should stop."

"Please." Her arms tightened about him of their own accord. "Please don't stop. Please don't."

Somehow her buttons came open. She didn't know how and neither did she care. All she was certain of was that suddenly his hands were against her skin, and now the fire that he had ignited was spreading wildly lower, like a tide of pleasure.

Sleeves slipped from her arms, followed by his kisses, hot and exhilarating and breathtaking. Laces were loosened, straps eased downward and suddenly, inexplicably, she was naked, but for the blanket he had pulled about her shoulders. Her fingers reached for the buttons of his shirt. They fell open, revealing the hard, sloping planes of his chest.

Charm touched him with breathless reverence. She marveled for a moment at the beauty of him before he groaned and kissed her again, easing his body down upon hers.

They were hip to hip and heart to heart now. Everything from Charm's breasts to her loins ached with a burning need. And she could feel
his
need, could feel the hard shaft of his desire even through the unwelcome barrier of his pants.

Her arms were wound about his bare torso. Every inch of him felt hot—hot and sensuous and so lovely that she felt she would surely die of sheer ecstasy. His kisses were running wild again, leaving her lips to blaze new trails down to her shoulders and beyond. But her grip on him was too tight for them to go far, and so he returned with a groan to reclaim her mouth.

"Charm..." His breathing was very harsh. "Really, we must quit."

"No!" She pulled him more tightly against her, lifting her hips in an attempt to ease the burning ache there. "Please. I've never..." She pushed up again then caught her lip between her teeth as the pleasure of this new pressure momentarily overcame her ability to speak. "I've never felt like this before. It feels so... good." She pushed up again, feeling the heat of his desire press just so against her need.