The Gambler (35 page)

What had he done? He'd married her—that's what. But it wasn't his fault. He hadn't meant to do it. It was simply that the options had been very unsavory. Marriage, or marriage with a leg wound. He'd chosen marriage—and look, he had the leg wound anyway.

Still, he'd kept his integrity. He'd planned to do right by the girl, which meant, of course, annulment. After all, he wasn't husband material. Look at his father. Or rather, don't look, because he'd never had a father.

And this woman—this...
girl
had not had a mother nor a true father. But still... Raven wandered close to the bed, leaning over it slightly to look into her face. Her hair was in wild disarray. It seemed to be everywhere, covering the petal-soft flesh of her shoulders, caressing the pillows. Her nose was very small, and her lips... her sweetly pinkened lips were upturned even in sleep.

Her childhood had been somewhat similar to his, and yet she was different. Not like him. Not like his father. But loyal, even to a man like Jude. Hell, she was even loyal to
Angel.

Something inside Raven's chest ached. Perhaps, he thought, if she could tolerate such obvious imperfections in others, she could also tolerate his. Maybe she could even love...

Raven pivoted away with a sneer. He didn't need her love. He didn't
want
her love. But... At the window he turned back. The distance between them now seemed vast and painful. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms again, to beg for her love.

God, what was wrong with him? What had happened to his pride, and how the devil had he gotten himself into this predicament? He'd not only married her, he'd
bedded
her for Christ's sake.

Something in his chest swelled, but he deflated it with firm practicality. She hadn't planned to marry him any more than he'd planned to marry her. She'd only agreed, in fact, to save his hide from her crackpot father. Who was, in fact, not her father at all. Which was a lucky thing, or their children would be in dire danger of inheriting the old man's derangement.

Children
! Raven almost moaned aloud. The fact was
he
was the deranged one. He was over the edge. Out of his mind! Insane! He couldn't marry. Never. He'd always known that, ever since the moment he'd realized his father wasn't coming back. For thirteen years his mother had suffered the humiliation and hardship of abandonment, and no matter how big a rat Raven knew himself to be, he would not put Charm through that.

He sighed and swept his fingers through his hair. True, she was beautiful, and true, she had a heart as soft as featherdown beneath her steely facade, and true also, he did love...

Raven jerked his mind abruptly into submission. He'd wake her immediately, apologize for his weakness, and explain the situation. In truth, it wasn't too late to annul the marriage, for surely no baby had been conceived by their one small slipup. Surely not. But what if one had?

He could feel sweat form on his brow. How long would it take to learn if a new life had been created? Four weeks at most. Probably far less. And it would take nearly half that time to reach St. Louis. That meant he could make certain she hadn't conceived before he delivered her to her aunt. He could then take care of business and collect his reward with a clear conscience.

Raven scowled. When had he developed a conscience? It was a damned nuisance of a thing, he reasoned, but looking at the girl again, he knew it was she that had changed him. Pacing forward now, he bent to shake her, ready to inform her of his plan.

But apparently their physical union was just what she'd needed for her insomnia. She slept on, only moaning softly in her slumber, and lifting one delicate shoulder in response to his touch. The movement urged her breasts even higher above the harsh stiffness of her corset, and seemed to cause Raven's breathing to come harder.

How could she sleep in that thing? It must be torturous. And her shoes! They'd never been removed. Somehow that knowledge made Raven feel even more like a dog.

Settling onto the mattress, he took her left foot in his hands to undo the ties. The second shoe and her stockings followed, but still her lovely, spring-green gown was crumpled about her waist.

"Wake up, Charm," he whispered, leaning across her body to settle his weight on one palm. "Let's get you undressed."

She smiled, a sleepy expression of childlike happiness that shadowed a dimple into one cheek, but did nothing to wake her. Such beauty! He was momentarily mesmerized by her, left speechless and breathless; he could no longer try to wake her. Perhaps, in fact, he should consider it a personal compliment that their lovemaking had helped her find the blissful sleep that the hat man had stolen from her as a child.

Her gown came away with little effort, and though the corset was more difficult to maneuver in the semidarkness, he finally managed it. Now she lay in nothing more than crotchless pantalettes and the heavy silky veil of her luxurious hair.

Raven blew out a sharp breath. Well, his job was done. He could sleep now. Seconds ticked away as he stared at her. He could sleep, he repeated to himself. But... he wasn't sleepy. Not the least bit. In fact... He reached out to gently touch her cheek then followed her satin skin down her throat.

It seemed no crime to kiss her neck, and then, when she didn't resist, there was no reason not to let his caresses slip lower, over the steep crest of a breast and down. Her belly was smooth against his lips, and when he kissed the tiny indentation at its center, she moaned softly, shifting her slim legs slightly so that he could see the dark mound of hair peeking out between them.

"Charm," he breathed, and somehow, like forbidden magic, he was stretched upon his side, with his arms about her luscious body and his kisses finding her mouth.

She came awake not with a start, but with a tiny whimper of desire, and suddenly he was within her inviting core and she was squeezing him with feverish vigor, arching against his need. He was a weak-minded fool, Raven told himself,but right now, at this moment, he was a fool in heaven.

*

Charm awoke slowly, without her usual jab of momentary terror, but with a niggle of soreness. She bent a leg and winced before pushing it back down and setting the bedsheet askew.

"I just covered you."

She opened her eyes, and he was there, settled into the room's winged chair with nothing but a blanket between him and mind-numbing nudity. Her gaze flitted to his bare chest then hurried to his face only to find
his
gaze was a bit to the south of her shoulders.

"But on the other hand," he said huskily, "I can't begrudge your restlessness."

It took her a moment to realize she'd uncovered her bosom. Almost regretfully, she slipped the tangled sheet up above the point of his interest. His gaze rose slowly, but the fire in his eyes failed to be extinguished.

"Good morning." Did his voice always have the rich flavor of hot coffee or was it different now? Was everything different?

"Good morning." Her own tone seemed pathetically pale next to his, and though she tried, she found she couldn't hold his gaze.

"Did I wake you?"

Somewhere in the depths of her foggy memory was a recollection of kisses on her belly button. Yes, it seemed he had awakened her. She blushed, clasping the sheet tighter to her chest and trying not to look at his face, but his chuckle was throaty and pulled her gaze irresistibly upward.

"I guess I did," he murmured, apparently sharing the very memory that caused the heat in her cheeks. "I hate to say it, but..." He smiled at her, and she realized, perhaps through years of study, that there was no longer tension in his face, only quiet good humor. "We'd best be going."

"Going?" The question was surprised from her. "Where? What about your leg?"

He rose with surprising suppleness. "I think you healed me."

Her blush turned to a raging flame but she kept her gaze on his now.

"I've gained passage for two on the
Yankee Belle.
It leaves for St. Louis in a little over an hour."

"But..." She scowled. "You told Bodine we'd not be leaving for..."

"If Clancy, damn his hide, knows we're going, he'll come along." Raven watched her expression carefully. "Personally, I don't think we need his company, Charm," he said, and crossing the distance between them, bent to kiss her. "Do you?"

She shook her head and murmured, "Not at all."

Raven sighed. "You can't imagine how happy I am to hear that. Now come on, sleepyhead, get up." Taking the sheet in one hand he tried to tug it from her grasp, but she kept a tight hold. "Charm," he cajoled with a grin. "Quit trying to distract me." He tugged again, but she held firm.

He gave her a quizzical expression and settled onto the mattress, letting his blanket fall away in soft folds that threatened to reveal everything.

"So..." He yanked gently at her sheet again, watching as it sprang back beneath her tight fist. "As I see it, there are two possible reasons for this little battle over the bedsheet. Either you're begging for my attentions yet again." He raised his dark brows and canted his head hopefully at her.

She said nothing, but darted her gaze to the bright light at the window before dragging the sheet closer to her chin.

"Humm," he said, noticing her white-knuckled clasp. "Or, perhaps you're embarrassed." He paused again, watching her.

Heat seeped steadily toward Charm's ears before draining downward to inflame her body.

"But what could you possibly be embarrassed about?" Raven asked, looking puzzled. "Certainly not by this." Leaning forward, he kissed her bare shoulder. The caress sparked like a crackle of lightning from the point of contact off in a thousand directions. Her gasp was soft and breathy.

"Or this," he said, kissing her throat. Despite herself, Charm's head fell back slightly.

"Or this." Feather-soft caresses touched the hollow of her throat, the ridge of bone below it, the point of her shoulder, and then downward, over the quivering length of her arm to her fingertips. Shivers of raging desire flamed upward until her breathing came in short gasps and her grip on the sheet loosened. Their gazes met, smoldering. "Or this," he murmured, and leaning forward kissed the peak of one breast revealed by the traitorous sheet.

A violent quiver shook her body, and now there was no stopping him, no wanting to. The linen fell away. His hands slipped beneath it, pressing it downward, over her hips, along the length of her quaking legs.

"Surely you could never be embarrassed about this," Raven whispered huskily and kissed her thigh just beside her curly tuft of burnt cinnamon hair.

"Raven!" She sat up with a jolt, her heart thumping like the engine of a runaway train, her breathing just as harsh.

"What?" he asked, apparently trying to emulate her shocked tone.

"We can't..."

"Can't what?"

"We can't..." She'd found the sheet again, and though she dragged it back to her chin, she feared, without looking, that it had snagged on something and hadn't quite covered the intended body parts.

"We can't?"

"No," she breathed, vaguely remembering a shotgun wedding and talk of an annulment.

"You're right. No time," he sighed and with a simple jerk of his wrist, whipped the sheet effortlessly from her hand.

She gasped, shocked to learn that the snag retaining the sheet had been his fingers.

But before she could make another move, his arms were around her and she was scooted up against the warm, bare expanse of his chest. "There's no need to be embarrassed," he whispered and kissed her until she melted like hot wax in his embrace. "But feel free to blush anytime. It's very becoming."

"Raven," she breathed weakly, but he stopped her words with another kiss.

"You're a shameless seductress," he scolded blithely and dropped her feet to the floor. "Trying to sway me from my righteous promise to return you to the bosom of your family."

"I..." She blinked at him, feeling lost, but he shushed her with a finger to her lips.

"Don't think you can tempt me with your wanton ways, girl," he warned, his expression somber now. "I'm made of sterner stuff."

Baffled, she pushed against his chest, trying to get away, but he held her tight against him.

"Still trying to tempt me, aye?" he asked. "Well, you can't." He pulled her even closer. "I'm incorruptible." He kissed her, the caress hot and deep and slow. "Pure." He kissed her again, deeper still. "Immovable in my quest for justice."

In that moment his shielding blanket gave up the good fight and slipped with a rush to the floor. Against her hip, she felt the hot, sharp thrust of his manhood, impatient and ever ready.

"Well..." He grinned, looking into her eyes. "Maybe not immovable. Try to dissuade me."

"You're terrible," she breathed, finally realizing the jest.

"Yes." He nodded. "You're right. Please talk me out of leaving."

"You're despicable," she scolded, pushing hard against his chest and finally gaining her release.

"Try to dissuade me, Charm," he pleaded, following her like an infatuated hound.

"No!" she exclaimed, backing away.

"Oh, come now. Try to tempt me. Entice me. Seduce me," he begged, and then, when she least expected it, he made a wild grab for her.

Charm shrieked, but the scream was caught on a giggle as she sprang for the bed. She stood in its center now, her legs spread and slightly bent as she prepared to fly in any direction. Raven grinned. Who would have thought he would ever see her thus?

"No need to act coy, girl," he said, twirling his imaginary moustache like a depraved villain. "I know you want me."

She lowered her gaze to his jutting manhood and actually gasped, whether from real shock or in feigned surprise, he wasn't certain. But he took no time to dissect the truth and leaped to the bed just as she launched herself from it with a scream.

"It's no use—"

"Hey!" came a shout with a sharp rap to their door. "What's going on in there?"

Charm and Raven froze like recalcitrant children, staring at each other with wide eyes.