The River Nymph (19 page)

“Serve him right,” he muttered as he headed to his room.

Delilah fussed with her hair after her blissful bath, brushing it dry when the hotel maid knocked on the sitting-room door,
saying she was there to empty the tub and bring fresh towels. Delilah called out for her to enter. Almost immediately, she
heard the girl exclaim from the outer room, “Ooh, niver seen anything so grand, ma’am. Pure beautiful it is!”

Considering the less than
grand
décor of the hotel, she asked, “Whatever are you talking about?” But the instant she opened the door from her bedroom and
saw the green velvet gown spread across the settee, she stopped in mid-stride. It was the gown she’d tried on in Hermann and
refused to buy because it was too great an extravagance.

“How did that get here?” she asked, just as Sky appeared. “Uncle Horace didn’t—no, of course not. It was Clint. Did you put
him up to it? Because if you did,” she went on, not giving Sky a chance to reply, “it was a useless gesture. It required major
alterations.”

Sky, dressed in a blue silk creation that matched her eyes, grinned as she walked over to the gown and held it up. “Hmmm,
it looks as though it will fit now,” she said consid-eringly. “Why don’t you try it on and see?”

“Don’t be foolish. It hung on me like a sack. Besides, I refuse to accept such a lavish gift, especially from Mr. Daniels.
It isn’t appropriate and you know it.”

Sky let the rich velvet ripple, catching the light. “Don’t besilly. We’re in Bismarck, a stone’s throw from some of the worst
saloons west of the Mississippi. Propriety be damned. Just try it on.”

“Sure and it does match yer emerald eyes, ma’am,” the maid said encouragingly.

“Look at the lace. It practically drips from the bodice and sleeves,” Sky noted as she shook the gown slightly and the paler
green folds of handmade lace rustled enticingly.

“I’m not going to wear that dress,” Delilah gritted out, itching to touch the silky fabric as it changed colors with every
movement.

“You’ll really disappoint me. And just think, our next stop will be at Fort Berthold, where I’m rejoining my father’s people.
It may be a year or more before we see each other again. Please, Delilah.” Sky held out the dress cajolingly. “You won’t be
able to attend the play or have dinner if you don’t wear it.”

“Of course I will. I’ll wear—” She stopped in midsentence and looked from Sky’s triumphant face to the maid, who stood between
the two women, a frightened expression on her face. “Where is the dress I asked you to lay out?”

“Ma’am, yer uncle, Mr. Mathers, ’twas he who told me ye wouldn’t be needin’ it. He said ’twas yer wish.”

“Everyone conspires against me. Well, it won’t work. I shall remain in my room and order a meal sent up,” Delilah said stubbornly.
Try to trick her, would they? Horace should’ve known better, even if the arrogant Clinton Daniels didn’t.

“I’m afeard that won’t work, ma’am. ’Tis that sorry I am, but this establishment has no kitchen.” Now the maid was wringing
her hands, looking pleadingly at Sky.

Smugly, Clint’s little sister said, “Unless you want to eat saloon fare and pack a gun, the only restaurant is the one where
we have reservations to dine before the play. You’re going to disappoint your uncle as well as Clint and me.”

“Then I’ll return to the boat.”

“Don’t you remember? Luellen, Sadie and Beth have taken a well-earned day off, too. They’re here in town. Can youcook, Delilah—or
do you want to ask one of them to return with you and fix your supper?”

Delilah sighed. “You’re making me feel petulant and ungrateful, spoiled as a Philadelphia debutante.”

“Oh, I suppose that means you’ll wear the dress and join us for the evening then,” Sky said innocently, shoving the velvet
gown into Delilah’s arms.

Against her will, her fingers caressed the incredibly soft lushness of the fabric. “It will hang on me like a tent, but I’ll
wear it—on one condition only: I must pay your brother for it.”

Sky’s mischievous grin really broadened now. “You can take that up with him over dinner.”

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Did Clint teach you to manipulate people, or did it just come naturally?”

“My education was most varied and unconventional…but my brother did supervise it.”

To Delilah’s amazement and perverse aggravation, the gown fit perfectly. Clint must have paid the parsimonious German seamstress
in Hermann a great deal to alter it before the boat departed. She walked down the stairs to the hotel lobby with Sky, who
had already exclaimed over how perfectly it matched her eyes. By the time they reached the landing, a few women were staring
enviously, but their admiring audience was primarily male.

She could see her uncle watching them, smiling gently.
Brutus
. But it was the tall, blond-haired man beside him who held her attention. Pale blue eyes glowed in his darkly tanned face.
His overlong hair was tied back in a queue and he wore one of his custom-tailored suits. This one was midnight blue with a
snowy ruffled shirt and gold cufflinks. Even his black boots were hand-tooled and gleamed in the light. Clint Daniels looked
handsome as sin and he knew it. Delilah could feel the heat stealing into her cheeks as his eyes swept over her and his smile
widened in appreciation of the low-cut bodice of the gown.

Clint couldn’t erase his grin and knew he must look like a lovesick puppy hoping for a pat on the head. But damn, she was
splendid! The lace dripping from the neckline swayed softly with every breath she took. When he focused on the sun-gold skin
rounded enticingly above her bodice, his breath caught. He could span her waist with his hands and knew she wore no corset—not
that he’d mind undressing her just to make certain…no, best not to entertain that thought. His breeches were getting
uncomfortably tight already.

He started walking toward the women, making an elegant bow as he reached for their hands to assist them from the bottom step.
“Evenin’, ladies. Your beauty outshines the morning star.” He saluted Sky’s hand first, then gave it over to Horace, who made
his bow. The two of them swept ahead, leaving Clint and Delilah behind. When he attempted to take Delilah’s hand, she pulled
back and stepped down by herself.

“There’s something we must get straight, Mr. Daniels,” she said briskly. “About this gown. It—”

“You can’t say it doesn’t fit perfectly now, can you?”

“You know quite well it does, but the gift is inappropriate and a gentleman would know that.”

“Being no gentleman, as you’ve often reminded me, I bought it anyway.”

“Being a woman of business and independent means, I insist on paying you for it,” she countered.

He seized her gloved hand and tucked it into his arm, striding toward the door. Without causing a scene that would embarrass
her uncle and Sky, she could do nothing but allow him to lead her across the lobby toward the waiting carriage outside.

“Pay me for it, hmmm.” He appeared to consider. “Well, that might be a little rich for your bankroll right now, Deelie, seeing
as how the alterations cost as much as the gown.”

“The seamstress has a good eye for fitting. I’ll pay whatever she asked.”

“She didn’t take your measurements. I gave them to her. She just followed my orders,” he murmured, looking down at the way
the velvet and lace hugged her breasts and waist.

Delilah jerked her hand from his arm as they stepped into the cool night air, then fussed with her wrap to keep from throttling
him. She could well imagine him describing the way he wanted the gown to mold to her curves. “You, sir, are a sharp-eyed lecher.”

“A body needs sharp eyes to play cards, but then you know that,” he replied, gallantly, helping to fold the heavy satin cloak
over her shoulders.

His fingers seemed to burn through the fabric and she could remember the feel of them, warm and deft, caressing her bare skin.
“I insist on paying for the gown, alterations and all,” she whispered fiercely as he helped her into the carriage where Horace
and Sky sat, chatting placidly.

Observing the two bickering, lovestruck young fools, Horace smiled and actually winked at Sky. Things were going quite well.
Serenely, she smiled in return.

“Tell you what,” Clint said to Delilah, “when we split up our profits at the end of the trip, you can pay me then. Fair?”

Delilah knew they had precious little cash now and might require it for emergencies. Heaven only knew what that seamstress
had extorted from him to do the work in such a short time. “Fair enough,” she said, knowing her tone of voice sounded grudging.

The Grand Northern would not have rivaled the finest restaurants east of the Mississippi, but it did offer spotless white
linen and sparkling silverware. The dishes were even bone china. If the menu leaned heavily toward steaks and other beef dishes,
the meal was as well prepared as any Luellen Colter could offer, and the portions were ample. To her surprise, Delilah found
herself enjoying conversation and food away from the dangers and hardships of the river.

“Imagine seeing Shakespeare performed in Dakota Territory,” Sky said, her eyes gleaming with pleasure as she sipped a cream-laced
cup of coffee. “Although I’m sure it won’t be up to the standards of Eastern cities.”

“I doubt this rendition of
Hamlet
will fall —trippingly onthe tongue,— ” Horace replied dryly, wiping his mouth with his napkin after finishing a large piece
of custard pie.

Clint chuckled. “Oh, you’ll get a great deal of —sawing the air too much,— and —the town crier speaking the lines,— against
the Prince’s instructions.”

Horace’s eyebrows rose. “You continue to surprise, Clint, quoting the Bard.”

“Hamlet’s speech to the players, Act Three, Scene Three, I believe,” Delilah could not resist adding. Mr. Daniels had already
blindsided her with his self-taught knowledge. Now he was showing off for her uncle.

“Scene Four,” Clint corrected, sipping his black coffee.

“I’m certain it’s three.” She looked at Horace, the final arbiter in all things pertaining to classical education.

He shook his head and chuckled. “I’m afraid I would be as foolish as Polonius to arbitrate this dispute. Let us enjoy the
play and then you will find who is mistaken.”

“Show off,” Delilah said sotto voce to Clint as he pushed her chair away from the table so she could rise.

“Deelie, you’re so easy to tease. How could I resist…and you’re right, it is Scene Three.” He loved it when she gave
him that startled, caught-off-guard look. It made her appear as innocent as a young fawn…although he knew from experience
she was quick, clever and ruthless when she wanted something.

Well, so was he. And he wanted her in his bed more than he had ever imagined he’d want a woman again. The question was, what
would he be willing to risk to get her there?

Chapter Fifteen

The
play was every bit as horrible as they had anticipated, but they all enjoyed it in spite of dreadful actors, collapsing scenery
and even an off-key piano during the intermission. “My favorite part was Hamlet stabbing the right side of the curtain and
Polonius falling through the left side,” Sky said as they walked from the theatre.

“The castle battlement tumbling into the audience in the first scene wasn’t bad either,” Clint added with a chuckle. “I told
you not to expect much, but this was actually fun.” What had been most enjoyable of all was watching Deelie laugh out loud,
something he had never seen before.

Horace looked about for a carriage, and saw only one pulling up. “I’m afraid it will not carry a foursome,” he said, inspecting
the small two-seater.

“You had no trouble engaging a large carriage for the trip from the hotel,” Delilah said suspiciously to her uncle. Horace
looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes.
No doubt he
hopes the dim light will conceal his smugness.

“That was at the hotel. I imagine the larger conveyances have already been engaged. We could put the ladies in this one and
walk the distance,” he ventured, ignoring Delilah and speaking to Clint.

Daniels shook his head. “Not a good idea, two women alone in Bismarck.”

Delilah cursed herself for not bringing her Derringer. “I’m certain Sky and I can fend for ourselves,” she said.

“You haven’t seen how rough river towns can be. I think itwise if we each have a male escort,” Sky said, sidling over to Horace.

Delilah knew they had hatched this plan well in advance. “Uncle Horace, you and I should walk. Let Sky and Mr. Daniels take
the carriage.”

“Nonsense, my dear. Clint is familiar with the town and has his sidearm. I have every confidence that you will be quite safe
with him for the few short blocks from here to the hotel.”

Delilah smiled up at Clint. “Why is it that I feel less safe when I am alone with you, Mr. Daniels?”

“Too vivid an imagination?” he suggested with a grin.

The driver reined in directly in front of them before she could make a retort. Horace moved with startling alacrity, assisting
a preening Sky into the carriage, then following her with the words,“We shall see you in the morning.”

Delilah turned to Clint. “Were you in on this transparent little arrangement?”

“They’re about as subtle as a buffalo stampede, aren’t they? But then, I guess everyone on the
Nymph
expects us to pair up. Crew’s making bets on how soon.”

Delilah stiffened, horrified. “No!You’re making that up. Sky and I were so careful when we returned from the pool and—”

“They started talking a long time before that. Just seein’ us fight makes it clear what we both want, Deelie. At least I’m
honest enough to admit it.”

“Don’t you mean vulgar and lascivious enough?”

He shrugged. “There goes your imagination—thinking those vulgar, lascivious thoughts again,” he said with a grin, offering
his arm. “Shall we walk, ma’am?” She stomped ahead, refusing his arm. He let her go for several paces before calling out,
“You’re going in the wrong direction, Deelie. That way’s the saloon district.”

On the trip from the restaurant to the theatre, she’d paid no attention to the turns the carriage had made. She’d been too
aware of Clint sitting so close beside her, his muscularthigh brushing against her skirts. She had tried to engage in light
conversation to keep her mind off how splendid he looked and how luxurious the green velvet gown felt against her skin. Almost
as wonderful as his hands…She stopped abruptly, realizing that she was being just as lascivious as she’d accused him
of being.

She turned and faced Clint Daniels. “All right, you devil. Let’s walk—and talk about our situation.”

The forthright expression on her face almost gave him pause. Clint knew he was in a high-stakes game holding a pair of deuces.
In spite of the cautions his mind gave out, he extended his arm again and tucked her hand around it, then started slowly walking
in the opposite direction. “What are we going to do, Deelie?”

“Well, you could begin by not calling me a name better suited for a pet dog,” she said mildly.

Clint threw back his head and laughed. “You’re hardly a pet. If only this were so simple. A rose by any other name…”
He leaned toward her and inhaled the soft fragrance of her hair. He could feel her response and knew she was equally sensitive
to him as he was to her. “I want you. You want me. And”—he hurried on when she was about to protest his last statement—“we’re
going to be on that boat, working side by side, for weeks yet—with my little sister and your uncle throwing us together at
every opportunity.”

“But they expect a different outcome from their matchmaking than do you or I,” she said flatly. “I don’t want to marry you,
Clint. You don’t want to marry me. We both know it would never work out. We’re from different worlds, even if we are both
gamblers.”

“Then I propose a gamble,” he said after several strides in silence. He could feel her tense and stop.

“And that would be?” she asked.

“This,” he said raggedly, drawing her into his arms and pulling her beneath the shadows of a large storefront entryway. His
mouth descended on hers, swiftly and hungrily, but still waiting to see if she would answer in kind.

A kaleidoscope of sensations and muddled thoughts tumbled through her body and brain as she returned his kiss with equal passion.
Her arms were suddenly around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers. Her breasts pressed against his ruffled shirtfront, tingling
from the aching need for his hands and mouth to be on them. This was madness. This was heaven. This was inevitable.

After a few moments of exchanging fierce kisses and caresses, their bodies molded together until each felt they would melt
into the other. Clint broke away, holding her shoulders, laboring to catch his breath. His eyes swept up and down the deserted
street. “This isn’t safe…”

She could hear the catch in his voice and had felt the pressure of his erection even through the heavy velvet of her skirt.
That he had the control to stop when she would most probably have lain down on the wooden sidewalk appalled her. Delilah had
always prided herself on her self-discipline and coolness under pressure. This was not a gaming table, but it surely would
be a gamble—the biggest one she’d ever taken in her life.

In the calmest voice she could muster, she said, “Nothing about the two of us together is ever safe, Clint, but you’ve made
your point. Yes, we desire each other. So, for the duration of the voyage, if we’re very discreet, perhaps we can be lovers.”
The moment she said the words, she could not believe she’d had the courage—or was it insanity—to utter them.

His expression was far from triumphant. If it had been, she’d have slapped him and walked away. But he looked at her with
naked desire firing his eyes as if they were glowing coals. “My room is at the end of the hallway. We can use the servant’s
door in back. Horace and Sky won’t expect to see us until morning.”

Delilah nodded. “Let’s go then,” was all she said. She knew she would pay dearly before this was over, but for the moment,
that did not matter at all.

They walked the short distance to the hotel quickly, neither of them saying a word. He led her around the back andtried the
service door. It was open. He held it, gesturing for her to enter. “You must have a good deal of practice sneaking women into
your quarters,” she said.

“Never had reason to hide what I was doing before,” he replied as they climbed the narrow wooden stairs and he used his key
to unlock the end door.

Delilah thought fleetingly of his dead wife. Of Indian customs. Had they simply come together without formal vows? In spite
of her extensive education in white society, Sky appeared to have no problem with the morality of sending Clint to the pool,
knowing that nature would take its course. Before Delilah could consider that troubling thought further, he swept her into
his arms and carried her inside the room, kicking the door closed behind him.

When he put her down beside the bed and reached for the gaslight, she almost asked him not to turn it up, then stopped. She
did want to look at his body, just as he wanted to look at hers. No fumbling in the dark, no false modesty. She was not a
schoolgirl any longer. Instead, she watched the flickering shadows cast a golden glow around his head. She brushed a long,
straight lock of hair from his brow.

Clint took her hand in his and kissed the palm, then placed it against his chest so she could feel the pounding of his heart.
“Unfasten my shirt studs, Deelie,” he commanded softly as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it carelessly across
a chair. Then he reached over and started to pull the pins from her hair.

Delilah did as he asked, a simple task she’d often performed for her uncle since he found it difficult to do with a crippled
hand. But this was utterly different. Clint wore no undershirt. Instead, as the ruffles gaped open, she could see that mat
of pale hair with the hard muscles tensing beneath, remember how crisp and enticing it had felt when she’d run her fingers
through it. Her hands were clumsy at first, and she dropped one of the gold fasteners.

“Let them fall,” he said hoarsely when she stooped to pick it up.

With that urging, she worked faster. By the time she reached his belt, she grew bold, tugging the shirt from his breeches,
smoothing it from his broad shoulders.

“Cufflinks,” he murmured to her, holding up one wrist while his other hand teased light, circling patterns across the bare
skin above the bodice of her low-cut gown. When she unfastened one, he changed hands.

“You’re driving me mad,” she whispered, feeling her breasts ache as his fingertips brushed so near…yet so far.

“Oh, I’ve barely begun,” he replied, tossing the shirt behind him. “Now I’ll be your maid.” His hands cupped her shoulders,
turning her so he could reach the buttons running down the back of her gown. As he worked, deftly unlooping velvet-covered
buttons, his mouth brushed away her hair and found the bare skin at her nape. He trailed soft kisses around her neck, then
down her sensitive spine. A surge of primitive delight filled him when she shivered with pleasure and arched her back.

Delilah tugged the heavy gown down her arms and stepped out of it. Clint took it from her and laid it carefully across the
chair. “It really is lovely,” she said. “Thank you for the trouble you went to.”

“Not nearly as lovely as its owner, but my pleasure,” he replied, letting his eyes sweep hungrily down her body, clearly outlined
through the sheer silk and lace undergarments she wore. “Now, darlin’, your valet services are required once more.” He looked
down at his breeches, stretched out by his erection. “Damned uncomfortable,” he murmured, yanking off his boots and stockings.
He stood half-dressed, waiting to see what she would do.

Delilah’s mouth went dry as she stared at his belt buckle. Did she dare? How could she not? She reached over and unfastened
it, then set to work on the buttons closing his fly. When she inadvertently brushed his straining staff, he gasped an oath
of pleasure as it sprang free. He shucked both suit pants and underclothes down his legs. Now he was fully naked, aroused.
Her breath hitched. She let her gaze roamover his body, tracing each scar, the patterns of hair, his muscles and sinews, all
so magnificently male. “Yes, I do desire you,” she admitted, oddly liberated by her confession.

Clint’s smile was rueful as he glanced down at himself. “You can see the feelin’s mutual. Lordy, woman, you are a sight to
tempt a saint—and we both know I’m not one.” She stood in her undergarments, silk stockings and high-heeled slippers, not
moving back an inch as he stepped closer, picked her up and deposited her on the bed behind them.

Very slowly, he peeled down one stocking, kissing her inner thigh, the sensitive place in back of her knee, even her toes
after he tossed the slipper across the floor. His fingers encircled her slender ankle. “Your legs are so long, so lovely…” He was rewarded by her little moans and wriggling movements as he repeated the process on her other leg. By the time
he completed the task, she was writhing on the mattress. He leaned over her and unlaced the strings holding her chemise, then
shoved it down her arms, baring her breasts to the cool night air.

When her nipples hardened into two tiny pink buds, he brushed one, then the other with the heat of his mouth. Her hands drew
him closer, locking behind his neck, while her fingers dug into his long, thick hair. He took one hard, pink nipple in his
mouth and suckled, teasing it with his tongue until she moaned again. His hand caressed the fullness of the other breast before
he replaced hand with mouth.

Delilah arched her spine, letting the exquisite pleasure sweep over her. When she felt the scalding heat of his staff against
her thigh, she took the hard member in one hand and stroked it boldly, eliciting a growl from him.

“Better stop…before I lose control,” he gasped, reluctantly pulling her hand away. He slid down her chemise and pantelettes,
pausing to kiss the concave silky skin of her belly and let his tongue swirl around the hollow of her navel before he rid
her of the last of her clothing. While it floated to the floor at the foot of the bed, he lay down beside her and took her
in his embrace.

She went eagerly, trapping his staff between her thighs and pressing. “Consider yourself my prisoner, sir,” she whispered,
kissing his ear.

“Oh, Deelie, I think we’re both captives.” He rolled her atop him so she straddled his hips. At her startled look, he said,
“Let me guide you.” He took his hands and lifted her above his erection, teasing her soft feminine heat by lowering her just
close enough so the head of his penis stroked back and forward.

His eyes glowed in the gaslight, devouring her breasts, moving lower to gaze at the place where they were almost joined. Delilah
watched his expression, rolling her hips, uncertain about this strange new position. She felt utterly vulnerable, yet at the
same time in complete control.
What a
shameless hussy I’ve become.
She could stand it no longer. “Now,” she said through gritted teeth, impaling herself in one swift, hard stroke.