Delilah's Flame (16 page)

Cursing, Chapman shook his head to clear it. Thinking Chapman meant he had taken enough, Tabor stepped back. It was a mistake. Chapman yanked a knife from his boot and jumped up, mouthing another string of curses.

“Let’s see how you like the taste of my blade, you thievin’ bastard!” Face contorted, he sliced the air in front of Tabor’s belly. Tabor sprang back out of the way. Chapman lunged again, mising a second time. “You’ll get tired of doin’ them dance steps,” Chapman growled. “Then I’ll cut that claim out of you.”

Chapman’s third swipe hit Tabor’s upper arm and drew blood. It was only a scratch, but enough to send Tabor into a reckless rage. Yelling and spinning around, he shot out a kick that pounded into Chapman’s shoulder, a move he had learned from a Japanese warrior while in the Far East. The impact caught Chapman completely by surprise and toppled him to the ground. Before he could rise, Tabor stomped the hand that held the knife. Chapman quickly let it go.

“Get up, you beggar!” Tabor jerked Chapman to his feet and delivered two fast punches that quickly returned the man to the ground. This time Chapman made no effort to rise.

Tabor grabbed the knife and stabbed the blade into a tree trunk, breaking it off near the shank. He recovered the gun from the thicket and slid it beneath his gunbelt. With Chapman still lying groaning where he had fallen, Tabor unsaddled the man’s horse and tossed the saddle down beside him.

“I’ll leave your horse a mile or two down the road,” Tabor said. “Make sure our paths don’t cross again.” With the toe of his boot he lifted Chapman’s chin. “Agreed?”

Chapman nodded affirmatively, hatred for Tabor Stanton boiling in his blood.

*     *     *

Two hours later Tabor stepped into a steaming tub of water. Chapman’s fist had left a small purple mark on his cheek. He didn’t like the thought of going to dinner at the Damons’ with bruises on his face, but there was nothing he could do about it. He consoled himself that Chapman would be sporting a couple of shiners for a while. The cut on his arm was worse than he had thought, but a tight bandage had stopped the bleeding, and the pain was about gone. At least that wound wouldn’t show. He didn’t think Lilah Damon would be impressed by a man who got in gun and fistfights. For some reason he didn’t try to explain to himself, he wanted to impress Miss Damon.

The barber across the street from his hotel gave him a shave and trimmed his thick black hair into what he assured Tabor was the latest in men’s fashion. Dressed in the gray suit, maroon vest, a new shirt, and string tie, his boots freshly polished, Tabor rode out to Damon House.

*     *     *

“Lilah, are you certain you’re well enough to be up?” Emily Dearborn, who knew quite well that a woman who had fainted should remain in bed for at least a day, found her niece’s restless energy perturbing. Lilah had stayed in bed less than an hour after her swoon. During the night Emily had come in to check on Lilah and again found her niece up and pacing the floor in her nightdress.

“American women are hearty, Aunt Emily,” Lilah responded to her aunt’s objections. “I don’t think I really fainted at all.”

“Nonsense,” Emily insisted. “You were white as sheep’s wool and your skin like ice. You definitely had a case of the vapors.”

Lilah shrugged. “Well, it’s all over now. I do wish you would let me go downstairs. I want to see Papa. I’m sure he’s been worried.”

Emily smiled. “He was until the doctor assured him you had no serious malady. Clement found it rather amusing that Mr. Stanton affected you so.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lilah sputtered, her cheeks warming with a quick rise of heat. “Mr. Stanton had nothing to do with it. Bess laced my corset too tight and the exertion of going down the stairs took my breath. It’s that simple.”

“If you say so, dear,” Emily agreed.

Admittedly, Lilah was healthy as ever today, and much more animated than usual. But having seen Tabor Stanton herself, a spectacularly handsome man, tall and quite strong, Emily might have managed to faint in his arms had she been a young girl. The smile he had given her as she ushered him out of Lilah’s bedroom had been enough to melt her heart and start her questioning her negative opinion of American men. If all of them were like Mr. Stanton, perhaps Lilah wasn’t wrong to prefer this country.

“I
am
going down for dinner,” Lilah said, turning and resting her hands on the cool marble top of a turtle-backed table near the window. She stared out at the treetops until she was sure the high color she didn’t want Emily to notice had left her face.

“You do know your father has invited Mr. Stanton to dinner?”

Lilah nodded and delayed turning around. That worried her. But with almost a day to think about it, and from what she considered careful questioning of Ching and Dinah, she had concluded that only a twist of fate had brought Tabor Stanton to Damon House. She had immediately recognized him and assumed he knew her too. Fortunately she had been wrong. He had no idea the genteel Lilah Damon was in fact the woman who had left him unconscious and jailed in Yuba City. How could he?

Why her father was being friendly to one of the men who had injured him was also perplexing. Still another troublesome thought hit her as she at last turned around. How had he gotten out of jail? That fool Walsh Peregrine had promised Delilah that Stanton would spend the good part of a year behind bars.

She sighed resolutely. He was out and there was no help for it. She was quite certain he hadn’t recognized her yesterday, but how long could she count on her luck to hold? She dreaded joining her father and Mr. Stanton for dinner. But she needed to know how long Tabor would be in San Francisco. And she needed to assure herself he actually did not realize who she was.

Her dread vanished as her lips curled into a smug smile. If he didn’t know she and the nefarious Delilah were one and the same, she could make sure he never did. If necessary, she would instigate a plan to hasten his departure from the city. She would play the pampered banker’s daughter role so cleverly Tabor would never guess who she was. After all, she was Lilah Damon, rich, soft-spoken, the perfect lady. Delilah, with her brazen, seductive ways, was only a disguise—one soon to be discarded forever.

Dinah fortunately had never seen Stanton and had never been told the names of the six men on Delilah’s list. Given her addled state of mind lately, Lilah decided not to tell her tonight’s dinner guest was one of those men. Loo was still away visiting friends in Chinatown. Lilah, however, had no doubt she could handle Mr. Stanton alone. Hadn’t she done so once before?

Emily, alarmed by Lilah’s evident distraction, came up to her niece and placed an arm around her waist. “You seem too stimulated, dear. Perhaps you should rest a little longer if you plan to be up all evening.”

Lilah straightened her shoulders and brightened her face. She surprised her aunt by agreeing. “I will,” she said softly. “Since we’re having a guest, I definitely want to look and feel my best.”

Emily left Lilah’s room smiling to herself. She believed her niece had been affected by Mr. Stanton, even if she did deny it. In high spirits, Emily entered Dinah’s sitting room. She had promised the younger girl to help her learn some new embroidery stitches. Emily was glad Dinah learned quickly and the lesson wouldn’t take long. Lilah wasn’t the only one who wanted to look her best for Mr. Stanton.

Dinah put away the square of white linen she had been working on and got out her practice sampler when Emily came in. “Is Lilah better?” she asked. Dinah had her straight red hair smoothed back and fashioned into a large bun on the back of her head. The severe style made her look all of eighteen, which was exactly what Dinah wanted.

“Your sister is fine,” Emily told her, seating herself in a biscuit tufted chair and reaching for the sewing basket she had left beside it earlier. She took out cloth and needles and selected the silk threads she wanted. “Lilah isn’t actually engaged to Barrett Fenton, is she?” Emily asked, deftly executing a French knot in her sampler.

“She’s as good as,” Dinah said, and followed with a squeal of pain as she pricked her finger making a stitch.

Emily, who missed having her chatty London friends at teatime, lowered her voice as she would delivering a tidbit of gossip to that group of ladies. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the engagement never occurred.”

Dinah lost interest in her stitching and dropped her sampler into her sewing basket without even anchoring the needle. The green of her eyes deepened. “Why do you think so?”

Emily looked up. “Yesterday when I was giving her smelling salts, she said Mr. Stanton’s given name several times.”

“Oh,” Dinah remarked.

Emily nodded. “So I think Lilah is smitten with Mr. Stanton and doesn’t realize it. Why, when I met Mr. Dearborn I had almost the same reaction. He was so dashing and handsome in his cavalry uniform, it absolutely took my breath and made me quite giddy, as I remember. I fell in love with him that very minute.”

“Did he feel the same?” Dinah’s eyes glowed brightly. Aunt Emily had planted the seed of a remarkable idea in her head.

“Not as dramatically.” Emily smiled and gazed into the distance, remembering Giles Dearborn as he had looked that day. She had loved him deeply and known when he died she could never give her heart to another. With a sigh she went on. “Men don’t. But he proposed only a few weeks later. So you see, my feelings were right from the first.”

For a moment Dinah deliberated on what Emily had said. If Lilah did fall in love with this Tabor Stanton, it would solve all her problems. She tapped her chin with her forefinger. “You said you knew you loved Uncle Giles the moment you saw him. Has Lilah said she loves Mr. Stanton?”

“No, no, dear,” Emily said indulgently. She didn’t really expect someone as young as Dinah to understand these things. “Your sister is much too reserved. If she did have feelings for Mr. Stanton, she would deny them to herself and everyone else.” Emily folded her stitching in her lap and smiled to herself. “I imagine I’m being fanciful. Mr. Stanton reminded me a little of Giles and put romantic notions in my head. Why, we don’t know a thing about the man except that he’s handsome. Here it’s very difficult to know a man’s background.”

“Papa must like him,” Dinah said encouragingly.

“Oh, Clement. What does he know about such things?” Emily sighed as she considered the enormity of the problem. “There’s really no order at all in America. Mr. Stanton may very well be a...a cowpoke.” The term was one she had heard bandied about by the men on the ship. Emily had no idea what a cowpoke was, but it sounded to her like a man of low station. She laughed lightly. “And here I am matching him with your sister.”

Dinah laughed too as she retrieved her sampler from her sewing basket. “Show me the feather stitch again, Aunt Emily. I’m not satisfied with the way mine looks.”

*     *     *

Lilah dressed for dinner with exceeding care, choosing tiny pearl ear studs, a simple gown of white lawn with only a touch of lace at the throat. She pinned Marie Damon’s cameo just below the high collar and ordered Bess to style her hair simply. She wanted to look prim and innocent for Mr. Stanton. There must be nothing about her to remind him of Delilah.

“Bring me that bottle of lemon scent, Bess,” she requested of the Irish maid, one of the few servants at Damon House who was not Chinese. Bess had been Lilah and Dinah’s maid in London and had traveled to San Francisco with the sisters when they returned to their father.

“Why, Miss Damon,” Bess responded in surprise. “You’ve always said you didn’t like that perfume.”

“Oh, I know, Bess.” Lilah dabbed the scent behind her ears and on her wrists. “I’m simply in the mood for something different tonight.”

“I declare you look almost like you did as a little girl,” Bess told her, stepping back and taking a good look.

Lilah laughed, pleased at Bess’s assessment. It assured her she had successfully created the illusion she wanted. “Is Papa in the library?”

“Wan said he was just before I came in to do your hair.” She made a circle around Lilah, looking carefully at her mistress’s trim waist. “I haven’t laced your corset too tight tonight, have I? I wouldn’t have you fainting again.”

“No, it’s fine. I have bundles of room. And thank you, Bess, for taking such good care of me. You run along now. I’m going down early. I haven’t seen Papa in a whole day.”

Bess left and Lilah allowed a smug smile to steal onto her face. She believed she was actually going to enjoy tangling with Tabor Stanton again. He might have gotten away from Walsh Peregrine, but tonight she would learn enough about him to find a way to put him behind bars for good. Flushed with excitement, Lilah started for the stairs. Tabor Stanton wasn’t due for another hour. She hoped to feel her father out on his interest in the man.

She found the library excessively warm. Clement sat in his chair before a small fire. Poor circulation in his legs often caused him to feel chilled, and when that occurred he ordered a fire on even the warmest of days. Ching, eyes closed, sat in a Louis XV chair in the corner. Lilah didn’t delude herself the Chinese was actually asleep. She knew that somehow he watched through those closed lids as she tiptoed up behind her father and surprised him with a hug.

Clement spun his chair around to look at her. “I see my princess is well and fit again.”

“I feel wonderful, Papa. I hope you didn’t worry about me.” She gave him a series of kisses on the face.

“I certainly did,” Clement responded as if offended. “You give me so little opportunity to worry, I indulge myself when the opportunity arises.”

“Papa! You’re impossible!” Lilah cried in a girlish voice. “I think you would like it if I swooned and fretted and fussed constantly.”

“I most certainly would not.” Clement laughed freely. “I like my daughters just the way they are. Don’t change one bit.”

“I won’t, Papa.” Lilah pulled a chair close to her father’s. “Tell me about Mr. Stanton,” she said, hoping her voice sounded natural. “I like to know just a little about our dinner guests before they’re at the table.”