Delilah's Flame (34 page)

“I’m waiting for you,” she responded crisply as she grabbed the saddle horn and tried to swing herself up, though she could barely reach the stirrup.

Tabor hurried to her side. “Let me help.” His hands closed around her waist, but instead of lifting her to the saddle, he pulled her aside and into his arms. “One kiss won’t hold us up too long,” he said softly. Crushing her to him, he kissed her long, savoring the honey-sweet softness of her mouth.

Lilah felt her knees weaken and all the little glass shards of temper melt like butter inside her. It gave her a grand sense of satisfaction to know he wasn’t immune to her at all.

*     *     *

“Sorry there’s no food,” Tabor said. “But cutting across like this, we ought to meet up with Sarah in another two hours.”

Lilah sighed wearily. She felt as if she would wear the imprint of a saddle the rest of her life. Riding had never been one of her favorite activities, and this horse lacked Darling’s smooth gait. She much preferred traveling by coach or train, and here she had spent the last two days astride a horse, this last day after almost no sleep. She was hungry and she was tired. Coupling that with the two experiences that had taken her to the depth and height of a lifetime, she wondered that she could even stay on the animal. How could she possibly last another day on the trail?

Tabor’s eyes were on her as he decided that his preoccupation with Lilah was the reason Chapman had been able to follow them yesterday without his being aware of it. What was there about her? He had known other women almost as beautiful, but none had ever taken over his mind the way Lilah had. Hell! Half the instincts he depended on to survive were gone. Yesterday he couldn’t think for wondering how it would be to make love to her. Today he couldn’t think for remembering how heavenly it had been.

His expression became almost somber but he still couldn’t take his eyes off Lilah. She had him bewitched, all right. He had thought making love to her would lessen his fascination. But now he wanted her again, more than before, enough that he was contemplating stopping the horses and...Tabor sighed heavily, trying to release some of the madness. If he didn’t break this spell Del...Lilah...had on him, he wasn’t going to be much of a man by the end of the week.

“There’s the wagon!” Lilah shouted. “Oh, Tabor,” she moaned. “Tell me we’re going to stop and make camp right away. Please. If we don’t, I think you’ll have to find a place for me in the chuck wagon.”

Too concerned about Tabor and Lilah to keep traveling, Sarah had already made camp. She was measuring out grain for the mules and horses when she saw riders approach. Noting the shotgun at her side, Tabor called out a greeting.

“By thunder! I’ve been worrying my hair white! Just sent the boys back up the trail to look for you.” Sarah put down the wooden bucket and took the reins of Lilah’s horse. Her eyes took in the girl’s appearance, not missing the tears and stains on the yellow dress. “Are you hurt, child?”

Grateful for Sarah’s assistance, Lilah got off the horse and welcomed a hug from the older woman. “I think Chapman scared a few years off my life, but Tabor found me in time,” she answered.

Sarah kept her arm around Lilah’s shoulder and led her to the wagon, noting that her young friend limped. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

Lilah insisted she wasn’t. “My feet are sore, but only because I didn’t have my boots out there.”

Sarah had a small straight-backed chair she kept tied on the side of the wagon. She hurriedly pulled it down and set it before Lilah.

“You sit down here,” she ordered. “I’ve got some water heating, and with a little of my liniment in it you can soak all the soreness out.” Sarah fetched the dishpan and a cork-topped bottle filled with a dark malodorous liquid. “Sure glad nothing is hurt but your feet,” she said as she poured hot water and liniment in the pan. “Who’s this Chapman varmint who hauled you off?”

“One about half as nice as a polecat, Aunt Sarah,” Tabor interceded. He didn’t want Lilah thinking too much about Chapman before she had a chance to rest. “He won’t be bothering anybody for a while. He’s nursing a bullet hole.”

Sarah looked up and frowned. “Something wrong with your aim, boy?” That wasn’t the only thing she wondered about, but she held her tongue. Tabor didn’t call her “Aunt” unless he had serious things on his mind.

Tabor grinned. Sarah never missed pointing out his mistakes. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he said, looking hopefully toward a couple of steaming pots and pans. “You got anything to eat on this chuck wagon?”

“Chicken and dumplings,” Sarah answered with a mischievous smile. “And hot biscuits on the fire.” She rinsed her hands and dried them on her apron. “‘Course I had to use a rabbit for the chicken, but you won’t notice that.”

Lilah didn’t. She was hungry enough to have eaten it raw and to forget the dainty attitude toward food that Aunt Emily had instilled in her. What would Emily do if she saw her niece licking gravy from her fingers and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand? Lilah laughed softly. She would brand herself a failure, that was what.

“Oh, Sarah.” Lilah looked down at her clean plate. “I’ve never tasted anything better.”

Sarah’s grin stretched the limits of her mouth. “Thanks,” she said. “You’ve sure got a rippin’ appetite for a city girl. I was expecting some persnickety miss who kept her corset laced tighter than a drum.”

“I usually do,” Lilah told her. “Papa says it’ll be the death of me and he fusses because I spend so much time and money on my wardrobe.” Thinking she might have cast her father in an unfavorable light, she explained further. “Oh, he likes for me to dress prettily and it isn’t as if he can’t afford my tastes. But he remembers my mother panning for gold beside him and wearing trousers and one of his old shirts. I think he’s always been afraid being brought up in London society might have made me forget the hard, plain way things were for us then.”

Sarah took the plate from Lilah’s lap. “I think he’s worrying for nothing. You’ve got pluck, girl. Being able to smile after what you’ve been through tells me there’s more to you than any society girl can boast. You aren’t put together from lace and perfume. No sirree, you’ve got pluck!”

It was a strange compliment but Lilah liked it. Even the terrible ordeal with Chapman hadn’t dispelled the good feeling she had about being out in the open land. She felt like a hothouse plant given a change to grow out in the garden. Life would never be even or smooth out in the wild. But it was free and exhilarating.

“Pluck or not, I think Lilah needs to rest.” Tabor finished a second helping of Sarah’s mock chicken and dumplings.

He had been quiet while they ate, letting the women have their say. Still he considered Sarah’s description of Lilah. It was one more line of the riddle about her. He already knew the Damon family were leading members of San Francisco’s high society. Lilah fit into it like she did her dressmaker gowns. As Delilah she didn’t let slide any luxury either. But to see her happy as a lark when she was dirty, tired, sore-footed, and a long way from a soft bed, well, that was a surprise. He had figured she would do well just to make the ride to the Cooke ranch. And by damn! It didn’t make her one whit less appealing.

“I could do with a bath. A big tub of hot water,” Lilah said dreamily. She winked at Sarah. “But I guess I can make do with a washpan and a towel. Just look at this dress.” With thumbs and fingers she lifted the stained and torn skirt a few inches. “Guess it’s back to the buckskins for me.”

Sarah gave her a washpan and a towel and all the privacy the blanket on the line could provide. After Lilah had scrubbed off the trail dust and changed her clothes, she set to work on the tangles in her hair. That took quite a while. When she emerged, looking as changed as a butterfly out of a cocoon, Sarah had a pallet laid out in the shade of a tree.

“You get in a nap,” she said. “The boys will be back here by dark. I’ll wake you then for supper.”

Lilah looked at the blanket and smiled, thinking of the one she had shared with Tabor the night before. The memory stirred a strange and restless yearning which completely overtook her. She glanced up at Sarah. “I’d like to talk to Tabor about something first. Do you know where he is?”

Sarah pointed at the woods. “There’s a small pool not far from here. He went to wash up.”

Lilah started off in the direction Sarah pointed, aware she really had nothing to say that couldn’t wait, but somehow knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she had seen him again. Up ahead she heard water splashing and a noise that resembled singing.

“Hurt yourself?” she asked, surprising Tabor in the waist-deep water. She hadn’t expected to find him undressed, but decided not to retreat. After all, Delilah wouldn’t.

He whirled around and frowned as if offended. “I take it you don’t think I’m good enough for the stage.”

Soft laughter floated up from her throat. “Not as a singer,” she told him. “But if we could get an audience of ladies together, we could parade you around like that.”

A slow smile ruffled his mouth. Lilah’s eyes ranged down from there. The dark mat of hair on his chest lay against his skin in damp curls. She remembered the crisp but silky feel of it under her fingers. A band of it tapered down in a furry trail over his belly, then thickened around his manhood. He was broad-shouldered, trim-waisted, and bands of muscles showed hard and strong beneath his skin even when he was relaxed as he was now. The clear water in the pool hid none of him from her eyes. She was a little dismayed that just looking at him could send a shiver of desire through her so quickly.

“And ladies would pay to see this?” Tabor waded out of the pool.

“Oh, I think they would,” Lilah said.

Tabor gave a carefree laugh. “Why aren’t you resting?” He dried himself with one of Sarah’s towels, bending, stretching, treating her to an exhibition.

Lilah’s voice caught in the back of her throat. “I’m too full to lie down,” she said, denying it was a longing to be near him that had made her restless. “I needed to walk around first. And...and I wasn’t sure I’d thanked you for saving my life.”

Tabor tossed the damp towel onto a bush limb. Still naked, he sauntered up to Lilah and stood very close. He could see the flush in her cheeks and noted the indecisive movements of her hands. At the moment she was having a little trouble being the bold Delilah, and that pleased him. Without warning he reached out and touched her shoulders with his damp fingers and ran his hands lightly down her arms.

“You thanked me plenty, sweetheart,” he said huskily. “But if you want to do it again, I won’t complain.” Tabor’s hands drifted from her arms to her waist, then up her rib cage, stopping only when they cupped her full breasts.

Momentarily stunned, Lilah swallowed hard as Tabor squeezed gently. She was aghast at the thought Sarah might walk up at any minute and find him fondling her. How embarrassing that would be. Sarah thought she was a proper lady, and Lilah would just as soon maintain that illusion. As much as she wanted to link her arms around Tabor’s back and yield to the sensations his caresses aroused, this wasn’t the time to let herself go. She had to be careful not to get tangled in those wayward feelings he turned on at will. She reminded herself that when this week was over, she wanted to forget Tabor and resume her life without him.

“Lilah?” His hands moved in magic circles. She realized his last statement had been a question of intent.

“No,” she said hurriedly, stepping back and blushing in full color at the change she saw in him. “Not now,” she stammered. “I mean...I only want to talk.”

Grinning, Tabor pulled her against him. “Talking about it is no fun, Delilah.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said breathlessly, and backed away. “I don’t want Sarah hearing it. You be sure you don’t slip and call me that name in front of her.”

“I’ll call you ‘sweetheart,’ then.” He caught her again and wrestled a resistant Lilah into his arms. His voice went low and throaty. “You’re sure you just want to talk?”

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling him against her, conscious of a rebellious lurch inside herself. She would have to be careful about toying with him. He got out of control too quickly; to say nothing of herself.

Tabor acted as if he hadn’t heard her reply. He lifted her in his arms and lowered his mouth to hers, teasing her with his lips until a whole new series of shivery delights flooded through her. She was shocked at how she responded to his kiss. As if pulled by an unknown force, her arms curled around his neck. She moaned softly under the heated press of his lips. He held her tightly in his embrace until time stopped and her consciousness ebbed and she would have agreed to anything he wanted.

Disappointment washed through her when he set her down.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to wait.”

Her legs were so weak she had to find a place to sit while he dressed. He stopped after donning his pants and boots and came and sat beside her. Lilah’s heart raced.

Tabor gave her a guileless smile. “You wanted to talk about lovemaking, I think.”

“No!” The word popped out. “Not exactly. I want to talk about us.”

“It’s perfect with us,” he said, looking into her eyes. “The way you move when I’m inside you is...”

Lilah’s cheeks flamed redder than her hair. “Not exactly that either,” she said stiffly. “What I want to talk about is me being Delilah. I don’t want anyone else to know, ever.”

“Didn’t I assure you I wouldn’t tell anyone you’re Delilah?”

“Yes, but...well...” She blushed again. “I don’t want anyone to know Lilah Damon isn’t as virtuous as she seems either.”

“I see.” Tabor reached for his shirt, deciding he needed a cigarette. He set about rolling one. “I suppose you have a good reason for being two people.”

“I do,” she said, pleased that he was being so cooperative. “But I can’t continue to be two women much longer. Next year when I marry Barrett I’ll have to give up being Delilah. So you can understand how crucial it is that I maintain my secret now.”

The casualness of her remarks struck him like a slap. So she still planned to marry Fenton and live an aristocratic life in one of those hillside mansions in San Francisco.