Delilah's Flame (37 page)

“You and Sarah seem to be getting along fine.” He couldn’t get used to seeing her sitting in the parlor where he had spent so many nights with Sarah and his mother. It still amazed him that Lilah took to this life with ease. She hadn’t complained once since that first day on the trail. No. He reconsidered the moment of change. Since he had made love to her she had been a different woman.

“I like Sarah,” Lilah said, interrupting his recollections.

His eyes hung on her, maybe rudely, but she was beautiful as a mountain sunset and so desirable he ached to sweep her into his arms and carry her up the stairs to his room. But she was too concerned about her reputation to stand for that. So he smiled in a way that let her know what he was thinking. Banked fires of passion lit her sky-blue eyes in response. His sweet strumpet was torn between doing what she wanted and doing what looked right. Making love to her was permissible only if it was done in secret.

The little firebrand was afraid to acknowledge what he aroused in her. But why should he worry over it when she was so warm and willing in his arms in secret? Couldn’t he be content with that?

Tabor finished his wine and took his glass to the cabinet near the front window. He stood there a moment, staring into the inky darkness. She might not say so, but she acted as if she felt differently toward him than when they had started out. Or was that an act too? He sure had messed up today, bringing Sally Ann by the house. Trouble was, he didn’t know if that killing glance Lilah had given him when he carried her trunk in had been because she was embarrassed about being caught in Sarah’s dress or because she was jealous of seeing him with Sally Ann. With a woman it was difficult to tell which was more important.

She didn’t seem mad now, though. He wondered if she would put up a fight if he slipped into her room later. He didn’t want her feeling embarrassed around Sarah, so maybe he shouldn’t push it. Dammit! He sounded spineless as a milksop. Why didn’t he just ask her? Tabor spun around, but the words died on his lips. Lilah lay slumped against the back of the wing chair, sound asleep.

Sarah helped Lilah into bed. Tabor waited for her in the parlor, disappointed that tonight he wouldn’t have anything more real than his dreams to keep him company.

“She’s sleeping like a lamb,” Sarah said, rejoining him in the parlor. “The girl’s been needing this rest since you got her away from that no-good Chapman.”

Tabor frowned. He hated bringing it up, but this was as good a time as any to tell Sarah what he had learned from the sheriff about Chapman.

“Roscoe had a poster on him,” he said. “It was an old one, so he had to go through a stack, but the name rang a bell with him and he wouldn’t quit until he found it.”

“What’s he wanted for?” Sarah didn’t like the look in Tabor’s eyes.

Tabor shook his head, because even now, even after what had almost happened to Lilah, he couldn’t believe a man capable of such a crime. “Turns out Chapman once took up preaching about five years back. Even had a little church and a congregation that thought highly of him. He passed himself off as a sinner back in the fold, ready to lead others to salvation. Trouble was, nobody bothered to ask just what Chapman’s sins had been.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Sarah said flatly.

Tabor sighed wearily. “It doesn’t get better. Seems his ‘weakness of the flesh’ is just that. He likes to molest women, usually young girls. He sweet-talks them off somewhere alone and...”

“What?”

“The man’s a lunatic, Sarah. He strips them down and bites them all over. He’s never raped anybody, but what he does is worse. The last one, at least the last one anybody knows about, was a young girl in his congregation. He used a knife on her too. The poor kid died of shock, but not before she identified Chapman. Later others came forward and told a similar story, but too late. Chapman got away and just disappeared.”

Sarah said nothing for a long while, just sat thinking how close Lilah had come to meeting that same fate. “You told Lilah about this?”

“No and I don’t think I will right away. I wrote to Clement about it, though, and told him I’m keeping a guard out all the time.”

Again Sarah sat for a long time without speaking. “You should have killed him,” she said at last.

“I know.” A little while later Tabor breezed out, heading down to the bunkhouse for the smoke Sarah didn’t allow in her parlor. He also wanted a drink of something stronger than homemade wine.

*     *     *

“Is Sarah gone?” At midmorning Lilah showed up in the kitchen just as Tabor came in the back door for a refill of coffee. “I’ve called and looked through the house. I was about to see if she was down at the barn.” Her eyes and voice were still heavy with sleep.

Tabor half-turned from filling his cup at the stove. In moss-green muslin she looked as cool and fresh as the first leaves of spring. Her red-gold curls were piled loosely on top of her head, and already tendrils twisted and trailed from the knot. He was right back where he had been last night, with the yearning for her leaping through his body. He had waited around, thinking maybe he would tell her about Chapman, but with one look he postponed it again.

“She’s gone.” He set the coffeepot back on the stove top, forgetting to offer Lilah a cup. “Bris Franklin’s wife, Millie, is in labor with her first child. Doc Flynn is out of town, so they sent for Sarah to midwife.”

“She does that?”

Tabor crossed to the kitchen table. “She brought in half the babies, calves, and foals around here. She’ll be gone all day.”

Lilah found the coffeepot on the back of the stove and poured a cup for herself. Tabor had drawn a chair out from the table and straddled it. Lilah seated herself in another one. “How do you know she’ll be gone all day?”

He supposed she wouldn’t know much about such things. A girl in her station would be shielded from such gritty realities. He smiled softly.

“Because first babies take a long time, and then she’ll stay around until she’s sure Millie’s all right. She won’t be back before nightfall.”

Lilah’s skin prickled at the thought of the empty house, Tabor, and no one to disturb them. She forgot all about wanting breakfast. Tabor looked wildly appealing in denim pants and a faded blue shirt. His black hair gleamed, lit by a bright stream of light from the kitchen window behind him. Days on the trail had darkened his skin to an even deeper golden color. His smile was placid, but a faint glow of hunger shone in his dusk-gray eyes.

A wave of longing swept through her, banishing all the wrath she had once held for him. Her heart sang out like a caged bird that had been set free. With Sarah away she had no need to hold up a false front. How stimulating it was to simply drop her pretenses and to do what she felt.

Her face must have involuntarily shown what she was thinking, for suddenly Tabor put aside his tin cup and rose from the chair. He strode toward her, taking the half-empty cup of coffee from her hand and leaving it to cool on the kitchen table. As if he were inviting her to dance at a cotillion, he took Lilah’s hands and drew her to her feet.

Tabor whirled her around on the kitchen floor where a patch of sunlight spilled through a window. Lilah laughed wholeheartedly, caught up in the excitement of his surprise, hearing music in her ears.

“We must look ridiculous,” she insisted as he waltzed her around his abandoned chair.

“Do you feel ridiculous?”

She laughed again. “No! I feel wonderful.”

“I used to watch you onstage and wish you would dance into my arms,” Tabor said, twirling her from the kitchen through the hall and into the parlor. “I watched you drive men to a fever pitch. I saw them looking at you so hard their eyelids wouldn’t blink. Every one of them as starved for you as I was, and hoping the light of that mirror would shine in their faces. You’re a witch on that stage, Delilah. Do you know it? A beautiful, enchanting witch.” He spun her around, her feet and skirts fluttering in the air.

“No one ever called me that.” She smiled gaily. She felt like a witch, a wonderfully light one flying through the darkness, but with nothing sinister in her heart.

“I kept coming back to see you, hoping to catch the eye of the magnificent Delilah, to have her choose me as her man.”

She didn’t mind that he called her Delilah again. Perhaps Delilah was a witch. If so, Lilah Damon was as much under her spell as any of those men Tabor spoke of. She was pleasantly surprised to hear he had felt more than an ordinary attraction to her before that night in Yuba City.

How thrilling to learn he had been there by choice and not by chance. Of course he wouldn’t know she never really saw the individuals in her audience. From the stage those faces were blank spheres, and always someone had pointed out the man to shine her mirror on. But had she seen Tabor watching in the way he described, she was sure she would have selected him herself.

“And so you did catch my eye,” she reminded.

Laughter shook him. “And so I did,” he repeated. “But I didn’t have the night of ecstasy I believed the reward for Delilah’s man.” Tabor stopped the dancing but continued to hold her in his arms. “You haven’t yet explained that.”

In his mind he was giving her a chance to admit why neither he nor any other man had enjoyed such a night of pleasure with Delilah.

The gay smile slipped from her lips. The freed bird felt the tug of a restraint, as if a string had been tied to her leg, allowing her to fly just so far from the cage. Here she was cast back on her sea of lies, reminded she had more secrets to keep then the single one Tabor knew. The strongest feeling was regret that this blissful morning might end on a sour note. She wanted to recapture that bounteous free spirit she and Tabor had shared only a moment before.

“We don’t have to discuss that now,” she said softly. “It isn’t even part of the bargain. Let it wait.”

“Let it wait,” he agreed when she turned those sapphire eyes on him.

Just the start of a hard line on that lovely face melted his curiosity. Let the hundred questions on the tip of his tongue wait. Let everything wait that might interfere with the promises shining like stars in a field of deep blue. He wished he hadn’t mentioned the subject at all. Just recalling that she was in his arms only because he could expose her as Delilah took some of the joy out of the swell of passion inside him.

Most women of his experience made a fuss to get his attention. The thought that none of what he read in Lilah’s sparkling eyes might be true wounded him to the quick. And why he had an unyielding desire to untangle his emotions and hers still bewildered him. She was fire and brimstone inside a gossamer angel skin, maybe too much trouble to tame.

If he wanted a woman outside a brothel, Sally Ann Caufield was his for the taking. If he wanted a woman who would be a good wife, a woman who knew his ways and cared about them, Sally Ann was the sensible choice. But he wanted Delilah, Lilah Damon, and the feelings she aroused in him wouldn’t let him consider being sensible.

Her eyes darkened and he couldn’t read anything in them at all. He contented himself with making them mirrors of his own deep thoughts. A heavy sigh issued from him. He burned with enough passion for both of them. If her ardor was make-believe, it wouldn’t stay that forever. He alone had tasted the rich sensuality in Delilah. The memory of slipping inside the satin sheath of her body ignited a hot flame of desire in his loins. He had no intention of sharing her with another man.

Delilah was his woman, his alone. His mind swirled, spinning his emotions like straw in a whirlwind, lust for a flame-haired witch, jealousy over any other man who dared to want her, possessiveness because he alone had awakened her erotic nature. For other men she had worn her shimmering costumes and sung her provocative songs. But that part of her which only one man could claim, she had given to him. She was his woman. In time she would know it too.

Without warning, Tabor’s mouth came down on hers. But, oh, how she wanted the crush of his lips. His hands wrapped the creamy expanse of her throat, stroked the gentle slope of her shoulders, and swept away the troublesome sleeves of her gown. She loved the feel of his hands sliding over her skin. Onward they sped to the soft swells of her breasts, thumbs flicking the nipples through soft cottony muslin. Lilah felt the tiny buds tighten as a hot flush swept her.

Tabor’s lips moved on her soft, trembling mouth and gently, gently demanded more. His tongue darted to and fro, tracing the outline of her lips before urging them to open. When her lips yielded, his mouth ravaged, his tongue plundering and looting the sweet treasures inside.

“Do you want me, Lilah?” he whispered, his mouth at her ear and as untamed there as it had been on her lips. He teased and taunted that smooth shell, his breath warm and intimate on her skin. Words of love, words of desire came in a soft, sweet murmur.

Lilah moaned. She was free again, free to tread on her lies and speak the words of truth in her heart. “I do want you. Oh, Tabor, I do.”

Swept along in the tide of her passion, she held tightly to Tabor, afraid that without him as anchor her quivering flesh and bones would fail her and she would sink as if into the fathomless depths of the ocean. But if he were by her side she wouldn’t mind the deep, dark waters. She knew that instinctively as his body, lithe and lean as a whipcord, pressed into hers. The unsteady hammering of his heart drummed in her ears as her head lay still against his chest. The tight hardness of his loins against her thigh stoked the fires within her.

Tabor’s hands plucked pins and combs from the tresses she had so carefully styled. Loose, it tumbled over her shoulders in strawberry-blond curls. Bent backward with his fingers laced in her hair, Lilah gave herself to the assault of his mouth on the sensitive flesh at her throat and yielded willingly as he sought the soft hollow between her breasts.

Tabor flicked the buttons of her bodice loose, exposing the twin rose-tipped peaks to his hungry eyes. As his mouth took one flushed tip, a storm of sensations sped through her veins like the unleashing of tiny bolts of lightning. His eyes glittered with passion and wanting as his mouth moved on her wildly. Lilah cupped his head in her hands, pulling him ever closer. She cried his name angrily when he pulled away, only to be swept into his arms.