Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic) (34 page)

* * * *

“You’ve got to promise me that you’ll never again be
come the Midnight Phantom,” Pamela demanded.

She was pacing the cabin while Garrett, sitting at the kitchen table, read and reread Jedediah’s letter.

“You’re beginning to sound exactly like me, or like a nagging wife,” he scolded with a smile. He accepted Jed
ediah as a threat, though he saw no need to alarm Pamela.

“It isn’t me Jedediah’s been hired to hunt. You may be
his lawyer, but Jonathon Darwell has put ten thousand dollars
on your head. Do you expect my brother to turn that much
money down?”

“Money really scares you, doesn’t it?”

“No, just the wrong people with money.” She stepped up to the table. “Promise me the Phantom goes into retirement as of this moment.”

Garrett did not answer immediately, and a new world of
fears sprang up fully formed within Pamela’s heart. “You don’t know my brother as I do,” she said. “Once he gets started on something, he doesn’t stop until it’s over and done with. He’s like a bulldog that way. If he’s on the hunt, I won’t see him until it’s over. I don’t even know how to let him know you’re the Phantom so that he’ll stop.”

“Don’t tell him anything. You must know I’m just as determined and single-minded as your brother,” Garrett
said. “I don’t want to speak the painful truth, but I don’t want to lie to you either
. I can’t give up now. Jonathon Darwell must be stopped, and I’m just beginning to make him look into shadows to see if I’m there. Pretty soon, he’ll really be feeling the effects of what I’m doing. And sooner or later, I’ll find something—something solid that will stand up in court—that will enable me to put the
bastard behind bars or up on a gallows where he belongs.”

Pamela bit her lip to keep more words from spilling out. It would do no good to argue with Garrett tonight. Later
she would calmly and rationally explain to him why con
tinuing to be the Midnight Phantom was foolishness. Right now was not a time for them to argue, not when they
had just enjoyed such blissful harmony of mind and body.

She checked the boiler on the stove. One more boiler into the washtub and she could soak in the warm water while Garrett washed her back.

“If Jedediah’s after me, he’s after you, too,” he said in a whisper, as though this sudden awareness frightened him
. He was brave, but only a fool would casually disre
gard the danger Jedediah represented. “Jonathon Darwell thinks he’s only been dealing with the Midnight Phantom, but if your brother gets involved in this, he might figure the Phantom is really two people.”

“He’s
already
involved,” Pamela said testily, continuing to
pace the floor.

She did not harbor the fears for herself that Garrett did. She knew Jedediah would walk through fire for her and would never do anything to hurt her. It was just the way
her brother was, especially after the killings of their family and relatives. He was quietly, intractably dedicated to pro
tecting her and in seeing that violent criminals received the justice they so richly deserved.

Garrett grabbed Pamela’s wrist as she passed him. “I’m tired. I can’t remember how many hours ago I left Fort Richmond. I don’t want to argue anymore.
Whatever happens,” he continued softly, “it’s not going to happen tonight. Jedediah’s on his way to Juniper Junction.”

“We do have tonight,” Pamela said quietly.

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. The frantic lovemaking, first in the linen closet then
in the plush, slowly rolling carriage had made a shambles
of the coiffure she’d created for Garrett. She took his hand in both of hers, moving just a little closer to him so that she stood between his knees.

“And since my brother is so far away, I see no reason
at all why you shouldn’t stay here tonight. It’s an awfully
long ride back to your ranch,” she continued, as though the distance somehow validated her reason for wanting him to stay.

For a moment, Garrett didn’t know what to say. He knew
what asking him to stay meant to Pamela. It was a bold move.
Should anyone discover he’d spent the night, she would
be branded a trollop, or worse.
His
reputation wouldn’t
suffer at all, and this sexual double standard, though work
ing in Garrett’s favor, rankled him nevertheless.

He brought Pamela’s hands to his mouth and kissed them.
She was the most exciting, unique combination of strength
and independence, femininity and courage he’d ever
come across, and he silently cursed whatever powers on
earth and in the heavens had created such impossible odds
against their ever being happy together.

“I will stay with you tonight,” Garrett whispered as he rose to his feet, now looming over her.

Looking down into her lovely, pale-green eyes, he wished he could tell her he’d stay with her always. He suspected she wanted to hear those words, but to say them would mean lying to her, and he was determined to
avoid doing that. Perhaps one day it might be necessary—
Garrett had been a lawyer long enough to have developed
a cynical attitude toward absolutes, especially when words
like
forever
and
love
and
truth
were involved—but
that time wasn’t now.

Pamela poured a whiskey for Garrett from her brother’s supply while he put two big boilers on the stove, heating water for the bathtub. When the water was steaming nicely, he filled the tub.

Chapter Sixteen

“Don’t be shy now,” Garrett said, taking Pamela by the hands and lifting her out of the straight-backed chair. “Let me pamper you. Would you like to be pampered?”

She smiled. “I could use all the pampering you’ve got.”

“Then spin around and let me get started.”

Turning, Pamela resisted the urge to ask if it was common for Garrett to, in his words, pamper his lovers. To ask would be to admit to jealousy, and she was certain that a man with Garrett Randolph’s reputation for sexual conquest wouldn’t take kindly to the emotion.

She felt the buttons of her dress coming unfastened quickly and easily. He pushed the fabric off her shoulders then eased the garment down over her hips. She stepped out of it.

“Now turn toward me.”

His voice was low, husky, and it caressed Pamela’s senses. By the time she had turned to face Garrett, her nipples had tightened, and the anticipatory tingling down low had started again.

“I made a complete shambles of your hair,” he said, combing his fingers through her tresses to smooth them over her shoulders. He favored her with a half grin. “You aroused me to a rather feverish state, I’m afraid.”

He untied the three ribbons holding the chemise closed, and Pamela felt the breath suddenly catch in her throat. Garrett eased open the garment, exposing her breasts to his gaze, and she watched as he inhaled sharply, and his pupils dilated in appreciation.

“Lovely,” he said in a whisper, sliding the chemise off her shoulders to the floor.

Pamela resisted the impulse to cross her arms over her breasts. Though he’d seen her before, she suddenly felt scrutinized, and the sensation did battle with her rising passion.

“Now let’s get rid of this,” Garrett said, tugging loose the drawstring of Pamela’s petticoat.

He got down on one knee in front of her, his fingers lightly touching her hips then thighs as he removed the undergarment. The tingling in her clit that had started moments earlier was now a distinct hungry throb that emanated outward.

“I’m afraid I’ve made quite a mess of your petticoat,” Garrett said, his tone casual as he inspected the dried semen stains.

“A small price to pay,” Pamela said, then moistened her suddenly dry lips. “Thank you again for being so considerate.”

Garrett smoothed Pamela’s stockings down her legs, leaving her completely naked. Nervously, she put one hand between her legs to hide her pussy.

“Don’t,” Garrett admonished. “I want you to flaunt your beauty in front of me, not hide it. Now step into the tub and let me bathe you.”

Pamela stepped in, sighing with pleasure because the water was the perfect temperature. She started to sit down, but Garrett stopped her.

“One second,” Garrett said, moving behind Pamela. “I’m afraid I’ve—how can I delicately say this?—left the evidence of my desire for you all over your utterly delectable bottom.”

A moment later, two strong, wet, soapy hands were cleaning the backs of her thighs and the cheeks of her bottom. Though Garrett was saying something completely innocent, the warm, wet fingers on her skin were making her cream. When told she could now sit in the tub, Pamela sighed gratefully because her legs had grown weak with desire.

With his shirtsleeves rolled up, Garrett began washing Pamela’s right hand, working a soapy washcloth around each finger with slow deliberation.

“This is heavenly,” Pamela said. “I don’t suppose we could make this a ritual, could we?”

“I don’t see why not. Close your eyes and relax. Let me take care of you.”

He bathed her slowly and sensually, the washcloth going over her arms and chest, her breasts and shoulders. He washed her feet then made his way slowly up her legs. But what had started out as arousing and sexual soon became so relaxing that Pamela felt herself drifting to the edge of sleep.

“There,” Garrett said in a whisper. “If you stand up, I’ll dry you off.”

With a towel wrapped around her, Pamela held Garrett’s hand and led him to her small bedroom and her even smaller bed. For the two of them to
sleep together on it, they’d have to remain in each other’s arms the entire night, which was exactly what Pamela had
intended, even if her bed had been an acre across.

Garrett removed his necktie and shirt and tossed them on the foot of the
bed. Pamela picked them up quickly and placed them on a wooden
hanger then hung it on a peg in the wall. She had been poor
too long to be cavalier about expensive clothes.

“Your clothes are much too beautiful to be treated like
that,” she said.

She turned and watched him
. Their eyes met and held for a moment, and then he un
buckled his belt.

“Is it all right not to make love again?” she asked in a tremu
lous little voice. “For the rest of the night, I just want you to hold me.”

Garrett nodded, and in his eyes was the understanding that Pamela had so needed.

She took his clothes from him, neatly hanging them up.
When he was completely naked, she came to him, raised
up on her tiptoes, and kissed his mouth lightly.

“Sit down now, and I’ll be with you in a moment,” she
said, her hands on Garrett’s chest.

Pamela felt there must surely be something terribly wrong
with her. She loved looking at Garrett. The sight of his naked body touched her deeply, making her feel warm,
inciting the very first stages of passion. But a man’s body
wasn’t supposed to be beautiful, was it? She knew that
men enjoyed looking at women, but the reverse was some
thing she’d never heard of.

“Come to bed,” Garrett said, his broad back leaning
against the wall where a headboard would have been. He
was beneath the light blanket, raising it for her.

Pamela thought of putting on her pretty nightgown, the
one Jedediah had bought her, but she didn’t want anything
separating her from Garrett—physically or emotionally.

She got into bed, snuggling up to him as his arms went
around her, pressing her nose up close to his neck, inhaling to catch the special, comforting scent of him. To feel
his body, for once completely naked, pressed against her
own completely bare flesh while sharing a comfortable bed was an experience she’d never had with him before.

“Good night, Pamela,” he whispered, stroking her
hair. “Sleep well.”

“Good night, Garrett,” she responded sleepily. “I love
you.”

* * * *

Angie Darwell sat on the edge of her bed, smoking a cigarette. Never in her life had she felt so slighted, so overlooked in favor of another woman.

She should have taken Pamela as a serious threat to her
plans to begin with. Apparently this was not just one more
poor girl from a nothing family who thought she could sleep her way into becoming a member of the cream of Whitetail Creek society. She was someone capable of ruining Angie’s plans.

So what am I going to do about her?

Angie rose to her feet and reached for her robe then decided against it. She had long ago learned that, if she
wanted to get a favor from her brothers, it helped to show
a little skin, and her nightgown certainly did that. They
were always much more amenable to giving her the time she needed to plead for their help when she was scantily
clad.

What time was it? 2:00 a.m.? Three? Angie didn’t know,
and she didn’t care. The problems she faced were too critical to her happiness for her to wait until a reasonable hour.

She went down the hall to her brother Michael’s room.
He was the more intelligent of her brothers, his mind quick and devious, much like hers. Pressing her ear against the door, she listened carefully, and when she
heard no sound from inside, she opened the door without
knocking.

“Michael, are you awake?” she asked, walking into the
room, barely able to see where she was going.

She sat on the edge of his bed, placing her hand upon the blankets. Then she heard the startled exclamation of a woman, and when the blankets were shifted, Angie saw
the frightened face of the attractive young woman who’d
been with her brother at the dance.

“Don’t worry, I’m Michael’s sister,” she said to her, quickly pulling the blanket back over her nakedness.

The woman started to get out of bed, but Angie stopped
her by placing a hand on her bare shoulder.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. “This won’t take long.”

She pushed gently but insistently until the woman was
lying down in the bed again, her head on the pillow beside
Michael’s. The woman pulled the blankets up to her chin
as Angie walked around the bed to the other side.

“Michael, wake up,” Angie said, shaking her brother’s
shoulder.

Michael was only slightly surprised to see his sister in
the room with him. He had learned that she was capable
of anything, her behavior often so outrageous that it would
seem impossible for her to top her own shenanigans.

“What are you doing here at this time of night?” he
groaned, blinking.

When Angie leaned down to whisper in his ear, her
breasts, so thoroughly revealed in the sheer, low-cut night
gown, were very near his face. He didn’t for a second believe that she was unaware of what she was doing.

Whispering, Angie told him that she needed to make
Garrett dependent upon her. But how could she do that?
She had tried gaining power over him through sex, and that hadn’t worked. The notion that he might reach the
territorial governor’s mansion without her at his side
was too painful for her to think
about for long.

“What you need to do is beat the hell out of him,”
Michael whispered after a moment of deliberation.

“What good’s that going to do me? I want Garrett intact and in one piece,” Angie replied, confused, though the idea
of having Pamela beaten instead was decidedly pleasant.

“Don’t have him killed, just beaten up. Then, when he’s
recovering, you can be there for him. He’s strong and con
fident now. He won’t be that way if he’s got busted ribs
and every breath he takes hurts like hell. That’s when he’s
going to need someone to lean on, and if you’re there when he needs you, you’ll own him.”

Angie’s face broke into a beaming smile. “You’re a gen
ius,” she said, much too loudly. She kissed her brother on the forehead, got up, and went around the bed. “You treat Michael right,” she said to the woman who stared at her over the satin trim of the blanket. “He’s a good man, and he deserves to be treated right.”

Next, Angie went to Richard’s bedroom. Unlike Michael,
who liked to look but wouldn’t dream of touching, Richard
reached out for Angie, who deftly avoided his outstretched
hands.