made her so nervous by the ferocious way I looked at her and talked to her that she almost had hysterics. I had to promise not to look at her again or say a word, just to keep her from fainting or throwing a crying fit.”
“Hysterics,” Dameron repeated in a flat voice. “Fainting and crying.
Are we talking about the same female?”
I turned my head to Dameron to see that although his unfriendly stare was aimed at me, his faint air of ridicule was directed at Valdon.
The big man’s handsome face had darkened in response to Dameron’s scoffing, but he hadn’t added anything.
“I had to find something amusing to pass the time,” I told Dameron’s accusing stare in a hurt tone designed to let him know how unjust his accusation was. “It wasn’t my idea to be left here unoccupied and ignored while you went trotting off to have fun. And I don’t know what you’re complaining about – no one got hurt, did they?”
I made my question as pointed as possible without being deliberately offensive; Dameron showed he got the point by straightening where he stood and sobering. I hadn’t strung Valdon just for the fun of it, but if Dameron understood that the interlude could have been destructive rather than embarrassing, we didn’t have to go into anything else. I wanted Dameron to see how much better off his base would be with me gone from it, and if his expression was anything to judge by, I wasn’t far from getting what I wanted. Dameron opened his mouth, probably to agree to my suggestion of a walk, but the big hand suddenly wrapping around my right arm stopped any words from being said.
“So making me look like a fool was nothing more than an amusement for you,” Valdon growled, tightening his grip to match the anger in his eyes. “You needed some entertainment to stave off boredom, and I was it. Did you find all the fun you were looking for? You weren’t disappointed?”
“If you don’t like being conned, try being less nosy,” I told him, meeting his anger calmly. “Not everyone considers exchanging life histories the best of conversational topics. And don’t feel too raw over being taken in. You aren’t the first to fall for some line I happened to come up with, and you won’t be the last. The best thing you can do right now is forget it-and let go of my arm.”
“Or you’ll cry?” he asked, still staring down at me. “Maybe a few tears would be the best thing that could happen to you after all – to see to it that I am the last one to fall for some line of yours. You had your fun; it would only be fair if I took my turn.”
“Valdon,” Dameron rumbled warningly from behind my left shoulder, but those deep black eyes gave no indication that the warning had been heard. They were locked to my face, watching for a reaction to the threat he’d made, waiting for the fainthearted regret he expected to set in. It was too bad I wouldn’t be leaving there without trouble after all, but that’s the way things went sometimes.
“You’re entitled to make a stab at taking your turn,” I agreed, then shot my arm forward and sideways fast against his fingers, which broke his hold on my arm. “Only don’t expect me to stand here like a statue while you do. I don’t expect to lose, but if I do the turn is all yours.”
I set myself without being obvious about it, curious as to how good he was. The way he moved said he wasn’t likely to be clumsy or awkward, and his size, handled as easily as he handled it, was a definite asset for him. If he didn’t have a weak middle or a glass jaw I would have my hands full, and shortly thereafter the rest of me would match, with bruises if nothing else. Killing him was out, of course, for many reasons even beyond the one that said he had a right to try getting even. I usually followed the adage that counseled,
“Never make enemies by accident, only on purpose,” but that time I’d missed. If a few bruises were the price for reclaiming the slip, I’d