Free Delilah's Flame by Andrea Parnell Page B

her chin with one slender finger. “Shall we do this together?”
    “By all means.”
    In unison they spread the cards on the table. His eyes went to the full house she’d dealt herself.
    “You lost.” Her eyes glowed with triumph.
    “I’ll be damned!” His fist slammed the tabletop. “Never saw anything like that. Well, hell.” He nodded complacently. “Fair’s fair. I reckon you’ll want a written claim for the Admiral. You’ll find him down at the livery. Just promise you’ll treat him good. He’s a fine horse.”
    “I’ll get paper and a pen,” she responded, turning her face away from him to conceal her haughty smile. At the dresser she opened a drawer and removed the needed articles. She quickly scrawled out a few words, then laid a paper before him which lacked only his signature. Tabor hastily signed his name to it.
    Delilah folded the title and tucked it in her bosom. Being sotted obviously made him more agreeable. She couldn’t believe he wouldn’t offer more fight if he were sober. If she could get him to take one more drink she was sure he’d pass out. Then she could carry out the remainder of her plan.
    “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me a chance to win the Admiral back?” he mumbled, sliding down in his chair a bit.
    “Maybe,” she lied. “Let’s have another drink while I think it over.”
    He staggered to his feet. “Don’t mind if I do.” Spilling half of it, Tabor attempted pouring sherry in his glass, and failing, forgot the glass, picked up the nearly empty bottle, and stumbled across the room toward the bed. He downed the amber liquid, unsteadily deposited the bottle on the bedside table and himself on the bed. His eyes snapped shut.
    Delilah watched. “Tabor?” She got no answer. Imagine that. And so easy. She approached him. “Tabor?”
    Delilah stood over the sleeping cowboy a few moments, listening to his heavy breathing. One of his arms hung off the bed, the other sprawled across the opposite side. He looked amazingly different with his eyes closed, boyish, harmless. Had she called him passably handsome? Now she had to admit he was much more. The dark shadow of a beard covered his chin. Not sure why, she ran a finger over the fine bristles and got a surprising ripple of delight.
    Angry at herself, Delilah quickly drew her hand away. The gold coins were in his vest pocket. They had been part of the stakes. She reached for them.
    A flurry of silk skirts whirled over the bed. Tabor, moving like lightning, trapped Delilah and pinned her beneath him, his arms holding hers above her head on the pillows. Outraged, she spat out a profanity and glared at the diabolical face above her.
    “You took your time,” he whispered, smiling.
    “Let me go, you mangy bastard!”
    Holding both her wrists with one hand, Tabor clamped his other one over her mouth. A devilish look flared in his eyes. “Watch that gutter language,” he warned. “You’ll spoil the illusion of Lady Delilah.”
    His taunting gave her time to think a little more clearly. She tried a calmer approach and her most ladylike tone. The hard glare in her eyes softened as her voice did. “You are making a mistake, Mr. Stanton. I implore you to let me go.”
    He gave a scornful laugh. “This is the mistake,” Tabor reached inside her bodice and searched for the paper he’d signed. Delilah gasped as his hands probed where they would. He found the paper, snatched it out, and tossed it to the bedside table.
    “I won that horse!” Her face was a mask of fury.
    His expression was one of amused tolerance. Now his hand roamed to her pocket and snatched out several playing cards.
    “You cheated,” he said tonelessly. Before she could shriek a denial, he clamped his hand over her mouth again. “Which means the Admiral still belongs to me. So does the gold.” His smile struck terror in her eyes. His voice fell low and husky. “And for the next week, Delilah belongs to me too.”
    She nearly exhausted