Free The River Nymph by Shirl Henke

worth the risk.”
    “I thought you were a gambler, Mr. Daniels, a natural-born risk taker,” she replied, using a low, husky tone to disguise her
     irritation that he had not taken the bait and gone to the defense of his harlot. Delilah moved closer to him, daring him.
     Her uncle did not intercede as she had expected. Now he sided with Daniels, which added to her carefully leashed anger. “Surely
     losing the Nymph and…a few other things didn’t cause you to lose your nerve as well?”
    “My nerves are just fine, although I do regret losing 51 percent of my boat. As to the rest…” He looked down at his body,
     then grinned rakishly. “I thought you were the one who lost her nerve…or maybe it was your temper.”
    “That’s because I expected a modicum of civilized behavior from you.” The retort was lame and she knew it, but still she was
     unable to stop herself from moving closer.
    Clint shrugged. “You were the one who offered the wager. Isn’t a gentleman supposed to do anything to oblige a lady?” He was
     unable to stop himself from pushing her, if only to see what would happen. Just as long as it didn’t include the side of his
     face connecting with that loaded reticule a second time, he reminded himself when she began to swing the small velvet bag
     by its drawstrings.
    “A gentleman doesn’t strip to the altogether in the presence of a lady,” she snapped.
    “A lady doesn’t spend her time playing cards with the likes of Teddy Porter either,” he drawled easily. His arms casually
     crossed, he leaned against a support post and studied her face in the soft light filtering in from the front windows of the
     mercantile.
    Horace started to clear his throat in warning to Clint but reconsidered. Delilah had a set down coming. Instead, he walked
     quietly over to Kurt Anderson and asked if he would be interested in having a cigar out in the back alley.
    Happy to escape the contretemps between Mrs. Raymond and Clint, Anderson eagerly agreed. A cigar sounded like a great idea.
     He did not even smoke.
    “Teddy Porter is a scholar as well as a gentleman compared to the likes of you, sir.” she said, mimicking Clint’s drawl.
    “Ah, Delilah, how are we goin’ to make it twenty-six hundred miles up the Missouri and back feuding this way?”
    “Who says both of us will return?” she asked in a dulcet tone. “Accidents are bound to happen. I hear the river is very dangerous.”
    “Can you swim?” he countered, straightening away from the post. His greater height forced her to lift that stubborn little
     chin several notches to look him in the eye.
    “Quite well.” Her sweet tone vanished. Both syllables were crisp and sharp.
    “Too bad. I would’ve loved to teach you.” He reached out with his left hand and barely touched her cheek. When she didn’t
     pull away or raise her reticule, he let his fingers glide down the side of her throat, where her pulse beat furiously, giving
     the lie to her veneer of calm. His own heartbeat had begun to accelerate dangerously, but that didn’t prevent him from saying,
     “All that creamy white skin, glistening wet in the moonlight. You ever take a midnight skinny-dip, ma’am?”
    Delilah stepped away from his disturbing nearness. “If I ever do, it certainly won’t be with you!”
    “Nothin’s certain on the Missouri, Deelie.”
    “My Christian name is Delilah, but I’ve not given you leave to call me by it.”
    “Deelie suits you, so that’s what I’ll call you…. You already said I’m no gentleman, so I reckon I’ll do what I want.”
    “We’ll see, Mr. Daniels.” She spun on her heel and walked with carefully measured steps toward the open rear door where Horace
     and Kurt Anderson were standing.
    Clint’s soft chuckle echoed over the click of her heels on the hardwood planks.

    “Clint has secured Captain Jacques Dubois, one of the best upriver pilots between St. Louis and Fort Benton. Captain Dubois
     will bring with him a full