Delilah's Flame (18 page)

Nothing annoyed him more about a woman than constant talk about nothing.

To Lilah’s delight, during dessert the conversation waned a little. She didn’t think she could bear hearing Dinah remark “How fascinating” another time. After dinner Clement invited the party to his library and called for coffee for the ladies. A servant poured brandy from a decanter for the men. As Tabor drank, Lilah fought the memory of his brandy-laced kisses. She was quick to notice the ease between her father and Stanton. That worried her. She didn’t want them building a lasting friendship. She decided she had better create a distraction.

Her chance came sooner than expected. Clement glanced at his watch. “Nine-thirty,” he said. “I didn’t realize the time. Ladies, I hope you’ll excuse me. I promised to show Tabor my horses. I particularly want him to see Rogue, the new stallion.”

Lilah’s throat constricted. Her heart thundered. She had worried that her father would try to persuade Tabor to work for him. This was much worse. Once Tabor saw Rogue, disaster would fall. She gave a choked cry and half-rose to her feet, almost spilling her coffee.

“Papa, you can’t!”

Clement looked at his daughter in amazement. “Why not?” he asked, wondering what had put a bee in her bonnet when she had been as quiet as a sleeping cat all night.

Lilah thought quickly. “Papa, it’s night. It’s dark.”

Clement half-turned his chair around, swearing Lilah had taken leave of her senses, attributing the condition to his guest.

“It won’t matter,” he replied, handing his empty glass to Ching. “The moon is full and the stable is well-lit—as you know.”

“But, Papa,” Lilah pleaded, putting her cup aside and hurrying to his chair, “I had my heart set on showing Mr. Stanton the conservatory.”

“The conservatory?” Clement stammered. “Lilah, Tabor is a horse breeder. He’s not interested in seeing flowers and ferns...” He trailed off as he noted a look pass between Tabor and Lilah. Slowly the old man exhaled a breath, his eyes moving purposefully from one to the other, then to Emily. “I guess maybe he is,” he said softly.

With her arm hooked through his and her heart beating double-time, Lilah led Tabor to the conservatory. On Clement’s orders, servants had hurried in and lighted a few lamps. Long wispy shadows lay on the floor and walls, deeper masses of dark shadows filling the corners. Most of the light in the glass-domed room spilled in from the moon and stars. The windows were flung open and a warm breeze floated through, rippling leaves and lifting perfume from the blossoms.

Lilah paused beside one of the ferns Clement had referred to. Next to it a bunch of violets grew in a clay pot. Lilah plucked one of the tiny blossoms.

“This is my favorite room,” she said quietly, turning her wide blue eyes on Tabor. “I’m very fond of flowers. I often have tea here on winter mornings. It’s quite nice, like being in a garden.” She looked away shyly. “I do like flowers, especially roses, white roses. Do you like flowers, Mr. Stanton?”

“Tabor,” he said, thinking her face the sweetest he had ever looked on. “Call me Tabor.”

Lilah gave a demure smile. “And you may call me Lilah.”

Tabor smiled back. She looked more delicate than a flower and more beautiful than any of the exotic blossoms in the conservatory. It was fitting she should prefer the white rose. She was just as lovely as one, her skin almost as fair. Surely if Lilah Damon were a flower, she would be a white rose, the purest, most fragrant, most desirable of all.

Faintly Lilah lifted her brows, reminding him he hadn’t answered her question.

“Yes, I do like flowers,” he said, feeling an odd tightness in his throat. “My Aunt Sarah has a rose garden beside the ranch house. When I was a boy she often had me weeding and watering. White roses are Sarah’s favorite too.”

Lilah didn’t give a hoot which roses were his aunt’s favorite. The fact was, nothing she had said since entering the conservatory was true. She didn’t like white roses any better than red ones. She certainly didn’t like being alone with Tabor Stanton, not knowing how dangerous he could be. Of course nothing like what had happened in that hotel room could ever happen again. She reminded herself how much she had drunk that night. Otherwise she was sure she would have been repulsed by his touch.

Lilah lowered her lids shyly. His hand rested on the wooden top of a fern stand. She touched it lightly, sending a current up his arm.

“I’d like to ask you a most personal question, Tabor.” She pronounced his name slowly, taking time to emphasize the syllables. “You won’t think I’m too forward, will you?”

His smile widened. She seemed to find it difficult to express herself. He supposed she hadn’t had much experience around men. Her father was probably protective—certainly protective. What man with such a beautiful daughter wouldn’t be? And Lilah with her gentle, soft-spoken ways gave a man the feeling she needed protecting.

“I’m sure you could never be forward, Lilah,” he assured her. “You’re too much a lady for that.”

“Thank you, Tabor,” she continued softly. “You do make me feel at ease. I usually don’t around men.” She blushed at the baldness of her lie. “You aren’t—” Pausing, she took a breath. “—engaged or...or promised to anyone, are you?”

“Why, no. I’m not,” he answered, stunned.

“I’m so happy to hear it,” Lilah whispered, shutting her eyes as if in prayer. “Because the first minute I saw you I knew...” Twirling the violet stem in her fingers, she let her words dangle, hoping he would draw the conclusion that she had been enraptured by him. “Let me...go back to the beginning.” Deliberately stumbling over her words, Lilah turned her back to him and timidly dropped her head.

Tabor gently caught her shoulders and turned her about. “Is something wrong, Lilah? You seem upset.”

She tried to ignore the warmth where his hands rested. So far, he was reacting exactly as she had hoped. Now that she had him almost in her trap, she would ready her snare. Hesitantly she placed her palms on his chest.

“Oh, yes,” she answered breathlessly. “Everything is wrong. You see, Papa insists I marry a man he has chosen for me.” She closed her lids as if covering tears. “I know Papa seems kind and wonderful to you. But he can be dictatorial where Dinah and I are concerned.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.” Tabor’s voice was husky. Having her so close, smelling the light scent of her perfume, quickly sent a wave of passion through him. He had to take a deep breath to ward it off.

“What I’m saying, Tabor—” She lifted her luminous blue eyes, pleading “—is that since I’ve met you I know it would be wrong to marry the man Papa has picked.” Her voice fell to a strangled whisper. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked, forgetting himself and drawing her improperly close, sliding his hands down her back to her waist.

“Don’t you know?” she whispered, clutching at his silk vest. “I could never marry anyone else. I couldn’t.” She slyly stole a look at his face, then went on. “I couldn’t. Even though Papa will disinherit me for disobeying him. Even though I would have to leave this house with only the dress on my back, I couldn’t marry anyone else—not now that I’ve met you.”

Lilah braced herself. Her flesh burned, her breathing quickened. She hadn’t expected that being close to him would feel so pleasurable. Purposely she had taken nothing stronger than coffee tonight. But she wouldn’t have to endure his nearness for long. She had said the words that would send him packing. He might allow a woman to throw herself at him, but he wouldn’t want to cope with one who would be penniless and who expected marriage.

“Lilah,” Tabor whispered hoarsely. “Beautiful Lilah.” He plucked the violet she held from her fingers and tucked it into a reddish curl above her ear. “It hurts me to see you sad. What can I do?”

Lilah’s half-closed lids flicked open.
What could he do?
Was he thick-headed? “I...I don’t think you understand what I’m saying,” she stammered, now genuinely distressed.

Tabor crossed his arms over her back, and though not conscious of it, pressed her closer against him. “I understand,” he whispered, surprised at the emotion in his voice. “I just don’t think you’ve taken time to think about what you’re saying. We’ve only just met. I’m afraid you look at me and see only freedom from something you feel your father is imposing on you.”

“No. That isn’t it,” Lilah insisted, feeling a measure of panic sift into her blood. “I...I have feelings for you. I do.”

Tabor had to pull in another deep breath. She fit so beautifully against him. The style of her dress, flat in the front, bustled in the back, allowed him to feel the press of her thighs against his. The softness of her breasts nudging his chest was almost too much to endure. He had to give himself a strong reminder the woman he held was a lady, one who would be shocked if she felt how her nearness aroused him.

“Lilah, my sweet.” The endearment came without thinking. “I hope what you’re saying is true. I know I have feelings for you. But we’ll have to give this time to grow, time for us to be sure. I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t give you time to be sure.”

Lilah stiffened. What was he saying? He hadn’t a particle of a gentleman in him. Not the Tabor Stanton she knew. This was going wrong, awfully wrong. Desperate, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

“I don’t want time. There isn’t any time. We have to act tonight. We’ll run away. I know a minister who will marry us—tonight.”

God! She had his blood running hot. All along he had been afraid of this, that he had fallen in love with Lilah Damon the minute he laid eyes on her. To hear she felt the same was too good to be true. He had heard that love made a man a fool. He believed it. Here he was ready to forget everything that had ever mattered to him for a woman he had known only a day. Whispering her name, he brought his hands to her face, gently cupping it and forcing her to look up at him.

“Do you mean that, Lilah? Would you go away with me right now? Leave all of this forever? Would you?”

“Yes, yes,” she whispered, terrified by what she saw in his eyes. “Papa would try to find us. He would want to have you killed.”

Tabor nuzzled the soft red-blond curls at her temple. “I’m not afraid of your father, Lilah. Or of what he might try to do.”

“You wouldn’t care if I had no money?” Lilah trembled. His hands were gentle. She had the maddening wish that he would kiss her. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t even think of backing away from him.

He must have read the thought. He kissed her temples, her eyelids, her cheeks, his mouth finally coming to rest at her ear. “I wouldn’t care,” he whispered, his breath fanning the tendrils around her face. “I wouldn’t care about anything but loving you.”

A tingling started in the pit of her stomach. At the moment, Lilah cared about nothing else either. Completely forgetting her purpose in initiating the charade, she lifted her face to Tabor, offering her softly parted lips. He took them with incredible gentleness, knowing the swift urgency he felt building inside would frighten the virginal Lilah Damon. He pledged to himself to treat her gently, now and on their wedding night. He had no doubt there would be one—if he ever hoped for another sane moment in his life.

Lilah had kept her passions about everything so contained all her life that once ignited they leapt into flames like a raging bonfire. It was she and not Tabor who deepened the kiss. Her body ached not only for his lips but also for the intimacy of his embrace. Moaning softly, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Soon his arms again formed a tight circle around her. Wanting to get closer, Lilah twisted within the circle, bringing herself firmly against his aroused manhood. Tabor groaned, realizing she had no idea that if she continued to move she would drive him beyond control.

“Lilah, don’t,” he whispered hoarsely. “Be still, please.”

His words fell on ears deafened by passion. In another moment he was beyond pleading with her to stop. His hands slid to her hips and lifted all her weight against him. At the same time his tongue slid past her lips. She eagerly accepted it inside the softness of her mouth. Breaking that bond for a gasp of air, Lilah cried his name, realizing somehow within the fog of her desire that both of them had gone past all constraints.

When he let her down, her legs were jelly, and had he not supported her, she would have fallen hard to the brick-lined floor. He did not allow that. He did let her sink to her knees. With his mouth joined to hers, he did likewise, falling back on his heels and pulling Lilah against him. Not until his hands eased beneath her skirt, skimming to the bare flesh of her thighs, was Lilah aware she was no longer on her feet.

Pulling her mouth from his and throwing her head back, she sighed with pleasure as his fingers moved like hot sparks on her skin. The tight nubs of her nipples strained at the soft fabric of her bodice. Tabor rubbed his cheek against them and, urged on by her response, closed his mouth over one taut peak, gently sucking fabric and all. Lilah cried out in sweet agony.

From one of the garden windows a red-crowned head appeared above the sill. Dinah’s view from behind Tabor’s back showed her only the positioning of his mouth. That alone was enough to cause her chin to fall and bump the windowsill. She quickly ducked, but another red-crowned head appeared, this one belonging to a ginger cat who had no second thoughts about bounding through the open conservatory window. Seeing her mistress, the cat meowed loudly.

Tabor, faster to react than Lilah, quickly rolled her out of sight under a table. Finding herself suddenly beneath Tabor on the cool floor shocked Lilah back to awareness. Horrified that someone had come in and found her allowing him to take such liberties, she furiously pulled away. When she saw the intruder was only Lotus, her cat, her temper exploded.

“You beast!” she cried as Tabor hurriedly got to his feet and pulled her up too.

“The cat?” he said, smiling.

“I mean you, Mr. Stanton.” Ice hung on her words. “Taking advantage of a lady that way. I don’t know how I could ever have been so misled.” She glared at him, her hands covering the wet spot at her breast.