Delilah's Flame (27 page)

The stallion now accepted any rider. Before, he had allowed only Tabor on his back. She heard from the servants that Tabor had begun working with Clement’s other horses and that he was overseeing the selection of mares for breeding with Rogue. Thinking it over, and with a haughty slant of her brows, she was sure Tabor found that matter to his liking.

Clement’s recovery ended Lilah’s reprieve from Tabor. She could hardly avoid him when Papa had ordered a special dinner served in the small family dining room, which meant that the three of them would share a cozy table. Seated at her father’s right, she was forced to gaze into Tabor’s smoldering eyes all evening. Only the fact that they were celebrating her father’s improved health made the meal tolerable.

“I’ll want to see Rogue put through his paces early tomorrow morning,” Clement said. “Sorry to have held you up here, son. I know you’re anxious to get back to your ranch.”

Son? Lilah flinched, wondering if her father really was recovered from his illness. How could he, even in a slip of the tongue, refer to Tabor as “son”?

“It’s been a pleasure,” Tabor replied in an infuriatingly casual way. “All pleasure.”

“Glad to hear it,” Clement said. “I’m sure Lilah’s been a good hostess.”

Lilah’s back stiffened and she was once again aware that Tabor kept her so tense it was a wonder her spine didn’t snap. He took his time to answer, giving her agonizing moments of worry over whether or not he would tell Clement she had avoided him as she would a rattlesnake.

“I won’t complain.” He could but he wouldn’t. Catching glimpses of Lilah as he passed through the house, seeing her hurry away when she saw him, hadn’t been easy to take. He’d seen how worried she was about her father, he had even had a desire to tell her how sorry he was that Clement was ill. But he suspected his sentiments would be poorly received. The sharp look she was giving him now let him know he had been right.

“That’s kind of you, Tabor.” Lilah’s eyes glittered with anger. She hoped Papa wouldn’t notice.

“Actually there’s something I want to ask you,” Tabor said, giving Lilah a more intensified moment of dread. “Lilah and I have talked about this and she’s agreed.” He shot her a fiendish smile. “She didn’t think you’d object but, of course, she wants your approval first.”

Clement looked at both Tabor and Lilah in surprise. It wasn’t like Lilah to allow someone else to do her talking for her. He could think of only one explanation. But surely Tabor wasn’t about to ask for Lilah’s hand. Things couldn’t have moved along that fast. If that were the case, he had no idea what he would say.

“Tabor—” Lilah started in alarm, but Tabor wouldn’t let her finish.

“I’ve written to my aunt, told her about you and Lilah. Well...” He hedged, fumbling in his shirt pocket. “What I’m getting at is in this letter.” He handed the letter to Clement. “Aunt Sarah has invited Lilah to the Cooke ranch for a visit. She could travel down with me day after tomorrow. We would meet Sarah on the trail the first day out. Lilah wouldn’t be without a chaperone. I sure would like for her to come along.” He slipped Lilah a wink. “If you’re agreeable, that is.”

Clement read the short letter. “It’s entirely up to my daughter, Tabor. If she wants to go, she has my approval.” He turned to Lilah. “How about it?”

Lilah fumed. Tabor had sprung this on her in her father’s presence without any warning it was coming. Just when she was beginning to think there was some good substance in the man because he hadn’t badgered her while her father was ill, he proved her wrong.

“I’m undecided, Papa.” She thought she at least owed herself the chance to call his bluff. “When Tabor and I talked, I didn’t know I’d be leaving you alone. But now that Dinah is away, perhaps I should stay with you. You’ve just gotten well.”

“Don’t let that hold you,” Clement insisted, dashing her thin wall of resistance. “Loo will be back soon and she’s almost worse than you about fussing over me.” He smiled. “Go if you like.”

She bit into her lip to keep from losing control. “I’ll think it over, Papa. Perhaps I’ll delay the visit a few weeks. I’d like to be sure you’re all right first.” Lilah knew from past experience that her father’s severe attacks were infrequent. He wasn’t likely to have another one soon. But Tabor had no way of knowing that. She cut her eyes toward him, daring him to push his advantage any further.

“Maybe Lilah’s right,” he spoke up, giving her a brief taste of victory. “She could visit later. I won’t be bored staying in San Francisco a few more weeks. Why, just the other day I heard a rumor that that gal Delilah, touted as the Flame of the West, would be performing in the city. Have you ever seen her, Clement?”

“No,” Clement responded. “But if she does come to San Francisco, you and I will take in the show together.”

Tabor looked at Lilah and tipped his head. “Pardon me, ma’am, for bringing up an unsavory topic in the presence of a lady. I’m sure you find a man’s interest in a dance-hall miss appalling. And pardon me for adding fat to the fire,” he went on, “but has anyone ever mentioned that you bear a slight resemblance to Delilah?”

The sweet taste in Lilah’s mouth turned bitter. “No, Tabor,” she said sharply, her face whitening with indignation. “No one has.” The bastard! He had upped the ante in this game, to stakes she didn’t dare match.

Tabor’s face fell, but only Lilah knew how false the appearance was. “I’m truly sorry, Lilah,” he said remorsefully. “I see I have offended you. I assure you that wasn’t my intent. Delilah is a beautiful woman—for her kind.”

“I see.” Lilah had to choke on the damning words she wanted to fling at Tabor. His not-at-all-subtle mention of Delilah was a warning. He would tell Papa about her if she didn’t agree to do as he suggested. “Since I don’t ever expect to have a chance to judge for myself if I do resemble Delilah, perhaps we can drop the topic.”

Clement chuckled at his daughter’s show of disdain for the entertainer. He knew things Tabor didn’t about Lilah. That ladylike demeanor she now wore hadn’t come naturally to her. He had let her come up free-spirited until he had been forced to send her to Emily in London. Once, as a young girl, she had met Lola Montez. The dark-haired beauty had been impressed with Lilah’s quick skill at learning the dance steps and songs she showed her. For weeks afterward Lilah had climbed up on an empty crate and put on a song-and-dance show for anyone who would watch. He supposed Lilah had forgotten that long ago and would be dreadfully embarrassed to be reminded. He sure hoped his daughter wasn’t beginning to let wealth and status go to her head.

“My apologies again,” Tabor said. “Now, when you get ready for that visit to the ranch, you just let me know.”

Lilah barely managed to voice the words she hated having to say: “I’ve changed my mind, Tabor. Since Papa insists he’s feeling fine, I’ll be ready to go the day after tomorrow.”

His dark eyes told her he looked forward to the next contest.

*     *     *

Lilah awoke in the night with an intuitive feeling that something was wrong. She glanced toward the open window as a muffled noise sounded from below. That part of her room was over the hallway to Papa’s suite. Thinking something might be wrong with him, she hurriedly lit a lamp and slipped on a silk wrapper. With the lamp lighting her way, she rushed out of her room and toward the staircase. Halfway down, she paused, hearing another unwelcome noise. Footsteps, two sets, clattered from the direction of the back hall. Lilah quickened her own steps, frightfully aware there could be no good reason for people to be rushing to Papa’s rooms.

Darkness filled the hallway. The wall lamp that normally burned through the night had been extinguished. Up ahead she heard the sound of a scuffle before the ring of light from her lamp showed two murky shadows locked in a struggle. Papa was in danger. For a moment she had the same sick, helpless feeling she’d had that last night in the Damon Star camp. Clutching her stomach, Lilah whimpered like a frightened child. From within the struggle, one dark head shot up and caught enough light to reveal the features.

“Tabor!”

Tabor looked up from the fight into a face ghostly white with fear. Lilah! Couldn’t she have stayed where she belonged? He hadn’t heard the soft rustle of her nightclothes. Damn her! She could only make things worse. He started to shout her away, but already the distraction had cost him. His opponent landed a dizzying punch to his jaw.

Lilah gasped. She could see the other man now. He had a length of hair braided into a pigtail, which marked him as Chinese. She was sure she didn’t know him. Her father had recently hired some new men, but that didn’t explain why this one was in the house or why he was fighting Tabor. She steadied her lamp on a window ledge and edged slowly past the pair. Her guiding thought was that her father was in danger and she had to get to him.

Tabor’s head hit the wall and the Chinese was quickly on him again. Tabor had a split second to bring his knees up and shove his feet into the Chinese’s belly. The man bellowed in pain and staggered back across the narrow hall.

“Stay back!” Tabor shouted at Lilah.

She had little choice. Now she couldn’t move without getting between the two men. Trembling, she realized she wasn’t completely sure which one was the threat.

Like a big mountain cat, Tabor sprang across the hall and pinned the Chinese to the wall. Suddenly his opponent seemed to have as many legs as a spider. One of his scattered kicks cracked against Tabor’s shin. The pain loosened Tabor’s hold and the Chinese was free. He raced two steps toward an open window and escape, but Tabor caught hold of his shirt and hauled him back.

The Chinese had tried to escape, Lilah thought. Ching’s men would never have done that. She felt a strange wave of relief it hadn’t been Tabor attempting to break into her father’s room.

Pressed flat against the wall between shelves housing her father’s collection of Indian pottery, Lilah held her breath as she saw the savage shimmer of a knife blade in the tangle. One man groaned. In the knotting of arms and legs and dark clothing, Lilah couldn’t tell who, nor could she tell which man wielded the weapon.

Her heartbeat faltered at the thought that it might be the Chinese and not Tabor who was armed.

Without thinking how rashly she acted or that it was Tabor Stanton she risked everything for, Lilah grabbed a pottery bowl and ran toward the fray. In the thin light, it was hard to distinguish which man each head of black hair belonged to. Lilah stood with the bowl poised. When she saw what appeared to be the wave of the pigtail, she crashed the bowl against the head to which it was attached. One man slumped on top of the other.

“Never miss, do you?” Tabor climbed from beneath the unconscious Chinese.

“You can be glad of that!” With her fear of the Chinese gone, Lilah’s hostility toward Tabor came rushing back. “Who is that man?”

“I guess that means he’s not one of the servants.” Tabor pulled the knife from the Chinese’s hand and tucked it into his belt. He paused to straighten his clothes and run his bruised fingers through his tousled hair.

Lilah took a closer look at the moon-shaped face. “I’m sure I’ve never seen him. I’d better call Ching.”

“No rush,” Tabor said, whirling around and giving Lilah reason to wonder if she shouldn’t have cracked the bowl on the other skull. Wildly he swung her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers.

“Don’t!” Lilah sputtered her outrage. But as his lips moved on hers, she felt herself growing weak and confused.

“Thanks.” Tabor stepped back, noting the glow in her eyes.

“For what?” she mumbled, still dazed.

His eyes sparkled. “For trying to save me. I had no idea you cared so much.”

“You simpleminded fool!” Lilah’s face reddened. “I wouldn’t have cared if he had cut you into cubes. I was afraid he would get to Papa.”

“Now, Lilah,” Tabor teased. “Don’t be shy.”

“You idiot!” In her fury Lilah grabbed another pottery bowl and heaved it at Tabor. He dodged and the bowl shattered at his feet.

Lilah’s hands covered her mouth as she realized she had just destroyed another of her father’s prized artifacts.

“What’s that commotion, Ching?”

Hearing her father’s voice from inside his room, Lilah looked quickly toward the now open doorway and saw Ching standing there. She didn’t notice that as he folded his arms into his sleeves, he hid the weapon he had held in readiness. She did wonder how long he had stood there and silently watched.

Ching’s expression remained unreadable as he knelt and lifted the downed Chinese’s head.

“An intruder,” he said in answer to Clement’s question.

Clement wheeled himself to the doorway. His face ran a flurry of varied expressions. He looked at Lilah, at Tabor, at the unconscious man, the broken bowls.

“Do you know him?” he asked Ching, aware his companion knew most of the Chinese in the city.

By now several of the servants, having heard the strange noises, had ventured into the hall. Ching gave them orders in Chinese. One boy nodded quickly and ran off.

“He calls himself Joe Han. He is a hired man, not one to work on his own,” Ching reported in his flat voice.

“I saw him slink out of your library and head down this hall,” Tabor said. “When I asked his business, he attacked me.”

“Lilah?” Clement wondered how she had gotten into the altercation.

“A noise awakened me. I came downstairs to see what it was,” Lilah explained. Standing close to her father, she rested a shaky hand on the back of his chair. “I was afraid for you, Papa.”

Clement touched her hand as he looked up at Tabor. “I’m grateful to you for stopping him,” he said, then quickly lifted his brow in surprise when Tabor laughed.

“I would have,” Tabor said. “But Lilah put him in that state by cracking one of those bowls over his head.” He gestured toward the empty spots on the shelves.

Lilah was relieved Clement didn’t have a chance to ask what had happened to the second bowl. The boy Ching had sent out returned with two of the Chinese men who usually watched the grounds of Damon House. She couldn’t understand a word but knew Ching’s staccato orders to take the man away included a strong reproach that he had been allowed to slip past them.