Delilah's Flame (42 page)

All color drained from her face and most of her strength with it. Soon she wouldn’t be able to keep her head up. But what would it matter? Chapman’s intent was clear. He would rape and torture her and probably keep her just alive enough to take his pleasure over and over. She closed her eyes so tight they hurt.

“Open your eyes!” Chapman growled, feeling his erection lessen as she rejected him. “Look at what I’ve got for you.”

“No!” Lilah moaned behind her gag.

Her words weren’t clear but her meaning was. Chapman cursed her. “Look, I said!”

She felt his blade on her cheek, the tip of it puncturing her skin. Her eyes snapped open. Chapman dropped the blade, slowly drawing a red mark down her face but never actually applying enough pressure to slice the skin. The story was no different when he reached her breasts. He whisked the knife down and cut open the front of her camisole, baring her breasts to the steel blade and the mad stare of his eyes. With the point of his knife he drew patterns on her soft flesh, not cutting but leaving angry red streaks where his blade touched.

Lilah shuddered, but she preferred the knife to the touch of his hand, for his fondling was rougher and he bruised her flesh between his fingers. Chapman stayed his hand to open the slit in his trousers, moaning in anticipation as he reached for the throbbing rod inside, unaware the power she had over him was to be his undoing. The return of his ability to take a woman sapped him of all caution. As he swung his knife at the tie of her pantalets, he forgot that Stanton was searching for the girl. He moaned incoherently as Lilah hung helplessly before him, naked and inviting. Completely out of his head, he dropped his knife and reached out both hands to separate her legs and drive into her.

Lilah disdained the punishing cut of the rope into her wrists and gathered her legs beneath her, surprising Chapman with a wicked kick. The painful blow on his testicles quickly deflated his precious erection and destroyed his resolve about sparing Lilah’s life.

“You bitch!” Chapman screamed, and his face jerked spasmodically with the sudden violent start of the tic in his eye. “I’m gonna shave that red hair off your head and carve my name on your scalp!”

Spitting and fuming with rage, Chapman started to his feet. Before he was up and could make good on his threat, Tabor crashed through the cabin door. Chapman growled like a mad dog and made for his gun. Tabor allowed him the time to raise it before pulling the trigger of his Colt. This time his aim was true and the bullet cut a clear path through Chapman’s heart.

Tabor rushed over to Lilah and tore the gag from her mouth.

“He hurt me,” she said weakly, coughing and gasping for air.

Such an anguish took hold of Tabor that he could only whisper words of comfort. “I’m sorry, love. So sorry.” His voice shook. “He’ll never touch you again.”

Tabor cut Lilah down and carried her outside. She was half-dazed and he was glad for that. Her soft moans racked him with pain and she clung to him so tightly he had to pry her fingers from his arms to remove his shirt and cover her with it. She went limp then, whimpering like a hurt pup as he carefully pulled the sleeves over the welts and bruises on her wrists.

Tabor bundled her in his arms and held her against him until the soul-wrenching sobs stopped. He wished Chapman had another life to take. Somehow it seemed the man had not suffered enough by dying only once to pay for the torture he had inflicted on Lilah, or even for making the ugly marks on her skin.

“No! Don’t leave me alone,” she cried when, at last, he eased her out of his arms to search the saddle pouch on the horse he had borrowed. “Please,” she begged, and looked back at the cabin in horror.

Tabor could have cried out his anguish. She might not know he had killed Chapman. Did she think he was deserting her, that he would leave her with that bastard? She couldn’t know he would never have carried out any of the threats he made against her. Never. Not even when he had thought her deserving of some of them would he have harmed a hair on her head.

Lilah covered her face with her hands. She felt cold and afraid without Tabor’s arms around her. She could see he was only searching his saddle pouch for something, but there was nothing she needed more than to have him hold her. Chapman was dead. She would never forget the tortured look or the fury on Tabor’s face when he had broken open the door. Chapman’s fate had been sealed before Tabor pulled the trigger on his gun. She knew deep in the core of her heart that Tabor would have killed Chapman then at any cost to himself.

In the saddle pouch Tabor turned up a flask of whiskey. He poured a few swallows down Lilah’s throat, enough, he hoped, to dull the memories and the pain in her heart. He couldn’t bring himself to pour any on her bruised and swollen wrists. Sarah had ointments for that, soothing ones that would not add to the pain. The rope burns were bad and would last for a time but wouldn’t likely leave scars. The marks made by Chapman’s knife would probably be gone by morning.

When she seemed calm enough, Tabor returned to the cabin and got her petticoats. With Lilah clothed in them and in his shirt, he lifted her onto his horse, then climbed up behind her, balancing her on the saddle in front of him.

“I’m taking you home,” he whispered softly. “No one will hurt you again, Lilah. Not even me. I promise you that.”

Lilah heard his promises but was too weak to give more than a murmur in response. Her throat ached from all the suppressed screams. Her joints ached from the strain of being hung like a slaughtered animal before the butcher. Somewhere in the still-coherent part of her mind was a longing to speak out and tell Tabor he had never really hurt her at all. She closed her eyes and clung to him, so still he thought she was asleep.

With her head nestled against his chest he nuzzled her strawberry curls, whispering words of caring and sadness. “Lilah, my love,” he said. “I wish I could take back this day, this week, every moment of your life when there’s been hurt.” His throat tightened with sorrow. “My sweet Lilah. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t forced you to come here, if I hadn’t put my pride above the only thing that matters. I love you, Lilah. I wish you could hear me. I love you.”

As the moon overhead drifted in and out of the high clouds, Lilah drifted in and out of consciousness. Tabor’s declaration of love chased Chapman’s harsh words out of her head. Tabor loved her. Hadn’t he said that? Or had his voice sounded from within her own murky thoughts? Tabor loved her. Or did she only hear what she wanted him to say?

She moaned softly. Her arms locked tighter around his bare back. She wasn’t waking up, though he knew she must be sore and miserable. That she slept was a godsend, he knew. Her trembling had stopped. She would never be able to forgive him for putting her through this with Chapman. Better she not wake up until she was back at the Cooke ranch and could look into Sarah’s kind face.

As for himself, he regretted the brashness that had driven him to force her to do his bidding. The whole scheme was unworthy of him and had brought her to bitter grief. He had hoped to win her love but could only expect her continued loathing. A man of conscience would have sent her home after Chapman’s first attack. But he had not. He had imposed his stringent will and refused to show the mercy he might have given even to a frightened creature of the wild.

As soon as she was recovered enough to travel, he would make the arrangements for her return to Damon House. The Admiral—Rogue—was hers, and the debt, which now seemed such a trivial thing, was settled. She had paid it several times over with the loss of her happiness and the risk of losing her life. He would have to be content to savor the memories of holding her in his embrace. Hopefully the devastating experience with Chapman would not impair her ability to respond to her husband.

He hoped she found happiness with Barrett. The man seemed possessed of a gentle nature and kind spirit and would doubtless never cause Lilah the trouble she had known at his hand. By God, he had given her plenty of that.

Before reaching Sandy Flats, Tabor met Wyrick and Sarah in the buggy. They had pulled up and waited at the spot where Tabor had tied Lilah’s horse. While Tabor lifted Lilah into the buggy beside Sarah, Wyrick used the blade of a small knife to work the stone from beneath the horse’s shoe. In his mind Tabor damned Chapman again for sending him out on a false trail. If he hadn’t followed the lame horse, he would have gotten to Lilah sooner.

Leading the footsore horse and riding close beside the buggy as it rattled down the road, he saw Lilah find a brave smile for Sarah. His heart split in two when Lilah’s tears flowed unchecked and she buried her head against his aunt’s comforting shoulder.

*     *     *

The blush of another dawn tinted the morning sky above the ranch house. All night Lilah had fought her demons, the one with Chapman’s face, those six who stared down at a helpless child, and one other, who in the fighting had become a tall, lean man, the man she loved. But with the start of a new day she was racked with doubts. Tabor had saved her, had staked his life to save her. But did he love her? Was that one good part of what she remembered about last night true or had she simply invented the one thing she needed to save her sanity?

If only she could remember. Had he whispered the words that now lay like strewn petals in her mind? Had he kissed her face, her hair, and held her with more tenderness that he would have any other? Tabor was a fair man—or at least his sense of justice was as fair as her own. She knew that after what she had suffered from Chapman, he would release her from her debt. He would allow her to leave the Cooke ranch. What she wanted with all her heart was for him to ask her to stay. What she feared was that he would not.

Lilah sobbed. Sarah took her hand and assured her she had no more reason to be afraid. Lilah nodded and took the clean handkerchief Sarah offered. She dried her eyes and nose, then asked Sarah for a cup of tea so that she might have a few minutes alone with her thoughts.

“Tabor will want to see you as soon as you feel up to it,” Sarah said softly.

Lilah’s sobbing started again. “I can’t. Not yet, Sarah,” she pleaded. “Tell him I’ll need a little while.”

What if he let her walk away without a word to stop her? What if all she had seen in his face last night, all she had heard in his voice, had been pity because of her mistreatment by Chapman? What if he didn’t love her? Oh! She cried all over again. How could he love her after what she had led him to believe? She was ensnared in the web of lies she had spun. He was convinced she was a woman who had enjoyed many men. He believed she had led a wicked, sinful life as Delilah and that she planned to keep her dark secret from a hapless husband.

He couldn’t want such a woman. He wouldn’t believe the truth about her now. And she couldn’t bear to face him and know he would never return her love.

As Lilah dried her eyes again, Sarah left the room. Tabor stood outside the door, where he had kept a vigil through the night.

“It’s good she slept, even if it was a fitful rest,” Sarah whispered to him. “The memories aren’t as strong now.”

The worry on Tabor’s face lined it beyond his years. Dark shadows hovered beneath his eyes, and even hours after coming on that scene in the deserted cabin, tension pulled at his muscles and nerves.

“Did you give her laudanum?”

Sarah shook her head. “She wouldn’t take it. She asked for brandy and drank down enough to stop the shaking.”

“Did he...? Is she...?” Words tangled on his tongue. He thought he had gotten there before Chapman raped her. But the way his pants had been wrenched open, the way he’d had her strung up, and the time he’d had while Tabor chased Lilah’s riderless horse, he might have defiled her in other base ways.

“Rape her? No,” Sarah assured him. “And her wrists are better this morning. I rubbed in some ointment and bandaged them. The marks from his knife are almost gone. There’s a small nick on her cheek but it will heal in a few days.” Her lips tightened momentarily. “The worst things she’s got to get over are having that scum touch her and remembering the repulsive things he said to her.”

“Can I see her? Talk to her?”

“Later,” Sarah said, leading him away. “She needs rest now and she’s asked for tea this morning. I don’t want to take too long getting back.”

Tabor followed Sarah down the stairs and into the kitchen. Feeling as useless to her as he did to himself, he stood back and watched her pour boiling water in the teapot, then prepare a tray for Lilah.

“Does she know Chapman’s dead?”

Sarah looked up, her face full of pity. “She remembers you shooting him. She remembers everything.” She picked up the tray and started to leave the kitchen, but Tabor pinned her down with one more question.

“She doesn’t want to see me, does she?”

Lilah’s strength came back quickly following a long rest, Sarah’s treatments, and two hearty meals. Except for a few sore joints and the bruises on her wrists, she really felt quite fit.

Sarah, satisfied that Lilah had eaten enough to build back her strength, stacked up the dishes and set the tray out of the way. During the long morning with Lilah she had concluded that the girl had more troubling her than Chapman’s attack. And in the prudent way of one who had loved deeply, Sarah knew the hurt was one for which she could offer no balm.

“Should I send Tabor in to see you now?”

Lilah hesitated but then agreed. She had put off the meeting as long as she could. Sarah, carrying the lunch tray, descended the stairs and found Tabor in the parlor debating his future with a bottle of whiskey. He wouldn’t cure his ills with whiskey, but as with Lilah, Sarah kept quiet, sensing there was little she could do to help. From the time she had met Lilah out on the trail, she had thought something peculiar was going on between them. They strutted around each other like a pair of game birds in a courtship ritual, a pair who hadn’t yet realized what the outcome of all that useless fighting would be.

Sarah’s supposition had been that Lilah and Tabor were in love and didn’t know it. After Judd Chapman had shown his ugly head, she figured they had come to the same conclusion. Now she wondered again. She wished she could simply tie the two of them together like a broken boot lace, but knew that whatever was broken between them, they had to mend.