Sweet Savage Love Page 6

  Black, a portly, cheerful-looking man with a full beard, chuckled.

  “Marshal Trevor always gets kinda nervous when he gets a famous gunfighter in his town. And this hombre you were just talkin’ of shot Bart Haines just this afternoon—Bart was supposed to be one of the fastest, but the way I heard it, he hardly got to clear leather.”

  Involuntarily, Ginny’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass. She felt her whole body grow stiff. But the other gentlemen had joined in the conversation now, and her sudden tension went unnoticed.

  “He’s a gunfighter?”

  Vance Porter, who sat on Ginny’s right, leaned forward to answer her father.

  “Sure. One of the fastest guns for hire. But I’ve heard he’s ridden shotgun for Barlow, scouted for the army, and taken a few herds up to Abilene too.”

  “He comes from your own state, Senator,” another man broke in. “And Whittaker isn’t his real name either. It’s Morgan—Steve Morgan.”

  Sonya, who was usually never clumsy, dropped her ivory fan with a clatter, and Ginny glanced across at her as one of the men picked it up gallantly and handed it back to her. Sonya’s face, usually so placid and composed, looked flushed, and her eyelashes dropped to hide her embarrassment as she murmured her thanks.

  It’s too much, Ginny thought. First it is cattle and now it’s gunfighters! She had half-opened her mouth to say that she had actually witnessed the gunfight these men had talked about, but catching sight of Sonya’s face, unusually pale now that the color in it had receded, Ginny thought better of it. Perhaps the thought of killing upset Sonya, too.

  Snatches of conversation came to her amid the subdued clinking noises the waiters made as they cleared away plates and empty glasses. Even Carl Hoskins seemed more interested in her father’s plan for hiring a scout than he was in her. He was leaning forward, his fair head gleaming in the lamplight, and Ginny slanted a wicked glance at him. She remembered a story she had heard once, about a certain Parisienne lady who had deliberately loosened the strap of her evening gown to cause a diversion when her lover had appeared too interested in a rival. Unconsciously, Ginny’s fingers touched the velvet rosette on her right shoulder—it was loose, she suddenly remembered that she had meant to have Tillie sew it on firmly before she dressed for dinner. But no—it would never do! These sharp-featured women with their disapproving looks—how horrified they would be! And Carl Hoskins, even though he was very handsome, wasn’t worth it. All the same, the mere idea made her want to giggle.

  “Ginny my love—” Sonya’s soft voice caught her attention. “I wonder if you would mind fetching our shawls upstairs? I believe it is actually getting rather chilly.”

  Poor Sonya, her face had an unaccustomed pallor, and Ginny thought she could see her shiver slightly.

  Smiling consolingly at her stepmother, Ginny made her murmured excuses, glad of a chance to escape for a while.

  One of the waiters directed her to the back staircase—she had no desire to use the one that led down into the lobby and run the gamut of bold masculine stares that she had encountered earlier in the evening when she and Sonya had descended to dinner on her father’s arm.

  Lifting her long, trailing skirts, Ginny went quickly up the narrow, rather winding staircase that would take her up to the second floor. Its threadbare carpeting proclaimed that this must be the servant’s staircase, lying at the end of the passageway that was furthest from her room.

  Pausing at the top of the stairs to catch her breath, Ginny noticed for the first time how dimly lighted the narrow corridor seemed to be at night. It looked deserted, and somehow its emptiness and the silence up here almost frightened her.

  It’s nonsense, and I’m being silly, she told herself firmly. I’ll find my room first, and then Tillie can help me find Sonya’s shawl.

  But the feeling of uneasiness persisted and she walked swiftly, and as quietly as she could along the lonely corridor, with its shadowy walls. All the doors looked exactly alike, and it was almost impossible to read the numbers that had been painted on them. To make things worse, when she reached the end of the passageway she found that one of the lamps had been allowed to go out and it was quite dark.

  “Oh—oh, darn,” she whispered to herself, annoyed because she could not even remember exactly where her room was located. “Merde!” she whispered again, daringly, the sound of her own voice making her feel braver. A thread of light showed under one of the doors, and she bent closer to read the faded numbers. She could make out a two and a five—257, hadn’t that been the number of her room? Tillie usually kept the lamp lighted—perhaps she’d stayed awake.

  Ginny hesitated for a moment and then tapped very lightly at the door, waiting impatiently for Tillie to open it. But what happened next took her completely by surprise.

  The door opened very quickly from the inside, and before she could utter a sound she felt her hands grasped firmly as she was pulled, unceremoniously into the room.

  She was only half-aware that the door had thudded shut behind her—too shocked and startled to do anything but gasp her dismay, Ginny found herself gazing into a pair of the darkest blue eyes she had ever encountered. They gleamed wickedly at her, half-shadowed by the longest eyelashes she had ever known a man to possess.

  The darkness of his face, with its rather rakishly slanted eyebrows formed an almost startling contrast to those blue eyes, which narrowed as they studied her boldly and openly. She was petrified with fear and astonishment, her lips parted, but no words came from her dry, contracting throat.

  The man smiled suddenly, and she thought, almost wickedly, showing a flash of white teeth; and she noticed, irrelevantly, the grooves that deepened on either side of his mouth as he smiled.

  “Well, by God!” he said slowly, his eyes travelling insolently over her body, “so you’re Frenchy. Mimi really delivered the goods this time!”

  His hands still held firmly onto hers, and before she could find the strength to utter a word, Ginny found herself jerked forward and gathered into the man’s unwelcome embrace—and worse, felt his lips come down over hers, harshly, and somehow possessively.

  She had been kissed before, but never like this! Nor had any man dared hold her so closely that she could feel the entire length of his body against hers. His mouth was hard and merciless, instead of merely touching her lips gently it seemed to sear into them like a flame, forcing them apart under the onslaught of his kiss.

  He held her with one arm just above her waist and the other around her shoulders so that she felt crushed and completely breathless; and when she would have moved her head away to escape, she felt his hand slide upward, catching the curls at the back of her neck to hold her pinioned.

  Ginny felt her head begin to spin—it fell back helplessly as waves of dizziness and heat washed over her. To her horror, she felt his tongue pillage her mouth, forcing little involuntary whimpers from her throat. Oh, God, God, she thought weakly, do men really kiss like this? What is he doing to me? What will he do next?

  Quite suddenly, when she was on the verge of fainting, his hold loosened somewhat, and he raised his head slightly to look down into her face.

  “I didn’t think any woman could be this beautiful, Frenchy,” he whispered. His eyes were narrow and hard with a kind of desire she could sense but could not fully understand. She fought to regain her breath, to exercise some control over her suddenly weak and trembling body, and he bent his head again—she felt his lips burn into the hollow at the base of her throat.

  “No!” The one word was all she could manage and it came out as a despairing gasp. She felt his fingers pull teasingly at the loose rosette and gasped again with outrage. Almost unconsciously she spoke in French.

  “Monsieur—non! Oh—what are you doing?”

  The rosette came off and he laughed.

  “Forget the stupid rose—I’ll get you another.” His lips muffled her cry of protest as he murmured against hers. “I’ll buy you another gown too, sweethear
t, for I’ve a mind to tear this one off your body. You know I want you, and I’m an impatient man.”

  His mouth seemed to attack hers again as his arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer. Ginny felt her knees grow weak, so that she swayed against him involuntarily. She felt only half-awake—this is a bad dream, it cannot be real, her mind repeated dully, and she was aware of a strange, creeping sensation of languor, of a terrified kind of acceptance that had nothing to do with either her mind or her will. With a feeling of almost dreamlike detachment, Ginny felt his tongue explore her mouth, felt the gown slip off her shoulders as his hand caressed the curve of her breast. Her hands were trapped between their bodies, and could only press ineffectually against his chest, while her helpless struggles only seemed to excite him further, and drive him to taking even bolder liberties.

  Helplessly, she felt his fingers find and press against the rapidly hardening point of a nipple, and the sensation was like a shock wave running through her body, snatching her back to reality. Now she struggled in earnest against his encroaching hands and lips, horrifyingly aware that his shirt was open to the waist and her bared breasts, protected only by the thin silk of her chemise, were pressed against his bare, warm chest.

  The pressure of his body, the animal heat of it, and the naked demand of his kisses were too much to bear. With her head swimming, Ginny forced herself to go limp in his arms. Surely, if he thought she had fainted, he would not continue this—this attack on her body and her senses?

  He released her so suddenly that she stumbled backwards, to be brought up short by the alarming, unexpected pressure of the edge of a bed against the back of her thighs.

  With a wail of pure terror, Ginny’s hands came up to cross involuntarily over her breast as she saw him walk towards her with that stalking, catlike tread she remembered so well.

  “Frenchy—will you stop acting so damned coy and take off that gown? Now, or I’ll take it off you!”

  She saw his arms reach out for her again, and like a cornered animal, Ginny brought one hand up with all the strength she could muster and felt her palm crack against the side of his face with satisfying force.

  The look of stunned surprise on his face filled her with a savage pleasure, and instinctively, she brought her other hand up, longing to rake at him with her nails. But this time, he managed to forestall her; catching her wrist and squeezing it cruelly until she cried out with pain. They stood eye to eye for a split second, his blazing with anger, and hers shining with tears of pain and frustration. She would have struck him again with her free hand, but he caught it too and held it in his harsh, merciless grip.

  “Goddammit, you French bitch!” he said through his teeth. “What kind of stupid game do you think you’re playing?”

  The cold fury in his voice and the dangerous look in his eyes would ordinarily have made her shrink back in terror if she had not been so angry herself.

  “You—you rude, abominable m-monster!” Her voice shook with fury. “How dare you treat me this way? How dare you drag me into this room and—and then attack me as if I were a—a—” Her indignation at this point was so great that further words failed her and she stood panting, struggling to free her hands so that she could strike at him again.

  From anger, the look in his eyes was turning into one of puzzlement, and then, slow-dawning dismay.

  His black brows drew together in a frown as he took a backward step, holding her at arm’s length now as he studied her. Sobbing with rage and humiliation, Ginny became suddenly aware of the state she was in—her gown slipped off her shoulders, her hair falling down her back in tangles.

  “If you’re not the girl Mimi was supposed to send over, then who—”

  “Will you let go of me? I am not the—the slut you were obviously expecting—couldn’t you wait even to ask before you fell on me like an animal?”

  Breathlessly, blinking back tears, Ginny stormed at him fiercely, her anger making her brave, “You—you’re worse than any savage, you murderer!”

  She saw his eyes freeze into chips of ice for an instant, and then he quirked a slanted black brow.

  “Never have murdered a beautiful woman, though,” he said reflectively, and then, his tone suddenly becoming harsh, “yet!”

  Still holding her wrists, he gave her a swift backward shove before he released her, and Ginny found herself floundering into a sitting position on the bed.

  “Ohh!” she gasped, her eyes widening with shock and fear.

  She saw a corner of his mouth twitch with amusement as he looked down at her.

  “Suppose you just sit there for a minute and tell me—quickly, if you please, ma’am—who you are and why you came tapping at my door? After all,” he added reasonably, “I was expecting a—female guest. How was I to know that you were not she?”

  In spite of the softly reasonable tone of his voice there was an underlying steely quality to it that made Ginny answer him, a trifle sullenly.

  “I—I mistook your room for mine; there was no light in the corridor and I couldn’t read the numbers on the door. And then—” she flashed a hateful look at him, “you dragged me inside without giving me a chance to say a word, and you—you—”

  “Attacked you?” he supplied helpfully and rage swept through her again when she saw that he was actually grinning at her. So he thought it all very amusing, did he?

  She sprang to her feet angrily, forgetting once more to be afraid, and this time, he stepped back cautiously, although his eyes still mocked her.

  “Now ma’am—don’t you go attacking me!”

  He heard her indrawn breath of fury and the dancing, mocking lights in his eyes seemed to intensify. A corner of his hard, reckless mouth lifted in a teasing smile, and Ginny, seeing it, gritted her teeth.

  “You are the most objectionable, hateful—”

  “It was really your fault, ma’am. It was your beauty that carried me away. Why, I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you—I had the irresistible impulse to kiss you, and I—”

  “Will you stop trying to make a—a joke of what you did?” He was teasing her, he had the effrontery to think that she was some stupid ninny of a girl who would allow herself to be coaxed and cajoled and teased out of her well-founded rage!

  “I cannot see how you could possibly mistake me for the—the type of female you were obviously expecting,” Ginny went on coldly, trying to ignore the annoying smile on his face. “Although I must confess I feel sorry for your female visitors if you are used to greeting them in such a forcefully affectionate manner! Are you afraid they will refuse your advances unless they are not given the chance to do so?”

  His glance flicked over her from head to toe, making her cringe instinctively. She had never encountered such obvious, crude insolence in any man’s eyes before! It was as if he stripped her naked with a look.

  “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, ma’am,” he drawled, “I’m certainly not used to seeing ladies dressed the way you are—not in this little town, anyhow. Not that I’m complaining, mind,” he added wickedly. “In fact, you look even more desirable just the way you are now…”

  Ginny could feel the blush that spread all over her body as she became miserably, angrily aware all over again of how she must look at this moment. Her hands snatched for her gown, pulling it up over her half-naked bosom, and tears of rage and frustration filled her eyes.

  “You are the rudest, most detestable man I have ever met!” she spat at him, her voice choked. “Will you stand aside and let me go? I’ll not stay here another minute and be further insulted!”

  He made no attempt to move, however, and she saw him frown.

  “You’ll either let me go or I’ll scream!” Ginny’s voice was high with a rising hysteria she tried to control. Surely, after what he’d done already, he didn’t intend to—to—

  “You can’t walk out like that.” His voice was flat, impatient. “And as for screaming—you didn’t scream before, why should you now? I’m sure you’
re too intelligent to want to create a scandal.”

  He was actually threatening her, trying to blackmail her! Ginny stared at him with a mixture of fear and contempt, wondering what he would do if she did scream after all.

  He seemed almost to read her mind, for he frowned again, shaking his head at her impatiently.

  “Now look—I promise you I won’t try to—er—attack you again! But please try to be reasonable. You cannot possibly—”

  He broke off as a soft knocking at his door startled them both, and for just a second they were like fellow conspirators, exchanging looks of apprehension.

  The knocking came again, this time louder and more insistent, and Ginny’s hand flew to her mouth. Whoever it is, she thought despairingly, if they find me here like this with him, my reputation is ruined! No one would believe—they’ll wonder why I didn’t scream—oh, God, what will I do now?

  A woman’s voice with a heavy accent called softly from the other side of the door.

  “Étienne? Steve Morgan? You can open the door, it is me, Solange. Mimi told me you’d be expecting me—are you there?”

  Ginny had to fight back the impulse to burst into hysterical laughter. And something must have shown on her face, for she felt Steve Morgan’s fingers close meaningfully around her wrist, and flinched.

  “That, I suppose is your Frenchy!” Ginny whispered, making her voice as cutting as possible. “Will you kindly let go of my wrist and tell me what you intend to do now?”

  She noticed, with satisfaction, that for a moment he looked as much at a loss as she, and then as the woman’s voice called his name again, louder and more petulantly this time, his manner became purposeful.

  “I know one thing,” he said shortly, “I can’t leave her out there raising hell! She’ll have everyone in the damn hotel in here, wondering what’s going on.”

  He dropped her wrist, and then leaving her standing in the middle of the room he reached the door in two easy, purposeful strides and flung it open.