Captive Bride (15 page)

 
An ornery smile rippled across his lips as he held his cigar between his teeth and rearranged his cards. "Fought like a wild man, he did," Gil admitted. "But since the odds were seven to one, he finally decided that it was far better to give than to receive . . . Christ!" Suddenly Gil slumped down in his chair, yanking his hat low upon his forehead to shadow his face.

 
Rozalyn had the sneaking suspicion that one of Gil's victims had entered the tavern and he feared being recognized. She swiveled around in her chair to glance at the newcomer, and her eyes popped in disbelief when they landed on the tall figure of a man dressed in buckskin. Dominic looked ruggedly attractive in doehide and fringe, she decided before she twisted back around and slumped down in her chair, just as Gil had. Damn, what was that rogue doing in Sadie's? Rozalyn groaned and wished she could sink into the floor.

 
"Are you two gonna bet yer hands or curl up for a nap?" Harvey snorted impatiently.

 
Rozalyn looked as if she had swallowed a pumpkin, and Gil looked as if he were choking on one. Harvey darted a glance from one to the other, frowning bemusedly at their odd behavior. Rozalyn hurriedly glanced at her hand and then tossed a few coins into the center of the table.

 
Damnation, it was impossible to concentrate on the game
 
when
 
her
 
gaze
 
kept
 
straying to the dashing frontiersman who had seated himself nearby. Rozalyn was irritated when the buxom blond barmaid sashayed over to take Dominic's order.

 
Molly sized up the handsome rake whose buckskin shirt strained across his massive chest, and he eased back in his seat to give her the once-over. Her heart fluttered wildly beneath her breasts when his bronzed features melted into a flirtatious smile.

 
"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked, her voice sultry, her smile willing.

 
Dominic's piercing gaze sketched the woman's shapely contours. Then one dark eyebrow lifted suggestively. "I suppose I could force myself to be content with a mere mug of ale," he murmured, his voice a seductive caress, "but it would only quench my thirst."

 
Molly leaned over the table. Pretending to brush the crumbs away, she displayed the full swells of her breasts revealed by the low neckline of her thin white blouse. "I wouldn't think to turn one of our customers away hungry," she informed him provocatively. "I have a room upstairs. . . ."

 
As his emerald eyes glided over the comely blonde's appetizing figure, Dominic silently cursed himself for making comparisons. The wench was attractive, but her beauty could not hold a candle to that of the raven-haired enchantress who seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his mind. Blast it, he had come to the wharf to assure himself that he could still find pleasure in another woman's arms, that was what he was going to do!

 
His index finger trailed over Molly's bare arm while his hawkish gaze wandered over her exposed breasts. "I should like to see your room,
cherie
, but you are what interests me most."

 
Rozalyn pricked her ears, silently fuming as she listened to Dominic and the harlot proposition each other. The nerve of him! The previous night he had whispered that it was she who made him burn with desire. Obviously Dominic was a walking keg of kerosene. Any woman could cause a spark that would set him ablaze. The two-timing, lying scoundrel! She applauded Gilbert for robbing Dominic of his coins and she spitefully wished he had disposed of the lout.

 
As Molly sauntered toward the stairs, Dominic arose to follow. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when his gaze locked with a pair of fiery blue eyes that fried him to a crisp. Now it was Dominic's turn to wish the floor would swallow him. Of all the rotten luck!

 
Molly's sticky-sweet disposition turned sour enough to curdle milk when she glanced over her shoulder and saw Dominic staring at the feisty hoyden who stepped down from her pedestal each Thursday to brush shoulders with the peasants of St. Lo
ui
s. The dashing rogue had lost all interest in her, and it infuriated her to lose such a handsome client, and the forthcoming coins, to Rozalyn DuBois.

 
"Haven't you heard?" Molly smirked, gesturing toward the improperly dressed wench. "That one does not indulge in the finer pleasures in life."

 
Rozalyn vaulted to her feet and slammed her cards on the table, fully intending to place a stranglehold on Molly's skinny neck. But before she could pounce, Harvey grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her back into her seat. As he did so, the cap tumbled from her head, allowing her raven curls to spill down her back like a shimmering waterfall.

 
"Don't pay the dhit no mind," Harvey advised. "She's always bin jealous of you and it's her only way of retaliatin .

 
Rozalyn was still boiling like an overheated teakettle, and Harvey's calm assessment of*the situation did little to ease her flaming temper. She desperately wanted to put Molly in her sluttish place, but Harvey still held her arm and he refused to free her.

 
"Perhaps that is true," Dominic quietly acknowledged as he dragged his eyes from Roz's fuming face and settled them on the sneering wench. He felt a strong compulsion to defend Rozalyn against slander, though he was certain she could make mincemeat of the shapely blonde. "But maybe it is just that she is a lady with discriminating taste. With her, I would not be left to wonder how many others had already sampled what was offered."

 
Molly shrieked indignantly at that insult, and swung her arm to retaliate. When Dominic ducked away, the barmaid's forward momentum caused her to spill the pitcher of ale she was carrying in her other hand and the frothy brew tumbled down the front of her blouse.

 
Rozalyn was bombarded by conflicting emotions as she observed the scene. Although she was pleased that Dominic had stood up for her, she despised him for dallying with this snippy tart in the first place. When Molly stormed off to change her clothes, Roz turned up her nose and scooped up her discarded cards, focusing her attention on the one-eyed jack grinning up at her. Before she could make a play, however, Dominic's awesome shadow fell over her and Gil slid down in his chair, as if his backbone had evaporated.

 
"May I join your game?" Dominic asked, his hand folding around Rozalyn's rigid shoulder.

 
Although the gesture appeared to be a silent apology, Roz shrugged it away, stifling the ripple of pleasure that coursed through her. Damn him! He is not going to waltz up to me with that disarming smile and make everything right, she fumed.

 
A curious frown crept onto Harvey's weather-beaten features as he watched Rozalyn and the handsome stranger exchange glances. Something was going on here, but he couldn't ascertain what it was.

"You can take my place," Gil mumbled as he crawled out of his chair, cautiously keeping his back turned to the man he and his friends had relieved of coins three days earlier.

 
A wry smile trickled across Dominic's lips as he planted himself in the vacated chair. The rogue had looked faintly familiar and Dominic knew why he was slithering away, but this was not the time or place to point an accusing finger at one of Rozalyn's thieving friends, especially since he had propositioned another woman right under her nose.

 
"I doubt you will find our gaming table as stimulating as Molly," Roz sniffed sarcastically. After raking in the cards, she shuffled them so vigorously that she very nearly wore off their numbers.

 
Dominic's shoulders lifted and then dropped, making the long fringe on his massive chest quiver. When he had dragged in his cards, he eased back in his seat and cast Rozalyn a discreet glance. "I always did prefer a challenge. The wench did not present a real one," he told her flatly.

 
One eyebrow arched as Rozalyn glared at the scoundrel. Had he insinuated that once she had surrendered in a moment of madness he had tired of her as well? "That which comes easily does not hold your interest,
n'est-ce pas
?" she inquired, careful not to allow any emotion to seep into her voice.

 
"Not necessarily," Dominic contradicted with a soft chuckle. "I am only saying that the gaming table and those surrounding it are far more intriguing." His eyes wandered brazenly over Rozalyn's concealing garments, and he made no attempt to disguise his interest in what lay beneath them.

 
Harvey peered first at one and then the other, wondering what the devil was going on. Rozalyn seemed as skittish as a colt, whereas this handsome stranger was making blatant overtures that would have earned any other man a hard slap on the cheek. Could it be that this dashing rake had piqued her interest? He did seem a far better match for this feisty misfit than the straight-laced dandies Harvey had seen hovering around her.

 
Casting aside his wandering thoughts, Harvey inclined his head toward the stack of coins in the center of the table. "Toss in yer ante," he commanded sternly. "We don't play for sport."

 
Dominic fished a few coins from his pocket and then pushed them across the table. "Cutthroat cards?" he chuckled. "I don't believe I've played it like that."

 
Harvey beamed in satisfaction. Perhaps he could pluck this pigeon clean. The stranger might soon find himself wishing he had accompanied Molly to her room. At least there he'd have reaped some reward for forfeiting his coins.

 
After half an hour, Dominic had lost all the coins he had set before him so Harvey raised the stakes, determined to drain the rogue of his money and send him on his way. That idea also appealed to Rozalyn, and she encouraged Dominic to dip deeper into his purse when he announced that he intended to withdraw from the game.

 
"Well, if you insist,
mademoiselle
." He sighed and then retrieved another stack of coins. "But I fear the competition is much too fierce."

 
Rozalyn continued to sip her ale, grinning smugly at the thought of Dominic being outsmarted at the gaming table. She knew Harvey was beating Dominic by sleight-of-hand tricks, dealing his opponent hands that tempted him to bet, but hands that must bow to Harvey's. Rozalyn kept silent, certain Dominic deserved to lose his money because he had come to the tavern to find a wench to appease his voracious ap
petite
.

 
When Dominic was allowed to deal, the tide suddenly turned and the other gamblers' profits dwindled to little or
 
nothing.
 
And within another hour,
 
Harvey was glaring. The evening hadn't gone as he had anticipated. He knew he'd been hornswoggled but he could not accuse this rogue of cheating since he'd indulged so heavily in the underhanded tactic himself. His eyes narrowed when Dominic unfolded himself from the chair and clamped a hand on Rozalyn's arm to hoist her from her seat.

 
Rozalyn glowered at Dominic, then she pried his long fingers from her forearm. "I am going nowhere," she insisted, her voice noticeably slurring the words.

 
The little imp has been sitting there sipping ale until she is swimming in it, Dominic thought sourly. She had been giving him the cold shoulder since he'd invited himself into the game and, to numb herself to his annoying presence, had consumed enough brew to make her wobble like a newborn foal.

 
"I intend to escort you home,
mademoiselle
," Dominic gritted out through a tight smile. He did not want to make a scene and invite the wrath of Rozalyn's devoted friends.

 
"I can find my own way home, thank you," she snapped as she glared in Dominic's general direction, wondering which of the two blurry images she saw was the real Dominic Baudelair—whoremonger, rogue, and scoundrel. Damn, why did I try to drown my irritation in that confounded mug? she asked herself.

 
"He is right, you know," Harvey chimed in. Leaning back in his chair, he resentfully studied the stack of coins on Dominic's side of the table. "A lady shouldn't be wanderin' around the wharf at night, especially when she's bin dippin' heavily in drink."

 
Rozalyn had not expected Harvey to side with Dominic and she would have told him so if she hadn't been herded out of the tavern so quickly her head was spinning.

 
"You are making me dizzy," Rozalyn groaned as Dominic hustled her toward her horse and then promptly deposited her in the saddle.

"I would like to do more than that," Dominic snorted derisively. Placing his foot in the stirrup he swung up behind her. "You should have your backside paddled for cavorting with swindlers and drinking like a sailor."

 
"Swindlers?" Rozalyn hooted in disbelief. "It seems to me that the pot is calling the kettle black. Don't think I don't know what you were doing. Harvey kept a few cards in his sleeve, but you were dealing from the top and bottom of the deck. And speaking of double dealing"— she twisted around to glare at Dominic—"for a man who only last night professed to be content where he slept, you were certainly singing a new tune!" She sniffed distastefully and then swiveled around to rein the bay down the wharf. "Molly Perkins? Really, Dominic, I never dreamed you would stoop so low. That harlot has spent so much time on her back that she is completely disoriented when she finds herself in an upright position. She was slobbering all over you and you—"