Captive Bride Page 11

  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. Louis. 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 appetite.

  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 pr
omptly 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—"

  Dominic clamped his hand over her mouth to shush her. "Lower your voice, Roz. You will surely raise the dead." He chuckled, and his warm breath tickled her neck as he leaned close in case she felt the mischievous urge to topple him off the horse's rump. "I was not particularly impressed with the company you were keeping either, minx. And I know damned well who robbed me when I arrived in the city. It was your dark-haired friend who graciously offered me his chair."

  "It's a pity Gil didn't do more than relieve you of your money," Rozalyn grumbled spitefully after she ripped his hand away from her mouth. "It might have saved me . . ." Her sluggish voice trailed off as six masked men swarmed them, blocking escape in any direction.

  Dominic cast her a disgusted glance. "Did you sic your pack of guard dogs on me?"

  "I didn't plan this," Rozalyn protested.

  "Spare me a proclamation of innocence," Dominic scowled as he reached for his flintlock, but his hand remained poised for he thought it best to let the weapon stay in his belt.

  "Climb down, mister," one highwayman ordered brusquely. "Yer jinglin' pockets are like a bell calling people to church on Sunday. It ain't healthy for a man to be toting such a heavy purse."

  As Dominic grudgingly swung to the ground, Rozalyn caught the deadly gleam in his eyes. She had witnessed that same dangerous expression in them when Jeffrey had made the foolish mistake of pouncing on him outside the theater. Nervously, she gazed back and forth between Dominic and the six men who were closing in on him. She knew the raven-haired devil was sizing up his competition. His powerful body was tense. Like a jungle cat he awaited the appropriate moment to attack, even when he was so outnumbered.

  "You caught me off guard when last we met," Dominic said evenly, his cold green eyes boring into Gil's mask. "But not tonight. Call off your pack of wolves, Rozalyn. They may eventually get the best of me, but I swear I'll take at least half of them with me."

  Mocking laughter echoed through the crowd of men and Harvey stepped forward to aim his pistol at Dominic's heaving chest. "My, ain't we the arrogant one," he snickered. "Do you fight as well as you boast?"

  With a lightning move, Dominic kicked the pistol from Harvey's hand, and it sailed through the air, discharging when it bounced on the ground. As Dominic recoiled, like a rattlesnake preparing for his second strike, the startled thieves fell back, attempting to decide whether they should believe what they had seen. Harvey just stood there, his empty hand tingling from the force of the blow, his jaw sagging beneath his mask. Dominic had sprung so quickly that he'd had no chance to pull the trigger before his pistol was gone.

  Apprehension flooded over Rozalyn and she hurriedly fished into her pocket to retrieve enough funds to compensate the losses the men had sustained at Dominic's hand. "Take the money and leave," she hurriedly ordered when the men recovered their composure and stalked toward Dominic once again. "It isn't worth fighting over."

  "Are you sure you want to let this stranger escort you home?" Harvey croaked, his eyes widening incredulously.

  Harvey was certain Rozalyn would approve of their retaliation. Indeed, the only reason he had allowed this bewitching lass to be led from the tavern by this rogue was to set the man up for a robbery. Harvey was flabbergasted because Rozalyn wasn't encouraging them to attack.

  "I have witnessed Monsieur Baudelair's fighting tactics," Rozalyn informed him. "Dominic makes no empty threats. I do not relish seeing my friends torn to pieces for the sake of a few coins. When Dominic claimed he would take three of you with him when he fell, he was being modest." Her gaze focused on Harvey's dubious frown. "My prediction would have been four. Which of your men will you select to be the two who will walk away unscathed?"

  The silence was so thick Rozalyn could have stirred it with a stick. Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief when the men backed away, eying Dominic with considerably more respect now.

  This lady was not one to blow the truth out of proportion, Harvey mused as he knelt down to retrieve his flintlock. If Rozalyn swore the brute had the tough hide of a rhinoceros and the disposition of a disturbed grizzly, Harvey would be prone to believe her. And to confirm her claim, Dominic had used his entire body as a weapon of defense.

  A faint smile sparkled in Harvey's eyes as he tucked the coin pouch in his pocket and nodded his thanks to Rozalyn. "We was intendin' to take up a collection for Corbin after the card game. His wife and kids will be most grateful for yer contribution since he's laid up."

  Rozalyn rummaged through her vest for some remaining coins and then tossed them to Harvey. "Don't let them go hungry while Corbin recuperates."

  "Yer a saint, my Lady," Harvey murmured as he ambled over to grasp Rozalyn's hand in his own. His hazel eyes searched hers for a long, thoughtful moment before he whispered confidentially, "Are you sure you don't want us to follow you home? Just in case this fellow gives you trouble?"

  "No," she insisted. "My concern was for your welfare. He is very agreeable when no one crosses him."

  "But what if he—" Harvey tried to argue.

  "I will be fine." Rozalyn cut him off, and then gestured toward the bulging purse Harvey carried in his pocket. "Deliver the donations to Corbin's family and let me worry about our friend."

  Reluctantly, Harvey pivoted away, but not before casting Dominic a warning glance. "If you hurt that girl, you will answer to me, Baudelair. I may need to recruit an army to get my revenge, but I promise you will pay if you harm a hair of that angel's head."

  Angel? Dominic rolled his eyes heavenward as the men faded into the shadows. It was obvious that the love-struck thief had overlooked Rozalyn's cantankerous qualities. As far as Dominic could tell, Rozalyn was a strange mixture of seraph and witch. She bestowed warmth, compassion, and affection on her unruly friends, but Dominic had been on the receiving end of her temper once too often not to know there was far more to the feisty lady than Harvey perceived.

  It still amazed him that this heiress was drawn to the unfortunates who swarmed on the wharf. Although Rozalyn was rich and beautiful, she seemed to thrive when she was mingling with the common people of St. Louis. What is it about Harvey Duncan that draws her allegiance? he wondered, and his gaze circled back to the improperly dressed lass who sat atop her bay stallion.

  "Don't you have any normal friends?" Dominic's tone was mocking.

  Rozalyn looked down her nose and bristled at his inquiry. Indeed, if Dominic had not grasped the reins, Rozalyn would have left him afoot, his question unanswered.

  "There is nothing wrong with my choice of friends," she declared hotly and then flinched when Dominic hopped up behind her. "We look out for each other. We care about each other. There is no pretense of friendship in the streets." Her sharp gaze riveted over Dominic as she turned in the saddle. "I cannot say the same for a certain aristocrat whom I have recently met."

  Dominic breathed a frustrated sigh and then snatched the reins from Rozalyn's hand. "I suppose you are referring to the incident with Molly Perkins," he grumbled as he aimed the steed down the street.

  "Precisely." Her back stif
fened when his hard contours came into contact with her.

  "Naive little nymph," Dominic chortled, and his arm slid around her waist, drawing her closer to his solid strength. "Must I confess what was troubling me when I went in search of another woman? Can you not guess my purpose?"

  "I know very well what motivated you." Rozalyn tried to free herself, but his sinewy arm tightened about her, making it impossible for her to move or breathe normally. "You have an insatiable appetite. It was your lust that led you to Sadie's Tavern, naught else."

  Dominic nuzzled his cheek against the soft, silky hair that streamed over Rozalyn's shoulders. "You are very wrong, cherie. I was running from your memory. The feelings you stirred within me were frightening to a man who has learned to fear little in life." Dominic sighed heavily when he felt her body go rigid against his. "Condemn me if you must, Roz, but my worst punishment lies in realizing I was lying to myself. When I looked at Molly I could only compare her to you. It was you I wanted, and I could only see your smile on her face. I would have much preferred to fight your guard dogs than the emotions raging within me. My torment comes in the form of pure, sweet memories of the time we shared. They constantly hound me while we are apart."

  The bay stallion pranced uneasily as Dominic lifted Rozalyn in his arms and turned her to face him. As he took her lips, like a man savoring a thirst-quenching drink, Rozalyn told herself it was the ale that caused her to surrender to the feel of his hard male strength. Nonetheless, her lips opened to his warm, compelling kiss, and her heart drummed so fiercely she knew her responses were not due to the brew. When Dominic touched her, she felt more than a shallow physical attraction. Love stirred in her and whispered across her soul. She had had no experience with love, but she recognized the feeling. What she felt for this powerful, uncompromising man was an emotion that defied description. It was wild and sweet, and she had no defense against it.