Wild Silver - the Delaneys

by Iris Johansen

  She wanted to scream again as his tongue touched and then began to stroke her with painstaking slowness. She arched helplessly toward him, her fingers reaching out blindly to bury themselves in his golden hair. Searing hunger tore through her as her head fell back against the cushions of the seat. She couldn’t get her breath. Heat. Tingling. Clenching.

  He lifted his head. “You’re so pretty here.” He blew gently. She inhaled sharply as she felt his warm breath exploding against her pulsating heart. His hands were lifting, his palms cupping her round buttocks as he slowly lowered his head again. “It’s not enough. I’m hungry for you. I want to taste you.” His mouth opened, enveloped, sucked.

  Her lips opened, the tendons of her throat strained, but she could make no sound. She felt as though she were bathed in fire. The dizzying tempo of the blood running through her veins was almost as painful as the intensity of pleasure she was experiencing.

  Nicholas head rose and his hands left her. He fumbled quickly at the front of his trousers and his manhood burst free of restriction. He laid his head on her stomach, his breath coming in harsh rasps. He rubbed his hard cheek against her flesh, luxuriating in the softness of her. “Silver …”

  Then he was suddenly gone, once again sitting across from her. His fair hair was tousled and his ebony eyes blazed as he reached out and lifted her onto his lap. “Come to me.” His voice was soft, urgent, as irresistible as the haunting melody of Pan’s flute.

  His hands cupped her hips as he slid her slowly down the rigid stalk of his manhood. Her knees braced on the cushions of the seat on either side of him. His hands left her and gently began to rub at her insteps as he let her feel every bold inch of his dimension within her.

  She bit her lower lip to keep her delirious jolt of pleasure unknown to him. But it was to no avail; he did know, Nicholas always knew.

  Her hands clutched his shoulders as he began a fiery rhythm that turned her mindless with a fever of ecstasy. She couldn’t repress the low moan that trembled deep in her throat.

  “Let go.” Nicholas’s voice was a silkening crooning in her ear. “This is where you belong. This is what you want. Say it, Silver.”

  “No!” Her fingers went up to tangle in his hair. “No.”

  “Say it!”

  “Yes!” Her fingers clenched again in his hair. She was panting, her breath coming in little sobs. “But it doesn’t matter, it means nothing. Do you hear me? It doesn’t mean anything!”

  He went still. Then, slowly, his hands cupped her cheeks in his two hands and tilted her head back to look into her eyes. She had expected to see lust, perhaps triumph, but there was something else in his glittering eyes that bewildered her. Sadness. “I know,” he said softly. “But that’s all you’ll give me.” His lips brushed her own with exquisite tenderness. “Firebird.” He closed his eyes and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of pain on his face. Then his eyes opened and he smiled crookedly. “So I’ll take what gifts I’m allowed as I’ve always done before. Perhaps you’ll find it to be a fair exchange.”

  Then he was clearly done with conversation as he began to thrust with a force and power that held an odd element of desperation.

  She was still lost in a haze of delight and lethargy when he moved her to the seat opposite him again. He swiftly put his clothes in order and then leaned forward to carefully fasten the buttons on her velvet bodice and arrange her filmy skirts around her. His features were set and curiously grave in the moonlight streaming through the window into the carriage. “I have some questions to ask you about Dominic Delaney.”

  She gazed at him in disbelief. “Why do you think I would tell you anything now when I wouldn’t before?”

  “Because they aren’t the same questions. Valentin thinks I’ve made a mistake, but I have to know, dammit. You’re becoming too—” He broke off, searching for words. “He may be right; the Randall Agency was wrong about your having a lover. They could be wrong about what happened at Hell’s Bluff.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t been back to Hell’s Bluff in four years.”

  “It happened four years ago,” Nicholas said tightly. “You were there with Dominic Delaney and Elspeth MacGregor. You—”

  The carriage came to a halt as Mikhail reined in the team. He called, “We are here.”

  “Damn,” Nicholas muttered, and opened the door of the carriage. He stepped down on the cobblestone street overlooking the levee and walked quickly toward the hitching post where Mikhail was tying the horses.

  Mikhail turned. “I will go tell Robert we are ready to leave. You will want to carry Silver down to the Rose. She might cut her feet on these rough stones.”

  Nicholas’s frown faded and a smile of amusement curved his lips. “I’ll see that her delicate toes never come in contact with these coarse stones. Trust me.”

  “I trust you,” Mikhail said gravely. “But I know you and she does not. You have not been kind to her. It is no wonder she ran away from you.”

  Nicholas expression became shuttered. “I kept my promise to you.”

  Mikhail nodded. “But you have made none to her. She is a woman who has no one, a woman who belongs nowhere. Such a woman needs promises.” He paused. “Though she may never tell you she does.” He turned away. “She has great pride.” He didn’t wait for an answer but started down the slanting levee, his bootheels clicking loudly on the cobblestones.

  Nicholas gazed after him, then turned and crossed the few paces back to the door of the carriage. He opened the door and stood looking at her. Sensual Scheherazade. Fierce warrior. Lonely waif. Silver.

  She frowned in puzzlement. “Why are looking at me like that?”

  “No reason.” He held out his arms. “Come. Mikhail is worried about you cutting your feet. I promised him I’d—”

  Pain.

  His head exploded with white-hot agony. “What …”

  The pain struck again!

  Darkness.

  “Nicholas!” Silver frantically slid across the seat. He was falling to the ground!

  “Good evening, Miss Delaney.” Lee Bassinger stepped forward, a coil of rope in one hand and a pistol in the other. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. I’ve been waiting here on the wharf a long time for Nicholas to bring you back to us. Now, stretch out your hands so that I can tie your wrists. I have no intention of letting you get away again.”

  “No,” she said. Nicholas was lying still and white on the cobblestones. “Is he dead?” Her voice was faraway, only a wisp of sound. “Have you killed him?”

  “He’s alive.” His shrewd gaze searched her face. “You seem uncommonly concerned for a lady who has done nothing but try to escape from the man. It’s foolish of you to reveal such a weakness for Savron. It makes things too easy for me.” He leaned down and pressed the barrel of the pistol to Nicholas’s temple. “Give me your hands or I’ll blow a neat little hole in his highness’s handsome head.”

  She drew a deep, quivering breath and then, slowly, she held out her hands to be bound.

  “Where is she?” Nicholas whispered, gazing up at Valentin and Mikhail. He sat up on the bed, ignoring the blinding pain that jagged through his head and threatened to fling him back into the darkness. “Were we followed from that damn circus?”

  “We don’t know. When you didn’t follow him to the boat, Mikhail came back up the levee. He found you unconscious with two lumps as big as ostrich eggs on your head.” Valentin paused. “The carriage was gone and so was Silver. We thought perhaps she might have demonstrated her opposition to your plans for her.”

  “No!” Nicholas swung his feet to the floor. Christ, he was dizzy. “It must have been one of her friends from the circus. I have to get back there.”

  “It wouldn’t do any good.” Lee Bassinger stood in the doorway of the stateroom, the omnipresent smile on his lips. “Miss Delaney is accepting my hospitality at the moment.” He strolled into the room. “I do hope you’re feeling better, Savron
. I really hated to hit you on the head, as I wanted you to be able to think clearly when I offered my terms.”

  “Terms?” Nicholas asked coldly. “The only terms I may accede to involve the precise manner in which you meet your end, Bassinger.”

  “So arrogant.” Bassinger’s tone was almost approving. “Do you know that’s what drew me to you that night at Madam LaRue’s? You wore your damn arrogance like an ermine-trimmed cloak and everyone was fawning all over you. The great Russian prince with the whole world at his fingertips. You were just like those fancy Natchez planter folk up on the hill.” His green eyes were glittering in the lamplight. “I was scum and I came from scum, but I showed them. I’m richer than all of them now.”

  “Where’s Silver, Bassinger?” Nicholas’s words were measured as he tried to control his temper. “Tell me now and I may let you live. It’s not likely, but there is a possibility.”

  “Your little pullet? She must be good if you still want her after all the trouble she’s caused you. Perhaps I may try her myself.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. There’s no possibility at all that you’ll survive.”

  “I will break his bones,” Mikhail offered mildly. “He will tell you after the second bone is snapped.” He studied Bassinger. “Perhaps after only the first one is broken. I think he has no courage.”

  “Keep him away from me.” Bassinger took a step back. “If anything happens to me, I’ve given orders that your little whore’s throat be cut. My men are loyal to me; they know I don’t tolerate disobedience.”

  “Wait, Mikhail.” Nicholas experienced a surge of frustration liberally laced with cold panic. “We’ll listen to him.”

  “How kind,” Bassinger said caustically. “You don’t seem to realize that I’m in charge here now. It’s my choice what will happen to your whore and what will happen to you.”

  “And what do you propose to do to us?” Nicholas asked without expression. “I’m sure you have a plan in mind.”

  “Oh, yes.” Bassinger nodded with satisfaction. “I’m going to rid you of a little of that arrogance. I’m going to get the Rose back and I’m going to enjoy having your little schoolgirl do a number of pleasurable tricks for me.”

  Nicholas hands clenched into fists at his side. “I do believe I may draw and quarter you.”

  “Excellent idea,” Valentin murmured, his light eyes icy cold. “I’d be delighted to assist.”

  Bassinger moistened his lips with his tongue. “This isn’t Russia, your highness. You don’t have any power here, while I have judges bought and paid for all along the Mississippi. I’m the one who’s prince here. I can do whatever I want.”

  “You can have the Rose,” Nicholas said crisply. “Return the woman and I’ll sign over the papers.”

  “That’s not enough, it’s too easy for you. You treated me like a stray pup nibbling at your heels.” Bassinger’s fair skin was suddenly flushed with color. “Well, now you can trail at my heels for a while. If I feel generous, I may let you return the Rose to me when we reach New Orleans.” He laughed excitedly. “Don’t you think that’s only fair, your highness?”

  It was more than vengeance driving him, Nicholas realized, the man was not quite sane. The knowledge caused terror to sleet through him. There was no way to either reason or bargain with a madman. “And how do you intend to accomplish this?”

  “Why, we’re going to have a race,” Bassinger said. “That should amuse your highness, you being a gambling man. I have your woman on the Mary L, one of my other boats docked just down the levee. The Mary L is smaller and lighter than the Rose and she’s carrying no cargo and only about twenty-five passengers. When I return to the boat, I’ll order that we set out for New Orleans. You will naturally follow.” He smiled. “If you arrive first in New Orleans, I’ll allow you to return the Rose and give you the bitch you apparently hold in such esteem. If I win, you’ll still return the Rose and I’ll keep the Delaney woman until I tire of her.” His smile deepened benevolently. “Don’t worry, I seldom keep women for long after I’ve broken them. Though your half-breed seems more spirited than most, I’m sure it will take only a little longer.” He turned toward the door. “I think I’m being most generous under the circumstances. I’ll even allow you glimpses of your strumpet from time to time if you keep close enough on my heels. I’ll bring her up to the Texas deck when she’s not entertaining me in my cabin.” He opened the door and glanced back at them, fierce satisfaction on his face. “You understand, of course, that since I’ve made the rules and the stakes, I can also change them at any time. You might remember that, your highness.”

  The door closed behind him.

  Valentin gave a low whistle. “Nicky, he’s not—”

  “Sane,” Nicholas finished grimly. “And it wouldn’t surprise me if he were capable of the same sorts of vicious little tricks made notorious by our good tsar Ivan.”

  “What do we do?” Mikhail asked.

  “We follow him.” Nicholas stood up, swaying as waves of pain pounded his temples. “Yapping at the bastard’s heels.”

  “I don’t like it,” Valentin said, frowning. “Why don’t we go after him now and—”

  “He’d kill her,” Nicholas said harshly. “Do you think I wouldn’t prefer that too? I can’t risk it. It’s my fault Silver is being used as Bassinger’s pawn. If I hadn’t brought her on board the Rose, he would never have known she existed. The blame for anything he does lies on my shoulders.”

  “He will not keep his bargain,” Mikhail said flatly.

  Nicholas didn’t answer for a moment. “I know that.” His lips tightened into a thin line. He moved toward the door. “We’ll give Bassinger what he wants and watch for a chance to get Silver away from him.”

  Valentin nodded. “And then?”

  “Then I’ll kill him as slowly and as painfully as possible.” Nicholas opened the door. “I’m going up to the pilot house to talk to Robert. Put ashore our passengers with enough money to buy them passage back to New Orleans on another riverboat and get rid of any cargo in the hold. I want the Rose as light as possible. If what Bassinger claims about the Mary L is true, it won’t help much, but we have to try everything we can. I want to be right behind him from the moment the Mary L leaves the levee.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And make sure there’s a rifle on board. The Rose may not be able to catch the Mary L but a bullet might.”

  “Come along, sweet bitch.” Bassinger jerked Silver to her feet. “We’re under way, and though I’d like to linger here in my cabin with you, I have an even greater pleasure in mind. We’re going to put on a show for your lover.” He checked the bonds around her wrists in front of her. “It’s a spectacle I’ve been planning since you poured that bottle of wine on my head.”

  “You looked very funny,” Silver said calmly. “Everyone thought so. Do you remember how they laughed at you? They’ll laugh again when I—” She broke off, her head snapping back as Bassinger struck her viciously on the cheek. Then she shook her head to clear it of the stinging pain and smiled. “I will remember that when my hands aren’t tied.”

  “You’ll remember a good deal more than that.” He shoved her out onto the deck and then in the direction of the stairs leading to the Texas deck. “And so will Savron. He’s right behind us and he’ll be able to view our little tableau very clearly.” He half lifted, half pushed her up the stairs. “You’re quite helpless, you know. No one will interfere. Most of the passengers are asleep, but I’ve ordered their staterooms locked as a precaution. As for the crew, they value their jobs and will discreetly attend to their duties. A few of them will even enjoy watching.” He flung his arms wide as they reached the deck. “You see, I’ve already prepared the stage. We want our audience to be able to see every detail.”

  A multitude of lanterns lit this end of the Texas deck. They hung on the rails and sat on the deck and on the stairs leading to the pilot house. The entire area was as brilliantly lit as the stage to which Bassinger was comparing it.
A roughly clad young man with a scarred cheek was lighting another lantern, and looked up to smile at Bassinger. “All set, sir. Almost as bright as day up here.”

  “Good. Oh, how rude I’m being. This is one of my employees, Henry Bracken,” Bassinger said smoothly as he pushed Silver toward the rail at the rear of the boat. “Henry has tastes similar to my own, and I often allow him to watch as I chastise my little girls for their wickedness.” He stood beside her at the rail and pointed to the white riverboat gleaming in the darkness a few hundred yards distant. “There’s the Rose. It’s too far away for you to see if your lover is in the pilot house watching us, but I assure you he’ll be there.” His gaze didn’t leave her face as he held out his hand. “The rawhide, Henry.”

  Henry Bracken hurried forward and placed the long leather strap in Bassinger’s hand. Bassinger quickly knotted the rawhide over the ropes binding Silver’s wrists and then bound her to the rail. “And he can see you very clearly. How fortunate that you’re wearing red. That costume should be quite visible from a distance.” He stepped behind her, out of her line of vision. “The whip, Henry.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Silver inhaled sharply. He was going to beat her. She should have expected this. She braced herself.

  “Ah, you’re getting ready for the first blow. What a beautiful sight that is. But it never does any good to prepare yourself, the pain is just as bad as if you don’t. Thank you, Henry.” A whistling sound snaked through the air. “It’s a fine whip. It will leave lovely crimson weals, but won’t scar your permanently. That will come later.”

  “There won’t be a later,” Silver said, tugging futilely at the rawhide strap. “I’ll kill you, Bassinger.”