Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Robin Gideon

  “The moneyed folks of Whitetail Creek. They’ll say I corrupted you.” The thought brought a laugh from Pamela. “Imagine that, me corrupting you!”

  Even Garrett had to laugh at the absurdity of that notion.

  “Do you really care what those people think of you?”

  Pamela studied him for a moment before answering. “Not really. They’re important to me only because they are important to you. They’re your people.”

  “No, they’re not,” Garrett said quietly.

  There was little conviction in his voice because he knew she had spoken the painful truth. Those people were his people—with their gossiping, their backstabbing, machinations and manipulations, double-dealing and blatant lies—and he knew how to play their games with the best of them.

  “Not all of them are bad,” Pamela said, propping herself up on an elbow, until the effort became too great and she reclined again on the seat. Besides, she liked having her legs over Garrett’s lap and his hand running lightly, casually over her. “I did meet a few people who were kind to me.”

  “Money doesn’t necessarily make a person evil, you know.”

  “Yes, I know that,” Pamela replied, aware of her own prejudices, though not confident of overcoming them.

  Unspoken questions faced her and Garrett. Difficult questions that could not be avoided forever. But she wasn’t going to be concerned with forever, just with this night.

  What will happen next? she wondered. Individually and together, they were dedicated to bringing Jonathon Darwell to justice, dedicated to seeing that he did not continue to profit from his criminality. But how long could they continue to fight him? Darwell was too powerful. He was, after all, trying to hire her brother to kill the Midnight Phantom. And Garrett had said he would not allow Pamela to continue her crusade against Darwell. Nonetheless, she would not stop—not for Garrett, not for anyone. She refused to allow any man to make such an important decision about her life for her.

  Garrett began to button his shirt, and Pamela raised her foot, stopping his progress with the toe of her kidskin slipper.

  “Don’t,” she ordered. “I enjoy looking at your chest.” She thrust her foot inside Garrett’s shirt to rub his chest and ribs with it. He smiled at her, clearly finding her openness surprising. “Why don’t you take your shirt off instead? Take it off for me,” she said, mimicking an earlier order to her from the Midnight Phantom.

  “Just my shirt?” Garrett asked, a single eyebrow raised mockingly.

  “That will do for starters.”

  Garrett grinned, but he continued buttoning his shirt, pushing Pamela’s feet out of his lap when she continued to thwart his efforts.

  “Stop it now,” he said, his grin widening. “The last thing I need is a discussion with your brother on the sanctity of your virtue. He’s got a reputation with guns that—”

  “Is as renowned as your reputation with women?” Pamela cut in. There was a hint of anger beneath the lightness of her tone. She could not forget that Garrett was her first and only lover, but she was not his first, second, or even third. And she probably wasn’t his last.

  “My reputation is inflated, and your brother has the corpses to prove his.”

  Feeling just a little threatened, as though her family honor had somehow been put on trial by this lawyer, Pamela said a bit softly, defensively, “He’s never killed an honest man. You should know that.”

  Garrett patted Pamela’s leg, looking at her for a beat without saying anything. “Yes, I know that. He’s a good and honest man, and the things he does—the men he goes after and brings in—they deserve whatever happens to them. It’s because he’s an honest man that I agreed to represent him awhile back. He was being cheated by politicians in Cold Ridge, and that just didn’t seem right to me.”

  “Justice is important to you, isn’t it? It’s why you became the Midnight Phantom.”

  Garrett nodded. “I didn’t actually become the Midnight Phantom,” he said, grinning just a little at the feebleness of his excuse. “I sort of adopted the role, as an actor does.”

  “What made you think of it? Anything specific?”

  “I’ve been fighting with Jonathon Darwell for years. Since I became a lawyer. Maybe even longer than that. Some of the battles he’s been victorious, and some I’ve won. But it wasn’t until I started working on the hospital, and saw that bastard worming his way into the project, that I realized how truly dangerous he is. He puts on a pretty face, like stage makeup, and then people don’t realize how sadistic and dangerous he is. I’ve seen how he’s been able to manipulate the entire legal system, twisting it upside down until even I don’t have any faith in it, and it’s what I’ve dedicated my life to. That’s why I became the Midnight Phantom.”

  Garrett shook his shoulders and looked toward the heavens, taking in a single deep breath, holding it for a second then exhaling slowly. It wasn’t until he was visibly relaxed, had released his anger toward Jonathon Darwell, that he looked to Pamela again.

  “Why did you decide Jonathon Darwell needed to be taken down a notch or two?” he asked.

  “First, I should tell you that Richard Darwell has put a ten thousand dollar bounty on your head. He’s tried to hire Jedediah to go after you, but Jedediah hasn’t given him an answer yet.”

  “Ten thousand dollars? That’s a lot of money.”

  “If Jedediah takes the job—”

  “Don’t think of that now,” Garrett cut in, feigning indifference to the information he’d just heard. He patted Pamela’s leg and asked, “Tell me, why are you out to take Darwell down?”

  Pamela closed her eyes. She had a much more personal reason for hating Jonathon Darwell, though she wasn’t at all certain she could tell her story without breaking into tears.

  “Come on, I’ve been honest with you,” Garrett prodded. “But if the answer is too painful…”

  “It’s nothing that he did to me personally,” Pamela began, speaking slowly and clearly, looking at the stars overhead as the carriage rolled slowly down the narrow road toward her house. “The thing about Darwell that’s so dangerous is his money and what he does with it. Many years ago, I had a cousin who never could quite match up with the rest of the Bragg family. He wasn’t a bad child, really, just a little slow. One of Darwell’s hired men offered him money to take part in a bank robbery. Jonathon Darwell was behind the whole thing, of course. He was the one who had planned it all. He needed this particular bank destroyed so that he could take over. Anyway, the robbery didn’t exactly go as planned. My cousin was caught, and he made a deal with the sheriff. He gave him the names of the men who had robbed the bank with him. Those men were eventually caught and put in jail. Vigilantes dragged them out of their cells on the very first night and hung them all in the town square.”

  “And then what happened?” he asked. “Though I’m not at all certain I want to know the answer.”

  “Stupid, sadistic pride. The brothers of the hanged men came after my cousin’s family, looking for revenge. My mother, father, a brother, and a sister were visiting them at the time. Jedediah and I were in town buying provisions.”

  “And the mob got its revenge,” Garrett said, hoping to finish the story so that Pamela wouldn’t have to.

  “Yes, they did. They set fire to the house, shooting everyone who rushed out. My entire family was killed.”

  “And that’s why Jedediah became a bounty hunter,” Garrett said. “And why you hate rich people as much as you do.”

  They traveled the remainder of the way back to Pamela’s cabin in silence, each mulling over private thoughts and fears. Garrett had rearranged his clothing so that he looked nearly as impeccable as he had when he’d come to pick her up, Pamela noted, with a smile. It wasn’t really himself he was worried about but her reputation with Jedediah.

  “My brother really isn’t the cold-blooded killer the townsfolk say he is,” Pamela said, keeping her voice down as Garrett reined in the carriage horse. She didn’t want t
o awaken Jedediah, and it rather surprised her that he wasn’t standing at the doorway already.

  “I know he’s not,” Garrett replied.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Pamela said, rushing into the cabin to tell Jedediah that she had returned home safe and sound. She also wanted a few minutes of privacy with Garrett provided her overly protective older brother would be so kind.

  She lit the candle on the small kitchen table and carried it around the cabin with her, looking for her brother. He was nowhere to be found. On her pillow was a single sheet of paper. Written in Jedediah’s sloppy handwriting, the note said he had decided to accept Jonathon Darwell’s offer to hunt the Midnight Phantom. It added that he was leaving immediately for Juniper Junction, where the Phantom was rumored to have a hideout and would return in two or three days.

  Pamela felt she had been struck in the stomach. She could hardly breathe. She placed a hand against the bedroom wall to support herself.

  Her worst fears had come true. Her brother—her deadly, dangerous brother—was hunting her lover. There was nothing she could do to stop Jedediah now.

  “Pamela, are you all right in there?” Garrett called out, standing in the doorway.

  For an instant, she thought of burning her brother’s letter, as if by destroying it, she would also destroy the meaning and intent in the words. But this wasn’t a problem that would go away if she simply didn’t look at it. What Garrett Randolph did not know, in this instance, could very likely get him killed. And then where would she be? What would she have besides anger if something happened to Garrett, her precious and passionate Phantom?

  “Pamela?”

  She could hear the worry in his voice this time. “Come in, Garrett. There’s something I’ve got to show you,” she said. She thought the Fates must surely be very angry with her to treat her so cruelly, doing this to her at the end of an evening in which she and Garrett—not she and the Phantom—had finally become lovers, and he’d taken her to yet another level of ecstasy.

  * * * *

  “You’ve got to promise me that you’ll never again become the Midnight Phantom,” Pamela demanded.

  She was pacing the cabin while Garrett, sitting at the kitchen table, read and reread Jedediah’s letter.

  “You’re beginning to sound exactly like me, or like a nagging wife,” he scolded with a smile. He accepted Jedediah as a threat, though he saw no need to alarm Pamela.

  “It isn’t me Jedediah’s been hired to hunt. You may be his lawyer, but Jonathon Darwell has put ten thousand dollars on your head. Do you expect my brother to turn that much money down?”

  “Money really scares you, doesn’t it?”

  “No, just the wrong people with money.” She stepped up to the table. “Promise me the Phantom goes into retirement as of this moment.”

  Garrett did not answer immediately, and a new world of fears sprang up fully formed within Pamela’s heart. “You don’t know my brother as I do,” she said. “Once he gets started on something, he doesn’t stop until it’s over and done with. He’s like a bulldog that way. If he’s on the hunt, I won’t see him until it’s over. I don’t even know how to let him know you’re the Phantom so that he’ll stop.”

  “Don’t tell him anything. You must know I’m just as determined and single-minded as your brother,” Garrett said. “I don’t want to speak the painful truth, but I don’t want to lie to you either. I can’t give up now. Jonathon Darwell must be stopped, and I’m just beginning to make him look into shadows to see if I’m there. Pretty soon, he’ll really be feeling the effects of what I’m doing. And sooner or later, I’ll find something—something solid that will stand up in court—that will enable me to put the bastard behind bars or up on a gallows where he belongs.”

  Pamela bit her lip to keep more words from spilling out. It would do no good to argue with Garrett tonight. Later she would calmly and rationally explain to him why continuing to be the Midnight Phantom was foolishness. Right now was not a time for them to argue, not when they had just enjoyed such blissful harmony of mind and body.

  She checked the boiler on the stove. One more boiler into the washtub and she could soak in the warm water while Garrett washed her back.

  “If Jedediah’s after me, he’s after you, too,” he said in a whisper, as though this sudden awareness frightened him. He was brave, but only a fool would casually disregard the danger Jedediah represented. “Jonathon Darwell thinks he’s only been dealing with the Midnight Phantom, but if your brother gets involved in this, he might figure the Phantom is really two people.”

  “He’s already involved,” Pamela said testily, continuing to pace the floor.

  She did not harbor the fears for herself that Garrett did. She knew Jedediah would walk through fire for her and would never do anything to hurt her. It was just the way her brother was, especially after the killings of their family and relatives. He was quietly, intractably dedicated to protecting her and in seeing that violent criminals received the justice they so richly deserved.

  Garrett grabbed Pamela’s wrist as she passed him. “I’m tired. I can’t remember how many hours ago I left Fort Richmond. I don’t want to argue anymore. Whatever happens,” he continued softly, “it’s not going to happen tonight. Jedediah’s on his way to Juniper Junction.”

  “We do have tonight,” Pamela said quietly.

  She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. The frantic lovemaking, first in the linen closet then in the plush, slowly rolling carriage had made a shambles of the coiffure she’d created for Garrett. She took his hand in both of hers, moving just a little closer to him so that she stood between his knees.

  “And since my brother is so far away, I see no reason at all why you shouldn’t stay here tonight. It’s an awfully long ride back to your ranch,” she continued, as though the distance somehow validated her reason for wanting him to stay.

  For a moment, Garrett didn’t know what to say. He knew what asking him to stay meant to Pamela. It was a bold move. Should anyone discover he’d spent the night, she would be branded a trollop, or worse. His reputation wouldn’t suffer at all, and this sexual double standard, though working in Garrett’s favor, rankled him nevertheless.

  He brought Pamela’s hands to his mouth and kissed them. She was the most exciting, unique combination of strength and independence, femininity and courage he’d ever come across, and he silently cursed whatever powers on earth and in the heavens had created such impossible odds against their ever being happy together.

  “I will stay with you tonight,” Garrett whispered as he rose to his feet, now looming over her.

  Looking down into her lovely, pale-green eyes, he wished he could tell her he’d stay with her always. He suspected she wanted to hear those words, but to say them would mean lying to her, and he was determined to avoid doing that. Perhaps one day it might be necessary—Garrett had been a lawyer long enough to have developed a cynical attitude toward absolutes, especially when words like forever and love and truth were involved—but that time wasn’t now.

  Pamela poured a whiskey for Garrett from her brother’s supply while he put two big boilers on the stove, heating water for the bathtub. When the water was steaming nicely, he filled the tub.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Don’t be shy now,” Garrett said, taking Pamela by the hands and lifting her out of the straight-backed chair. “Let me pamper you. Would you like to be pampered?”

  She smiled. “I could use all the pampering you’ve got.”

  “Then spin around and let me get started.”

  Turning, Pamela resisted the urge to ask if it was common for Garrett to, in his words, pamper his lovers. To ask would be to admit to jealousy, and she was certain that a man with Garrett Randolph’s reputation for sexual conquest wouldn’t take kindly to the emotion.

  She felt the buttons of her dress coming unfastened quickly and easily. He pushed the fabric off her shoulders then eased the garment down over her hips. She stepped out
of it.

  “Now turn toward me.”

  His voice was low, husky, and it caressed Pamela’s senses. By the time she had turned to face Garrett, her nipples had tightened, and the anticipatory tingling down low had started again.

  “I made a complete shambles of your hair,” he said, combing his fingers through her tresses to smooth them over her shoulders. He favored her with a half grin. “You aroused me to a rather feverish state, I’m afraid.”

  He untied the three ribbons holding the chemise closed, and Pamela felt the breath suddenly catch in her throat. Garrett eased open the garment, exposing her breasts to his gaze, and she watched as he inhaled sharply, and his pupils dilated in appreciation.

  “Lovely,” he said in a whisper, sliding the chemise off her shoulders to the floor.

  Pamela resisted the impulse to cross her arms over her breasts. Though he’d seen her before, she suddenly felt scrutinized, and the sensation did battle with her rising passion.

  “Now let’s get rid of this,” Garrett said, tugging loose the drawstring of Pamela’s petticoat.

  He got down on one knee in front of her, his fingers lightly touching her hips then thighs as he removed the undergarment. The tingling in her clit that had started moments earlier was now a distinct hungry throb that emanated outward.

  “I’m afraid I’ve made quite a mess of your petticoat,” Garrett said, his tone casual as he inspected the dried semen stains.

  “A small price to pay,” Pamela said, then moistened her suddenly dry lips. “Thank you again for being so considerate.”

  Garrett smoothed Pamela’s stockings down her legs, leaving her completely naked. Nervously, she put one hand between her legs to hide her pussy.

  “Don’t,” Garrett admonished. “I want you to flaunt your beauty in front of me, not hide it. Now step into the tub and let me bathe you.”