Wild Silver

by Iris Johansen

  Her gaze flew to the head of the table. Nicholas was dressed entirely in stunning black and white, his golden hair shining with light as he bent to speak to the lovely red-haired woman sitting on his left. He seemed very amused by the woman, she noticed with a pang that she permitted to last only until the instant she identified its nature. She swiftly shifted her glance to Valentin. “I don’t see Mikhail.”

  “Mikhail feels uncomfortable at most social functions and Nicky seldom insists he attend.”

  No one appeared to notice their arrival, and Valentin was unobtrusively seating her near the foot of the table when Nicholas’s voice rang out over the hubbub of conversation. “Not there, Valentin.” He casually gestured to a chair farther up the table. “Seat her beside our good friend Bassinger, and then come and sit by me. We want our newcomer to get acquainted with our other guests, don’t we?”

  “Do we?” Valentin murmured. He shrugged resignedly, but whispered in Silver’s ear as he escorted her to the chair Nicholas had indicated, “Be careful, Bassinger is …” He trailed off. “I’ll see you after dinner.”

  Silver nodded as she seated herself between a plump, pretty woman in a violet taffeta gown and a slim elegant gentleman with pale green eyes. “Thank you, Valentin.”

  Valentin hesitated and then muttered something beneath his breath before stalking toward the head of the table. He threw himself into the chair at Nicholas’s right and immediately reached for the wine goblet beside his plate.

  “Count Marinov appears to be disturbed at being forced to share you with the rest of us.” The man at Silver’s left leaned toward her and smiled intimately. “Who could blame him? You’re very lovely, Miss …?”

  “Silver Delaney.” She glanced at him briefly. She judged him to be middle-aged; his features were nondescript and gray threaded his dark hair like winter frost. His light green eyes reminded her also of frost. Even though his lips were smiling, his eyes were cold. “And there’s no reason why Count Marinov should be disturbed.”

  “I’m Lee Bassinger.” The man’s smiled remained intact. “I’ve heard a number of very interesting things about you. I understand you’re Savron’s property, but tonight you appear with Marinov. Is Nicholas sharing you?”

  “I’m no man’s property.” Silver watched as a servant placed a chicken breast on her plate with silver tongs. “I’ve heard of you too, Mr. Bassinger.”

  Bassinger’s lips tightened. “Really? His highness has spoken of me?”

  She shook her head as she picked up her knife and fork and cut into her chicken with exquisite precision. “Robert Danfold. He said you were a very rich man with many riverboats in your shipping company and offices in St. Louis, Memphis, and New Orleans.”

  His smile deepened. “That’s true. I’m as rich as you could wish, and I can be very generous if a woman pleases me.”

  She took a bite of her chicken. It was delicious, delicately flavored with herbs. “He also said you were stupid enough to lose this fine riverboat to Nicholas in a poker game.”

  He stiffened, a flare of anger twisting his nondescript features to ugliness. “Stupid? I don’t like being called stupid by a whore.”

  “I’m not a whore.” She didn’t look at him as she began eating in earnest. “But you most certainly are stupid, if what Robert says is true.”

  His hand suddenly fastened on her wrist with painful force. “I’m not—”

  “Let me go.” She glanced at his now livid face with eyes as cold as his own. “Or I’ll skewer you instead of the chicken with this fork.”

  He glared at her with a venom greater than any she had ever encountered. Then his hand slowly released her and he smiled again. “You have spirit and I admire that in a woman.”

  He was lying, Silver thought. He was an easy man to read and was obviously one who liked only fear and respect to surround him.

  “I’m sure we’ll get along very well.” Bassinger patted the wrist he had so recently grasped with such cruelty. “You can always count on me for any assistance you may require.”

  Silver began to eat again. “I need no assistance.” She proceeded to ignore him as the servant brought another course and set it before her.

  “Why did you do it?” Valentin lifted his brooding gaze from his wineglass to Nicholas’s face. “It would have done no harm to let me sit beside her. I would have—”

  “Protected her,” Nicholas finished for him. He smiled and shook his head. “But I don’t want her protected.”

  “I know,” Valentin said sourly. “But why Bassinger?”

  “She appears to think I’m Satan incarnate. I wanted her to see there are a few men more degenerate than I.” Nicholas lifted his wineglass to his lips, his dark eyes dancing over the rim. “Besides, she’s obviously come to no harm. She seems more interested in her dinner than anything going on around her. The lady has a hearty appetite.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Valentin’s tone was abstracted as his gaze followed Nicholas’s to rest on Silver. “She was nervous about coming here tonight.”

  Nicholas paused in the act of setting his glass back on the table. “Really? I find that difficult to believe. She appears quite composed.”

  “She has courage.” Valentin’s hand tightened on the stem of his glass. “Dammit, Nicky, I tell you there’s something wrong. She told me she’d never met a count before. How could that be, if she knew Andre in Hell’s Bluff?”

  “I have no idea. Perhaps Andre was hesitant about confiding his title to the citizens of such a democratic society.”

  “André?” Valentin’s tone was unbelieving.

  Nicholas shrugged. “Perhaps he had changed from what we knew of him. Men do change.”

  Valentin nodded and then was silent for a moment before bursting out, “But just look at her, Nicky. She doesn’t belong here.”

  Nicholas had been avoiding looking at Silver all evening and he had no intention of changing that now. He was well aware of the contrast she presented to the rouged and besatined strumpets surrounding her. It had taken only one glance to permanently engrave it on his memory. In spite of the fiery sensuality that was so much a part of her, there was also a simplicity, a pristine quality about Silver that set her worlds apart from the company at the table. “It’s that hideous schoolgirl uniform. I’ll have one of the women send her a gown to wear tomorrow night.”

  “It’s not the—”

  “Stop it!” Silver’s voice rang out with bell-like clarity, instantly capturing the attention of everyone at the table.

  “What the devil,” Nicholas muttered, already halfway out of his seat.

  Silver was standing, glaring down at Bassinger. She reached for a cooled bottle of wine from a copper bucket carried by a passing servant. “You don’t listen well. I told you to stop.” She held the bottle over the man’s head. “Now!”

  The rich red wine poured over Bassinger’s head, streaming in rivulets down his cheeks, matting his dark hair, and turning the gray streaks threading it to pale pink. He sat frozen in disbelief.

  Laughter exploded from the other guests at the table, soaring around Bassinger with a stinging mockery that caused his pale cheeks to flush with color.

  Silver set the empty bottle down on the table. “Now, don’t do it again.”

  Bassinger was pop-eyed with rage and seemed to have trouble forcing the words from his throat. “You … you …”

  Valentin started to his feet. “He’ll kill her.”

  “The hell he will.” Nicholas pushed back his chair and was striding around the table. In three paces he was beside Silver, jerking her chair out of the way and grasping her by the elbow. “I believe it’s time we retired for the evening, my dear. What a pity. Such a pleasant dinner, don’t you agree, Bassinger?”

  He began to propel Silver firmly away from the table and down the long, carpeted expanse of the saloon. “Don’t fight me,” he said in a fierce undertone. “I’m in no mood to kill Bassinger at the moment. I had something else entirely planned
for tonight.”

  “I don’t intend to fight you. Why should I? I don’t mind leaving the table. I’d already finished dinner.”

  He blinked. “You’d already finished …” He suddenly began to laugh. He slowly shook his head, his eyes still sparkling with humor. “Do you usually finish your meals by anointing a gentleman’s head with fine wine?”

  “He wasn’t a nice man,” she said simply. “He was afraid to vent his anger on me so he was being cruel to that poor woman on the other side of him.”

  “Cruel?”

  “He was pinching her thigh beneath the table.”

  His gaze searched her face. “Men often fondle women. Perhaps she enjoyed it.”

  She shook her head. “He was hurting her, but she was too frightened to stop him. I could see it in her face.” She shrugged impatiently. “Stupid woman. She should have been the one to pour the wine on his head.”

  Nicholas opened the door to the stateroom and stood aside to let her precede him. “You call her stupid, yet you drew Bassinger’s anger against yourself to protect her.”

  Silver entered the cabin. “She was afraid. Sometimes it’s not easy for women to stand up to men.” She whirled to face him. “But he hurt her. Why would he want to hurt her?”

  “Some men find it gratifying.” Nicholas closed the door and locked it behind him. “I don’t understand it either.” He turned to look at her. “Beautiful things should be treated gently, with the most exquisite care”.

  Silver felt suddenly breathless. “Women are not things.”

  He bowed slightly. “I stand corrected.”

  “But you don’t believe it. You think women are weak and puny. You think we’re nothing.”

  “I’m not such a fool. I believe some women have great strength.” He smiled crookedly. “Perhaps the reason men try to keep women weak is that we know their strength is often used to subordinate and destroy us.”

  “Destroy?” She shook her head. “I don’t wish to destroy anyone. I want only to be left alone to go my own way.”

  “Impossible.” His voice was velvet soft. “You’re not a woman any man would be willing to leave alone. Haven’t you realized that yet?”

  The air in the stateroom was too close, and she couldn’t breathe. No, the fault was with her, her chest was so tight. She abruptly turned away. “Sweet words, but you don’t mean them. You just wish to lure me into fornicating with you.”

  “I mean them,” he said gravely. “But the other is also true. I’ve never denied my intentions. And I’ve never lied to you.”

  No, he had always told her the truth, she thought, even when a lie would have served him better. It was a realization that disconcerted her. Honesty was the virtue she admired above all others, and she didn’t want to admit even to herself that Nicholas possessed that quality. “Go away. I’m tired. Good night.”

  He chuckled. “You’re nothing if not direct.” His smile held an entrancing sweetness. “Aren’t you going to undress for me again?”

  “No.”

  He lifted a brow. “Why not? Don’t you want to see me suffer? Are you softening by any chance, Silver?”

  Her gaze rose swiftly to meet his. “I’m not softening. I just want you to leave.”

  “And I will leave.” He moved across the room and stood before her. “As soon as I tuck you into bed.” He reached up and began to slowly unbutton her shirtwaist. “I told you I intended to act as lady’s maid, remember? Surely you’re not afraid?”

  “I’m not afraid.” Silver lowered her gaze to his swift, clever fingers unfastening her blouse. His knuckles were lightly grazing her breast with every move, and that light touch was causing a most peculiar sensation. Her breasts felt as if they were swelling, tautening more with each passing second. She moistened her lips with her tongue. “I don’t fear anything you can do to me, but I don’t need your help.”

  “I think you are afraid,” he taunted softly, pausing to look at her. “Or you’d be willing to let me have my way in this.”

  She drew a deep breath and then lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Go ahead. It means nothing.” She tried to keep all expression from her voice. “Be quick about it. I wish to go to bed.”

  “Very quick.” His fingers left the half-unbuttoned shirtwaist and with two swift movements stripped away her waist-length jacket and tossed it aside. “You see, I obey your every command.” He finished unbuttoning her shirtwaist and pushed it down over her shoulders and then slipped it off entirely. “Much faster than you would do it yourself.” His fingers deftly untied the satin ribbons of her bodice and pushed the straps of her camisole from her shoulders. “Let me see, this was the way you did it last night, wasn’t it?” His gaze was fastened on the thin muslin clinging to the tips of her breasts. “But there’s something different, isn’t there?”

  She could feel the furnace heat of his body reaching out to touch her like a burning brand. She took a deep breath and the male scent of him surrounded her in a sensual haze. “I see nothing … different.”

  “Perhaps I’m mistaken.” He slid the camisole down, down, with painful slowness until the white ribbons contrasted with the pink of her nipples. “No, I believe you’re considerably more … ripe, Silver.” Then her breasts were bare, full golden mounds spilling saucily over the lacing of her camisole. His eyes were midnight soft as he looked down at her. “I can make them even more ripe. Would you like me to do that?”

  She was burning, heavy, her nipples hardening under his gaze as she struggled against the tightness constricting her lungs. “You said … you would hurry.”

  “Ah, yes, I did say that.” He slowly pulled the camisole over her head, letting the soft material brush her swollen breasts like a caress. “I’ll go faster after this, but you’re so … I don’t want to hurt you.” The material tugged teasingly and then released her breasts. Then the camisole was over her head. “There, it’s gone.” He threw the camisole aside and stepped around behind her.

  “What are you doing?” She looked over her shoulder, startled.

  “Nothing.” He took a step closer, his arms going around her, his hands moving deftly to unfasten her skirt. “My looking at you seems to have an odd effect on you.” He smiled. “I thought you’d be more comfortable if I finished the task in this fashion.”

  “How kind,” she said warily. The skirt had dropped in a pool at her feet and she slowly turned her head to face forward. Comfortable? She had forgotten what the word comfort meant. Her heart was pounding, slamming against her chest, and she could feel every breath he drew against her naked back. He was unfastening her petticoats, his lips so close to her ear that each word was a warm, sensual explosion. “Do you see that picture on the wall? The one right in front of you?”

  “I’m not interested in your pictures.” She tried to keep her gaze from the mural he’d indicated but found herself staring at it in compulsive fascination.

  “Not my pictures. They were commissioned by the gentleman you christened with that bottle of wine tonight.” Nicholas chuckled. “One way or another Bassinger seems to like to bring ladies to their knees, doesn’t he? That woman in the picture has a lovely mouth but not as lovely as yours. Would you like to do that to me?”

  “Certainly not.”

  His hand slowly pushed down her petticoats, his palms skimming the naked flesh on her belly. She inhaled sharply and flinched back. But that brought her into direct contact with the hard muscles of his body. Very hard, she realized breathlessly. As hard as she was melting soft, as taut as she was pliant.

  “Then would you like me to do that to you?” he asked thickly. “I will, you know.” His palm was rubbing back and forth on the softness of her belly, every touch causing an aching clenching between her thighs. “I’d like to do it.” His fingers tightened suddenly in the hair surrounding her womanhood, and he tugged gently. She made a low sound in the back of her throat as a tiny explosion of heat tore through her every vein. Her back arched, her shoulders pressing back against
him. “That’s right, let it come, Silver.” His palm covered her and he began to rub. “You like it so much.” His teeth gently bit at the lobe of her ear. “Let me do that to you.” His warm tongue darted in her ear, sending another hot shiver through her. “Let me do everything to you. This was what you were meant for.…”

  “No!” Her cry held the violence of desperation as Silver wrenched out of his grasp and whirled away from him. She turned to face him, clutching her loosened petticoats to keep them from falling. “I will not.” She backed away from him, her naked breasts lifting and falling. “Go away!”

  His black eyes were brilliant in his taut face, his nostrils flaring with the harshness of his breathing. “Come back. You know you want to let me touch you.” His voice was as softly seductive as the song of a nightingale. “You know I can please you.”

  For a moment she could feel the words pulling her with the force of a riptide. Dear God, he was right, she thought desperately. He could please her body. He could do more than please her, he could drive her to the brink of sensual madness. Even knowing how close she had come to submitting to that allure, she still wanted to fling herself in his arms, run her hands over his body, beg him to do whatever he wished with her.

  Beg. The repugnant thought brought her immediately to her senses. She did not beg. Not ever. She drew herself up and faced him. “Go away. I don’t want you here.”

  He took a step forward. “Liar.”

  She lifted her chin. “No, it’s lust. My body may want you, but I am not my body.” She touched her breast, glaring at him fiercely. “I’m more than that. I am Silver Delaney. I don’t lie down and spread my legs because a man tells me I must.” A patch of color burned in each of her cheeks and her voice was shaking with feeling. “I am not a toy. I am not my mother!”

  “I never said—” He stopped, his dark eyes blazing. “Dammit, you know you’re going to let me take you to bed. It’s only a question of time. Why not …” He trailed off as he read the rejection in her face. His breath released in an impatient explosion of sound as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re sending me away?”