Carnal Games

by Titania Ladley

"Hi, Miss Ta-Teena," came a tiny, yet bold voice. "Dat's a pretty horsey."

  Tania had been shoeing the final horse in a herd that had arrived last week. Releasing the mare’s hoof, she stepped back to admire her work as the new chestnut with a prominent white blaze down its muzzle, cantered off to join the crowd of fellow equines.

  Her eyes drifted to Alexa who sat perched atop the corral enclosure dressed in miniature blue jeans and a tiny brown leather vest over a white blouse. It had been more than a week since Tania had seen Sam that evening at the cabin. Not that her mind’s eye hadn’t seen him or felt him with vivid clarity over and over again since then. She’d gotten little sleep since that nap following their phenomenal lovemaking. Now she perused his four-year-old daughter, and saw in Alexa much of her father. There was striking evidence of it from the small cowgirl’s hat atop thick blue-black hair, to the dazzling leafy green eyes, and now, as the girl’s lips curved in amusement, she saw his trademark smile. The impact of it slammed painfully into her abdomen, just as surely as the umph she’d experienced yesterday when a frisky stallion had chosen to upend her with a swift kick to the rear.

  But just as she’d done the day before, she ignored the sudden pain and got right back on her feet. “Hello, Alexa.” She came forward and climbed up the fence, sitting amiably next to her husband’s daughter. “You know, you can call me Tania?” she offered in deference to Alexa’s difficulty in pronouncing the long version of her given name.

  “Okay,” Alexa grinned, revealing a gaping hole interrupting the perfect row of white teeth. “An’ you can call me Wexy if you wanna. Daddy does.”

  Yes, Daddy does, Tania thought, the pride on the girl’s face apparent. Immense pride in her devoted, loving daddy. “I like that. I will call you Lexy, then.”

  “Daddy says you’re my step-mommy.” Without a moment for pause, she went on. “So why don’t you wiv wif us, Tania?” She shook her head emphatically. “'Cuz I don’t have a mommy anymore in my house,” she whined softly, her dark brows drawing together.

  Tania looked down into the innocence of Alexa’s angelic face. Had she failed to ask where the girl’s mother was? Had she been that self-absorbed that she’d never thought to inquire as to the child’s circumstances?

  “Where is your mommy, Lexy?” she asked softly, tucking a dark lock of hair behind Alexa’s tiny ear as the girl turned to watch the horses across the pen.

  Alexa shrugged. “Goned somewheres.”

  “Gone where?” Tania hooked a finger under the quivering chin and tipped the little face up to hers.

  Alexa sighed heavily. “She didn’t wuv me and Daddy anymore. She just goned and weft us all a-wone.”

  “Left you?” Tania swallowed a thick lump. Alexa’s mother had abandoned her? The morbid thought had Tania’s heart aching for the girl. Tania’s own mother had never deserted her, yet she’d dragged her from gutter to filthy gutter in an effort to hold onto her damned pride and continue to defy Mikhail. Wasn’t that how it had occurred? And if so, why hadn’t she seen it until now? Why had she always painted the picture of her mother as a saint—and Mik as the ogre?

  Shoving the disturbing thought aside, she repeated, “Your mother left you?”

  Alexa nodded, no longer interested in the topic that never failed to confuse and sadden her. “Can you be my mommy now?” she asked, hope alight in her sparkling eyes as a ray of sunshine lit upon her at that very moment. “Pwetty pwease?”

  “Oh, honey...” Tania stroked the length of deep sable hair down the child’s back. “I…I…don’t know.”

  Alexa knew a rejection when she heard one. But she liked this lady her daddy had married. She would show her that she could be a good girl and that she was easy to love, even though her real mommy hadn’t thought so. That decision firmly made, she returned her attention to the group of horses who strained their necks through the fence to reach a thick patch of green grass beyond.

  When an awkward silence ensued as Alexa became transfixed by the gathering of horses, Tania deftly changed the topic of conversation. “What happened to your tooth, Lexy?”

  Alexa reached up and poked a chubby finger through the gap and mumbled, “I falled down and bumped it on da steps. Daddy pulled it out da west of da way.” Her button nose wrinkled as she withdrew her finger. “It was yuckie. But he said I was gonna wost it anyways…a baby toof or somefing.” She waved a hand in the air. “But I’m not a baby.”

  “No,” Tania suppressed a grin. “You most certainly aren’t. Now what are you doing here all alone? You didn’t come all the way from your house all by yourself, did you?”

  Alexa shook her head emphatically, her dark hair fanning across her cheeks. “No, silly! I camed wif my daddy.”

  The butterflies danced, teased, then plagued her stomach with a vengeance. “What is he doing here?”

  “He’s over at da big—” she threw her arms wide to indicate the enormity of her meaning “—house talking wif dat old man.”

  Talking with that old man, was he? Tania thought suspiciously. No doubt about her. The thought had her leaping to the ground to march straight up to the mansion—until Alexa’s next words had her stopping dead in her boots.

  “He’s saying bye-bye.” Alexa pushed out her bottom lip in protest and crossed her arms over her tiny chest.

  “Bye-bye?” Tania turned slowly to stare up at the forlorn face of a child who was clearly opposed to departing. “Where are you going?”

  Alexa drew up a tiny knee and planted her elbow on it, then set her pointed chin on her fist. “Back to Dal-was,” she groaned.

  Back to Dallas? The thought had her standing there in the middle of the corral, dumfounded. He was returning to his life as he’d known it before meeting her. He was leaving her and their ‘marriage.’ So why didn’t she feel the overwhelming joy at his parting that she’d have experienced days after marrying him? Where was the relief, the happiness?

  The nausea assailed her like that stallion’s swift kick to her rear.

  Then a sudden thought struck her. Was he informing Mik of their pact to get a secret annulment? Would she, after all her efforts, be tossed back into that cardboard box again? Was he, like the coward he most probably was, reneging on their pact?

  “No,” she breathed, tears welling up frantically in her eyes. “No!” she shouted louder, running to climb the gate.

  “Where ya goin’, Tania?” Alexa asked, alarmed by the pretty woman’s scared face.

  “Come here, Alexa,” Tania turned to Alexa and demanded gently. “Climb down the fence and come over here. Come on up to the house with me.”

  Alexa’s worried features spread into an excited smirk. She was being invited to go with Miss Tania—her step-mommy! Obeying, she scrambled across the dusty pen and climbed over the gate and into Tania’s outstretched arms.

  The abrupt feelings of tenderness and protectiveness stunned Tania. She hugged the girl to her, amazed at the sudden fondness that filled her heart, perplexed that any mother could leave this precious child. Gathering Alexa closely, inhaling the scent of baby powder and sugar, she sprinted up the hill to the mansion where her grandfather and her husband plotted against her.

  ***

  “It won’t work,” Sam insisted, lowering himself into an overstuffed chair near the fireplace. Despite the rising warmth outdoors, he welcomed the fire that seemed to thaw the ice in his heart. “She’s got too many scars to repair the damage. How can you help someone who doesn’t want the help? Someone who desires, above all else, to be left alone?”

  “She only thinks she wants to be left alone,” Mik insisted, directing his wheelchair across the elegantly furnished room to halt before the fire. Staring into the base of the dancing blue flames, he added emphatically, “Time, I tell you. Time is all she needs.”

  Sam heard the desperation in the old man’s voice, noting the way his oxygen mask steamed heavily with his resounding words. But he had to think of his own daughter. And he had to put his own hormones last on the lis
t of priorities.

  “Alexa needs a mother, Mikhail, not a cold-hearted, wounded, weak—”

  “We need to talk,” Tania growled as she darted into Mik’s study. “Now.”

  Sam’s eyes took in the proud stance, the flowing pale hair, the gleaming emotions in the startling blue of her eyes—and his own daughter clutched frantically to her breast. The sight of it had a profound effect on him, one that had him coming to his feet and gawking helplessly at the picture his daughter and wife made. Tania’s arms were clasped tightly around Alexa, as if she would fight tooth and nail to protect the child. And Alexa was proudly perched on Tania’s narrow hip, her arms thrown happily around her stepmother’s neck. In contrast, they were moon and star, earth and sun, heat and cold. And yet…they fit together, like mother and daughter.

  Elise Phoenix had never held her own daughter with such tender, natural affection. She’d been an unfeeling woman who’d lasted one year beyond her child’s birth. One year was all the responsibility and unconditional love she could take. And it had been over three years since Sam had seen or heard from her.

  And here was another woman that he had also, only seconds ago, described as cold-hearted and weak. But he wasn’t seeing any evidence of that now, and his hopes soared.

  “Well, well,” he mocked, sauntering forward to stand before his wife and daughter. “Alexa obviously told you we were on our way back to Dallas. Worrying about that…agreement we had, Tatiana?” The annulment, he suddenly realized. It was the damned annulment that had her racing in here to wreak havoc on his emotions.

  “This is my step-mommy, Daddy,” Alexa grinned happily, planting a wet kiss on Tania’s cheek.

  Sam stiffened at his daughter’s confident words.

  The warmth of the child, the closeness, the absolute love engulfed Tania. Dazed, she looked into the hopeful, bright eyes, eyes that could have, many years ago, mirrored her own. “Lexy, honey, I didn’t say—”

  Alexa reached out and hooked one arm around Sam’s neck, drawing the trio into close proximity. “Dis is my mommy and my daddy,” Alexa declared to Mik as Tania struggled to keep her distance from the wall of Sam’s chest.

  This was more than Mikhail could hope for! What a delicious mess Tatiana had gotten herself into. Why, if luck were on his side, he wouldn’t have to lift another finger in the matter. Mikhail felt his soul relax, and his heart swell with pride and love for the family that stood before him. She would bend, he was sure of it, but not without her usual resistance. But he was a patient man, despite the fact that he had mere months, or possibly weeks, left to secure his holdings.

  “Yes, little Lexy,” Mikhail pressed a button and zipped across the room to halt before them. “What a lovely family you have.”

  Alexa grinned proudly, loving the funny sound of the old man’s voice, like he was from another country or something. “Fank you,” she replied, with all the good manners that her daddy had taught her.

  Tania shot her grandfather a withering look. “Sam,” Tania’s voice was low with a trace of warning. “Where’s your nursemaid, Margaret, or whoever?”

  “Margie,” Sam corrected with a wolfish grin, for he loved a sudden change in plans and a good challenge to go with it. “Margie!” he called.

  Margie Hartley was a spinster woman of mammoth girth. Salt-and-pepper helmet-styled hair set atop a moon-shaped face, she was the epitome of a mother hen. Three years ago, at the age of sixty-one, she’d answered Sam’s ad for a live-in maid, and had fulfilled her lifelong dream of ruling her own roost. Along with the package had come a handsome 'son' to henpeck and a beautiful little angel of a girl to spoil. Proud as a clucking Christmas bird, she’d taken Sam and Alexa under her thick, flabby wings and coddled them, strutting about and whipping Sam’s cluttered Dallas household back into shape. And no one, mind you, no one, was going to ruin what she had going for her.

  “Yes, Samuel.” In her tent of a dress, Margie waddled up the hall and into the study, huffing and puffing all the way. “What is it, son?”

  Never taking his eyes from Tania’s as they widened at the large woman, he said, “Take Lexy into the kitchen and get her a snack. Then take her on back to the house. You can use my car.” He dug his keys out of his slacks and passed them into her beefy hand.

  Margie’s eyes rounded—as best they could in the puffy dough of her face—as she replied, “But I thought we were heading back to Dallas.”

  “There’s been a…” Sam finally tore his eyes from Tania’s and focused on the woman who’d been a godsend to him, despite her overbearing ways, “…a slight delay in plans.”

  Margie snared the beauty that stood in the arc of Alexa’s arms, Sam included. She’d heard the story from the ranch hands, how this woman had gone to a prison to marry a strange man on death row, just to secure her own inheritance, and had wound up marrying her kind-hearted Sam instead. Now if that didn’t beat all, she didn’t know what did!

  Lifting her upturned pig nose with a sniff, Margie muttered, “Yes, sir. Now you come on here with Auntie Margie, Lex.” Wedging herself between the pair that was connected by the hopeful Alexa, Margie parted them and swiped the little girl from Tania. With that, she trudged out of the room with Alexa buried in the folds of her arms.

  Ignoring the look of disapproval that the colossal woman had shot her, Tania experienced an immediate sense of loss as Alexa was wrenched from her. Wistfully, she watched as the girl faded from view.

  “You wanted to talk?” Sam asked nonchalantly, noting the expression of longing on her face. Yes, plans had changed. Maybe she wasn’t such a heartless woman after all. And maybe Alexa would be his tool to snare his wife!

  Tania looked down into the sneer on Mik’s face. “Yes. Alone.” Turning, she left the room, throwing over her shoulder, “Meet me at my cottage down the hill in five minutes.”

  ***

  Paradice Ranch had once been a haven for those addicts who’d had to deal with the law cracking down on diehard gamblers. Its name had been a pun on words, indicating that a sympathetic “pair of dice” could be found within its boundaries, and satiate all those who had the itch to wager all they held dear, from the deeds to their profitable ranches and estates, right down to their last dime.

  Still, it held weekly rounds of poker, blackjack and bingo. Once, it even sported a roulette wheel, though there had been so many complaints of cheating, that Paradice Ranch and its cowboy affiliates had made the sound decision to omit it from the agenda, or risk the swift intervention of the sheriff, and quite possibly, the IRS.

  Tania marched down the long winding driveway toward her cottage, eyeing with longing the bunkhouse where a heavy hand of poker was just beginning. She loved the game, the strategy, the pounding of your heart as you waited for that last hand to be spread upon the green felt table. And then the exhilarating sensation of swiping the stacks of coins and paper bills toward you.

  Yes, she was usually the first to join in a game, and even found herself occasionally coordinating the gambling around her own schedule. But today was different. She’d engaged in the biggest gamble of all by going to that prison, and now she was risking giving up the huge pot.

  Double or nothing, he’d tempted her with? Hell, she’d been left in the hole in this game of his. Nil. In order to get that annulment, she was going to have to do some crafty manipulating. She needed to keep him here to have the opportunity to fulfill her end of the bargain by accompanying him on that trip to Dallas for his research—not to mention keeping up the façade for Mik’s sake. Then, and only then, would she get her secret annulment and thereby, keep her future intact.

  She’d show him double or nothing! No man backs down on a wager made to her in good faith. Oh, yes, she’d show him the squalid streets, the sick and filthy people begging for their next bite, the ramshackled, dilapidated excuses for shelter, the crime and drugs. He’d see, firsthand, children the same age as his own daughter, yet half her size with famine. He’d smell the stench, taste the bile, hear the cri
es of pain and hunger, feel the agonizing, slow bite of cold, or the sizzling, stifling heat of a Dallas summer day.

  She'd snatch the dice right from his practiced hands and play the game her way.

  And perhaps, in the process, he’d understand why she’d gone to such lengths to secure her future, and why she would stop at nothing—whether it was his double or nothing, or not—to see that she never had to live that way again.

  The embarrassment and humiliation of her childhood was now gone. She’d lived through worse, and could deal with a bit of offhanded sarcasm and haughtiness from one who’d never had to live through the hell on Earth she had.

  But now the real game was beginning—and she had house advantage!

  She knew he was only steps behind her, yet she marched on. Reaching the small covered porch, she took the stairs two at a time and pulled back the screen door, never looking behind her to see if it would smack him in the face as it closed. Entering the living area where she’d spent years curled up with a warm blanket on the worn sofa and staring out at the cold and rain that she was now protected from, she tossed her hat on the coat tree and removed her boots with the shoehorn. She heard the creak of the screen door as it opened behind her, but didn’t bother turning to acknowledge him. She merely went down the hall with its gleaming hardwood floor, and went straight to the old nineteen-forties refrigerator at the rear of the cottage.

  “Come on in,” she seethed. Snapping the metal handle back, she reached inside for two beers. “Make yourself at home, husband.”

  The sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the way her breasts strained against the powder-blue sweater she wore. “Why, thank you, wife,” he said, matching her tone, like for like.

  Tania sat at the rickety wooden kitchen table and slid the beer across to him. She watched as his large form, clad in tan khakis and a hunter green polo shirt, fell into the seat across from her. He reached for the bottle, twisted the cap off without effort, and tilted his head back, draining half the cool, golden liquid in seconds.