Teresa Medeiros - Nobody’s Darling

“Take off your gloves.”

Esmerelda dropped both the trunk and the violin case, narrowly missing her toes. She slowly turned, her relief fading when she saw the stranger standing in the middle of the street.

His arms weren’t outstretched in welcome, but hung loosely at his sides. Despite the casual posture, the tension in his lean, graceful fingers was unmistakable. His lips were faintly pursed, as if poised to blow on the barrel of a smoking pistol.

She realized that he wasn’t a stranger at all. He was the man from the Wanted poster she’d kept tucked beneath her pillow all those long, lonely weeks. She had both hated and feared him, yet he’d still managed to saunter his way into her dreams night after night—hot, feverish dreams that had made her moan in her sleep and kick away the covers.

He was Billy Darling, part legend and all man, wanted by the law and, in her most secret heart, by her as well. He’d been dangerous when she’d wanted him, but now that she loved him, he might very well prove deadly.

He hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt, his stance so nonchalant and free of threat that Esmerelda thought he just might draw his gun and shoot her. He had her in his sights all right, but the devastating charm of his smile warned her that he had a much more diabolical fate in mind.

“Pardon?” she croaked.

“I was only suggesting that you might wish to remove your gloves. You can leave them on if you like.” His smile took on a wicked slant as he confided, “I have heard tell of cowboys who never take off their hats.”

Esmerelda drifted toward him, unable to resist the hypnotic allure of that smile. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

Billy’s grin faded, leaving his jaw as stern as she’d ever seen it. “What I am saying, Miss Fine, is that the time has come for you and me to settle up. I’m not running a charitable institution here. We had a deal.” He jerked a thumb toward the wagon. “Sadie here was a witness to it.”

Stirred by the sound of her name, Sadie let out a damning “Woof.”

Esmerelda’s heart was beginning to skip every other beat. “I haven’t forgotten our deal,” she insisted, although, in fact, she had. “Why, as soon as my grandfather arrives—”

“Ah, the duke!” Billy drawled. “That noble chap who’s supposed to come swooping out of the clouds in his fancy carriage drawn by six white unicorns, toss me a handful of diamonds and rubies, and sweep you, his beloved granddaughter, into his arms.”

Esmerelda glared at him. His sarcastic description was just a shade too close to some of her more ridiculous girlhood fantasies. “I’m almost certain he doesn’t own any unicorns.”

“Then there’s only one problem.” Billy took a step toward her, but she forced herself to stand her ground, her nose quivering like a cornered rabbit’s. “I don’t see him anywhere around here. Do you?”

Stalling for time, Esmerelda looked frantically around. A cheery light nickered in the window of the sheriff’s office, but the street was deserted. “Nor do I see my brother,” she reminded him.

Billy shrugged. “I hired on to find him, not keep him.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Billy might have given Bartholomew the means and encouragement to go, but in the end, her brother had left of his own accord.

Drawing in an unsteady breath, she tilted her head to study him. He might look every inch the notorious gun-slinger, but beneath that rugged exterior, he was still her Billy. The man who had stood off his own brothers at gunpoint to protect her. The man who had tried to convince her that she hadn’t murdered her parents with a single willful act. The man who had pleasured her without a thought for his own satisfaction, then tucked her into his bed as tenderly as a child.

Flooded by a tide of belated remorse, she clutched his arm. “Oh, Billy, I said some terrible things back at the ranch. I don’t blame you for being angry.”

“Mr. Darling,” he corrected, gently removing her hand from his sleeve. At her disbelieving look, he winked and whispered, “Until we get this matter settled, sweetheart, it might be best to keep our association formal.”

Her mouth and hand were still hanging open when his face recovered its grave demeanor. “Serving in your employ, Miss Fine, has turned out to be a far more costly endeavor than I anticipated. I lost the reward Winstead promised me, and until the scalawag is apprehended, I’ll have to spend every minute of every day and night looking over my shoulder. If Elliot Courtney can’t convince the judge to grant me amnesty for returning the treasury gold, I may even have to hightail it to Mexico for a while. The way I see it, I at least deserve to be compensated for all my trouble.” His expression softened as he reached to cup her cheek in his palm, much as he had that day in his attic room. “After all, you are a woman of your word.”

Esmerelda might have forgotten their bargain, but she hadn’t forgotten what a consummate poker player Billy was rumored to be. He was obviously intent on playing for high stakes, and it was in that spirit of risk that she decided to take her biggest gamble.

“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Darling,” she said softly, allowing every ounce of regard she felt for him to shine from her eyes. “I would never dream of cheating you of what is rightfully yours. Especially not when I promised you”—she twined one hand around his nape and drew him down until their breath mingled and her lips were flush against his—“payment… in… full.”

In the instant before he called her bluff, she was rewarded by a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes. Then he was ravishing her mouth in a kiss so sweet, so impossibly tender, it might have been their very first. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her clean off her feet so that all the swells and hollows of their bodies meshed in perfect accord. By the time he lowered her, Esmerelda was dizzy with delight and flushed with triumph.

Sighing in utter rapture, she rested her cheek against his chest and waited for him to murmur all those tender promises she’d been longing to hear.

He grabbed her by the hand and began to march down the street.

“Wait a minute! Where are we going?” Esmerelda had to trot to keep up with his long strides. She cast a frantic glance over her shoulder. Sadie yawned beneath the drooping brim of the bonnet before turning around three times and settling down on the buckboard seat for a nap. “My trunk! My clothes!”

“You won’t be needing them tonight.”

That resolute prediction sent a shivery pulse of anticipation down Esmerelda’s spine. Too late, she remembered the hazards of showing her cards too soon. Billy might not cheat, but he never stayed in the game unless he was sure he held the winning hand. She had little time to repent her mistake, for without warning, the door of the brothel loomed out of the darkness before them.

When the door of Miss Mellie’s Boardinghouse for Young Ladies of Good Reputation burst open, Horace Stumpelmeyer, the town banker, sprang to his feet, dumping the corset-clad young lady he’d paid for the privilege of cuddling on his lap to the Oriental rug.

He smoothed back his thinning hair and straightened his spectacles for a better look at the interloper and the rather dazed young woman stumbling along behind him.

Without breaking his stride, Billy planted a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the chair. “Don’t get up on my account, Horace.”

Dorothea pounced back into the man’s lap like a sleek cat, gleefully kicking her slippered feet. “Welcome home, Billy,” she crooned. “It’s been mighty dull around here without you.”

As if to agree, a glum Dauber leaned against the mantel, nursing a glass of whiskey. Billy plucked the glass from his hand, drained it dry, then handed it back before reaching into his pocket and nipping him a silver dollar. “Out in front of the livery stable, you’ll find a mare, a mule, and a hound wearing a real ugly little hat.”

“It was quite a lovely bonnet until you stomped all over it and gave it to your dog!” Esmerelda protested.

Billy ignored her. “See to it that they’re tended to.”

“But what about me?” she wailed.

“I‘ll tend to you,” Billy promised, giving her an evil wink.

Dauber gaped at them both in openmouthed astonishment. “Well, I will be darned. Does Drew know you’re—”

“Go on with you!” Billy barked. “If you already had a dollar, you’d be upstairs with one of the girls instead of down here crying in your whiskey.”

Conceding to his friend’s wisdom, Dauber tipped his hat to Esmerelda, then went barreling out the door. With Esmerelda still tripping along behind him, Billy started for the stairs. Caroline and Esther were just slinking down them, leading one of the Zimmerman boys by his calloused paws. The man’s glazed expression and rumpled blond curls proclaimed yet another satisfied customer.

The girls blocked Billy’s path, stealing a worried glance at the woman behind him. “Honey, there’s something you should know before you take her up there,” Caroline said.

Billy’s smile was so tender it made even their jaded hearts flutter. “I’m much obliged for your concern, ladies, but there’s really nothing you can tell me that I haven’t already figured out for myself.”

Nodding politely, he brushed past them, pausing only long enough to whisper something in Zimmerman’s ear. Betrayed by his fair complexion, the man blushed violently and fumbled for the gaping fly of his overalls.

Billy and Esmerelda had almost reached the second-story landing when Miss Mellie herself emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tray of fresh whiskeys. “William!” she shouted, the cry betraying more alarm than surprise.

Billy swung around, blowing out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, ma’am?”

When Mellie saw whose hand he was clinging to with such possessive fervor, she bobbed as if she were on the verge of curtsying. Or fainting. Her voice quivered with false cheer. “I hadn’t realized that you’d returned. Won’t you and your lady friend join us for a drink?”

“Why, that would be lovely! I’m parched,” Esmerelda exclaimed, trotting back down three steps before Billy’s implacable grip on her hand brought her up short.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to decline that generous offer, Miss Mellie. My lady friend and I have reached the end of a long, difficult journey and were looking forward to a little privacy.” His amiable grin darkened. He swept a mean-eyed squint across the parlor. “As a matter of fact, I just might have to shoot anyone who disturbs us before dawn.”

They all stood in a frozen tableau until Billy and Esmerelda had vanished into the shadows of the second landing.

It wasn’t until a door somewhere in the upper reaches of the house banged shut that Dorothea dared to let out a long, low whistle. “I’ve never seen that boy quite so riled. Do you think he’ll beat her?”

Miss Mellie cast the rafters a glance, her broad, kindly face crinkled in a frown. “I don’t care how riled he is, our Billy would never raise his hand to a woman. His ma, God bless her gentle soul, taught him better manners than that.”

“From the glint in his eye,” Esther said, arching an immaculately plucked eyebrow, “it ain’t his hand he’s lookin‘ to raise.”

Caroline sighed wistfully. “He sure is cute when he’s mad.” Her lips pursed in a jealous pout. “How come those uppity gals have all the luck?”

While Dorothea raked her long fingernails through his hair, Horace plucked one of the shot glasses off Mellie’s tray, his hand betraying a faint tremble. “Don’t you think we should at least alert the sheriff?”

Mellie sank down on his other knee, tossing back a whiskey of her own. “You heard him, Horace. Anyone who disturbs that boy before dawn is just begging for trouble. And Lord knows, the sheriff’s already got enough trouble for one man.”

Esmerelda stood with her back pressed to the door of Billy’s cozy attic room while he lit an oil lamp, folded back the quilt on the bed, and drew off his boots.

He raked her with a bold gaze as his deft hands moved to unbuckle his gunbelt. “You can take off those gloves of yours any time, Miss Fine.”

Her instincts told her she ought to be as afraid of him as she’d been the first time they’d faced each other in this room. But for once, Esmerelda was listening to her heart.

“I think it would be best if I left them on,” she said gently. The gunbelt slipped unheeded from his hand. “Don’t look so dismayed, Mr. Darling. After all, it was your suggestion that we keep our association formal.”

His scowl deepened. “But, honey, I—”

She held up a silencing finger. “In keeping with the spirit of our bargain, I’m sure you’ll agree it would be best if we allowed no endearments, no kisses, no caresses.”