Iris Johansen - This Fierce Splendor

“A very persistent and unpleasant gentleman with the hide of an armadillo and the narrowmindness of a preacher’s virgin daughter.”

“Some of them aren’t all that narrowminded,” Patrick protested. “I ran into one last year in Tucson who was neither a-”

“What does she want with me?”

Patrick shook his head. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“The hell I will.” Dominic leaned back in his chair and rubbed his cheek. He could feel a slight stubble, but he wasn’t about to shave. At the moment he couldn’t stand the thought of anything harsher than a feather against his skin. “Tell her I’m too busy to take on any new business ventures and put her on the stage back to Tucson tomorrow morning.”

“See her, Dom. She’s come clear across an ocean and an entire continent. Why don’t you let her tell you what she wants?”

Dominic reached into his shirt pocket for the makings and began to roll a cigarette. “I have a good idea what she wants.”

Patrick’s brown eyes glinted with curiosity. “What?”

Dominic ran his tongue over the thin paper and reached for matches. “The same thing her father wanted. What everyone in Hell’s Bluff wants. One good strike that will make them king of the hill.”

“Elspeth MacGregor is no prospector.”

“We’ll see.” Dominic lit the cigarette and drew deeply. “Or, rather, you’ll see. I have no intention of talking to the lady.”

“I wish you would, Dom.” Patrick’s brow furrowed. “It wouldn’t hurt to be polite to her. She’s sort of…”

“Sort of what?”

Patrick hesitated. “I think she’s a little owl who believes she’s an eagle.”

Dominic burst out laughing. The hardness and cynicism disappeared from his face, and for an instant, he looked as young as Patrick. “God, how poetic. Rising Star couldn’t have put it better.”

Patrick looked a little sheepish. “Well, it fits anyway. A little owl won’t be any trouble for you to shake off. See her, Dom.”

Dominic’s expression had softened miraculously as he gazed with affection at his nephew. “If you’re wrong about your little owl, you’re going to wish you’d never come back to Hell’s Bluff today even if it meant crawling to Killara on your hands and knees. You say she’s over at the hotel?”

Patrick nodded. “She said she’d wait in the parlor.”

Dominic pushed back the chair, shuddering as the legs screeched on the floor. “I’ll go upstairs and get my hat.”

He paused at the door to glance back over his shoulder. “How is Rising Star?”

Patrick’s expression became shuttered. “Fine. She’s in her seventh month now. She’s very happy about the baby.” He looked down at the tablecloth and began to trace one of the blue squares with his index finger. “It shows. She kind of… glows.”

“That’s nice.” Dominic started to say something but changed his mind. What the hell could he say that would do any good? he asked himself. Abruptly, he turned away. “I’ll be right down.”

“Miss MacGregor, may I present my uncle, Dominic Delaney?”

Dominic Delaney was not what Elspeth had expected. He was not the uncouth barbarian described by her father nor did he bear significant resemblance to his nephew, Patrick, standing beside him inside the parlor doorway.

She supposed he could be considered quite beautiful by those in thrall to the slightly wicked appeal of the likes of Byron. The last rays of the setting sun streaming through the window highlighted the shining darkness of his neatly barbered hair and revealed the tiniest hint of a wave in its thick crispness. His long sideburns accented the high cheekbones of his slightly elongated face, and the hollowed line of his jaw and deeply bronzed skin gave him a faintly Spanish look. His attire had the same Latin air: a waist-length black suede jacket, a shirt of fine white linen, and a black string tie.

He inclined his head. “Miss MacGregor.”

The two men stepped closer. Patrick and Dominic Delaney were of a similar height, a trifle over six feet, and both were slim. At that point the resemblance ended. Dominic Delaney had none of Patrick’s loose-boned elegance. He was in his early thirties and his physique was more mature, his chest wider and deeper, his shoulder broader, the muscles of his thighs heavier and clearly delineated in the black trousers tucked into polished black boots. Even the way he walked was different from his nephew. He moved with a restless grace as if suppressing a powerful and volatile energy. Still, there was nothing to indicate there was anything particularly intimidating about the man.

Then, as he drew closer, Elspeth abruptly changed her mind. The eyes gazing into her own were a queer blue-gray shade that appeared warm, almost soft at first glance. It was only when she realized the keenness with which his gaze was holding her own that she became aware of how cold they were. A shadow of a stubble darkened his cheeks and the cynical smile curving his well-shaped lips could never in a hundred years be described as soft. The gun belted low on his hip was curiously unobtrusive and then, with a little shock, Elspeth realized why. It was unobtrusive because it was as much a part of him as those icy translucent eyes. Yes, she could see now how her father would think of him as a hard and relentless man.

She was experiencing a strange breathlessness as she held out her hand. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Delaney. It’s very kind of you to take the time.” Oh, heavens, her voice sounded like a child’s. She took a deep breath before going on. “It was most important or I wouldn’t have bothered your nephew to bring you. I did offer to go to you.”

For an instant there was a flicker of humor in Dominic’s eyes as he shot a glance at Patrick. “I’m surprised he didn’t see fit to take you up on your offer. It might have saved us all time and trouble if he had.” He could just see this prim little miss being escorted into the parlor at Rina’s place. One look at the negligee-clad Dulcie lolling in half-naked splendor on the cushions of the horsehair couch would be enough to send her running for the next ship to Scotland.

He took her small hand and pressed it politely before releasing it. “I’m afraid you’ve gone to great trouble for nothing, Miss MacGregor. I can’t help you.”

“My father thought you could.” She steadily met his gaze. “If you wished to do so, that is. Won’t you sit down?” She gestured to the striped couch a few feet away and was gratified to see Dominic take a seat. “I have no intention of giving up and going home as my father did, Mr. Delaney. You’re going to have to stop this foolishness and be sensible.”

There was a faint explosion of breath from Patrick, who had remained standing. “I believe I’ll leave you alone to discuss the matter and get a bite to eat in the dining room. I’ll see you later, Dom.”

“No.” Elspeth’s command stopped Patrick at the door. She had felt a sudden sense of panic, realizing only when the younger Delaney was about to leave how much his presence had bolstered her confidence. “I mean… there’s no need for you to go. After all, you are related.”

The color ebbed and flowed under Elspeth’s clear silky skin, and Dominic found himself watching with something close to fascination. A little owl, Patrick had called her. Wide, solemn eyes, a quivering rustle of black plumage. He could see the rapid throb of the pulsebeat in her delicate temple. He felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch that pulsebeat, to run the pads of his fingers over that silky skin. He glanced away hurriedly. Christ, what was the matter with him? For a fraction of an instant he had actually felt the hot thickening in his groin that signaled intense lust. Certainly Patrick’s little wide-eyed owl couldn’t inspire lust. “Yes, stay, Patrick. This won’t take long.”