The River Nymph Read Free

never broken contact. His eyes were empty, even when he smiled. She almost shivered.
     But when the crowd broke into astonished cries of disbelief, Delilah deliberately allowed a fleeting spark of triumph to flash
     across her face.
    Daniels registered no response. In fact, his eyes, intently studying her, remained devoid of any emotion; certainly they did
     not reveal the anger or sense of defeat she had hoped to glimpse. After a moment, he merely smiled that smile that did not
     reach his eyes, pulled the deed across the table and signed it with a flourish, then tossed it cavalierly on the pile of currency.
    “Well, ma’am, you wouldn’t accept my condolences, but I do trust you’ll accept my congratulations.” He rose, touching the
     brim of his hat, and turned to leave.
    Delilah was furious. The bastard was patronizing her. Refuse to admit defeat, would he! She waited until he almost reached
     the bar. Then her husky voice stopped him. “Mr. Daniels, please don’t leave just yet. I pride myself on being a magnanimous
     victor.”
    Her uncle Horace bent down and put his hand on her arm, whispering something, but she shook her head.
    “I always like to leave my less fortunate opponents with something. How about one last bet, sir, a chance to win back a stake
     for another game? I’ll bet a thousand dollars against the clothes you’re wearing that I can beat you cutting for high card.”
     The crowd was stunned into silence. No one up or down the river had ever heard such an outrageous proposition.
    Clint cocked his head, studying the beautiful woman.
    Delilah had expected shock or anger, but not curiosity…or was it disappointment? At least his eyes were now alive. She
     flushed, suddenly uncertain of her triumph.
    Clint finally replied, “I’ll accept your wager, ma’am, if you’ll allow me to exclude my weapons and cigar case from the bet.”
    Delilah nodded woodenly. She had done what no professional ever did. What Uncle Horace had warned her not ever to do—let her
     emotions interfere with business.
    Clint moved back to the table but did not take a seat. Delilah had not realized he was quite so tall. He picked up the deck
     and riffled it contemplatively. Then he handed it to Ike Bauer, who was watching from the sidelines. “Would you shuffle the
     cards?” When Bauer nodded, he looked over at Mrs. Raymond’s protector. “If that’s all right with you?” he inquired.
    With a disgusted look at his niece, Horace agreed, eager to terminate the distasteful business. Bauer shuffled, then laid
     the deck on the table and stepped back. Clint nodded to Delilah. “Ladies first.”
    She drew a three of hearts and sighed with relief. This was one game she would be happy to lose. She had been a fool to taunt
     the hometown favorite into making the bet.
    The room grew deathly silent when Clint flipped over a deuce. The crowd groaned.
    But Delilah’s whisper-thin voice echoed over the noise. “You may send the clothes to the boat in the morning, Mr. Daniels.”
    Her face burned and she could not bear to look at any of the people surrounding her, least of all Clinton Daniels. Delilah
     knew she had humiliated him. He represented the life she hated, but the man had nothing to do with her past. A hard lump formed
     at the back of her throat. She turned away, staring out one of the side windows, recently installed to turn the open hurricane
     deck into an enclosed salon. The winking lights from the city above the levee seemed to mock her.
    Suddenly her attention was pulled back to the table by a soft thump.
    Clint’s hat dropped onto the pile of cash in the center of the table. Next came his coat, his waistcoat and a handful of shirt
     studs. An alarmed Delilah looked at his face with something akin to terror. “My God, Daniels, send the clothes tomorrow…or don’t send them at all—I was just making a bad joke.”
    Clint shrugged off his shirt, revealing a muscular chest flecked with gold hair narrowing to