Tarnished Angel (18 page)

    But he had sensed from the first an inner self that Devina withheld, denied even to herself. He was certain the facade she chose to present to the world the hard, sharp-tongued woman intolerant of personal flaws had been strictly cultivated. He also suspected that in all her dealings with the opposite sex she sought an automatic defense by exerting her unyielding will. It would take a special man to penetrate that facade, to bring her to life, to make her realize the potential of the complete woman she could be.

    Charles shook his head. Devina Dale had everything a man could possibly desire in a woman, but was he the man who could crack the shield behind which she hid her softer feelings? He sincerely doubted he was.

    He thought of the covert reasons that had first caused him to cultivate Devina Dale's friendship. He reviewed them again in his mind, confirming their viability. However far he intended to pursue his personal intentions with Devina Dale, it behooved    him to remain her friend, within her intimate circle. Only through close contact could he possibly hope to achieve his goal…

    The unexpected expulsion of a whiskey-sodden male from the Alhambra Saloon broke into Charles's thoughts as the fellow slammed through the swinging doors into the street. Landing dangerously close to Charles on the hard-packed dirt surface of Allen Street, the man was abruptly motionless. Long experience made Charles stifle his impulse to hurry to the man's aid. He waited. Within a few seconds, the bearded prospector moved and slowly sat up. Catching Charles's scrutinizing gaze, he flashed a lopsided, toothless grin.

    "Damned if I don't think Stan managed to throw me at least two feet farther than he did last night! I'm
gonna
have to buy that man a drink!"

    Pulling himself to his feet, the dust-covered prospector paused a moment to regain his shaky equilibrium before walking in a wavering, uneven step directly back from whence he had come.

    Having no curiosity at all about the outcome of the prospector's reentry into the Alhambra, Charles continued down the street. His eyes had touched on a small frame house in the distance before he consciously realized his destination. He began walking faster.

    Gauging the flow of male visitors from the neat, familiar structure toward which he walked, Charles slowed his step. He crossed Sixth Street and paused outside the door. It was late. Perhaps it would be best if he came back tomorrow.

    Despite his reservations, Charles found himself drawing open the door and stepping into the tastefully furnished foyer. He shot a quick glance into the living room, his eyes surveying the provocatively clad women seated on velvet-upholstered furniture in various postures of casual seduction. A familiar voice turned him toward the woman who approached him noiselessly from her seat of honor just inside the doorway.

    "Dr. Carter, I bid you welcome, but the hour is late. I had not expected to see you this evening."

    Turning to the even-featured blond woman who greeted him so warmly, Charles nodded. "Thank you for your welcome, Marie. I hadn't intended to stop by this evening, but I found myself with a few hours to spare."

    "And with a desire to spend them well, monsieur?" Marie's smile became pleasantly knowing. "Which of our girls will it be   tonight? You have not experienced Celeste, have you? The Count has only recently delivered her here from Paris. She is very beautiful. She is also well versed in the ways of pleasing a man, and eager to demonstrate her skills. She has been very busy tonight, but I am sure I will be able to persuade her to find some time for you."

    Charles shook his head, his smile polite. "No, I think not, Marie."

    "Brigitte, then. She has many times expressed the desire to entertain you."

    "No, Marie. I came here expressly to see Camille. If she's busy…"

    Annoyance flicked across Blond Marie's handsome face. "Dr. Carter, you must not feel obliged to await Camille's availability. She has many patrons and would not feel the least offended if you should choose to spend some time with one of her sisters in this house. Who knows? You might even find you prefer someone younger or prettier than she."

    Charles's smile began to stiffen. "Marie, if you please, I came here to see Camille and Camille alone. I would like to have that message sent up to her room. If she's occupied for the evening, I can return another time."

    Signaling a dark-haired beauty not yet out of her teens from the couch, Marie took Charles's arm and smiled up into his annoyed expression with practiced charm. "Dr. Carter, you are correct. Camille is occupied, but I do think you would enjoy meeting Danielle. She is new and a trifle inexperienced, but so very willing. Perhaps she will suit you better than"

    "Marie!" The deep, harsh sound of her name turned Marie toward the slender, mustached man of medium height who approached her from the doorway of a small office beside the staircase. Marie's pale skin turned paler still as the man came to stand within a few feet of her and continued with an air of cold command. "The gentleman has clearly expressed his preference for Camille this evening. And since his interest lies solely in her, I suggest you send Antoine to inform Camille that she has a special patron waiting."

    "Monsieur Le Comte, you instructed me that I was not to press Camille beyond her limit, did you not?" Although the words were obviously difficult for Marie to say, she continued tightly, "Camille has seen many patrons this evening. She has sent

    Antoine down with the message that she will see no more. She is bathing, and she"

    The Count's small mouth twitched. "I do not care to air our business arrangements before one of our patrons, Marie, so I will repeat what I said before: Send Antoine upstairs to inform Camille that Dr. Carter is waiting."

    Charles listened with mixed feelings to the exchange between Blond Marie and the only person whose authority within the house surpassed hers. Marie's jealousy of Camille had caused Charles trouble before, and he was aware that it was only the protection of the Frenchman known as the Count that kept Camille from suffering Marie's vindictiveness. But although he had often benefited from the special privileges the Count granted Camille, he was strangely uncomfortable with the man's special interest in her.

    Her fair skin coloring further, Marie signaled a small,
darkskinned
boy from his position in the corner. Repeating the Count's instructions, she sent him on his way with a light slap of her hand before turning back to Charles.

    "So you see, Dr. Carter, how very hard we attempt to please you. I have no doubt Camille will be with you in a moment. Until then, you may feel free to amuse yourself in whatever way pleases you."

    A movement at the top of the staircase a moment later turned the eyes of the small group below toward the woman who moved to the railing. The contours of her lush, obviously wet body clearly outlined through the thin robe she clutched around her, the long red hair streaming past her shoulders, still dripping from her bath, Camille leaned over the rail. Her full lips curved into a smile as her eyes touched Charles's face.

    "Charles, I am so happy to see you. You must come up immediately. Surely you know Camille's door is never closed to you."

    All other thoughts having been swept from his mind by Camille's appearance, Charles passed his hat to the boy who had returned to his side.

    "Watch this for me, Antoine. I'll consider it a special favor for which you'll be rewarded."

    
"
Oui
, monsieur."

    Turning to the Count with a short salute, Charles nodded.

    
"
Remerciement
, monsieur."
Pausing in afterthought, Charles   dipped his head politely in Marie's direction. Within moments he was walking up the staircase, his impulse to take the steps two at a time controlled for the sake of appearance.

    Charles touched the second floor, only to be immediately engulfed by Camille's lush, damp body as she pressed herself erotically against him. Her arms around his neck, she gave him her mouth in a deep, welcoming kiss. Drawing away at last, she slid her arm through his and urged him toward her room.

    "Ah, Charles, I had given up hope of seeing you this evening. I cannot tell you the despair I suffered."

    Her bright eyes showing none of the despair of her words, Camille guided Charles through the doorway and closed the door behind them. She turned to face him, her pleasure obvious as he reached out to smooth an errant strand of fiery hair from her cheek.

    "Neither had I expected to come here tonight, Camille. To be very honest, I found myself walking in this direction without having made a conscious decision to do so. I don't know what possessed me to come so late, and it looks as if I've put you in a difficult position with Marie because of my insistence on seeing only you."

    Camille spoke in a husky whisper.

    "You must not worry about Marie,
ch?ri
. She does not like me, but Pierre… the Count does. I am safe from her vindictive behavior through him." Her voice dropping another notch, Camille looked directly into Charles's eyes.

    "You say you do not know why you came here tonight, Charles, despite the fact that you obviously have spent what should have been a full evening elsewhere. Shall I tell you why you came to see me,
mon
ami
? It was because you wanted to feel good, and I do that so very well for you." Camille paused in her whispered statement. Her voice dropped a notch lower. "I do it so well for you because I do it with my whole heart. You know that, do you not, Charles?"

    A low laugh escaped Charles's throat. His body was beginning a responsive swelling to Camille's throaty whispers and the erotic brushing of her near nakedness against him. He shook his head, incredulity in his voice.

    "I don't understand how you do it, Camille, but when you look into my eyes, you manage to make me forget the long   evening you've already had and the many patrons you've seen And you convince me for a little while that I'm the only one."

    "Perhaps, Charles, that is because in my mind you truly are the only one." Slowly slipping her arms free of her clinging robe, Camille dropped the damp garment to the floor. She stepped back and raised her hands to him in silent supplication.

    "Come. I am fresh and clean and waiting, as I ever am in my heart for you,
mon
cher
. Come to me and we will love."

    Touched to the core of his being as he always was when with Camille, Charles took the step forward that brought him into her clinging embrace. With a small sound of acceptance he curved his strong arms around her and lost himself in her once more.

Chapter VII

    Harvey took a few moments to reestablish his hold on his patience. He stepped back from his desk, straightened his shoulders, and inhaled deeply, only to be halted by his partner's quiet voice.

    "Harvey, it'll do you no good to get angry with me," George
Tillson
reminded him. "I'm only repeating what the foreman told me this morning. The grumbling in the mines is getting louder, and the miners are getting nervous. I don't know if the few accidents that have occurred are a result of that nervousness or whether they were deliberately caused. All I can tell you is that Jack Higgins said the men are starting to believe they're in danger because of this vendetta that's being waged against Till-Dale. Jack said we're going to start losing men if this whole thing doesn't get cleared up soon."

    George paused, intent on Harvey's flushed countenance. "Jack's the best mine manager in these parts, and I respect his opinion. I don't have to tell you a walkout could be disastrous, especially now. Our loan application with San Francisco City Bank is pending, and it'll be viewed with considerable skepticism if our production begins to suffer, along with the other problems we're facing. We need that loan. Harvey, if we're not careful, we could lose our shirts."

    Taking the few steps to round the corner of his desk, Harvey walked to the door of his office. He shot a short, suspicious glance at the two clerks working hard at their respective chores.

   He frowned and closed the door before turning back to his partner once more.

    George's expression registered his incredulity at Harvey's actions. ''Harvey, you couldn't possibly suspect Walter
Jobe
or Larry Watts. They've worked for us for years. They've proved their honesty, and they're completely loyal to Till-Dale."

    "Honesty… loyalty!" Harvey's tone was derisive. "Don't tell me you truly believe that drivel you're speaking, George! There
are
no honest, loyal men. Anyone can be bought if the price is right, and those two out there are no different!"

    Immediately realizing it would be fruitless to debate the point with Harvey in his present mood, George shook his head. "I'm not going to argue with you, Harvey. There are far more important matters for us to take up today. But for the record, I think you're wrong. Those clerks have nothing to do with the robberies, or with leaking information, if that's what you're thinking. I think the men who are out to get us are using other methods of obtaining information."

    "Such as?"

    "I didn't say I had the answer to that one, Harvey."