Tender Fury (26 page)

“I remained with my husband nearly two years but in the end I could no longer bear his unbending nature or his cruelty so I left him and took the first ship bound for America. He has no idea where I am and I shall never return to him.”

“I cannot believe your husband, or any man for that matter, could be indifferent to your charms let alone treat you in the manner you have just described. Is that the whole of it?” asked Daisy suspiciously. “Or do you have a lover waiting someplace for you?”

“I have no lover!” denied Gabby with such conviction that Daisy was inclined to believe her.

After her long recitation Gabby was perspiring profusely and her face grew pale. The drug she had been given the night before still plagued her although she thought her weakness was due to her pregnancy and her ordeal with Big Jake.

Gabby’s state of near collapse did not go unnoticed by Daisy. “I can see that you are not yourself yet and here I am pestering you with all kinds of questions. Tell you what,” she said, flashing Gabby a huge smile, “I’ll have breakfast sent to your room and then I’ll see that no one disturbs you so you can have a nice long rest. How’s that sound, honey? We can talk further when you feel better.”

“You are very kind, Daisy.
Merci
. Somehow I will find a way to repay you.”

“I’m sure you will, honey. I’m sure you will.”

Gabby only picked at the tempting array of food one of the servants carried in to her a little while later. Her eyes grew heavy as she nibbled at a roll and drank coffee. Finally, unable to keep her eyes open a moment longer, she set the tray aside, awoke purple shadows flitted about the room but the warm glow from the fireplace dispelled the gloom as well as the cold. Her head no longer throbbed and she felt almost normal again. She was also ravenously hungry. Spying a wrapper lying at the foot of the bed, Gabby arose, put it on and tied the belt securely around her waist. Then she walked somewhat unsteadily to the window and stared in awe at the breathtaking sight that met her eyes. The world before her lay covered with a mantle of purest white, nearly unblemished by human trespassers. Paying more attention now to her surroundings, Gabby saw that the room she occupied was on the second floor and that the street below appeared to be quiet and well kept. She became so engrossed in studying the scene outside that she failed to hear the door to her room open and close. It was the mouthwatering aroma of food that finally alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. She turned just in time to see a small, pretty black woman in a maid’s crisp uniform set a heavily laden tray on the table by the fireplace.

“Miz Wilson sent this,” the girl announced, running dark eyes over Gabby in swift appraisal. “She said for you to eat and she’ll be in to see you later.”

Gabby needed no further urging. She took her place at the table while the maid silently ladled a rich, savory soup into a bowl. She gobbled it down embarrassingly fast but the maid seemed not to notice as she whisked away the empty bowl and replaced it with a meat pie filled with succulent chunks of beef and several kinds of root vegetables, which she washed down with hot tea. The maid departed while Gabby ate greedily, only to return a short time later with an apple cobbler rich with the smell of cinnamon and topped with generous spoonfuls of clotted cream. The maid watched wide eyed while Gabby made short work of it. Then she gathered up the dirty dishes and quietly left shaking her head in awe, unable to believe the French woman’s voracious appetite.

Pleasantly stuffed, Gabby took her place before the window again, a puzzled frown creasing her smooth brow when she saw three men approach the front door followed a few minutes later by two more men. Vague stirrings of misgiving gathered in her breast like a hard knot, the reason for which Gabby did not know. A soft rap on the door to her bedroom brought her musings to an end and she turned just as Daisy entered.

Gabby’s mouth fell open in admiration when she beheld the older woman. Never had she seen anyone more startlingly dressed. The cobalt blue of her lowcut, satin gown contrasted vividly with her amber eyes. At intervals the full skirt was drawn up with black lace bows revealing a scarlet underskirt. The bodice was sleeveless and drawn tight to push the tops of her white breasts upward, nearly baring them to their pink nipples. She carried a black lace fan and had pearls woven skillfully into her flaming locks.

“You look much better, honey,” Daisy said in her throaty voice. “I knew all you needed was a rest and a belly full of good food.”

“I was ravenous and I’m afraid I made a pig of myself,” Gabby admitted shyly. “But I do feel much better.”

Daisy laughed. “Millie told me she never saw a lady eat like you.” Gabby hung her head in embarrassment but said nothing.

Daisy moved nervously about the room snapping her fan open and shut with loud popping noises. Suddenly she turned and faced Gabby. “I’m going to come right to the point, honey,” Daisy began, eyeing Gabby speculatively. “What kind of employment do you hope to gain?”

“I have been well educated,” Gabby replied. “I feel more than qualified to become a governess.”

“That’s all well and good but Norfolk is a seaport and its inhabitants rough seamen and their families. Hardly the sort to employ a governess.”

“I am very good with a needle,” added Gabby hopefully.

“Ha,” laughed Daisy caustically, “hardly a profitable way to make a living.”

“I will do what I must to survive.” Gabby’s chin rose several inches and her violet eyes darkened with determination.

“Perhaps you should return to your husband.”

“Never!” cried Gabby vehemently.

That’s just what Daisy wanted to hear. “Then sit down and listen to what I have to say. I may be able to solve all your problems.”

Skeptical, but nevertheless interested, Gabby perched at the edge of the bed prepared to hear Daisy out.

“I am prepared to offer you employment. The pay is excellent, you can live here in my house, eat good food and wear beautiful clothes.” Daisy paused to observe Gabby’s reaction to her words.

“What would I have to do?” asked Gabby warily.

“My God! Mike was right, you are an innocent!” exclaimed Daisy incredulously. “Haven’t you guessed by now where you are or for that matter what I am?” Although things were beginning to take shape in her mind, Gabby shook her head. “You are in the best house of prostitution in Norfolk, possibly in all of Virginia,” bragged Daisy proudly. “I am the owner.”

All the color drained from Gabby’s face and for a moment she thought she might lose her excellent supper. “And… and you want me to work for you?” she asked in disbelief. “But Mike knew I was not that kind of woman. Why did he bring me here?”

Daisy’s coarse laughter rang out. “Mike and I have a business arrangement; he keeps an eye out for girls like you who might otherwise end up on the streets and I provide the wherewithal to feed a very expensive habit of his. Most of the young women he brings to me are decent, but destitute, like yourself, but nearly always they decide to remain with me. Mike has proved invaluable to me during our long association.”

“You mean you pay him for supplying you with unsuspecting women?” Gabby asked, stunned. “But he seemed such a gentleman, and so kind and helpful.”

“Of course,” agreed Daisy. “Unfortunately Mike has a very expensive habit that I won’t go into at this time, but his superb judgment and excellent eye for women have proved profitable for both of us. That is one of the reasons my house is the best and most popular one around. No ordinary street walker for Daisy Wilson’s establishment!”

“I’m afraid Mike’s trouble will earn him naught this time,” asserted Gabby indignantly. “I would never consent to prostitute myself!”

“Isn’t that what you did when you were forced into marriage?” asked Daisy slyly.

Daisy’s words stunned Gabby into silence. Acting as Philippe’s whore was exactly the role she played of late. Though at one time they had loved one another until Amalie had destroyed whatever had been between them.

“Well, honey, what do you say?”

“If you will return my dress I will leave,” insisted Gabby, wanting nothing more to do with Daisy or her profession.

“No so fast, Lisa,” said Daisy smugly, putting a restraining hand on Gabby’s arm as she prepared to leave. “Where will you go? It is already dark outside. Have you forgotten Big Jake so soon?”

Gabby hesitated. She could always return to the ship. Facing Philippe and his anger was better than what Daisy offered.

Sensing Gabby’s indecision Daisy pressed on. “Maybe you’d like to think about it while you rest here a day or two,” she suggested helpfully.

“There is nothing to think about. I must leave now.”

“Hold on, honey,” soothed Daisy. “Do you think me so heartless that I would turn you out on a snowy night with no place to go? Even if you refuse my offer I couldn’t do that to you.” Gabby lowered her lashes so Daisy could not read the relief in expressive eyes.

“Besides, Lisa, you are obviously in no shape to leave here for at least several days. You are deathly pale and weak. What you need is a few days of rest and quiet. You’ll find no one is eager to hire a sickly woman.”

Gabby realized the wisdom of Daisy’s words but she was not beguiled by them. She was unwilling to pay for her room and board in the manner in which Daisy suggested and wondered if the madam would try to hold her against her will. Aloud she said, “The only way I can remain under your roof is if I am allowed to do some small service to pay for my keep. In a day or two I will leave and seek employment.”

“That sounds fair enough,” agreed Daisy readily, almost too readily, Gabby thought. “You said you were good with a needle. My girls rarely have time to mend or repair their own clothing. While you are regaining your strength you can mend their dresses and do me and my girls a great service.”

“And I wouldn’t have to leave this room?” asked Gabby suspiciously. “Or… or be forced to do anything I didn’t want to do?”

“Lisa, I promise you no one will force you into anything against your will,” replied Daisy archly.

“In that case, I accept your generous offer and if you will send some of the garments in need of repair to me I shall start on them immediately.”

“No hurry, honey. Tomorrow is soon enough. Right now I think a hot bath is in order. Would you like that?”

“Very much,” smiled Gabby gratefully. “I was unable to take a fresh water bath aboard ship. In fact, I have not been in a real bathtub since I left… France.”

“Well, then,” grinned Daisy, “I’ll send one up to your room.”

As if on cue, the same maid who had waited on Gabby before entered the room bearing a tray with a wine bottle and two glasses. She set them on the table, then turned to Daisy. “You want that bath set up now, Miz Wilson?”

“As soon as Lisa joins me in a glass of wine, Millie,” Daisy told her as she carefully poured out two glasses of clear, ruby liquid. After casting a curiously pitying look in Gabby’s direction, Millie quietly left the room.

“I don’t think…” began Gabby gazing doubtfully at the wine.

“No protests,” admonished Daisy as she handed the glass to Gabby. “One small glass of wine never hurt anyone. Might even do you some good.”

After Daisy’s generosity it would be churlish for Gabby to refuse to share a glass of wine with her. The woman had taken her in and had not insisted she turn prostitute even though she had obviously paid Mike a great deal of money for her. With a smile of gratitude Gabby raised the glass to her lips and sipped appreciatively. It tasted surprisingly good, cool and crisp, and before Gabby knew it her glass was empty even though Daisy’s remained untouched.

“I have to leave now, honey. Business, you know. Millie will be in soon with your bath.” Running a practiced eye over Gabby’s small form, she continued. “I’ll send up something suitable for you to wear to bed and some perfume for your bathwater. You just sit back and relax, Millie will take care of you.” Then she picked up the half empty wine bottle and carried it with her from the room, leaving behind her own untouched glass.

Heaving a pleased sigh Gabby sat back and closed her eyes. She felt surprisingly good, her whole body vibrated with a feeling of well-being. Matters had taken a decided turn for the better for her and perhaps she could get on with her own life now. She thought of Philippe’s child nestled under her breast and absentmindedly rubbed her palms against her nipples, shocked to find them fully erect, as if stimulated by a lover’s caress. She moaned and was surprised by the sound coming from her own throat. If she could have but seen herself, Gabby would have been horrified. Her violet eyes were darkened by a look that often preceded lovemaking; her lips were open and softly inviting, moistened continually by the tip of her red tongue. Under her own fingertips her body quivered, eager with anticipation. In a trancelike state, she picked up Daisy’s untouched wine glass and thirstily gulped down the contents.

Lost in his own melancholy, Philippe sprawled carelessly in a chair, his long legs spread before him, a glass of brandy in his hand, his feelings masked by the bored look marring his handsome face. He surveyed the scene around him with cool disdain. It was the same scene he had been a party to for the past two evenings. Unwilling to return to the ship, knowing full well that he couldn’t stay away from Gabby, he had instead sought the gay, uncomplicated company of Daisy Wilson’s whores. But even during his most intimate moments with one of Daisy’s beautiful and talented girls, thoughts of violet eyes and long, pale hair intruded upon his pleasure.

Gabby’s pregnancy had unwittingly presented him with a monumental dilemma. She knew how badly he wanted an heir, just like she knew there was no way possible to tell who had sired the child she carried. In his heart he realized that he could be the father as well as Duvall. Irrationally, Philippe discounted entirely the possibility that Gabby and Marcel had not been lovers as she had insisted. But he was no fool. He still could count. Only if the babe was born a full nine months after he had made love to her in New Orleans would he accept responsibility. Philippe cursed under his breath, drawing the unwanted attention of some of the girls milling about the room in various states of undress. He had thought to forget Gabby for a while by spending some time in the arms of another woman but here he was mooning over a woman who was as much a whore as any one of Daisy’s girls! No! thought Philippe, modifying his opinion. Gabby could never be like one of Daisy’s whores. Though she might give herself in love she would never sell herself!

Philippe’s flinty gaze swept the room falling on the elegantly garbed, flame-haired woman who had just entered. He hadn’t had Daisy yet, but knew that she would be more than willing if he wanted her… perhaps tonight… He heard she only took men occasionally, but her brittle eyes had told him that she would be available to him if he wished. He noticed that Daisy was making some kind of announcement and tried hard to concentrate his rather besotted brain on her words.

“Gentlemen,” Daisy said loudly, quickly gathering the attention of every man assembled in her tastefully furnished drawing room. “Tonight everyone is in for a treat.” She paused dramatically, smiling slyly when she saw that she had the undivided attention of all her customers.

“For the first time this house has in its employ a genuine Frenchwoman of astounding beauty.” The room grew deathly still. “She is young and perfect in every respect and thus demands a greater… uh… fee.” From the moment Philippe heard “Frenchwoman” his attention did not waver from Daisy’s words.

“Where is this Frenchy?” asked one of the men.

“Yah, Daisy,” joined in another, “let’s see the merchandise. I want to see what we are paying for?”

“Patience! Patience!” laughed Daisy, pleased by the way things were going. “Every man present will get a look. But only through a peephole.”

“What’s the matter, Daisy?” asked a distinguished-looking older man. “Does this Frenchy think she’s too good to mingle with your other whores?”

Thinking quickly, Daisy answered, “This girl is from the most expensive, highest class house in Paris, and has knowledge of many ways to delight a man that not even my girls are aware of. Eventually she will accommodate every one of you but tonight will be special for only one of you. She has entertained royalty and is in a class all by herself,” Daisy announced expansively, making up lies as she went along.

Clearly the clientele were intrigued. A Frenchy straight from a Paris bordello! A mystery woman too high class to associate with Daisy’s other girls!

At that point Philippe lost interrest. A Frenchwoman held no mysticism for him. He had one of the most beautiful, enticing Frenchwomen alive aboard the
Windward
whom he was having great difficulty purging from his mind. He wanted nothing more to do with Frenchwomen.

“Follow me, boys, if you want a glimpse of my little Frenchy taking a bath,” Daisy said mysteriously, leading the way up the long staircase. “But don’t be shocked or surprised at anything you see!” Except for Philippe every man present trooped en masse behind a strutting Daisy, chattering excitedly among themselves.

Gabby stood up and stretched luxuriously. The steaming tub looked inviting and smelled deliciously of jasmine. She yanked impatiently at the belt of her wrapper, anxious to ease her aching body into the warm water. Relaxing in water up to her waist, Gabby found it difficult to concentrate. It was an effort to remember where she was and why she was here in the first place. Her brain seemed frozen, unable to sort through emotions and feelings. For some unexplained reason her body trembled with a need she found hard to describe.

Placing her hands over her full breasts and arching her back, Gabby felt her nipples press against her palms, hard, pulsating, demanding attention. Moving downward over the still taunt stomach, the gently swelling hips, her restless fingers sought and found the core of her womanhood.

Gabby started in embarrassment, looking sheepish when the door silently opened and Millie glided through with a tiny bit of froth in her hands, which she placed at the foot of the bed. Millie’s eyes slid almost guiltily from Gabby’s nude body before she departed, leaving Gabby to complete her bath in private.

As if in a dream Gabby picked up the fragrant soap and began to lather her body. Suddenly, an uncontrollable urge caused her to drop the soap and run her hand sensuously over her slippery body, stroking, caressing, in wild abandon, panting and gasping with a need her drugged mind could not control. Desperate to be loved, to experience the thrill of a man’s hands upon her hot flesh, to feel him deep within her body. Eyes wide open, moist lips parted, her hands worked feverishly, probing, massaging, and assuaging her burning need.

That scintillating scene greeted pair after pair of glazed eyes peering through the peephole into Gabby’s room. One by one Daisy’s customers filed past the opening gazing lustfully at the unsuspecting enchantress whose sensuous body was writhing and twitching beneath her own fingertips.

“My God!” exclaimed a man clutching the bulge in his crotch as he came away from the peephole. “I never seen anything like it!”

“Hot little bitch!” cried another with gleaming eyes.

“Jesus!” mouthed a youth no older than a boy, “think what she could do to a man in bed.” His eyes glazed over with a kind of reverence.

After each man had a turn at the peephole, Daisy led them back downstairs. Philippe watched with amusement as Daisy’s customers returned to the parlor, the manifestations of their lust clearly visible to his eyes. Whatever they had seen had evidently affected them deeply. Daisy allowed them a few moments to pull themselves together, moving to stand beside Philippe while they spoke quietly, speculatively with one another.

“What about you, Mr. St. Cyr?” Daisy asked, cocking an eyebrow provocatively. “Are you so immune to beauty that you have no desire to look upon it?”

“Your French whore holds no interest for me,” said Philippe coolly. “One of your other girls will do just as well. Or,” he paused dramatically, “perhaps you are free.”

Daisy eyed Philippe appreciatively before breaking out in raucous laughter. She had to admit she had been attracted to him since he had first come into her house two nights ago. His lean, hard body and cool composure intrigued her from the beginning. She seldom serviced any of the customers herself but somehow she sensed that taking Philippe into her bed would be a pleasurable experience for both of them.

Philippe’s face darkened menacingly at Daisy’s laughter, mistaking it for mockery. Abruptly, he lunged to his feet in an effort to leave when he felt a hand on his arm and looked down to see Daisy’s eyes burning into his with a searing yellowish flame.

“Wait, honey, don’t leave,” she pleaded, her throaty voice promising delights yet to come. “I wasn’t laughing at you, only at myself. I never thought I’d jump at the chance to bed one of my customers, but somehow, I can hardly wait. When I finish with the business at hand I’ll make you glad you waited for me.” The pressure of her soft body against his left Philippe little doubt of her desire for him.

Philippe watched lazily as Daisy’s compact body moved gracefully across the room to the knot of men she had led down the stairs just minutes before. He saw, rather than heard, the brisk negotiations going on between the madam and the group of hot, eager men. Daisy’s brilliant smile told Philippe that a highly satisfactory agreement had been reached. After a nod toward a husky, crude-looking man, obviously a wealthy merchant, Daisy returned to Philippe who watched with detached interest as the merchant bounded up the stairs two at a time to the cheers and catcalls of the other men.

“Don’t let her wear you out, Rafe,” someone shouted. “Bet that little Frenchy knows how to use her mouth,” laughed another, making an obscene gesture with his hand.

Philippe closed his mind to their jeers, turning his attention instead to Daisy, hoping her ample charms and wide experience in bed could occupy his mind and body long enough to shut out disturbing thoughts of a deceitful, silver-maned minx whose diminutive body nearly drove him wild with desire.

“A very profitable evening,” murmured Daisy, clutching Philippe’s arm close to her body, her eyes dark with desire. A self-satisfied smile curving her red lips, she wasted no time in leading Philippe up the stairs to her room. She was pleased in more ways than one. She had just obtained the highest price ever for the French girl, Lisa, and the drugged wine had worked far better than she could have wished. Most of the men were paring off with one girl or another, and best of all, she anticipated a long night of passion in the arms of the handsome man beside her.

Only when the water had grown cold did Gabby become aware of the need to get out of the tub and dry herself before the warm fire to stop her shivering. Stepping gingerly from the tub and using the soft towel Millie had provided Gabby began to rub her trembling body, a dreamy, far-off look glazing her face. The fire from the grate illuminated her pale, alabaster skin. Dropping the towel she moved languorously toward the bed and donned the bit of frothy lace she supposed was a nightgown. The garment Daisy had provided for Gabby was completely transparent with thins straps holding up a low-cut bodice that tied beneath the breasts with a satin ribbon and fell in sheer, graceful folds about her slim legs. Throughout it all, Gabby could concentrate on nothing but her throbbing, tingling body. Panting from the intensity of her emotions, she could barely keep her hands from straying to her tormented flesh.

As she stood beside the bed, confused, uncertain what to do next, the door opened to admit a stockily built man whose heavy, crude features seemed in distinct contract to his expensive clothing.

“My God!” he breathed reverently, “you’re even lovelier close up. And worth every penny I paid!”

“Monsieur?” asked Gabby with a puzzled frown. Why was she in a bedroom with a strange man inappropriately dressed in almost nothing? she wondered vaguely.

“An honest to God Frenchy,” breathed Rafe in lewd fascination. “Name’s Rafe, Mademoiselle,” he informed her as he eagerly advanced upon the cowering girl. “You and me are going to get along just fine.”

The look in Rafe’s beady eyes was unmistakable and even as Gabby was repulsed by the man himself, her flesh strained toward him. All conscious thought fled as her body took on a will of its own. She was aware of nothing; at that moment nothing mattered except assuaging the terrible throbbing tormenting her feverish flesh.

In a flash Rafe tore the revealing nightgown from Gabby’s body and fell upon her with an insatiable lust, plying his hands and lips to her straining flesh, her cries and moans of encouragement driving him to a frenzy. She pulled at Rafe’s clothes like a mad woman until he finally managed to cast them off. Then he picked her up and threw her on the bed, his hard, stocky bulk falling heavily upon her.

Gabby’s tortured body was aflame as it never had been before. While Rafe plied his hands and mouth to every crevice, every opening on her smooth, perfumed flesh, she writhed and moaned, cresting peak after peak, yet strangely unsatisfied. Several times in her delirium, she called out Philippe’s name but if Rafe noticed he said nothing. When finally he plunged his engorged member into her velvet wetness she screamed with pain at his brutal entrance, yet clawed his body closer, pulling his mouth to her pulsating nipples. With a blaze that threatened to consume her she climaxed just as Rafe’s pounding ceased and he collapsed atop her panting and gasping for breath.

“So you like old Rafe, huh, Frenchy?” he laughed crudely when he finally found his breath. “Well, I got plenty more where that come from.”

Gabby was far from sated. “More! More! Please more!” she begged an astonished but pleased Rafe.

“Sure, honey. Right after you show me a few of those tricks Daisy said you were famous for.”

Gabby stared at him uncomprehendingly as he knelt above her, twisting his hands hurtfully into her hair to pull her face into position. Hungrily, she accepted him without protest, the yearning within her driving her to the brink of insanity.

“Jesus!” Rafe cried, his body convulsing with intense pleasure. “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”

In the room next to Gabby’s, Philippe and Daisy lay entwined in each other’s arms, their bodies wet with perspiration. Philippe had found Daisy quick to passion and his deft caresses had aroused her to a feverish pitch. Her own strokings and petting, meant to enflame, somehow fell far short of their goal. Philippe could not help but compare Daisy’s flabby flesh to Gabby’s taut, smooth body. But if Philippe’s passion was not sufficiently aroused, Daisy did not notice. She was too caught up in her own pleasure to pay attention to Philippe’s lack of response. Besides, he was careful to bring Daisy to a thundering climax even if his own was dismally lacking. Soon after their first encounter, Daisy was eager for him again and once more Philippe found himself plunging into her, outwardly exhibiting a passion equal to her own yet somehow remaining unscathed.