Wanton Splendor

by Bobbi Smith

  "Of course I mean Christopher Fletcher. Have there been others?"

  "No. But I didn't just meet him. He came down river with us."

  "Still, Katie. Your reputation could be in shreds..."

  "Is it?" She was curious.

  "Notyet,but..."

  "But, what?"

  "I've heard some very unsavory things about him tonight. It might be best if you didn't spend so much of your time with him. There are many other young men who would love to be with you. Why, Andre Montard just told me..."

  "Andre!" Katie knew now what was going on. "Has he been telling you lies about Christopher?"

  "No, we didn't even discuss Mr. Fletcher," she lied. "He confided in me that he finds you very attractive and would like to call upon you."

  Katie took a deep breath before facing Suzanne squarely. Only the knowledge of Christopher's love held her firm in what she had to say. "Suzanne, I appreciate your telling me all this, but believe me when I say that I have absolutely no interest in Mr. Montard."

  "Katie." The older woman was taken aback by her abruptness. "Andre is very well received."

  "He may be by you, but he isn't by me," she declared firmly. "I don't care to talk about it any further. And as far as Christopher is concerned, he is very dear to me."

  "And just how well do you know this Yankee?"

  "Well enough to know that he's more of a gentleman than Montard could ever hope to be." Katie refused to say more. "There's really no point in arguing about this."

  "Katie, as a Kingsford you have to abide by certain standards," Suzanne spoke sharply.

  "I realize that things are done differently here in the South and I promise you that I will try," Katie offered in a conciliatory manner.

  Suzanne only barely succeeded in controlling her temper. How dare this little bitch argue with her? Her expression was icy as she looked Katie up and down.

  "See that you do," and with all her dignity intact, Suzanne strode gracefully from the room.

  Katie lay upon her bed, wide awake. The ball had been so exciting... and Christopher... her lips curved in a soft smile and her hand touched her breast as she remembered their time alone together in the gazebo. He had been so wonderful and even though he hadn't told her he loved her, Katie felt that he cared for her.

  A frown marred her perfect features as she thought of the rest of the night. Suzanne had been greatly upset, but Katie felt she'd handled her admirably. She vowed never to let Suzanne intimidate her again. Still, she couldn't help but wonder at the connection between Andre and Suzanne.

  Curling up on her side, Katie hugged her pillow to her and closed her eyes. Christopher had promised to get in touch with her as soon as he'd settled in at Greenwood and Katie lived for that day. Sighing deeply, she hoped he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

  Christopher lay, unable to sleep in his wide, comfortable bed at the Adams's plantation. Ever since they'd left the ball he'd been unable to put Katie from his thoughts. Her protestation of love had made him very uncomfortable.

  True, they were attracted to each other, but love? It came to him then with crystal clarity... the reason she was constantly on his mind.. .the reason why he'd been so desperate to get her away from Andre.... He loved her.

  The thought brought Christopher no joy. Why had he fallen in love now, when he was about to embark on a dangerous course of action that ultimately might cost him his life? And, if he truly loved Katie how could he involve her in a situation so fraught with risk?

  Tossing restlessly, Christopher knew sleep would be hard to come by this night.

  The Danger

  Having just fallen asleep, Christopher was irritated when the sound of hurried footfalls outside his bedroom door woke him. Tense, he lay still listening... waiting.. .but there was no further disturbance. Lighting a lamp, he got up and dressed. Leaving his bedroom, he heard the muffled sound of an argument from belowstairs. Stopping at the top of the staircase, he saw a dim light coming from the study and he hurried down, thinking that Robert might need his help. Angry voice muted by the half-closed door assaulted him and he hesitated before knocking.

  "You should never have come here so openly! You have jeopardized our entire operation!" Robert was furious as he verbally lashed out, but he fell silent at the knock at the partially open door.

  "Robert?"

  "Thank God it's you, Christopher. Come in and close the door." Robert was openly relieved.

  Christopher entered cautiously and was shocked by the scene that greeted him. Robert, clad only in night clothes, stood with an unidentified white man near the center of the room. Lying face down on the sofa was an unconscious black man, whose bloody back was wrapped in dirty bandages. The drapes had been drawn against prying eyes and the air was tense with desperate fear.

  "What can I do?" Christopher offered.

  "I don't know..." Robert nervously ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.

  "Who is this, Adams?" the stranger demanded warily.

  "It's all right, Dillon. This is the new man I was telling you about."

  "You're Fletcher?" The man named Dillon eyed Christopher distrustfully.

  "At your service, Mr. Dillon." Christopher noted his uneasiness.

  "Dillon, just Dillon. No Mister." Turning back to Robert, he said, "What makes you think that we can trust him?"

  "He comes highly recommended."

  "By whom?"

  "Friends," Robert explained evasively.

  "You the one who snookered of Montard outta his prize plantation?" Dillon's face lit up.

  "Yes, but understand this..." Christopher resented his implication, "I don't cheat."

  "I do admire an honest man," Dillon backed down. "And since we're being honest, Fletcher. This here Negra is one of your new slaves."

  "Mine?"

  "One of Greenwood's. Just got away tonight." He faced Robert. "He's too weak to travel. You're going to have to put him up a while."

  "That's impossible. You know how difficult things are with the patrollers riding the main roads."

  "If you turn him out, he'll be dead in a day," Dillon stated the painful truth.

  Christopher understood Robert's dilemma. If he forced them off his property the slave would be caught and returned to Montard. And in his present condition, it was a certain death warrant. If he stayed and was caught... the Southern aristocracy was ruthless when they found traitors in their midst. Many men before them had lost their lives in unfortunate "accidents" after having been discovered helping slaves to freedom.

  "He's been whipped?" Christopher asked.

  "Forty lashes," Dillon replied, grimacing.

  "He'll have to stay, Robert. And if any problems arise, I'll take the responsibility. He is, after all, now my property," Christopher spoke the last words distastefully.

  Robert's mood lightened at the thought, "By God, you're right. Let's get him out to the slave hospital, there are beds there."

  "I'll help. I've had experience with this type of injury. Why don't you go get dressed?" Christopher offered.

  "Good idea." Robert managed to smile briefly. "I'll meet you there."

  "Bring Joel when you come," he requested as he and Dillon carried the tortured man out of the house.

  By the time Robert and Joel joined Christopher and Dillon, they had already stripped the filthy wrappings from the abused man's back and had begun to wash away the dried gore from his wounds. The pain roused the man to semi-consciousness and he moved violently under their ministering hands.

  "No, massa! Ah's sorry! Ah's sorry!" he moaned.

  Joel recognized the voice as he came through the cabin door. "Hercules?"

  The tossing man stilled at the sound of his name being called.

  "Hercules. It's me, Joel." Joel knelt by the bed and gently touched his friend's shoulder.

  The feverish, trapped-animal look left Hercules's eyes to be replaced by a watchful disbelief. "Joel?"

  "I'm here," Joel reassured him. "These
men are going to help you."

  "Massa Dillon said he could get me out." Hercules spoke nervously as his hand gripped Joel's.

  "He will, he will," Joel began.

  "Why did Montard beat you?" Christopher interrupted, fury growing within him.

  Hercules looked at Joel.

  "He's a good man. Trust him," Joel confided.

  Hercules looked over his shoulder at the tall white man and then back at Joel. The last time he'd seen Joel, he had been chained and beaten and was on his way to be sold downriver. Yet, here he was, a year later, clean and well-dressed, in the company of white gentlemen.

  "How did you come to be here? You was sold downriver. Ali saw you leave..."

  "Mr. Fletcher here, bought me. He took me up North and gave me my freedom."

  Hercules was finding it all a little hard to believe, surely this was some cruel trick. "So why you come back, fool?"

  "For Dee," Joel said simply and then the other man understood. "Now, tell Mr. Fletcher what he wants to know."

  The slave shuddered visibly as Robert applied a healing salve to his lacerated back and then covered the cuts with clean, soft wrappings.

  "Ali tried to run..." The whites of his eyes showed as he remembered the terror of that night, running in the dark with the dogs always close behind him. "Dey caught me and brung me back..."

  "Why did you run in the first place?" Christopher wanted to know. "You saw what they did to Joel."

  "Dey's saying that we gettin' a new massa, who's meaner than Massa Andre ...Ah was scared."

  "Who told you about the new owner?" Joel was curious.

  "Massa Andre.. .He tell Dee..." Hercules gave Joel a sympathetic look. "He tell her to be ready to leave on Monday'cause he doan want dis other man to have her. He tell her dis new massa is mean and Massa Andre says he doan want her hurt... So he is gonna sneak her out early like."

  Joel stiffened at the news and looked up at Christopher. Christopher met his gaze coolly.

  "We should have expected," he began. "Thank you, Hercules. You rest now. We'll talk more later."

  Christopher stalked out of the small house closely followed by Joel.

  Hercules watched them. "Massa Dillon, who was dat white man?"

  "He's the new owner of Greenwood," Dillon explained.

  Andre sat comfortably in the bed watching Dee move about the room straightening the clothes he had so hastily discarded upon his return from the ball.

  "We'll be moving into New Orleans for a few weeks until the house is repaired at Fairwinds." He leered at her as she brought him a tumbler of bourbon. "Be sure you're ready to leave early on Monday. If you're not here, Fletcher can't claim you as part of the property. It will be awkward in the city, but I want to keep you as close to me as possible."

  "Yes, suh."

  "You want that too, do you?" He patted the bed beside him and she sat down obediently. He caressed her breasts idly as he drank his liquor.

  Dee wondered at his fierce expression. She was surprised that he'd come to her tonight for she knew that there had been a big party at the Fontaine Plantation. But come to her he had, his mood remote; his actions mechanical. Dee knew that there was more on his mind than leaving Greenwood on Tuesday. But Andre was not one to share his thoughts. He merely came to her for the pleasures she provided and it was her job to see that she satisfied him to the fullest.

  "I'm going to have that little bitch! And when I do..." Andre mumbled and squeezed Dee's breast painfully.

  Dee wanted to pull away, realizing that he was going to take his fury with another woman out on her. But she also knew it would anger him further if she was reluctant. Gritting her teeth against the torment, she couldn't quite stifle the low moan that rose in her throat. The sound drew his attention and Andre looked at her questioningly.

  Misinterpreting the reason for her groan, he assumed she was ready for him again. Having never been rejected by a woman in his entire life, Andre felt himself to be totally irresistible. And as such, he was confident that Dee loved him deeply, passionately and devotedly.

  Setting his glass aside, he increased the pressure of his biting hold on her tender flesh. Pulling her across his lap, Andre kissed her wetly. What a shame that he couldn't keep Katie the way he kept Dee. He would love to lock her in a secluded cabin and tame the wildness from her at his leisure. The thought titillated him.

  "Turn out the lamp," he dictated, and when she had he pulled her back to him.

  Closing his eyes, Andre pretended that Dee was Katie.

  Dee had no idea what to expect from him now, for he was not himself this night. Lying passively against him, she waited for him to tell her what he wanted.

  Thinking of Katie, Andre kissed her brutally, raping her mouth with his tongue. But when he sensed no resistance on the part of the woman in his arms, his fantasy faded. Angry with Dee for not knowing what he needed, he grabbed her hair and forced her head back.

  "Fight me, damn you! Don't make it so easy!" he demanded, his eyes blazing with a threatening fire that Dee didn't understand. "She would fight..."

  Spurred to action by his fearful order, Dee struggled against his domination. What started as an act on her part became real as he tried to bring her under his control.

  Andre, once again lost in his drunken fantasy of forcing Katie to love him, easily subdued her. Pinning her to the bed, he chuckled evilly.

  Terrified by this unknown side of Andre, Dee began thrashing wildly about, trying to free herself. Surprised by her strength, he was unprepared when an accidental blow struck him in the groin. Reason fled.

  "You no-good whore!" He slapped her viciously, rocking her head from side to side and splitting her lip.

  "Doan hurt me, Massa Andre!" she pleaded, barely able to speak. "Doan hurt me no more!"

  "Tell me you love me, Katie," he commanded.

  Dee was nearly hysterical and his drunken ramblings made no sense to her. But when she didn't do his bidding instantly, he raised his hand to hit her again.

  "Ah love you!" she managed and was relieved when she felt him relax a bit.

  "That's better. Now, tell me you want me..." He moved against her.

  "Ah want you," she mumbled through rapidly swelling lips. Anything, she thought, anything to hurry him... anything. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what it was he wanted.

  "More than Fletcher..."

  "Ah love only you. Ah doan want no other man."

  "Good."

  Reaching down, he guided himself into her and when the full, hard length of him plunged deep within her without resistance, Andre drew back.

  "Fletcher did have you!" he snarled. "Well, he may have had you first, but I'm going to be the one you remember."

  As Dee accepted him into her once more, they moved together. Locking her legs about his waist, Dee rotated her hips hoping that it would hurry him on. Her breast was sore and her lips were throbbing from his brutality. Whoever this Katie was, Dee felt sorry for her. For if Andre ever did get her, she would suffer far more than she herself just had.

  Christopher looked across the breakfast table at Joel. His friend had been noticeably silent since their talk with Hercules and Christopher knew why.

  "Joel. Have a servant get our things ready. We're going to Greenwood today."

  Joel looked up, a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes. "Thank you."

  Christopher half-smiled. "Did you think that I would let her get away from us now?"

  Joel was openly relieved, "No. But Andre is as slippery as a snake. Our only hope is to surprise him."

  "Well, showing up two days early should catch them unaware. Robert has agreed to accompany us and has already put the flag up at the landing. We should be on our way sometime later this morning." And Christopher couldn't deny to himself that he was eager for the chance to see Katie once again.

  It was Sunday afternoon when the steamer carrying Christopher, Joel and Robert docked at the Greenwood landing. Though not as imposing as Kingsford House, Gree
nwood had a charm all its own. It was white and two stories tall with galleries both front and back. Greenwood was spacious without being overpowering in size and Christopher openly admired it.

  Standing at his side, Joel paid little attention to the beauty of the place. He was tense... assailed by memories of all that had happened here.

  "Don't worry." Christopher was confident. "The past is over."

  "I know," Joel said, pushing the depressing thoughts from his mind. "I'm just afraid we won't be in time."

  "As soon as we get up to the house, I'll leave instructions for you to be taken to the quarters so you can settle in. While you're there..."

  "I'll find her," Joel spoke, determination evident on his stern features.

  "Also, let Hercules's family know that he's safe," Robert instructed.

  Joel nodded but didn't reply as the plank was lowered and they left the ship. Assuming the role of manservant to Christopher and Robert, he carried their bags and, keeping his eyes downcast, managed to look suitably humbled. A small open carriage was waiting for them and soon they were on their way up to the main house.

  Emil Montard and his wife Marie were surprised and displeased by their unexpected arrival. Awaiting Christopher and Robert in the main parlor, their expressions were grim and their nerves were on edge.

  "Emil, this is the most humiliating day of my life and it's all because of your reckless pursuits!"

  "We have discussed this before, Marie, and I will hear no more on the subject."

  "You will hear no more!" She was outraged. "Greenwood was mine ...my dowry, my legacy from my family. And you have squandered it..."

  Emil turned on her viciously. "Shut up. They will be here at any moment."

  Marie quieted at the sound of horses on the drive. Giving her husband one last scathing look, she went out to greet the new owner.

  "Robert, so good to see you." Her mask of civility in place, she met them on the porch. "Mr. Fletcher? I'm Marie Montard."

  "A pleasure, ma'am," he bent over her hand.

  Christopher's Northern accent grated on her, but she managed a strained imitation of a smile. "Come in. My husband is awaiting you in the study."

  "If I may, I'd like to send my servant on to the quarters?"