The Possessive Kiss: Victoria's Story: Book Two of The Kiss Series

by Michelle Hillstrom

  “Well… I…umm…” Victoria stuttered as she searched for an explanation.

  “Oh, I see… He hasn’t actually asked you yet, has he?” Wesley’s eyes grew wide with the knowledge. “So technically you are not spoken for just yet.” Wesley leaned in close to her once more.

  “Perhaps not, but we have an understanding,” Victoria glared at him in defiance.

  “Well perhaps you need to clarify that understanding a little bit,” as he motioned for her to look over his shoulder.

  Christopher was escorting a woman that Victoria wasn’t familiar with into the ballroom. They were both laughing at a shared joke. Victoria tried to hide her shock and hurt. “So tell me, what does Mavourneen mean?”

  “My darling,” he told her softly as his eyes caressed her face.

  Victoria studied her custard and stewed fruit as she pushed it around with her spoon. Her blush returned under the scrutiny of Wesley’s eyes and bold words, and she thoroughly regretted her curiosity. Samantha and Thomas stood from the table and walked over to Victoria. The younger brother offered her his free arm. “Tory, are you going to join us in the ballroom? The dancing should be starting any moment now,” Samantha asked her sister.

  “Yes, of course!” She would take any excuse to distance herself from the source of her discomfort.

  “Miss De’Muerre, please permit me to escort you?” Wesley rose from his chair and offered his arm to Victoria. Victoria knew it was just another formal custom, but something about being in such close proximity to him made her senses heighten, and that was simply sitting beside one another at the dinner table. How could she handle walking together with their arms linked? And Wesley offering her his arm completely defeated the purpose of her agreeing to join her sister in the ballroom, in the first place. She placed her hand on his arm and they headed out of the room with their younger siblings following behind. Victoria followed Wesley’s lead aimlessly until she realized that he was leading her over to where Christopher Worthington was standing with a group of his friends and the woman he had escorted out of the dining area.

  “Worthington, how are you?” Wesley slapped him on the back heartily, freeing Victoria’s arm once more.

  “Brennan, I could hardly believe it when I heard your family was moving here,” Christopher and Wesley shook hands with familiarity. Victoria was the one who could not believe it. They knew each other.

  “Miss De’Muerre did you know that Mr. Worthington and I met at The College of William and Mary?” Wesley looked at Victoria with a wickedly impish grin.

  “No, Mr. Brennan I was not aware of that. I thought that you and your family had just moved to the area recently.” Victoria failed to hide the snippy tone as she answered his question. She lifted her head and turned her face away slightly, displaying an air of indifference. She had the sudden urge to cross her arms and stamp her foot in a child-like tantrum.

  “That is true enough, but I actually came to America much sooner than the rest of my family. I was the one that convinced them that they should migrate over.” He turned back to Christopher, then. “So, Worthington, will you be in the city for a long stay?”

  “Sadly, no. I only came to attend to some business and then I must return to the farm.” Strangely, he looked in every direction aside from that of Victoria and quickly turned to Samantha. “Samantha, please tell me, how has that gelding of yours been performing? Has she lived up to the promise I made?” Christopher had given a horse to each of the girls last summer. His family bred hunters.

  “She is everything you said she would be, Christopher.”

  “Glad to hear it, glad to hear it. Do you all know Miss Lydia Attebury?” Christopher finally motioned to introduce the unfamiliar woman.

  “Miss Attebury, I met you momentarily in the receiving line, of course. And you know my brother Thomas as well. This is Miss Victoria and Samantha De’Muerre,” Wesley turned introducing the girls to the fair complected woman who had dark hair and eyes which created a stark contrast in her features.

  “Hello,” she greeted the sisters as she placed her hand into the crook of Christopher’s elbow.

  “Are you new to town Miss Attebury?” Victoria asked, digging for information while trying to hide her jealousy, and deliberately looking directly into the eyes of this new woman -- secretly challenging her, refusing to allow her eyes to look at the hand that was possessively touching her beau’s arm.

  “Yes, I have just moved into town with my family. We have a long history of friendship with the Worthingtons, however. My father moved us here so that he might easier conduct business with Christopher’s father.” Lydia’s eyes adoringly gazed up to Christopher’s stoic face as she spoke. Christopher’s face appeared to pale as he swallowed hard and continued to avoid looking at Victoria.

  Victoria ground her teeth together at the strange woman’s possessive behavior. She ground her teeth, locking her jaw tightly disabling the words that bubbled up from escaping. The words were not words that a lady should know, let alone speak. The orchestra struck the first chords of music in that moment and, lucky for Lydia, Wesley unceremoniously spun Victoria out onto the dance floor as the spirited polka began, before the words could escape through the dam of grinding teeth.

  Wesley opened his mouth to say something. “Not one word,” Victoria scolded him through her still clenched teeth.

  He chuckled in merriment at her spirited behavior. Being an Irishman, he found the frail and dainty behavior of most of the Southern Belles that he had met since coming to America to be dull and uninspiring of his affections. He preferred hearty women who unabashedly scolded their men and spoke their minds, just the way that this fine woman had been doing all day. However, he did have to admit to himself that Victoria’s sensitivity to his teasing and easy blushing skin, both of which she did inherit from being a refined southern woman, was something that was quickly growing on him.

  The polka ended and Wesley allowed Victoria to excuse herself from his presence for the time being. He knew that she needed some time to collect herself after the high-energy dance, and she needed to gather her thoughts after the weird interaction between herself and Worthington. Wesley, himself, was going to do some investigating into what exactly the status of this understanding between Victoria and Worthington was, and what business it was exactly that Lydia Attebury’s father had with the Worthingtons. Something told him that it was not your average farming venture.

  He found Christopher and Lydia still standing as he had left them, but now with a smaller group of friends, since most couples had begun dancing. “Miss Attebury,” Wesley approached her with his most charming, petticoat-lifting grin. “Would you favor me with a dance?”

  Lydia looked up to Christopher for permission, giving Wesley another clue that they were definitely more than mere family friends, and removed her gloved hand from his elbow to take Wesley’s extended hand as Christopher gave her a nod of acceptance. “I would be most delighted Mr. Brennan.”

  The minuet’s slower tempo allowed for easier conversation than the polka had with Victoria. “Tell me Miss Attebury, where are you from?”

  “Baton Rouge. As I mentioned earlier, my father moved us down here to New Orleans to conduct business with Christopher’s father.”

  “Yes, yes, so you said. Are you finding New Orleans to your liking?”

  “Naturally. It is much more developed than Baton Rouge. We are very civilized compared to many places this far west, but nothing like this. And Christopher makes me feel so welcomed.”

  “It sounds to me Miss Attebury that my hopes of calling upon you are to be crushed. Do you and Worthington have some sort of understanding?” Wesley flirted shamelessly for the information he needed as he gracefully swept Lydia across the ballroom floor.

  “But of course! Our fathers have arranged a marriage between us. We are to be wed in just a few months’ time,” Lydia proclaimed joyfully to Wesley. “We shall be announcing our engagement formally in just a few days.” He couldn’t bel
ieve what he was hearing. He could tell that Victoria was not the sort of woman who would have taken a light flirtation as some sort of understanding that was headed for marriage. So the only conclusion that he could come up with is that Worthington had somehow trifled with her feelings and led her on, all the while being promised to another woman.

  The minuet ended and Wesley deposited Lydia back to the group of her friends. “Worthington, a moment if you will?” Wesley motioned for Christopher to join him before Lydia made her hand too comfortable back on his elbow. Christopher followed Wesley into the library where Wesley offered him a cigar and brandy.

  Wesley kicked back in an armchair and striking a match, he lit his cigar taking a few puffs before he spoke, “I didn’t take you for the kind who would trifle with a respectable lady’s heart, Worthington.”

  Worthington looked up at Wesley from the seat he had just taken with the look of a man who knew he was caught red handed. “What are you speaking of Brennan? There are men that I would call out for making such an accusation to the nature of my reputation.”

  Wesley didn’t bat an eyelash at Christopher’s petty threat; in fact, he did his best not to laugh. They both knew who had the quicker and more accurate trigger finger from their exploits at college. “Well it appears as though I have danced with two very delightful ladies this evening who seem to think that they both have some sort of understanding with you. It can only lead me to believe that one of them is soon to have their heartbroken, and therefore my accusation is just.” Wesley continued to lean back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk. He portrayed man of apathetic confidence: powerful, deadly, cool, confidence.

  Christopher sighed and slumped back into the leather couch, downing his brandy. “Things have not gone well for my family out on the plantation lately, Brennan. We have had several seasons of bad crops and now these deaths and illnesses have hit our slaves, and I fear my sisters will soon follow. Father has not handled his money well and has taken to gambling much of it away as he fruitlessly tries to win back a fortune. I never meant to hurt Victoria and until recently, I intended to marry her. Unfortunately, when Mr. Attebury contacted my father about forgiving many of our debts in exchange for my engagement to Lydia, well even Victoria doesn’t have the dowry that would compete with that offer.”

  Wesley sighed with pity for his friend. Arranged marriages were a ghastly tradition, one with which he was thankful that his parents would not expect him to partake. Thank God for their passionate Irish blood! Wesley thought. “Horrible business, friend. I wish you the best and hope that you and Miss Attebury can find happiness together, but if you don’t tell that sweet Miss De’Muerre about this new situation without delay, and break it to her as gently as possible, I just might have to take my overseer’s cat o’ nine tails to you.” With that threat, Wesley ground out his cigar in the nearby ashtray and left Worthington to stew in his misery.

  Victoria watched Thomas and Samantha sashay gracefully around the ballroom to the mournful waltz from her position in the corner of the room. They made a handsome pair. Her friends talked jovially beside her in an attempt to keep her company. They, too, had noticed the absence of Worthington from her side, as well as the attachment that Lydia Attebury had seemed to form to him. Victoria tried not to dwell on it, knowing that Christopher would have a good explanation for his behavior and would be along to explain it to her as soon as possible. He very well may simply be duty bound to making a family friend feel comfortable in new surroundings. She noticed that Mr. Brennan had taken him off to the library a while back and figured that they were probably enjoying cigars and brandy while reminiscing about their days at William and Mary as she had witnessed other college cohorts do in the past.

  Wesley stood in the crowd admiring Victoria as she watched the dancers. Though she held up a tough front of confidence as she had watched the interactions between Christopher and Lydia earlier, he knew that Victoria was going to be crushed when Worthington came out of the library and told her about his new arrangement. As for himself, he intended to be there with a sturdy shoulder to comfort her in the aftermath. Hopefully, he could quickly cheer her up and make her forget all about Christopher Worthington.

  “Victoria,” Christopher reached from behind her to take her hand.

  “Christopher! I have been wondering about you.” Victoria followed him as he led her back to the small nook-like sitting room where they had begun their conversation earlier in the evening. They were provided with privacy with minimally parted velvet drapes. The room was simply a cut out with thickly cushioned built in benches on either side of the small area. No more than four people could have fit into this room at any given time. It was the perfect atmosphere to conduct this intimate conversation, as long as no one decided to eavesdrop from outside.

  He cleared his throat nervously as he tried to find the words to start. He decided that it would be best to go ahead and get this out of the way. Get it done and over with before Wesley decided to make good on his threat. “I know I have much that I must explain to you about my behavior this night and many recent events that have come to pass.” He kept his eyes turned away from her as they sat down. His hands were unusually clammy and he wiped them on his trousers. This wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t want to hurt Victoria.

  “Christopher,” Victoria took both his hands into hers and tried to get him to look at her. “We have known each other so long and we have always talked so easily. So please tell me what weighs upon you so.”

  Christopher took a deep breath and dove into the story that he had just divulged to Wesley. “If things had only gone differently, Victoria… Please understand that I want to marry you. I love you, but I must do what is best for my family and our farm. My father has ordered me to marry Lydia and on this I cannot stand up and defy him, despite my deepest desire to do so.”

  Victoria withdrew her hands from his and began to scoot away from him. She knew that the emotional reaction she was about to have contradicted everything that she had been taught about being a lady and maintaining oneself in company. A lady never lets anyone see her cry no matter what she is feeling. Appearance is everything in this society and Victoria’s mother raised her to be a well-bred societal lady but in this moment, the tears, they could not be helped.

  She rose as the tears began to sting, they could not be held back. “You are going to marry her for money?” the question began as a whisper and grew to a shrill shriek. “And you are tossing me, the woman who you have confessed to love since we were playmates, aside like a tired mistress? You are not the gentleman that I thought you were, Christopher Worthington!” Victoria turned and fled through the crowd that had begun to gather outside the curtained doorway, drawn in by the loud voices.

  Several worried friends and darkies tried to stop her as she continued to run straight out the door and into the freezing fog. Her vision blurred with the tears of her anguish but she just ran on. Victoria never had reason to doubt that she and Christopher would wed. She believed, ever since they were young, that he was the one she would marry and had made no qualms about telling people that it would be so. Now the humiliation that she would face when he espoused Lydia Attebury would be too much for her to bear. It would ruin her. She would be labeled as damaged goods.

  Victoria did not know how long she had been running, but she had come to her senses long enough to realize that, with the impenetrable fog, she had no idea where she was. She recognized nothing. Ghostly figures swirled and danced through the fog. The weak streetlights battled with the overbearing darkness creating strange shapes and shadows that played on her fear: fear that drove her on further and further now that the tears had subsided. She had this tickling feeling at the base of her neck sending chills down her spine eliciting quivering shakes to jolt through her body. She was almost positive that something was stalking her, lurking in the shadows, but everything around her was eerily still and silent. She looked to the left and then to the right. The street lamps gave little i
llumination and the streets were unfamiliar to her, everything was turned around.

  She walked on, slower now, until raucous laughter could finally be heard further on down the street. She then ran towards it, in hopes that someone kind could point her in the right direction of her home or offer her escort in their carriage, since she now felt the damp cold that easily penetrated her ball gown. She paused. She thought she heard footsteps on the cobblestone behind her. She turned to face her pursuer. “REYWR HISSTT!” A cat hissed and spat as it leapt out of a shadow. “Aacckk!!” Victoria shrieked. Her heart pounded hard against her chest as she gasped trying to catch her breath in her tightly caged lungs. The cat was a dark orange tabby. It stood there in the middle of the road. It continued to yowl and hiss at her confrontationally while twitching its tail.

  “Shoo cat!” Victoria scolded and kicked at the cat gently without actually hitting the feline. Victoria looked about herself to gauge her surroundings. The fog and darkness must have been playing tricks. There was nothing stalking her. She was just being a silly-sally she decided. There was only the cat that sat there staring unaffectedly, now looking quite bored in the way that only a cat can. Victoria stood there staring back at the cat for a few moments in an attempt to slow her heart and her breathing now that she knew that she was not in fact being stalked nor attacked. “Fine have it your way,” she told the cat. “I don’t have time to partake in a staring competition with you.” Victoria hurried around the cat and on to the glowing building from where the laughter was resonating. She peeked back over her shoulder one last time and noticed that the cat was finally gone.