Fiery Possession

by Margaret Tanner

  Later that evening Jo met Vickie, a tiny little thing. She was draped in a buttercup yellow sari, a striking contrast to her blue-black hair and mahogany skin. She fluttered around like an exotic, colorful peacock, the only legacy from an English father being dusky grey eyes.

  She didn't speak, but smiled and nodded at the introductions. Although shy, there was nothing servile about her.

  “Katie can show you how we operate.” Glory clapped heavily ringed hands together. “All right, girls, I think the rush will start at any moment now.”

  Jo made to rise.

  “You needn't start yet. I want to see you for a minute.” Glory waited until the other girls left the room. “You don't approve of my having Vickie here, do you?”

  “It's none of my business who you employ.”

  “But you don't approve. I saw it in your face the moment she walked into the room.”

  “She can't be more than sixteen.”

  “Probably isn't. Girls like her are working the streets at eight or nine, younger sometimes.”

  “Child prostitutes?”

  “Yes, not pretty, I know. It disgusts me, but in the Far East there's millions starving, if you're a half-caste it's a hundred times worse.”

  “Men have a lot to answer for,” Jo retorted.

  “They do, but it's better for her to be employed in an establishment like this than working the streets.” Glory sat down opposite Jo.

  “The man whose mistress she became, couldn't he help her to get something else?”

  “What could she do? Probably doesn't want anything else. It's all she knows, and she’s been used to a certain amount of luxury over the last few years.”

  “It sickens me that a man lives with a woman, but won't marry her.”

  “He couldn't marry her.” Glory picked up one of Jo’s hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He comes from an aristocratic family.”

  “It isn't fair.”

  “Of course it isn't, but that's the way of it.”

  “I know, Glory. I don't blame you. I acted like a prig, but she's so young.”

  “You feel things too much.”

  Rosa came in while Jo nursed Mark. “Oh it ees just too funny, that leetle man.” She rocked backwards and forwards with mirth, tears pouring down her cheeks. “He wanta Rosa to beat him first.”

  “What!”

  “Witha the slipper.”

  Jo could hardly believe it. “You mean he wanted you to beat him with a slipper before, you, well, I mean...”

  “Si, si.”

  “Did you?”

  “Si.”

  Glory and Jo roared with laughter now.

  “How's the bambino?” She scooped Mark up.

  “Careful, he's just been fed, I'd hate for him to be sick down your dress.”

  “Pooh. The big one, he is here.”

  “Luke Campton?” Jo’s heart slammed against her rib cage.

  “Si.”

  “With Francy?” She felt a sudden whirring sensation in the pit of her stomach, as if a swarm of angry bees had somehow become trapped there. Jealousy because he wanted the blonde girl and not her?

  “No. How you say it, onna his own.”

  Jo clamped down on her feeling of excited anticipation by vowing to be strong enough to resist him. He had made it quite plain he intended coming here tonight, but she wouldn’t be letting herself fall into his hand like a ripe plum. Not after the way he treated her.

  Katie tripped in a short time later. “There's someone waiting for you out there, Jo.” She gave a conspiratorial wink.

  “He can wait all night as far as I'm concerned.”

  After the other two departed, she couldn’t concentrate on the bookwork, because her gaze kept wandering to the door. She wrung her hands together, then stood up and paced the floor. I won't let him use me like this, I won't.

  “Good evening, Jo.”

  She glared at Luke. “Leave me alone.” Ruthless, handsome as Adonis in black tight-fitting trousers and a white cambric shirt opened at the neck, he lounged in the doorway.

  “Didn't the little Irish girl tell you I was waiting?”

  “Yes, I heard you were here. Why don't you see Vickie? She’s from India, very exotic so I hear.”

  “The one in the yellow sari?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave a sardonic grin. “She did come up to me, as a matter of fact.”

  “And?”

  “After we shared a drink, I sent her packing. It's not brown flesh I'm after.” He came a step closer. “I crave your creamy white body.”

  He lunged as she made to get away, his arms snaking out, effortlessly dragged her close. His mouth was gentle; his tongue feather soft as it moved across her clenched teeth. “Open your mouth.”

  “Go to hell.” She kicked at him until he let go.

  “Naughty, naughty, Jo,” he taunted.

  Her blazing eyes made him want her more than any other woman he had known. She was even more beautiful when she got angry, a fighting, spitting feline, driving him to distraction with her fiery spirit. Her special scent wafted in his nostrils, more potent than the strongest perfume. He needed her like a flower needed water to survive.

  “I like it when you get angry,” he said huskily. “Makes you even more desirable.”

  “I'm warning you, get out of here or I'll call the police.”

  “They're already here.”

  That comment left her speechless.

  “Come every Saturday.”

  “And you'd know. You should be home with your wife instead of frequenting places like this.”

  “You're here.”

  “I'm working. I have a child to support.”

  “You know it doesn't have to be like this.” His words slid out, silky soft, extremely dangerous. “I could give you a good life.”

  “As your mistress? You've disgraced me enough, leave me alone.”

  “I don't choose to. I want you, Jo.”

  “Well, I don't want you.”

  “No?”

  “I hate you and everything you stand for.” She did a quick sidestep. Darting out the door before he could stop her, she sprinted towards the private bar room.

  Glory played the piano as Katie sang an Irish folk ballad. She had such a wonderful singing voice Jo sat down at a table to listen.

  “Good evening.” A well-dressed young man sat down beside her.

  “Oh, good evening.” She was so intent on watching the door to see when Luke strode through, she didn’t realize what the man was up too until he started tugging her skirt. Leaping to her feet, she glared down at him. “How dare you!”

  “Do I have to pay first? How much?”

  “You couldn't afford me, because I'm not for sale. I happen to be the bookkeeper here.” Her tone should have frozen water, but the man didn’t seem to care.

  “Then why are you working the tables?” He leered up at her, breathing whisky fumes into her face.

  Vickie glided up with her hand held out. The man blinked several times then a grin spread across his face.

  “Come.” The one word, though softly spoken, sounded like a seduction in itself. He almost knocked the table over in his rush to grab hold of the Indian girl's hand.

  Mr. Griffith from the bank sat in one corner with Francy. Jo watched with a fascinated revulsion as he left the room with her. She slumped down on the chair. One of the pillars of respectability in the town frequented a brothel. Such hypocrisy. The temptation to go over and confront him almost overwhelmed her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Good evening, Jo.” Although slurred, she recognized Jim Talbot’s voice and swiveled her head around. The last time she’d seen him was at that terrible party where Luke had denounced her as a whore in a room full of people. Hot color fired her cheeks as he sat down at the table. “Are you working here now?”

  Was he being sarcastic? “Yes, as it happens.” She heard him suck in his breath. “As the bookkeeper, nothing else.”

>   “Oh?”

  She didn’t know what to say to him, and he obviously felt the same way.

  “Do you come here often, Jim?”

  “I come now and again when I’ve got nothing else to do.”

  Were there no decent men left in the district?

  “Not for the women.” His face reddened. “For the show and a decent meal, it's somewhere to go. Why did you do it?”

  “What?”

  “You know, go to Luke. I'm not rich like him, but I'm fairly secure financially. I wanted to marry you.” A wave of incredible sadness washed over his face.

  “I'm sorry; he forced me to go there. Fiona and I were desperate.”

  “You could have done something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Something. I heard you… you had his baby.” The last couple of words came out in a rush.

  “Yes I did, a little boy. I called him Mark.”

  “I'm going back to England in a few days,” Jim said.

  “Are you?” She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice at his abrupt change of topic.

  “Yes, I received word my father hasn't been well, he wants to heal the rift.”

  “What about the stallion?” Surely he wouldn’t leave such a magnificent beast behind.

  “I'm having him shipped home, too.”

  “Best of luck, Jim.”

  “Thanks.” He picked up one of her hands. “I wish things could have been different.”

  “Me too.”

  “Could I buy you a drink?” He moved his hand away and let it rest on the table.

  She hesitated.

  “As a farewell gesture?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  They ordered dry gin and soda. Once the initial embarrassment passed, they soon got back on a friendly footing. She was laughing at a story he told her, when she glanced up to find Luke striding towards them.

  “What are you doing?” he snarled.

  “Having a drink, if it's any of your business.”

  She could almost hear him grinding his teeth in rage. “I thought you'd be on your way to England by now, Talbot.”

  “I sail on Tuesday. I’m having a farewell drink with Jo.”

  “You're needed out the back.” Luke glared at her.

  “Says who? Tell me more of your plans, Jim.”

  “Well, I…”

  “Our son happens to be screaming his guts out.”

  “Mark?”

  “He's the only one we've got, so far.” Luke’s meaning was so obvious she squirmed with embarrassment.

  “I'm sorry, Jim. All the best.”

  She put out her hand, but he ignored it. Without another word he got up and strode off. Luke had succeeded in making her look like an immoral slut.

  “You did that on purpose. I hate you, Luke Campton. There's not one scrap of decency in you, is there? Jim wanted to marry me.”

  “Now?” He snapped the query out in a voice as rough as gravel.

  “No, before you spoilt everything.”

  “You're mine. No other man has you unless I say so.”

  A terrible thought came to her. “Did you invite Jim to that party deliberately?”

  “What party?”

  “You know very well. The one in which you publicly branded me.”

  His laugh sounded harsh, devoid of any humor.

  “You did! You beast!” She lunged at him, and he grasped her flailing hands to stop her from scratching his eyes out.

  “Can you hear him screaming?”

  “Mark really is crying?”

  “I said so.”

  “I thought it was another one of your lies.”

  “Jo, there you are.” George agitated and perspiring lumbered up. “Could you watch the money for me?”

  “George, I…”

  “A few minutes, that’s all. I don't feel so good. I've got to find Glory.”

  He dashed off before she could stop him. Visions of Mark screaming, frightened because he had been left unattended made her stomach churn.

  Luke stood some distance away now talking to another man. They took in so much money, she dared not move away. Glory, hurry up please. Never did time drag so badly. The girls, as they came over with their client’s order, mixed the drinks, leaving her to collect the money. She had reached screaming pitch by the time Glory arrived.

  “Thanks, Jo.”

  “I have to see to Mark.” She dashed out of the room and sprinted along the hallway.

  No screams. Perhaps he had choked. Sobs rose up in her throat as she pushed the bedroom door open. Luke stood there, as still as a statue with the baby held in the crook of one arm.

  “Is he all right?” Her heart hammered against her rib cage and her legs threatened to collapse.

  “See for yourself.” He stroked the baby’s cheek with his forefinger.

  “You said he was screaming.”

  “He stopped when I picked him up.”

  “Mark, my darling, I'm sorry.” His face was red from crying, his plump baby cheeks were wet and his hair clung damply to the back and sides of his head.

  “You can leave now.” She snatched the baby out of Luke’s arms.

  As she loosened her bodice to give the baby access to her breast rampant desire flared in Luke's eyes. “I don't want you here.”

  “Too bad, when you've seen to his needs, you can satisfy mine.” He lounged on the bed as she sat in the armchair to feed Mark.

  “You're all hot from crying.” She patted his cheek, as he sucked greedily, with one hand opening and shutting against her breast, his little toes curling up with satisfaction. After finishing one side, she changed him on the bed under Luke’s intent scrutiny. The baby fell asleep halfway through the second side. She eased his mouth from her nipple and wrapped him up.

  “Put him in his bed,” Luke growled. “I've waited too long as it is.”

  “You can wait until the oceans dry up for all I care.”

  “My patience is wearing thin. Don't try denying me.”

  She straightened up from the cradle. “I told you to leave my room.”

  “Did you?” He didn't move so much as an inch.

  “If you won't leave, I will.”

  Before she had taken a couple of steps, he bounded across the room and locked the door.

  “Want it?” He dangled the key right under her nose, pulling back before she could snatch it.

  “Give it to me.”

  He slipped it into his pocket. “Come and get it,” he taunted.

  She advanced, and then came to an abrupt halt. The rampaging hunger blazing in his eyes made her tremble from anger, or was it desire? She hated herself for wanting him, needing him.

  “Don't fight me,” he lowered his voice. “It can be good between us.”

  He dragged her into his arms, and his mouth against hers effectively smothered her angry reply. He molded her body close, and she wriggled and twisted to get free, causing his arms to tighten even more.

  She hated him. It was hard to believe this when his lips and hands were on her body and she could smell his musky male scent. That special Luke smell that filled her nostrils to overflowing, making it difficult to breathe. I can't give into him, the voice inside her head insisted. I can’t. Not after all he's done to me. I must keep on fighting. She kicked out at him, and by the snarl of pain her foot made contact with his shin. He let her go so suddenly she tumbled on to the bed.

  “I want you, Jo, and you want me.”

  “I don't.”

  “Be honest, admit it.”

  “I hate your very touch.”

  “We'll see.” His lips thinned. “You're going to beg me to take you tonight, Yankee woman. Beg, do you hear?”

  “Never! I'd rather die first.”

  In a slow, unhurried movement he stripped off his shirt. Shocked, she watched him remove first his boots, then his trousers. He stood naked, a perfect specimen of aroused manhood. She tried to drag her gaze away, yet of their own volition h
er eyes focused on his long, powerful shaft. A single crystal droplet trembled on the smooth pink tip and she had an overwhelming urge to lift it away with her tongue. Was she mad?

  He reached out for her. She tried to avoid him, but it proved impossible. A lunge, a twist, she fell flat on her back with him on top. He ripped off her clothes and she fought and struggled until his sheer brute strength held her down.

  The seduction began. His lips closed over hers, soft, persuasive. His hands and fingers caressed every inch of her, a thorough, gentle exploration that she couldn’t ignore. Against her will, she responded. Easy to fight his cruelty, but this gentle mastery proved to be another thing.

  She hated herself for needing him, but desire invaded her limbs, seared her body, until her nerve endings sizzled with passionate heat. Her breath came out in short, moaning gasps as her body writhed under his. Rock hard, throbbing with desire, yet he still managed to hold back. Her fingers clawed frantically at the skin of his damp, slippery shoulders.

  It was agony to want him so badly, yet be denied. She felt as if a giant fist pounded against her womb. Her whole body caught fire, like it was roasting on an open flame. Firecrackers exploded inside her head. She gasped for breath as his fingers and mouth worked her into a frenzy. She sobbed, pleaded and hated him all at the one time.

  Suddenly his control snapped and he speared into her with a primitive savagery. Harder, frantic, his burning shaft thrust and parried until its entire length became buried inside her womanhood, so deep did it penetrate she felt as if it had touched her womb itself. After they reached their blazing climax, they flopped exhausted on to the pillows.

  She slept for a time. Luke's lips hot and urgent on her throat, and his fingers stroking her breasts woke her up.

  “I'm tired, leave me alone.” She tried to hunch away from him.

  “I can't leave you alone,” he growled. “Damn it, I only wish I could.”

  His hand moved to cup her breast, and she winced with pain as his fingers started to work her nipple.

  “Your breasts are painful?”

  His solicitude surprised her. “Yes, when I get too much milk.”

  Her breasts felt hard and sore now, and she was shocked when they started leaking. He slowly spread the milk across her stomach then licked the excess moisture off his fingers. He rolled over on to his back bringing her over on top of him. He gently pushed her breasts together until the nipples almost touched and took them into his mouth.