Savage Surrender

by Natasha Peters

  He stared at me, unbelieving. "Damned bitch," he breathed after a moment. "I've never known any woman like you."

  I lifted my shoulders. "You and I meet on equal terms in bed. But I would not consider giving you anything to buy your loyalty. Why should you buy mine?"

  "What in God's name are you talking about, Elise? Giving a token of—of friendship is not the same as negotiating a purchase—"

  "It is when you are the giver, Garth. You want to dominate your women. That's easy, if they love you. But if they don't—and I don't—then you need to try another approach: brutality, seduction, or bribery. If I take anything from you, anything at all, then I put myself in the position of being a supplicant, a dependent."

  "You're raving!" He laughed sharply.

  "No, I'm not. I know what you're trying to do, Garth. If I thought you had a conscience I might be tempted to believe that you were trying to compensate for taking me away from my home and family. But you don't care about that. You never did. What bothers you is knowing that there is a woman living who has had the grand privilege of sharing a bed with you, and who still will not fall at your feet and sing your praises."

  He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not a boy, Elise. I don't give a damn for your opinion of me—"

  "But you do want a hold over me, Garth, and you're furious because I won't give you one."

  He smirked. "But I have a hold over you. The strongest hold any man could have over a woman."

  "Only because I let you have it. I'm not ashamed of enjoying your lovemaking, and I am delighted that you enjoy mine. But that's all there is to this—this relationship of ours, my old friend. I am the one woman who shall never be at your beck and call, never torment herself because she's afraid of losing you to another, never want to kill herself when you have left her for good. I know better than to give my heart to one who has no heart."

  He sighed and got laboriously to his feet. "You are a child who has some remarkably quaint ideas, Elise. But at the moment I find them more tiring than amusing. I'll be going, I think."

  "What?" I smiled coyly. "So you won't be staying for a late supper and champagne? Lafitte sent over a case of some very fine—"

  "I think not. I don't like playing in another man's leavings." He bowed a trifle stiffly. "Good night, Elise."

  "Good night, Garth," I said coolly. "I hope Duplessis likes her bijou."

  Savannah came in and closed the drapes and plumped up the sofa cushions. "You is plumb crazy," she said under her breath. "You is the craziest woman I ever seen. He's treatin' you like you was a queen, and givin' you jewels, and you send him away like he was dirt. His face was as white as that handkerchief you is waving in the air. He took his hat and he took his stick and he didn't say a word to me, like he usually does. That's the last we seen of him, mark my words."

  "I don't know why I don't ask you and George to come in and take tea with us," I said frostily. "Then you wouldn't have to strain your ears at the keyhole."

  "It didn't take no strainin' to see that you has let him get through your fingers," she retorted.

  "You think so?" I rested my cheek on my palm and smiled. "I don't agree. That ring will burn a hole in his pocket. Even if he does give it to his whore—which I doubt—he'll think of me every time she wears it. In fact, every ring he sees on a woman's hand for the next week will remind him of me."

  "I don't see how you can treat him like that," Savannah said. "It just don't make sense."

  A full month passed before I saw him again. I forced myself not to think about him and I threw myself into a frenzy of social activities and a few casual love affairs. But when I entered a ballroom one evening on the arm of one of my faithful admirers, there he was, looking as cool and as handsome as ever. My heart leaped up to my throat when I saw him, but I nodded at him politely and smiled encouragingly, and when we danced later I was as warm and alluring as I could be.

  "You haven't called on me for ages, dear Garth," I twitted him gently. "Savannah has missed you. I hear you have won your election. I am so glad. When are you leaving for Washington?"

  "Not for a few months yet. You're looking well, Elise. The independent life of a demimondaine seems to agree with you."

  I ignored his light sarcasm. The dance ended and he escorted me to the edge of the floor. "If I don't see you before you go," I said, "I want to wish you luck in your new career. I know you will make a success of it."

  "I'll try to call on you before I leave," he said politely. I was sure he told everyone he met the same thing.

  "Any time," I said airily. "You know the way. And come to the front door." I smiled mischievously and tapped his arm with my fan. "It isn't proper for a senator to climb balconies. Au revoir." The orchestra struck up a cotillion and a new partner swept me away.

  He came late that night. I half expected him and sent my escort home early. While I was dressing I heard voices at the front door, then he bounded up the stairs and burst into my room without knocking.

  "Garth, what an unexpected pleasure," I cried gaily. "So kind of you, with your busy schedule, to come calling—"

  He crushed me to his chest. "Be quiet, bitch," he said, grabbing my hair and jerking my head back. "If you say one more word I'll blacken your eyes."

  We undressed each other quickly, then he hoisted me up on his shoulder and tossed me on the bed and came down on me so forcefully that I was afraid I might break apart. The fury of his attack left me breathless but I held my tongue. I knew his capability for violence all too well, and I could tell that he was genuinely angry.

  "I could strangle you," he said through his teeth. "I could twist your little head right off your stupid neck. You're nothing but a slut, a brainless flirt—"

  I raked my fingernails across his naked back and sank my teeth into his shoulder. He writhed and ground his loins into mine.

  "Slut." He pressed his hands around my throat. "You don't accept gifts from me because you're the first woman I've ever met who has a fair idea of her own worth," he hissed. "You're nothing, Elise. I should have tossed you to the sharks long ago."

  A spark of anger flickered through me. "You did. You tossed me to human sharks and I survived. I came back from the dead, Garth, and I'll haunt you. You'll never be free of me. Never."

  "I am free of you! You're nothing to me, Elise. You're a soulless bitch who distributes her favors mindlessly and cheaply. I'm finished with you."

  He was determined to possess me. I was just as determined that he would not. When morning came and Savannah appeared with our coffee, he said to her, "Mademoiselle is not at home to callers today, Savannah, and she won't be going out. Is that clear?"

  I sat up quickly. "I beg your pardon, Garth, but I have accepted an invitation to tea and one to a musical this evening. Certainly I am at home, Savannah. Please put out my ivory walking dress and my parasol."

  Savannah looked first at me, then at Garth. "Yessir," she said enthusiastically. "Anything you say!"

  "See here, Savannah," I said loudly, "you are dismissed, fired! I shall tolerate no insubordination in my house. And George, too. You may tell him so."

  Savannah smiled gamely.

  "Savannah," Garth said, "if you put your head into this room just once before I call you, I'll shoot it off. Understand?"

  "Yessir, I understands!"

  "This is absurd," I said hotly after she had gone. "What gives you the right to dictate to me? You got what you came for, didn't you? What more do you want? Applause? Congratulations? Very well, I congratulate you. You were remarkable, superb, magnificent. There isn't a man in New Orleans who can match you."

  "You should know." He lifted my hand. "A new ring. Who gave it to you?"

  "I can't remember," I said vaguely. Actually it was one I had bought myself. "I think it was Pierre Moreau. Do you like it?" I flashed the little circlet of diamonds.

  "And what did you give him?"

  I snatched my hand away. "What do you think? I certainly didn't spend this past month hangi
ng over my balcony, waiting for you to put in an appearance, dear Romeo. Besides, it's none of your business whom I see and what I do. You have no right to give me orders, Garth. I don't owe you a thing."

  His eyes blazed. "You owe me everything. I didn't—find you this house so that you could entertain half the men in the city in your bed."

  "It's my house and my bed and I shall entertain whom I please," I said angrily. "And if you don't like it you know what you can do."

  He smiled grimly. "I do indeed."

  "You're so naive, Garth," I said with a saucy toss of my curls. "I am not going to attend daily Mass and dose myself with saltpeter while you are away. You can't control my actions."

  "I can and I will, if it means I have to chain you to my side twenty-four hours a day. I know damned well what you're trying to do, Elise. There isn't a woman alive who can beat me at this game. I've been at it a lot longer than you have, and I've invented some of the very tricks you're using. You can't make me jealous and I will not be your willing slave. But I don't like being made a fool of. I shall have you yet, woman. On my own terms."

  We quarreled and loved for a whole day and night. When he left me I knew that I had come perilously close to giving in to him, to promising him that I would be his mistress and that I would be faithful to him for as long as he wanted me. But I also knew that if I could keep my head I would win him. He would be mine, on my terms.

  Later that day Savannah announced a visitor. "She says her name is Mrs. McClelland, Ma'am."

  She ushered Georgette McClelland into my sitting room. I rose to greet her. She was about thirty, tall and well built, with a handsome alabaster face and corn-colored hair. She was fashionably but simply dressed in a lavender frock and shawl that made her skin seem sallower than it was. Her glance was imperious as it swept over me. She did not offer her hand and I did not offer mine.

  "I came to see you because I was curious," she said bluntly.

  "Won't you sit down? Perhaps you would care for coffee, Mrs. McClelland?"

  She sat stiffly on the edge of a chair. Her long fingers plucked nervously at the fringe of her shawl. I thought she looked tired, and older than her years. They must have been a beautiful couple, I told myself. Then I drew myself up. She had come here because I represented a threat to her love for Garth. I would need all my wits.

  "No coffee, thank you." Her eyes flickered over me. "You are much smaller than I remembered."

  I couldn't resist saying, "And you are much larger."

  "I don't want to fence with you, Mademoiselle," she said sharply. "My husband has spent a great deal of money on you. I wanted to see again what you were like, what he found so attractive."

  "You have been misinformed, Madame," I told her. "I know your husband, yes. But he has spent no money on me, I can tell you with absolute certainty."

  She pulled down the corners of her mouth. "You are a liar as well as a slut! He bought you this house, for one thing." I opened my mouth to protest. "Oh, yes, I have heard how you supposedly purchased it from the estate of some people who are now deceased, and how you paid only two thousand dollars for the house and everything in it. Two thousand!" She brought her fist down on the arm of her chair. "This house was empty until three months ago, when Garth bought it and furnished it from top to bottom. I don't know what kind of game you two are playing, or who you think you're fooling with this charade of yours. You are his whore, and the things he has given you rightfully belong to me."

  "You're joking," I said slowly. "This house is mine. Mine! I—I bought it—"

  "Everyone else in this city knows whose money paid for this house," she said. "You can't deny it." She stood up. Her hands were shaking violently. I felt suddenly, inexplicably sorry for her. He must have put her through Hell, I thought. "I—I hate you for this," she said thickly. "I would never have believed that he would have taken up with the castoff whore of that rascal Lafitte. It's so laughable, so—so degrading." She put her hand over her eyes and swayed unsteadily.

  "You are ill, Madame," I said. "Let me get you a glass of water."

  "No!" she shrieked. "No, I don't want anything from you! I just wanted to see you face to face, I wanted to tell you—"

  She ran clumsily out of the sitting room. I heard the front door slam. I ran to my desk. "Savannah!" I called. "Savannah, come here at once!"

  I sat down and scribbled a hasty note to Jacques: "My dearest Jacques, I would be deeply honored to become your wife. Don't delay in this, I beg you. I want to be married as soon as possible." I pursed my lips and added, "my darling. Your loving Elise."

  I folded the note and handed it to Savannah. "Find a messenger and have him deliver this to Monsieur Fournier's house at once, immediately, now!"

  She nodded wordlessly and scurried out of the room.

  So he had tricked me after all. That devil must have been laughing at me all along, every time I launched into a splendid speech about my independence, and about how he couldn't own me because I wouldn't let him. Let him! I had been a blind fool, a dupe, and now I was a laughingstock. And my sugar speculation! I had recently received word from Pierre Montague that my profits would be enormous. Of course they would: as enormous as Garth McClelland wanted them to be. Buying me, buying me right under my very nose! Fixing it so I would be so deeply in his debt that I could never refuse him anything. How could I, if I didn't want him to evict me from this house?

  My brain was spinning. We weren't equals at all. How could we be? With his wealth and power he could arrange my life to suit him, and I would have very little to say about it. Three months! He must have had the house ready for me when he brought me back from Grand Terre. He hadn't been stymied when I refused to let him keep me; oh, no, he had simply arranged things so that he could keep me without my knowledge and consent.

  "Savannah! Pack my things at once. Pack everything that wasn't here when we moved in, and leave the rest, just as it was. We must be out of here tonight."

  "But Miz Elise—"

  "I don't want any argument from you, do you hear me? You've probably been in on the joke from the very start, haven't you, Savannah? I suppose he's been supplementing your salary, too. Spies deserve something extra, don't they?"

  "Missy, don't talk like that," Savannah said sorrowfully. "I don't know nothin' 'bout nothin', 'cept that you love him—"

  "Love! What a laugh! I do not love him now, I have never, never loved him, I would kill myself if I loved him. He's a monster, an ogre, a scheming, lying devil. He always gets everything he wants, the black-hearted bastard, and this is one time he will fail. He isn't capable of being straightforward, and he doesn't know how to be honest." The black girl came over to me and put her arms around me. I rested my head on her shoulder and cried harshly. "Oh, Savannah, if he had loved me I would have done anything for him, anything! But it's not fair. I wanted to be free. He knew I wanted to be free, and he—he used me and betrayed me!"

  "There, there, Missy, everything will work out fine, just you wait and see—"

  I blotted my eyes and straightened my shoulders. "I am not waiting for anything. We are leaving tonight. When he comes here again this house is going to be empty, and it will look just as it did when he tricked me into buying it. He can give it to his mistress, with my blessing. Come on, we have a lot of work to do."

  Jacques appeared while we were folding my gowns into a trunk.

  "My dearest angel," he cried, "I came as soon as I could! I'm so happy, Elise, I can hardly believe you've accepted me!"

  "People will talk, Jacques," I warned him. "They'll call me names, and they'll say I married you for your money and your social position and your name. It won't be easy for you. And your family won't like it one bit, I'm sure."

  "But I don't care about them," he said earnestly. "I love you, Elise, and I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy, I swear it."

  I looked up at his happy, shining face. "I know you will, Jacques," I said softly. "How soon—"

  "Tonight, Elise!" He
clasped my hands. His palms felt cold and clammy and I had to force myself not to pull away. I concentrated on his fine, handsome face with its brilliant black eyes, deep set under finely arched brows, his sensitive mouth, his lean cheeks. He was good, he was kind, and he loved me. "I spoke to Father Jules at the Cathedral as soon as I received your message and he has promised to arrange everything for me. There won't be any problems. I'll come for you at eight, my darling."

  "No, that's too late," I said quickly. I was afraid Garth might return before I left the house. I didn't want to see him again. "I shall have my things sent to the Marengo and you can meet me there. Go now, Jacques, please. I have so much to do."

  "Yes, of course, I understand." He gazed deeply into my eyes and leaned towards me. He kissed me on the lips for the first time. His kiss was clumsy, awkward. I felt nothing. He was nervous, I told myself. Perhaps I was, too. "Good-bye, dearest Elise," he whispered. "I adore you."

  The ceremony took place in the dark, eerie cavern of the St. Louis Cathedral. Candles flickered in front of the side altars, and although the night was warm I was shivering. Jacques' hands trembled as we exchanged our vows. He was feverish with excitement and thrilled by the secrecy. I had the impression that he had never done anything furtive in his life until now, and that he was finding the experience exhilarating. Savannah and George were the only two witnesses to the ceremony. Jacques and I signed the proper documents and the other two made their marks, then I slipped my hand through Jacques' arm and we left the church.

  Garth was waiting for us in the foyer. He looked at me sharply, then glanced at Jacques, then turned to me again. "What's all this?"

  Jacques cleared his throat. "Congratulate us, Garth. We have just been married."

  "That's absurd," Garth said to me. "What sort of trick are you trying to pull now?"

  "It is no trick," I said. I drew closer to Jacques, seeking his protection and support.