by Alie Infante
Hours
Later…
“Now, I shall make love to ye as Mrs. Waverly, something I assured nearly fourteen years ago.” He grinned, as he pulled me onto the bed, then turned me so I was beneath him.
“I cannot quite fathom that expression? Mrs. Waverly.” I sighed as he caressed my shoulder, then his lips replaced his hand.
“Is it not glorious? At least it is to me. Mrs. Waverly.” He repeated, and I laughed.
“I do believe it has a nice ring to it. Shall ye say it again?” I mocked, he chuckled, then drew the skin in the curve of my neck into his mouth, and our play ceased.
“Tell me ye love me?” He whispered, and I nodded as his hands roamed my body, in the most intimate of ways.
“Say it Ginnybean, I need to hear it. My heart waits to nourish from it.” He moaned, as his lips began to make circles on my skin.
“I love you; I vow that I do Benny.” I moaned back, he grinned, then turned over on the bed, so now he was behind me, his cheek pressed to mine, as he pushed his hips forward.
“Benny…” I whispered, and he drew away from me, his lips kissing their way down my spine.
“I never knew I could love a woman as I do ye Ginny. Ye are my world, and have been for what seems like an eternity.” He stated softly, then turned me over, so he could look into my eyes.
“I too my love, you have been my one and only true love.” I swore back, and the smile he gave me, could have lit up the entire room.
Our declarations ended, as my body responded to him, as if I were a guitar he strummed, and knew only too well.
“I shall never grow tired of declaring my love for ye.” He whispered, as his lips traveled the length of my thighs, and my back arched as his lips caressed me.
“And I shall never grow tired of hearing it.” I cried, as his tongue caressed me, stilling any further words from me, except the moan.
Higher and higher, I soared, the scream leaving me as my heartbeat slowed. He kissed me, and I turned him to his surprise. I edged between his legs, and he watched me with half-hooded eyes. I kissed my way up his stomach, and he sighed deeply. I flicked my tongue across his navel, felt the muscles in his stomach tighten and flinch, then he groaned.
He rose up just enough for me to cradle his face, and I kissed him slow, exploring his mouth softly with my lips. I drew back enough to see his face, and he whispered.
“My God.”
He pulled me to him and placed me on his lap again, his mouth going to my throat, and I arched my neck at the feel of his lips. My hands touched the tip of him, and his quick intake of breath told me he was more than ready. Before I knew it, he rolled taking me with him.
I giggled.
“Enough!” He commanded, and my back arched as he pushed his hips forward. I drew my hips up, and marveled in the fill of him. He rolled me, so now I was on top again.
As I moved my hips, I threw my head back, reeling in the feel of him.
As I rode his body, he whispered my name, rocking my hips forward, causing a deep moan to leave my lips. I felt the building pressure inside me. A feeling, which seemed to start at the tips of my toes, only to spill its way out into my entire body.
However, I was not ready for it yet.
It was my turn to be the seductress.
I leaned over him, teased his lips, kissing every inch of his face, returning to his mouth and sucking his bottom lip into my mouth. A moan lodged itself deep in his throat.
“I daresay I cannot endure much more.” He groaned, then rocked me forward again. He moved my hips for me, and I lost all thought.
As usual, he was to do the seducing.
I felt the orgasm build again, but this time he would not allow me to impede it. His hands went to my breast; he sat up with me, his mouth going to my nipple.
I threw my head back and screamed blindly into the orgasm, as his strokes became more insistent.
He stiffened under me; I felt the warmth spill out over me, as I rode it over and over, chanting his name.
I collapsed on top of him.
I was not able to do more than tremble as I tried to catch my breath. He drew me to him, kissed my forehead breathing deeply, as he placed us under the bed sheets.
Neither of us said a word.
I just listened to the beat of his heart, the rhythm lulling me to sleep.
I knew he was my one true love.
Chapter Ten…
“He did what?” Mr. Charles yelled, Betsy frowned, then watched astonished as he commenced to rearrange his entire study, however, not in a good way.
When he was finished, Betsy took a step back as he finally looked at her.
“When?” He demanded, and she swallowed hard. “When?” He yelled again, when she had not answered him quick enough.
“Two days ago sir.” She replied, and he threw himself into a chair.
“Fine, leave me. And send Monet in here to clean this mess.” He hissed, she nodded, then hurried from the room.
Mr. Charles got up, snatched up his topcoat, then left the room.
French
Quarter…
When Mr. Charles reached the quarter, he frowned, then motioned for James to wait, as he slithered his way into Madam’s from the back of the establishment.
He saw Declan, and he motioned him his way.
“A glass of port.” Charles told the barmaid, she nodded, then hurried off to bring his request.
“He married the little bitch two days ago. What shall ye do to remedy that?” Charles hissed at Declan, and he frowned.
“I am not quite sure what you think there is that I can do, besides the obvious?” Declan replied, as he drew his finger over the tip of the knife.
“That is exactly what I want, the both of them. And since he is Tobias’ only heir, the bank will collect the property and monies, and I shall buy it outright.” Charles spat, and Declan nodded.
“Are you sure you want the same fate for the girl sir?” Declan asked, and Charles frowned as he accepted the port from the girl, then tossed her a coin.
“No, she is used; however I shall not have her done away with. May hap I can still salvage her?” He jeered; Declan nodded, then frowned as he saw Cole Younger saunter in their direction. His frown deepened, as Cole recognized him, tipped his hat, then sat down at the far side of the establishment, a red head woman in his lap.
Declan’s frown deepened.
This would all go to pot.
He thought. There was too much bad blood between him and Younger, especially because of the death of Bill, or as he was known at the time “Bloody Bill” Anderson, Declan’s brother. Declan believed it was because of Younger’s hot head, that his brother and Quantrill had been killed in the raid on August 21, 1863, taking part in the killing of some 200 men and boys at Lawrence, Kansas, which the guerrillas looted and burned.
Declan noticed that although Cole seemed preoccupied, his eyes were every bit as focused on him and Charles, as if he were looking straight at them.
“Seems you have more pressing business.” Declan commented, then inclined his head towards Cole.
“Shite, he wasn’t due till the morrow.” Charles spat, then waved it off. “Fine, have it done tonight. I haven’t the time for this since he’s arrived early.” Charles commanded, then got up and walked towards Cole and the young woman.
Declan nodded, then left the establishment.
Nedrick Hayward watched the entire scene, made a few notes in his little black book, then looked at Jefferies. Jefferies inclined his head slightly towards Charles; Nedrick tapped the table with his right index finger, then rose and left the establishment.
Jefferies frowned, then looked to where Charles and Cole were.
Was he doing the right thing?
If either found out, they would both kill him.
However, he was not about to be a party to murder. His moral compass was a bit askew, where women were concerned, however that did not make him a murder, or a party to it.
Allan Pinkerton established the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, most often shortened to Pinkertons, in 1850. Pinkerton became famous when he claimed to have foiled a plot to assassinate president-elect Abraham Lincoln, who later hired Pinkerton agents for his personal safety during the Civil War. Pinkerton agents performed services ranging from guarding, to private military work. The Pinkerton National Detective Agency employed more agents than there were members of the standing army of the United States of America, causing the state of Ohio to outlaw the agency due to fear that it could be hired as a private army.
In the 1850s, Allan Pinkerton met Chicago attorney Edward Rucker in a local Masonic Hall and formed the North-Western Police Agency, later known as the Pinkerton Agency. By the mid-1850s, a few businessmen saw the need for greater control over their employees; their solution was to sponsor a private detective system. In February 1855, Allan Pinkerton, after consulting with six mid-western railroads, created such an agency in Chicago, and it has branched out ever since.
Jefferies knew they were after Cole as well, and anyone aligned with him.
Jefferies had not established himself here in New Orleans, just to have Charles drag him back down into the mire that he came from. Jefferies frowned as he watched the two of them together, however when Charles looked his way, Jefferies pasted on a fake smile, then tipped his hat.
Charles motioned him over, but he declined, pointing to his badge, then hurried from the establishment.
There would be hell to pay for that later, but he could not have any of the Pinkertons see him in cahoots with Charles and Cole. As of right now, they were only after the two of them. They had no notions of the opium running. At least he prayed they did not. Sing swore he had kept Jefferies name from the entire fiasco.
Jefferies knew that Opium smoking arrived in North America with the large influx of Chinese who came to participate in the California Gold Rush. The jumping-off point for the gold fields were San Francisco, and the city’s Chinatown became the site of numerous opium dens soon after the first Chinese arrived around 1850.
This was how Jefferies became well acquainted with it, Mr. Charles and his travels. When he introduced Jefferies to Tsar Sing, he had no notions of what he was getting himself into. Now, two years later, he was so deeply imbedded, there was no way out for him.
He sighed as he walked towards the station house.
Once he thought he could make a difference on crime, now he was crime itself.
Did he even have it in him to do the right thing anymore?
Had he gone so far, that the right thing to him did not exist any longer?
Unknown to most of New Orleans’ resident, but the powerfully rich, there had been an Opium Den on the French Quarter for the last two-years. Jefferies frowned as he saw Declan.
Jefferies nodded, then hurried on his way.
Madame
Soleil’s…
“And you believe he’ll be a problem?” Cole asked, and Charles frowned.
“Yes, indeed I do. It seems as if he’s grown a conscience in the last two years, and we cannot have that.”
“Humm, I was never one for killin my partners, don’t seem right to me. But if you say it’s what you want, who am I to question it; as long as the money spends.” Cole grinned.
“And the Pinkerton?” Charles asked, and Cole frowned.
“What about him?” Cole returned, frowning even deeper.
“Who will take care of him? I cannot have my establishment ruined. I have given up far too much for it. Especially my respectability.” Charles hissed, and Cole nodded.
“Leave it to me.” He returned, Charles nodded again, dropped a few pound notes on the table, then hurried off.
Cole’s frown deepened.
Seemed like, he may just have to rid himself of the lot of them.
He thought, his grin wider.
The monies Charles showed him, equaled even more than his last train robbery. Not to mention, he needed that money, especially not being able to use the money from the last robbery. His frown returned however, when he thought of Declan. That was bound to be trouble, because the son of a bitch still held Cole responsible for his brother’s death.
Cole grinned as the red head wiggled her bottom into his crouch. He got up, threw her over his shoulder, then hurried up the stairs.
No sense in dwelling on the inevitable.
He and Declan were destined to clash.
Haven
Plantation….
Love is sometimes cruel and unnatural…
Beauty of woman, savour of her kiss,
The mystery of love that turns to be
The bite of an eternal cruelty,
O secret, silent creature, what is this.
One memory of so many memories,
That holds me and enfolds me, heart and brain,
If I but see in memory again
The infinite enigma of your eyes?
I stretched, then smiled as he kissed my collarbone.
“Good morn to ye my love.” He whispered as he kissed my neck, and I laughed as my eyes finally opened.
“Is it good?” I purred, and he laughed.
“I can make it such, if only ye should ask?” He countered with a wolfish grin, and I could not help the laughter.
When I finally rose an hour later, I frowned as I realized I had nothing to do with myself. I wondered if I should endeavor once again to make amends with Claudette. I sent her a letter, and the first one came back two days ago. I sent yet another yesterday, but since it had yet to come back, I decided I would show myself, and would do so after the mid-day meal. I was an early riser all my life, however the three days that I had been married to Benjamin; I had ceased to attest to that.
I bid adieu to Abel and Marry, then headed for Claudette’s home.
Ciel ici-bas
Plantation…
I was taken aback she was not in her garden.
I was even more surprised when I did not see Monsieur Marcus on his lofty balcony.
I frowned, then hesitantly walked towards the house. However, before I could reach it, a hand came over my mouth, my eyes closed, and I could not help but breathe in the scent.
“And you promise you will not harm her?” Claudette cried, then frowned as Mr. Charles and Declan looked down of her.
“Yes, it is as I’ve told ye. I am the only protection she has from him. How would she ever know that the English bastard was a murderer? Ask the constable yerself.” Mr. Charles cried, Claudette nodded, then looked at Geneviève’s unconscious form.
“I shall be in touch once this is over. She will be fine until then.” Charles called, as Declan lifted Geneviève and placed her in the carriage.
“But…” Claudette tried, but Mr. Charles shook his head.
“There are no but’s chér, if she is yer friend, and ye truly love her; then ye will allow this, and tell no one.” Charles commanded, and Claudette nodded.
She would finally be rid of him, and Geneviève would return to her.
When Geneviève sent that note two days ago, informing her that she had married Benjamin, Claudette knew then what she must do to save her from him!
She would not allow Geneviève to so easily slip away from her.
Claudette frowned as the carriage rolled off towards Mr. Charles plantation.
“What have you done chér?” Ms. Millie cried shocked as she walked into the yard, and Claudette turned.
Before Ms. Millie could say anything further, Claudette brought the shovel down on her head, then watched as she fell with a look of horror on her face.
She motioned to Fabre as he came from behind the magnolias stunned; he gasped, then frowned as he looked down on Ms. Millie, the look of horror forever etched on her aging face.
“What have you done?” He hissed, and Claudette tu
rned on him.
“Reposition her body! You are in debt me, or shall I tell père what you have been up to with his servant girls?” She hissed back, Fabre frowned, heaved up Ms. Millie’s body, then threw it on the buckboard.
“Someone will begin to look for her, then where shall you be mon amour? I shall wait with abated breathe, for you are foul, and unnatural. Abel and Isaiah will know of this, whether I tell them or not.” He spat, and she slapped him across the face.
“Then you shall best hope no one finds her.” Claudette spat back, then placed the jewel-encrusted saber to his throat. He grinned, then jerked himself away from her, climbed aboard the board, then slapped the horses forward. He looked back on her one last time, then rattled off.
Claudette frowned.
What would she do now?
Père was not due back from town for another hour.
She needed to be seen elsewhere, because Fabre did speak the truth. If Isaiah did find out, he would surely kill her himself. Madame Soleil suddenly came to mind, and Claudette hurried off.
French
Quarter…
“I daresay, ye my friend are in love.” Bartholomew stated laughing, as Benjamin searched through the stationary, looking for just the right set. He looked up grinning, then sighed.
“I must declare that I am. I by no means distinguished marriage could be akin to this.” Benjamin grinned, and Bartholomew laughed again.
“Shall we have a spot to commemorate yer removal from the market?” He said, and Benjamin laughed as he handed the woman the pound note, the stationary set, then asked if she would wrap it. She nodded, then disappeared with the stationary set.
“Sounds jolly well.” Benjamin replied as the woman reappeared minutes later, with his package, and he and Bartholomew exited the establishment.
As they walked into the Absinthe House, Benjamin got a peculiar feeling.
Something was a miss.
His mind told him, but as Bartholomew caught the barmaid, he put if from his mind as fearful suspicious. As he and Bartholomew sat toasting his newfound nuptials, he immediately felt off balanced. Bartholomew gave him an irregular look, and Benjamin realized his vision was suddenly blurred.
