Enchantress

by Constance O'Banyon

  Wilhelmina paced back and forth. “Can’t you get rid of him sooner? I hate the thought of him lingering, day after day, night after night.”

  George looked sideways at Wilhelmina. “Can it be that you care for the old man?”

  She eyed him as if he had lost his senses. “Don’t be absurd. I married him to get even—” She shook her head. “Never mind that now. I have never cared for Ben. He has always compared me less favorably to his first wife.” An evil smile tugged at her lips. “I will just help him along so he can be with his precious Margaret in death.”

  George studied her closely. “Why did he marry you?” He smiled suggestively. “Other than the obvious reason.”

  She licked her lips and moved closer to him. “Let’s just say that I set out to get him. It didn’t take much persuasion to convince him that I would make him happy. I dazzled him with my…smile.” Her eyes became wild. “I hated every time he touched me. I will be glad when he’s dead!”

  George watched as her face became distorted with rage. Where was the beauty in her that had first attracted him? He did not underestimate her seductive powers, though. When she became soft and yielding, he became her slave.

  She dropped down in front of him and slid her hand up his arm, pressing her body against his. “Soon we will be together, George. Then I will be your reward, and Stoddard Hill will be mine.”

  For the first time, there was a note of doubt in his voice. “There are too many people who stand between you and what you want. When we first thought of this plan, there was only the old man. Now that number has increased by two. And if there should be a child…”

  Wilhelmina scrambled to her feet and whirled around, her breasts heaving, her eyes wild. “I will brush them all out of my way as I would a gnat. Nothing can keep me from what I desire. Stoddard Hill belongs to me!”

  George Cross stood up and pulled her into his arms. “When you get that look in your eyes, you are the most exciting woman I have ever known. I have consented to do murder to please you, but will I ever possess you?”

  She glanced at his thinning blond hair and a face that was beginning to show the results of his overindulgence of strong spirits. George was more often than not drunk, and she could not see her future linked with his. No, he was not the man to help her run Stoddard Hill once it fell into her hands.

  When he dipped his head to kiss her, she looked into small gray eyes, but her thoughts were of eyes as blue as the sky that hung over Stoddard Hill. She knew deep inside that Thorn had always been in her heart, and now that he had returned, he was never out of her thoughts for long.

  She felt repulsed when George’s hands ran over her hips and he pressed her closer to him. She shuddered at his touch, but she would endure what she must to gain what she wanted. When he covered her mouth with his, she pretended it was Thorn’s lips on hers, but she could not delude herself.

  She shoved George away and moved a few paces from him. “Are you crazed? Do you want someone to walk in and find us like this?”

  He smiled apologetically. “You go to my head and make me forget to be cautious.”

  She picked up his high-brimmed hat and handed it to him. “It would be best if you leave now.”

  He looked regretful. “Must I?”

  “Yes, we don’t want to do anything that will call attention to us or cast suspicion on our actions.” She hesitated before she added, “I have decided it will be unwise for you to come to my bedroom at night. From here on out, we will see each other only in the presence of others, and then you must try to restrain yourself.”

  She saw the disappointment in his eyes. “How will I live if I can’t hold you in my arms?”

  Wilhelmina pushed down her revulsion. She had always detested a man who behaved like a fawning dog. “It will be difficult for us to be apart,” the lie came easily to her lips, “but we will spend the rest of our lives together. Now go, before someone begins to wonder why you stayed so long.”

  As George moved away from Wilhelmina, she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could shut out the image of his face. She wondered how she could bear to have that man make love to her again. Climbing into bed with Dr. George Cross was a high price to pay, she thought, but she would do what she must to gain Stoddard Hill.

  Brittany found it difficult to remain in the house because there was so much to discover on the vast and beautiful grounds. Although the gardens were suffering from neglect, they were still extraordinary, and she could see the shadow of their former beauty.

  She was walking down a well-worn path toward the river when she heard quickening steps echo along a cobbled lane just behind her. She paused and waited for whomever it was to catch up with her.

  When Thorn came into sight, she felt her heart skip a beat. He looked so handsome in his buff trousers and a pale-yellow shirt. His dark hair was windswept, and his eyes were soft as he looked at her.

  “So I find you taking a stroll among the flowers.” He glanced down at the weed-choked flower garden. “I see you are enjoying the tulips.”

  She reached out and touched a crimson bloom that bobbed delicately from the slight breeze that came off the river. “Many people associate the tulip with Holland, but Simijin told me that tulips originated in Turkey and were transplanted in Holland in the sixteenth century—did you know that?”

  He smiled. “I do not believe I was aware of that. Is there no end to your knowledge?”

  She looked up at him doubtfully. “Does it displease you that I speak of matters that Simijin taught me?”

  “Not at all. I will always want you to speak your mind with me. And never hide your knowledge from me. I told you before, I find your intelligence refreshing.”

  He took her hand and guided her down the wide path until they stood looking out on the curve of the river.

  “Have you any news of Achmed?” she asked at last, knowing that he did not or he would have told her right away.

  “No. But do not lose heart. He could not have just disappeared without a trace, and there are several people looking for him.”

  “I try not to think that he might have come to harm.”

  “I do not believe anyone would want to harm Achmed,” Thorn told her.

  “The Turkish admiral would.”

  “I thought of that myself, but on checking with the harbormaster, I found that no Turkish ship has docked in Charleston.”

  She tried to present a brave face to him. “How is your father?”

  His eyes saddened. “Not good. I am sorry that he is not well enough for you to be presented to him. I think you would like him. I know he would like you.”

  “I am sorry, too, Thorn. Perhaps he will improve in time.”

  He looked at her doubtfully. “I don’t think so, Brittany. It is apparent to me that he is very ill.”

  She met his eyes. “I met your stepmother today.”

  His eyes seemed to harden, and Brittany wondered what he was thinking. “Did you?”

  “Yes. When I awoke, she was standing over me. I believe I was a shock to her.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Thorn replied dully. His hand seemed to tighten on hers. He quickly changed the subject. “This hasn’t been much of a honeymoon for you, has it?”

  She smiled impishly. “It has been a honeymoon without a bridegroom.”

  “I am sorry,” he told her regretfully. “I promise to make it up to you.” His eyes became suggestive, and she blushed and glanced back out to the river.

  “Will you be staying with your father again tonight?”

  “Yes. I feel a need to be with him in the event that he might awaken.”

  “Thorn,” she said, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “I have been giving our situation a great deal of thought. Neither of us came into this marriage with glowing hopes for the future.”

  His lips thinned. “Did we not?”

  “No. We were not motivated by any great burning love for one another.”

  He released her hand. “We both agreed o
ur marriage would be for mutual convenience.” He searched her eyes. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No, not at all. I am merely trying to assure you that you do not have to entertain me, and you need not feel guilty for remaining at your father’s bedside. I am well aware that you have heavy responsibilities. Please do not worry about me; I can fend for myself.”

  He smiled and enfolded her in his arms. “I will always worry about you. I fear that if I turn my back on you for even a moment that you will have fallen into some new misfortune.”

  Although he could not see her face, he felt her stiffen. “Thorn, I do not look for trouble. It is just that I am finding the world outside Simijin’s palace is confusing, and I never knew how protected I had been. I don’t always know the right thing to do.”

  He raised her face and brushed a golden curl away from her cheek. “I want to see that you go on being protected. I will never allow anything to harm you.”

  “I feel safe with you, Thorn.” She could see that he was troubled about something.

  “You need not be concerned about your safety as long as you are here at Stoddard Hill.” His eyes blazed. “I regret to tell you that I have to go away for a few days.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Where must you go?”

  “I have been informed by the United States Government that I must appear before the Senate with a full report on the confrontation between myself and the Turkish ships. It seems a complaint was launched by Sultan Selim himself. He claimed that I attacked and sank his ships without provocation.”

  Her eyes were sad, knowing it was because of her that he now faced this dilemma. “Will there be problems?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” he assured her.

  “Oh, Thorn, I am so sorry. I seem to bring you nothing but trouble.”

  He took her hand and led her back toward the house. “That may be, but at least I have never known a dull moment since you came into my life.”

  She looked down at her satin-clad feet, hurrying her pace to keep even with him. “Perhaps I can go to Washington with you to explain what happened. It was my fault that you were fired upon and had to retaliate.”

  He arched his brow at her. “No. You will stay here until I return.”

  She nodded. He knew best. “When will you leave, Thorn?”

  “Tomorrow. It’s just that I don’t want to leave my father at this time.” He shrugged. “I’m certain I can clear everything up.”

  She looked into his eyes. “You are just saying that to make me feel better. I know the charges against you are serious. If only Simijin were here, he could help you.”

  “Put all tiresome thoughts out of your mind for now. It will do no good to worry.”

  Surely he must know that she was worried about him; she was worried about Achmed; she feared for his father, and she was concerned that the Turkish ship might eventually follow her to Charleston. Not worry—how could she not?

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Brittany was not certain what had awakened her. She sat up in bed, her eyes searching the darkened corners. Her heart pounded in fear, for she could feel another presence in the room with her.

  Her fear turned to excitement when she heard Thorn’s muttered oath as he bumped into a chair.

  “Thorn, shall I light a lamp?” she asked, swinging her legs off the bed.

  “No. I merely came for a change of clothing. I’m sorry I woke you.” He stood near her now. “It’s almost dawn—go back to sleep, Brittany.”

  “Your father?” she asked fearfully. “Is he worse?”

  “No. Unfortunately there has been no change.”

  She reached her hand out to him. “Can you not come to bed? You must be exhausted.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Is that an invitation, Brittany?”

  “No, I…it’s just that you have had so many worries on your shoulders.” Her voice was filled with sympathy. “I know how to soothe you and make you relax.”

  He dropped down beside her, intrigued by her offer. He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, and he felt anything but relaxed. “How can I turn down such a charming proposition?” he said, stretching out across the bed. “I am now at your mercy, Mrs. Stoddard.”

  The room was dark, the night was silent, and Brittany could hear only the sound of Thorn’s breathing. “You must remove your shirt,” she informed him. “The massage will be much more effective if you do.”

  The bed sagged as he sat up and did as she requested. When he lay down again, she knelt beside him, her fingers kneading the corded muscles on his back and shoulders.

  “Ahh, that feels wonderful. Where did you learn this?”

  “There was once a Chinese woman in the harem, and she taught me this ancient art.”

  “Hmm, one of your many talents. Every man should have a wife who was trained in a harem.”

  “You must think of something pleasant,” she instructed.

  Thorn was weary, and Brittany’s nimble touch was so light and soothing that the tension gradually left his body. “You have magic hands,” he said, sinking even further into the soft mattress and allowing the tranquil feelings to take over his mind.

  “Are you thinking pleasant thoughts?”

  “Um hum. I was thinking about a certain dark haired enchantress who danced for me one night. She tortured me, and then surrendered to me.”

  Brittany drew in her breath, trying to concentrate on what she was doing, but she was becoming too aware of the muscled body that rested beneath her ministering fingers.

  “I am quite certain you were shocked when you found out I was not a native at all, weren’t you?”

  He turned over and faced her, carrying her hand to his lips. “How could I know that there was a golden angel disguised as an enchantress.” He laced his fingers through her hair and yanked her forward until she lay across his chest. “I want you,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her cheek. “I have thought of little else but you for days. I have been tortured by the thought that you are my wife and I could not touch you.”

  “I have thought of you also,” she admitted as thrills of delight moved through her veins.

  He nipped at her ear. “Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you mean I was torturing myself for no reason? If I had come to you, would you have taken me into your bed?”

  Her hand trailed up his arm, and she lightly touched his dark hair. “I am your wife.”

  He pulled back. “There are things in my life that need to be resolved, Brittany. Things that make it impossible for me to have a life with you until they are settled.”

  “I do not understand.”

  He let out a long breath. “Some day I will tell you everything. But for now,” his hand trailed down her neck, and he pushed her gown aside, circling one rose-crested breast and then the other, “for now, I want to bury myself in you, and forget that another world exists outside this room.”

  By now the first streaks of sunrise painted the room with a soft glow. Brittany looked into eyes that were like liquid blue fire. “I will give you whatever it takes to help forget your sorrow,” she said, taking his hand and placing it on her breast. “Anything.”

  His cupped her breast, feeling the essence of her flowing through his body. She was as important to him as the air he breathed. He needed her goodness to survive in a world filled with deceptions and untruths.

  With practiced accuracy, he raised her nightgown over her head and dropped it onto the floor. In a short time, he also disposed of his own clothing. He pulled her to him so every soft curve nestled against his hard, muscled body.

  By now the room was streaked with a glow that fell across Brittany’s body, and her skin took on a golden tint.

  “My golden enchantress,” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck. “I have waited all my life for you.”

  Brittany felt tears sting her eyes because of his beautiful words. She was not certain that Thorn was even aware of his admission. His hand moved
over her hips, and he held her to him tightly.

  She ached for him to possess her, and he must have read desire in her eyes, because he positioned her beneath him and slowly moved forward until he rested inside her. His body trembled with emotions, and she felt the ache inside her being appeased by his swollen shaft.

  Thorn’s hands moved smoothly over her back, and he was pulling her even closer to him. He moved against her, slowly at first, then when they were both caught up in a turmoil of hot passion, his movements became deeper and more penetrating.

  His voice was intense with emotion. “Sweet, sweet Brittany, your body was created to bring a man joy. To bring me joy,” he corrected.

  She felt a burning need building up inside her. He made her tremble with desire by his masterful knowledge of her body. Caught in his all-consuming touch, she was in a world where a whispered command brought an immediate response from her.

  In a white-hot joining of their bodies, she arched her back as he reached to the very depths of her being. Frantically, she turned her head, while a groan escaped her lips.

  “Thorn,” she called out to him. “Oh, Thorn.”

  He cradled her in his arms, until her body stopped trembling. “I know,” he said, touching his lips to her eyelids. “I know what you are feeling, sweet Brittany.”

  She seemed to float beneath his gliding motions. She clutched at his shoulders, throwing her head back as he drove deeper, pulling at her emotions, asking more of her and giving more at the same time.

  She was tossed about like a ship that had lost its rudder, with only Thorn to guide her safely to port as he had with the Victorious. She was aware of his every touch, his every movement. She could hear his ragged breathing, and she was aware that he called her name over and over.

  Like liquid fire, his body erupted inside her, and her body gave an answering capitulation.

  His body relaxed and he rolled over, clasping her to him. “You are very good, little dancer,” he told her.

  She was content to close her eyes and listen to the steady beating of his heart. “I am glad I please you.”