Evil's Niece

by Melissa MacNeal

  ‘Oui, with the niece, and with T-Jon. It was Robert Proffit’s place in town, away from his wife’s clinging bitchiness.’

  I thought about these things with a sigh, and came to a momentous conclusion. ‘You know, I have no room to point a finger at Chapin’s preferences, because — well, here you are. The woman who taught me about such things.’

  ‘You are ready for your next lesson then? Right here?’ she teased, running a fingertip up my thigh.

  I slapped at it playfully. ‘I’m saying that had I found out in a different way about his — his taste for young men — maybe I could have —’

  ‘Non, Auntie Eve!’ she insisted in a whisper. ‘No woman wants to measure herself against such competition as Honore Delacroix, and —’

  ‘Come up short.’ I sighed again, realising she was right. ‘But what will I do? I have no place to stay, no money to —’

  ‘You’ll come inside, to eat and drink with us,’ she said, standing me up as she rose from the stone bench. ‘We girls stick together, oui? When a woman has good friends and good shoes, there’s no stopping her!’

  How could I argue with that? My Cajun maid was leading me by the hand, insisting I partake of life’s banquet rather than snivelling on the sidelines, hungry and alone. And when we stepped inside, where Fanny and the three maids sat at a table loaded with leftover shrimp, and pâtés, and bowls of brandied fruit, they stood up and applauded — as though I were some celebrity, despite my rumpled muslin shift and hair that hung in clumps.

  My heart swelled. The evening — my years here in New Orleans — were not a total loss, after all. Cinderella and Cleopatra rushed over to hug me, and even Fanny Frike slung a motherly arm about my shoulders. The housekeeper took a mischievous swig from her wine bottle.

  ‘Couldn’t have spanked him better myself, Miss Eve,’ she insisted. ‘And don’t be worrying over me, if Chapin sends me packing. I’ve squirrelled away enough to go live with my sister in Baton Rouge, like she’s been asking me to for years.’

  ‘And we plan to start our own domestic placement service,’ Cleopatra chimed in, patting the princess affectionately on her powder-blue bottom. ‘Dewel’s going to help us get started —’

  ‘So we can give Miss Delacroix a run for her money,’ Cinderella finished with a grin. ‘By tomorrow, everyone in town will know who she — he — really is. We can capitalise on her notoriety, and on the excellent training she gave us.’

  Wasn’t it striking, how quickly these women had made other plans? How adaptable they were, even after their lives had been as thoroughly up-ended as mine. Antoinette sauntered over then, looking…less queenly in her velvet gown.

  ‘Had you fooled for a while, didn’t I?’ she asked. But it was in a lower, mellower voice than I was accustomed to hearing from that bow-shaped mouth. ‘You realise, of course, that Chapin had to believe I would stick by Miss Delacroix, once he knew I’d discovered his double life. But now that I’ve played my starring role, impersonating you, Miss Eve, I’m out of these theatrics for good.’

  Cinderella’s head swivelled as though she’d been slapped. ‘What do you mean, Toinette? You know how lucrative our service will —’

  ‘I mean, I’m done with these damn dresses!’ In very short order, he ripped off the gorgeous costume, down to those white panties, and then unpinned his auburn hair. ‘It was never the same for me. A necessity at first, when I was hiding from the police and Honore took me in, but no more! My name’s Russell, and I’m a man living in a man’s world.’

  The redhead turned to me then, capturing me with a kiss that went on and on and left my head spinning! Without the padding at his breasts, he had a firm, muscled chest which funnelled down to a flat abdomen, where a long, thick erection rubbed blatantly against my stomach.

  ‘By the way,’ he whispered, ‘I did not set the tenement fire that killed my family. Best I knew from the neighbours’ gossip, my mother got soused and kicked over the lamp.’

  I drew a shaky breath, stunned by the intensity of the green eyes gazing into mine; a face that was already taking on male contours and a chest that felt broader than I recalled. ‘No doubt in my mind you’ll set a few other things afire, though,’ I said with a shaky laugh.

  ‘It never goes out. Always a slow burn, just waiting to flare.’ Russell winked, grinning. ‘That other Mr Proffit may have a little competition, once I’ve got my life in order and my pants in place. Before we leave tonight, I’d really appreciate it if one of you ladies would cut my hair.’

  A moment’s silence filled the kitchen, while the others looked to me for my plans. Rather than disappoint them — for I still felt like a magnolia blossom at the mercy of the next high wind — I found a bottle of wine and raised it in salute.

  ‘To friends, and the future,’ I proposed with more certainty than I felt.

  ‘To Miss Eve, who gave us one!’ came Cleopatra’s response.

  Was it my imagination, or were she and Cinderella more openly affectionate now that they no longer lived under Miss Delacroix’s thumb? They looked supremely happy, feeding each other chunks of Fanny’s finest cocoa cake — so involved in smearing the rich, brown frosting on each other’s lips and then kissing it off, I had to look away.

  Monique snickered, taking the scissors Fanny brought her. ‘You’re wanting some of that, oui, Auntie Eve? Just can’t wait for Mr Dewel to come back, non?’

  ‘Who says he is?’ I draped a towel around Russell’s bare shoulders as he sat in a chair for his haircut. ‘I’m betting the party chairmen press him to run for mayor, now that they’ve caught Chapin with his pants down. Dewel’s been involved in their platform planning, and has contributed a great amount to the campaign fund.’

  ‘An astute observation, sugah, but I turned them down. Declared myself completely out of politics.’

  We turned to see the man in question leaning against the door jamb, watching us with effervescent blue eyes. He still wore the tight-fitting black pants and flowing shirt, open to reveal a vee of dark curls on his chest; still looked decidedly dangerous with that slash of fake moustache along his lush upper lip.

  My throat grew tight. No man had the right to look so damned handsome just standing there, acting as though he had nothing on his mind. Well, maybe one thing — but as he let his eyes drift over my short, translucent shift he made no effort in my direction. In fact, he turned his attention to the redhead submitting to Monique’s scissors.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned. That little Cajun make a man of you, did she?’

  Russell closed his eyes with the first fatal snips, which sent all the hair below his ears slipping to the floor in a shimmering auburn heap. When he — and the rest of us — could breathe again, he grinned and extended his hand.

  ‘She and Miss Eve deserve that credit, yessir,’ he said when the Creole’s brown hand enveloped his. ‘Once they freed me from Honore’s clutches, I could reconsider my life outside a maid’s uniform. Russell Reed, Mr Proffit — and damn proud of it!’

  Dewel nodded, assessing the young man who looked more strikingly male with each snip of Monique’s shears. ‘I’ll be needin’ a plantation manager, if you’re interested,’ he said in a thoughtful drawl. ‘Like I told those party bosses, I’ve got a crop to harvest and a woman to woo. Bet you can guess which one I don’t want your help with.’

  Russell’s eyes widened. ‘If you’re sure I’m the sort of man —’

  ‘Once I know what I want, I go after it. Show up at Bayou Belle, and ask me for twice the money you think you’re worth — but give me a couple days to take care of that other thing.’ He winked at the younger fellow, tweaking the white ruffle at the top of his thigh. ‘After slavin’ for Miss Delacroix, I think you’ll enjoy our life on the bayou. Workin’ hard, but livin’ free.’

  That slow, molasses drawl had mesmerised us all, until the two remaining maids applauded and proposed a toast to Russell’s new life. Mrs Frike was exclaiming over his new look, brushing the little hairs from his should
ers as Monique pronounced him heartbreakingly handsome. The kitchen came alive with their gaiety and the wine, but this revelry was lost on me as Dewel Proffit swallowed me whole with his next gaze.

  I’ve got a crop to harvest and a woman to woo.

  Once I know what I want, I go after it.

  His words filled my mind, shutting out everything else, yet I wasn’t sure I believed them. Oh, Dewel had stated his intentions blatantly enough when we’d made love — and long before that. But things were different now. Before, when Chapin’s world was all I knew, I had carefully filtered such messages from this black sheep of the Proffit family: hadn’t I been told never to listen to him? Never to trust him?

  Dewel’s smile sliced through my mental objections as he approached me. The singleness of purpose on his face made me swallow hard; made me hope I could behave as a mature, rational woman rather than laughing — or crying — like a witless little girl if he said he wanted me. Lord knows I needed a man to prove to me, on a daily basis, that Eve Proffit was a woman worthy of love and respect. I’d been living with Chapin for too many years to know anything about the true nature of marriage.

  But maybe that’s not what he wanted! Maybe Dewel, born on the wrong side of the sheets, assumed lawful relationships were too confining — that they made people behave out of obligation, rather than desire or devotion.

  His kiss wiped away all thought. I fell against him, spellbound by his rapacious mouth burning into mine, making silent promises to compensate for all I’d never tasted of love before. He held me captive yet set me free to feel the wondrous, fiery sensations his merest touch could ignite. Through the flimsy shift I felt his heat, his strength, his desire to love and be loved — and to prove it in every possible way, right then and there.

  Only after the giggles around us got lewd did he bring the life-altering kiss to its finish. ‘You comin’ with me, Miss Eve? We’ve gotta talk.’

  Monique let out an unladylike snort, shooing us towards the back door. ‘The day Mr Dewel talks to his woman will be the day I give up my leather boots.’

  Directing our gazes to the bare feet beneath Monique’s full skirts, Dewel chuckled. ‘Stranger things have happened, Miss Picabou. I’ll thank you to stay with Tommy Jon for a few days, since we won’t be needin’ your help — nor your toys — until we come up for air. Might take me a couple of hours, but Miss Eve will be mine.’

  Without any visible effort, the bourbon-skinned planter swept me up into his arms and out to his carriage, as though this had been his plan for the evening all along. As he settled into the soft leather seat, holding me across his lap, his driver shut the door. The horses headed down the brick drive towards Prytania at a brisk clip.

  Even so, the pace was nothing compared to the rate my poor unprepared heart was thumping. Dewel’s eyes were drinking me in with the appetite of a rich man deprived of his brandy and cigars, while he ripped away the layer of flimsy fabric covering my body. He lay me back against his crossed legs then, open and vulnerable to him.

  ‘Dewel, I — what about Chapin?’ I breathed. ‘I’m still a married —’

  ‘Not for long.’ He ran his fingertips lightly along the sensitive skin of my neck and then around my nipples. ‘I convinced him to see the wisdom of that divorce, and to visit his friend, Judge Madigan, tomorrow with the appropriate offerin’ of cash. It’s not like you ever had a real marriage with him, did you?’

  I shook my head, for I could count on one hand the times Chapin Proffit had wanted sex, and it was anger or animal release driving his need. Making love wasn’t something he did with me. I knew now that I’d served only as the whitewash on a pillar of society’s life — a convenience deal he’d made with Daddy, to insure his acceptability.

  ‘And, as I talked to the others, I got the feelin’ that once the tongues have quit waggin’ over tonight’s surprise, Chapin’s — or Honore’s — cronies will accept him again,’ Dewel said with a philosophical grin. ‘ “Proffit” is just another name for money in this town. And in a lot of ways, New Orleans is like a Creole streetwalker: she was embraced by the French, and then the Spanish had her — and now she’s an American woman who never met a man she didn’t like.’

  His observation struck a chord from when I’d first discovered Chapin with his ‘niece’ — was it only a few weeks ago? Yet my entire world had been turned upside down since then, and I’d been branded by the heat of his blatant brother’s desire — for me! Dewel playfully turned me around to face the opposite side of the carriage while I straddled his long, solid thighs.

  ‘Lean over, sugah,’ he breathed, steadying me with those strong hands on my hips. ‘I’m gonna give you a lickin’ you’re not likely to forget.’

  I glanced doubtfully over my shoulder, swaying with the rhythm of the rolling carriage. ‘You’re going to spank me?’

  Dewel’s laughter filled the rich interior of his vehicle; his eyes sparkled like crystals in the dimness. ‘I never realised how far gone Chapin was, till I saw him sprawlin’ on your lap, desperate for the smack of your hand. Try to take me across your knee, woman, and you’re gonna be real sorry. Understand that?’

  I giggled. ‘That whole discipline ritual seems so absurd, and yet —’

  I gasped as Dewel guided my hands down to clasp his ankles…‘assuming the position’ in a whole different way. As he spread his knees, he opened my sex to his full view and I was defenceless against whatever he might do next.

  ‘God, would you look at that purrin’ pussy,’ he murmured, running a finger along my curls and the skin that was growing slick and damp. ‘Why a man could want anything else is beyond me.’

  ‘You won’t try to put me in my place then?’ I queried. The blood was rushing to my head as I clung to his legs, just as it had when he’d scooted my neck over the edge of his bed. I welcomed the giddiness, the sense that this handsome devil wanted to see me from every possible angle — that he couldn’t get enough of me!

  ‘Eve, sugah, the only place I want to put you is between me and a mattress,’ he said, swivelling a finger inside me. ‘Long as you’re where I can take you on a moment’s notice — long as you want me to meet your deepest needs — we’re gonna have a long, happy life together, darlin’.’

  I could only writhe in reply, whimpering for more of this incredible torture. His pants rasped against my inner thighs, and when those long, solid legs spread further apart I thought I’d die from the need to be filled by something.

  He slid two fingers inside me then, maintaining that smooth in-and-out that was racing me towards insanity. ‘But you have a say in all this. I’m a reasonable man, and all I ever want is to make you happy.’

  With those fingers still probing deep within me, lodged high against that sweet spot, he leaned down to gaze at my face. ‘So what do you want to happen now, Eve?’ he whispered, in that same mesmerising tone which had led me to new insights about men and marriage, and about the mysterious nature of seduction and sex. ‘You’re a free woman. All the choices are yours.’

  Grasping his ankles to keep from spilling off his lap — a sensation he’d induced to make me easy prey — I couldn’t think straight. Nor did I need to. My heart had chosen this man long ago, and had waited until this moment to show me what love and passion could really mean, now that I knew how much I’d missed them before.

  ‘I want you, Dewel!’ I writhed against the fingers that spread my wetness all around my folds. ‘I want you to love me forever — and fuck me right this minute, as though our lives depended on it.’

  ‘Not just yet. I promised you a lickin’, remember?’

  I yowled like a randy cat at the first slow stroke of his tongue. He started at my clit, circling it with his hard, wet tip, and then drawing it between my folds towards my back crack. Then he did it again — as though he hadn’t driven me wild enough the first time.

  I shuddered with need, gripping his boots to keep a hold on my sanity — and to keep from pitching forward off his legs, away from this di
vine torture. Sucking air between my clenched teeth, I endured yet another slow pass of that tongue — but this time, my nether lips and muscles were twitching to the rhythm of the blood that pumped in my head.

  ‘Had enough, sugah? If you can’t handle —’

  ‘Don’t you dare stop! Dammit, Dewel!’ I reached between his legs, praying his grip on my hips would hold as I fondled him. ‘For a man who swore he’d tame me in a couple hours, you sure are slow!’

  His chuckle rumbled against my sensitive, wet slit as he laved it one last time. ‘Get over there and spread yourself, hands and knees against the seat,’ he said, playfully slapping my backside. ‘I won’t tolerate a woman bossin’ me around, you know.’

  He released me, and I assumed that position in time to watch him unfasten his fly. Dewel pushed his pants past a shaft that looked urgent and purple, his blue eyes aglitter in his dusky face as he prodded me with its hot, hard head. As the carriage clattered down the driveway leading to Bayou Belle, he drove his cock home.

  I screamed with the intensity of his penetration. In and out he went, thrusting into my cunt as he gripped my hips like he never wanted to let go. My slit quivered around him, sucking him deeper, welcoming the rogue who’d made me glad I was a woman. His woman now.

  ‘Askin’ me to raise a little cane, are you?’ His drawl flowed like warm, sweet molasses as he rocked against my backside. ‘Well that’s fine by me, Miss Eve. Raisin’ cane is what I do.’

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