Claire

by Margaret Tanner

  “I will take you to Felecia.”

  “Thank you, Mai, you’ve been kind. I’ve never been this pampered before.”

  Mai smiled. “You have now entered a place of pleasure, and all the bad things in your life will melt away.”

  Pleasure! It certainly had been, but there would be a price to pay for it. She didn’t doubt that even for one moment.

  Chapter Four

  Aaron Kirby followed his hopefully, future father-in-law, Michael De Rosa, into a large brick warehouse running off Toulouse Street in New Orleans. He couldn’t understand why he was procrastinating about asking Michael for Lucille’s hand in marriage. That’s why he had accepted the De Rosa’s invitation to stay with them, so he and Lucille could get to know each other better.

  “I want to show you my doves in their gilded cages.” Michael laughed and his fat jowls wobbled.

  Aaron could not believe how a beautiful young woman like Lucille, could have such an uncouth sonofabitch for a father.

  They passed barrels of turpentine and linseed oil, casks of whisky, boxes of Havana cigars and coffee. A veritable fortune in stock mostly brought in by ship.

  The intricately carved wooden door at the back of the warehouse quietly swung open on well-oiled hinges when Michael pushed it. Light poured in from a huge skylight in the frescoed ceiling. Aaron blinked to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him. His gut clenched. Some men might enjoy this kind of depravity, he wasn’t one of them.

  “What do you think, Aaron?”

  On either side of the long room were ten or more cages with gold bars set about six inches apart. In them, reclining against a colorful array of large silk cushions, were pretty young women in various stages of undress.

  “Which one do you want to spend an hour or two with?” Michael shocked him by saying. “My Lucille will not lose her virginity until her wedding night.”

  Disgust curdled Aaron’s stomach. “I’m not in the mood,” was the best excuse he could come up with. He could not afford to fall foul of this sonofabitch if he wanted to marry Lucille. Michael De Rosa was one of the richest and most powerful men in Louisiana.

  “I’ve seen enough, thanks.” He suppressed a shudder. He was thirty years old and not without some experience with soiled doves, but this? “I’ve got a bit of a headache, probably all that French champagne you gave me last night. Some fresh air should clear my head.”

  “Will you be able to find your way home? I’ve got an urge to have a taste of that little blonde whore in cage four. Dinner will be served tonight at eight o’clock.”

  “Yes, thank you.” If it were not for Lucille, he wouldn’t go back to the De Rosa mansion.

  Michael tapped on the door of cage four, and when it swung open, Aaron strode off, exiting the warehouse through a side door. The heat hit him like a physical blow when he stepped outside. He took in several deep gulps of air as he walked away without a backward glance. Crossing a pretty little park, he spied a seat under the overhang of a large tree and sat down.

  He was glad he lived in Texas if this was the kind of depravity going on in New Orleans. He ran trembling fingers through his hair, cussing under his breath because he had forgotten to wear his Stetson. He liked hot weather, being a Texan he was used to it; humidity like this sapped the strength from a man.

  Lucille had said she would be prepared to live in Texas, he made sure he had found that out early in their relationship.

  It wasn’t the desperate love he had felt for Claire, even though he had never acted on his feelings because she had been too young. A man in his position needed to marry and produce an heir or two, besides, he was sick of living on his own.

  Lucille was a beautiful gal, so why did doubts keep forcing themselves into his mind? Claire. Every time he thought about her he wanted to weep for what he’d lost.

  Rage surged through him. Estelle’s treachery had ruined so many lives. She had withheld the letters Randy and Claire had written begging for his help. It was pure luck they hadn’t been destroyed when his housekeeper cleared out Estelle’s room after she died, or he would never have known Randy was dead, or that he had a niece or a nephew somewhere.

  He had eventually discovered Randy’s grave and had him brought back to Range End cemetery. Strange how things turned out. Months of searching for Claire had led him nowhere. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth.

  He’d been introduced to Lucille by a cattle buyer acquaintance a few months ago. This was his second visit to New Orleans, and he didn’t particularly like it. All the noise and carnival like atmosphere held no appeal to a man born and bred to love the open range. Now Pa and Estelle were dead, he was master of his own domain, the Triple K ranch, and could do whatever he wanted, when, how and if he wanted. He hated leaving the ranch. Luckily, he had a trustworthy foreman, a fellow rancher who had fallen on hard times, to keep the place running.

  Loneliness dogged his footsteps now. He wanted a wife to warm his bed and give him children, and as he couldn’t have Claire, he was now prepared to choose someone else. He might not be able to offer undying love, although he could give a woman a good life. He would be a decent, caring husband. Not like Pa. God forbid he would be anything like him.

  ***

  Claire glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she waited for Michael De Rosa to appear. The sitting room in his New Orleans mansion had lavish gold lamps, red velvet curtains and couches. It opened on to a porch overlooking extensive gardens leading down to the river.

  It was her week to service Monsieur, a duty she hated. Working in The Gilded Cage bordello was tolerable, given her circumstances. This was her worst nightmare. The man was cruel and disgusting with the appetite of a rutting stallion. Rumors abounded about his unsavory dealings, women who suddenly disappeared, smuggling and murdering rivals. The man was evil personified, so rich he was untouchable. Judges, lawmen and politicians all received special privileges at The Gilded Cage and generous donations for their discretion.

  She hated servicing Monsieur. He was demanding in bed, almost to the point of cruelty. He obviously hated the women who worked for him even though he selected a different one to come to his mansion each week.

  The mansion overlooked the Mississippi River, and he lived here with his daughter Lucille and numerous servants. Like the other doves she was confined to his quarters. The bedroom had red velvet curtains on the windows; ornate red glass lamps with gold fittings hung from the frescoed ceiling.

  Mirrors were placed in strategic positions around the bed so he could watch his own and the dove’s performance. If he was not happy with what he saw, a few stinging slaps on the bare ass quickly got the dove’s mind back on the job.

  He reveled in making them wait, lying naked on the bed ready to obey his every command. No one dared defy him. Once they had been brought into the mansion via a back staircase, they were not allowed to venture out of his private wing, which consisted of the huge bedroom, dressing room, bathing room and sitting room. The only people they ever saw were servants who brought in their meals, kept the rooms clean and helped the doves bathe.

  Claire heard the sitting room door open and tensed. Her ordeal was about to begin.

  “How dare you interrupt me up here,” Monsieur snarled. “Any business we need to discuss is at the warehouse.”

  “It’s important,” the man growled. “And it can’t wait.”

  “It better be.”

  “We caught that whore who ran off.”

  “You interrupted me for that. I tell you Rafael, you’ll go too far one day, and being my cousin won’t save you.”

  “The dogs savaged her.”

  “Keep your voice down. How bad?”

  “Real bad, she needs a doctor.”

  The voices faded as they moved out on to the balcony overlooking the river. Claire slid out of bed and sneaked to the door leading to the sitting room. No power on earth would stop her from finding out what had happened.

  “Where was she s
avaged?” Monsieur shot the question out.

  “The face.”

  Claire covered her mouth to stop a shocked gasp from escaping.

  “Which whore?”

  “Simone.”

  “Oh, her, I was going to sell her contract to Rennie Dubois. He’s looking to start up a new floating brothel on one of those steam boats he owns. He won’t want a scarred whore, no-one will, she’s worthless now. Dispose of her, and we’ll find a replacement whore for Rennie.”

  “Dispose of her? K….kill her?”

  “Yes, you fool,” Monsieur snarled. “After I’ve finished with the one in here she can be Simone’s replacement.”

  “All right, consider it done.”

  Claire stepped back into the bedroom. Before she could reach the bed, Monsieur grabbed her loose hair as it trailed over her shoulders. Spinning her around, he snarled. “What are you doing out of my bed?” He gave her a backhander across the mouth before she could answer.

  “I….I heard voices and….”

  He grabbed her bare breast and gave it a vicious squeeze before shoving her against the bed. “Undress me,” he growled.

  With trembling hands, she did so.

  “Now, pleasure me whore, as if your life depended upon it.”

  She obeyed him, too afraid to do anything else after what she had heard. If she had to endure the horrors of one of those whore ships, she would throw herself overboard and gladly drown.

  Eventually her tormentor fell asleep. She had to get away. She would never be released from the contract she had signed, because she would be continually on-sold before it expired. All nice and legal, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it unless she ran away.

  She edged away from Monsieur and tip-toed over to the chair and picked up the gossamer thin robe hanging over the chair. She dared not try to find her outdoor clothing in the dark in case he woke up. Although desperately afraid, her brain somehow continued to function.

  She had to get out of Monsieur’s wing of the mansion then find someone to help her escape. Who would dare take that kind of risk? The tall, handsome Texan she had overheard the maids talking about yesterday. Surely he would help a fellow Texan in dire need. He was the only person she could think of.

  He was on the second floor in the north wing of the mansion, third door from the landing one maid had told the other.

  “She would have to visit the Texan in his room while the household slept. There was no other way. If he refused to help she was doomed.

  The rest of the house was in darkness, lamps in the hallway were dimmed. It was now or never. As she ventured out of Monsieur’s quarters, her heart slammed against her rib cage, fingers of fear raced up and down her spine. Her bare feet made no sound on the floorboards as she scurried down the hallway and turned toward the landing, which had four doors leading off. North, south, east and west.

  He was in the third room in the north wing. What if the maids were wrong? She baulked. It’s a chance I have to take. Please God, let it be the right room. Let the Texan help me.

  Lucille De Rosa’s room was two doors down on the opposite side of the passageway, which added to the danger.

  Claire’s breath came out in rapid pants as she made it to the room. Was that a door opening further down the passageway? She froze against the wall. Imagination, she was so overwrought.

  She turned the door handle, stepped over the threshold and tip-toed over to the bed. The Texan was asleep, she could tell by his soft, even breathing. It wasn’t so dark she couldn’t see a Stetson and discarded male attire. This was the right room. Now all she had to do was convince the man to help her.

  Carefully she crept over to the curtains and opened them a little, allowing moonlight to filter into the room. Creeping over to the bed she leaned over the man. His arm shot out and grabbed her around the neck, her face slamming into his bare chest.

  “What in tarnation….”

  She pushed at his shoulders and he loosened his grip. “Please, they’ll kill me if they find me here.”

  He shoved her away and sat up. The sheet fell away exposing his chest and belly. A thunderous roar exploded inside her head, her heart nearly catapulted out of her chest. Had she been standing up she would have fallen down with the shock. “Aaron!”

  Shock obviously rendered him speechless. Raking his fingers through his hair, he finally croaked. “Claire!”

  “Yes. Please, I’m begging you to help me get away from here. They’ll kill me if I don’t.”

  “What in tarnation are you doing here?”

  Her legs collapsed and she overbalanced and fell on to him, the force of her onslaught against his chest slamming him back on to the pillows.

  “Sonofabitch.”

  “Please, Aaron, you have to help me get away from New Orleans or Michael De Rosa will kill me.”

  “Where have you been over the last two years?” He slid out of bed and she noticed he was only wearing his drawers.

  “Staying alive.”

  “You work for De Rosa?” He fumbled with the lamp and when it flared into life he gasped in shock. “What are you doing in that whore’s get up?” A pulse convulsed in his jaw as he stepped away and grabbed up his pants. “You’re a….”

  “Yes.” Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. “A whore. Say it. When you wouldn’t send me any money I was left alone, pregnant and destitute. So, yes, I became a whore to keep a roof over my head and food in….”

  “Where’s the baby?” He dragged on his shirt.

  “Dead.”

  He rocked back on his heels.

  “I sold everything I owned, even Randy’s wedding ring and Ma’s clock, when there was nothing else left I sold myself, then I miscarried the baby.” She stared accusingly at him. “You didn’t help me then. You owe me. Help me now or De Rosa will kill me. I heard him planning a murder with his cousin, last night.”

  He pulled on his boots. “All right, I’ll help you.” His face was white and stricken, and she almost felt sorry for him. If he had helped her before she wouldn’t be in this diabolical situation.

  “I’ve been searching for you ever since Estelle died and I found those letters.”

  “You didn’t receive them?”

  “No.” He paced the room. “I eventually found where Randy was buried and I had him brought back to Range End. I could never find any trace of you.”

  “Why are you staying here with De Rosa?”

  “I met his daughter Lucille, about eight months ago through a mutual friend. She invited me here to stay so we could get to know each other better.”

  “You’re in love with her?” Claire’s heart turned to stone because of his betrayal even though she didn’t have the right.

  “No, but I….”

  “You were thinking of wedding her?”

  He hesitated.

  “Don’t lie to me, Aaron. I’ve lived with, and been betrayed by lies ever since I left the Triple K ranch.”

  “All right. Yes, I was. A man in my position needs a suitable wife and Lucille is pretty and charming.”

  If I wasn’t suitable before, I certainly wouldn’t be suitable now, Claire thought bitterly. I’m not suitable for any decent man to wed, let alone a wealthy rancher like Aaron Kirby. If only he knew Lucille’s virtue was no better than hers, even if it was a closely guarded secret.

  “I’m sorry to put you in this position.” She touched his hand and he leapt back, as if contact with her would somehow contaminate him.

  “If you help me, you’ll probably lose Lucille. If you can give me money and help me get out of this place, no-one need ever know.”

  He gnawed his lower lip. “What’s your plan?”

  She didn’t have one. “I could climb out of the window.”

  “It’s on the second floor.”

  “You could lower me down on a sheet.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’ll get out of the grounds and disappear into the crowds. There’s always people arou
nd in town.”

  He gave a derisive laugh. “In that get-up?” His mouth twisted. “It’s damn near transparent.”

  She followed his eyes and heat rushed into her cheeks. She might as well be naked, and he was making sure he got an eye full. She didn’t know where to look, what to do.

  “Get it off.”

  She backed away, he was treating her like a whore. Her heart shattered into a hundred pieces and every shard speared into her flesh.

  “No! No! I meant change into one of my shirts.” He stepped over to the wardrobe and took out a blue shirt and handed it over.

  He turned his back as she changed into the shirt, which reached her knees because of the differences in their height.

  “We can’t do much until daylight,” he said. “You can hide in here until we can come up with an idea. I know someone who might help us.”

  Her hands trembled so badly she struggled with the buttons.

  “Here, let me.” His fingers were sure and steady, his warm breath fanning the side of her face resurrected her longing for him.

  “What happened to Joybelle?”

  “Joybelle?” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You and her were sparking at Marylou’s party.”

  “It was nothing, she’s never meant anything much to me.”

  “You broke my heart that night, Aaron. I thought you loved me.”

  “I did, but you were far too young, too intense. I….I could barely keep my hands off you. I had to put distance between us. I saw you skulking outside the barn, that’s why I flirted with Joybelle.”

  “I can’t stay here. If De Rosa wakes up and finds me gone…”

  “You were sleeping with him?” Disgust laced Aaron’s voice.

  “Yes, part of the duties of a dove from The Gilded Cage.”

  A shocked hiss escaped him, followed by a look of revulsion. “Why?”

  “I’ve already told you. I was starving. I had to sleep with the revolting owner of the boarding house three times a week. Then he wanted me to do it six times a week. Two girls I’d met took me to their place, as it turned out it was owned by Michael De Rosa. It was a place where women were trained in the art of pleasing wealthy men, then we were shipped off to The Gilded Cage.”