Rebecca's Ghost

by Marianne Petit

  His hands spanned her waist. He yanked her closer, crushing her breast to his chest and pulled her with him as he fell back against the bed.

  “And what if you sired a child? Wouldn’t your daughter--”

  Instantly he grew hard and ready against her.

  Katherine eyebrows rose. It seemed there was more than just fatherly love between the two, she thought, as a way to use that information began to formulate.

  “She’s not my daughter. She’d my ward.” His lips curled with disgust. “I claim no child. I want no brat calling me father.”

  Better yet. “I stand corrected.” She lifted her body off him. “I know where she is.”

  She positioned her throbbing wet folds precariously close to his stiff male sex.

  “And I’ll see she’s back where she belongs,” she said as she lowered her body till the hair between her legs brushed against his swollen tip. “You being her guardian and all.”

  “Get her.” He reached around to her back, and tried to force her down on top of him.

  “Not yet,” she whispered, then nibbled his ear. He leaned back. Running his fingers over one breast, he cupped the other with his free hand. She could feel him tensing beneath her.

  “She is my responsibility.” He tugged her taut nipple, then pinched the nub between his thumb and index.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “A little harder-squeeze…”

  Katherine thrust her breasts closer.

  He reached out and caught her tip between his teeth.

  “Mmm.” Her eyes widened. “Lick me hard. Yes,” she threw back her head, enjoying the tingling sensation in her nipple.

  Slowly she eased on to him, not deep, but just a tease. “I shall bring her to you. But first you must promise never to return to Virginia.”

  He thrust his body up. So did she.

  He clenched his mouth, frustrated.

  His eyes darkened. It appeared as though he tired of her little controlling game.

  Perfect; she forced a seductive smile. “I understand the Orient has many riches to offer.”

  She slapped her hips against his, then quickly raised her torso. “The women are trained professionals. What are they called?”

  “Geisha’s are trained to serve the traditional tea ceremony.” He arched higher.

  “Among other things,” she muttered as she spread her legs open.

  He entered her, hard and full.

  She locked her thighs around him.

  Her buttocks tightened.

  “I used a similar practice.” He jammed himself into her sweltering cavity like a rutting bull. “Before my patients saw me.”

  Again, he thrust and pumped brutally against her, his hips slamming into hers. “Elizabeth severed them tea. A service, I felt relaxed them.”

  Katherine placed her hand against his chest and pushed him away, breaking contact with his body. Did he speak of drugs?

  “Tell me more.” On her knees, she hovered over him, swaying her breasts against him, enticing him with her movements.

  “Now?” he snapped, clearly frustrated.

  She dropped back fully down on him, feeling his swollen shaft motionless against the outside of her womanhood, close to her buttocks. “Tell me just a little more and I’ll give you what you want.” She licked his ear and ground her hips against him.

  He thrust his tongue between lips, forcing her to open to him.

  She bit him.

  Abruptly he pulled back. “Bitch.” His pupils dilated and he ran his tongue over his mouth. “What will I get if I tell you my little secret?”

  “A hot wet muff between your legs.”

  “And what if I prefer a different entry?” He squeezed her buttocks.

  She grinned. “I’ll roll over.”

  He removed his hands. “I’ve always been interested in the oriental use of the hallucinatory poppy.”

  “Opium, but of course…” She raised herself up on her elbows and gazed adoringly. “‘Tis only natural you’d use drugs in your practice to help relax your patients.” She wrapped her finger in his chest hair and gave it a little tug. “I’ve used a little myself from time to time.”

  He pinched her taut nipple between his fingers.

  She cringed. “‘Tis what I’d do if it got me what I wanted.” She fluttered her lashes and smiled. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  He crammed his fingers into her throbbing moistness.

  “Yes.” She cried out, losing herself in the moment. “I like That…” She purred deep in the back of her throat and pressed her hips down against his, imprisoning his hand between her legs. “You’re making my juices flow. Tell me more and I’ll give you more. Was it Opium? Or were you more creative?”

  He dug deeper. “Mind you ‘twas only to help their troubled minds.”

  The innocent tone of his voice almost had her believing him, if she didn’t know better. “But of course.”

  She licked his cheek, leaving a wet trail down to his neck. The bastard drugged them and then stole from them. And she was going to make sure a jury knew all the sorted details. But she still needed proof of his words.

  She withdrew his probing fingers and replaced them with a different larger extremity.

  “Opium was too hard to get.” He groaned with pleasure; pumping, moving within her.

  Rotating inside her like a wooden utensil stirring a simmering pot of hot juice, Katherine allowed her mind to enjoy the moment.

  “I used a mixture of honey, and cinnamon.” He grunted and jerked. “And--”

  He withdrew from her. His heated elongated organ jutted forward, slick with her perfume. He indicated she turn around and she knew she would not get another word unless she obeyed.

  She obeyed, positioning herself on all fours. Her heart pounded.

  He placed his hands on her buttocks. “A plant called valerian…”

  Her body jerked forward, tightened against the painful onslaught. That was it. That was exactly the “dirt” she needed.

  The feel of Tisdale, swollen, deep inside her, boiled her blood.

  But the thought that Elizabeth would permanently disappear brought her pleasure to a higher more satisfying level.

  Katherine clenched her hands against the mattress. I’ll have the chit thrown in jail and hung as a scalawag, a thief. After all, they were partners.

  “You know, getting back to Elizabeth.” Katherine’s thighs quivered with hungry ardor. Breathless, she continued. “If you-if you attest to her part of the ceremony on parchment…”

  ‘Twould prove useful, both as proof of Elizabeth’s guilt to a jury, as well as a guarantee Philip wouldn’t search for her. Surely his desire for her would no longer be, once he read about her sordid past.

  Again, Tisdale thrust.

  Her lids dropped shut. She groaned.

  Lost to all else but the sound of slapping hips, of his groin pounding against her, her thoughts dulled; but only for a moment…

  She snapped her eyes open and focused her thoughts back on her main reason for being here—getting rid of Elizabeth.

  “Leaving you out of the confession of course,” she said, her voice silky smooth. “Just so the man she’s living with--”

  “Man?” Tisdale thrust deeper, an angry thrust that made her convulse in response. Then, he pulled out, spilling his seed all over her back and buttocks. He huffed, then dropped down on the mattress.

  She rolled to her side, feeling somewhat unfulfilled.

  He reached for his wine and took a sip.

  She too reached for a pewter mug.

  He leaned back against the bed frame, then studied her over the rim of his cup.

  “This man, if he knew the part my Lizzie played in my practices…” He took another sip, swallowed as if the port tasted bitter, and then continued. “He’d want nothing to do with her?”

  “She’ll be all yours.”

  And I’ll see that the little witch rots in jail, with or without you.

  With a satisfied grin, K
atherine brought the wine to her lips and drank.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In two month's time, Elizabeth learned patience was indeed a virtue. For hours, she sat at her armonica trying to get William to pay attention to her. During that time, she recalled the many hours her mother had sat beside her when she was a child and lovingly taught her all she knew; she relied on those memories for strength.

  Occasionally William would seem to pay attention and something in his eyes’ lead her to believe he understood and carefully digested everything she said, or did.

  Today, however, was one of those days where her endurance was running low and she felt so discouraged she could cry from the frustration.

  He stood before her as he had done so many times before and swirled his head around and around in circles with the movement of the glasses.

  “William, dearest, look at me,” she commanded softly. “William. Pay attention. I know you can hear me.”

  He ignored her.

  Watching him made her dizzy. “I know you can hear me. You must cease.” Her words had no effect on him. Exasperation began to build, pulling down her patience.

  “Stop that!”

  The minute the words left her mouth, a stab of guilt pricked her chest. Nothing would get accomplished by yelling.

  She pulled her hands from her armonica and placed her fists in her lap to refrain from grabbing him.

  Sighing, she rose, strode to the leaded window and pushed up the heavy pane.

  Dusk’s soft golden-gray hue shadowed the lush green lawn and magnolia trees. The perfumed fragrance of lilies blew in. She inhaled deeply, savoring the heavenly smell. The Enchantment lily was her mother’s favorite flower.

  Her heart seemed to swell. God, how she missed her mother.

  Elizabeth turned to William. “Do you realize I have been here two months?”

  And still no post from Marlinda Vanderness. Not that she’d expected to hear so soon. News from Boston traveled slowly. But nevertheless the months had flown by in a blink of an eye. What if Marlinda had no place for her?

  She chewed her lower lip.

  “Do you think your father will let me stay here as your teacher?” A position as William’s teacher on a permanent basis would be a dream come true.

  “I don’t hardly know if I could stay…”

  Could she live, day in and day out by his side and keep her attraction to him at bay? Would he?

  And what of her guardian? He hadn’t found a way to find her, but she knew ‘twas only a matter of time. He needed her; 'twas what he’d said. “To play that damned instrument of yours,” had been his precise words.

  Every time she wandered outside, she wondered if he’d be there watching, waiting.

  She searched the grounds for the withering bay tree her grandmother had warned her about. Peril lurks. Those were her words. Was this the house?

  Should she be afraid for her life? She stayed away from the barn; away from Duncan.

  Travel into town, though she longed to take a breath away from the constraints of the plantation, would put her in graver harm's way.

  Her heightened senses, taut with awareness, any minute now her emotions felt like they could shatter.

  Elizabeth focused her attention back to William.

  He hadn’t moved from his spot and stood staring at the glasses as though he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  An idea suddenly hit her.

  “I shall return.”

  A few minutes later, she stepped into the room.

  William still stood in front of the glasses, where she had left him.

  Walking past her armonica, she stepped up to the window ledge.

  Her back to her instrument, she carefully unwrapped the white cloth she held in her hand, then she turned.

  “Look what I have.” She held the flat cakes out for him to see.

  He jerked his head in her direction and reached out.

  She snapped her hand away. “Nay. First, you must do as I ask.” She placed the small cakes down on the sill, turned and held out her palms. “If you want a cake you must put your hands in my hands.”

  He glanced away, ignoring her.

  A moment past; then another.

  The clock on the mantel ticked, ticked, ticked.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he edged closer. Hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers almost touching hers.

  Feelings of rapture bubbled within her, but she kept calm.

  He leaned closer. Then, before she knew what he had in mind, he reached around her, grabbed a flat cake from the windowsill, jumped out of her reach and stuffed the cake in his mouth.

  “Why you little…” She placed her hands on her hips and smiled.

  He munched on the cake, then reached out again, but she sidestepped him.

  “Nay. Not this time,” she grinned and shook her head.

  He took a deep breath and eyed her with dogged determination.

  She placed her hands out. “No more cake until you put your hands in mine,” she said firmly. “There is nothing to fear.”

  He stared at her, without moving.

  Patience, she told herself. Patience.

  Suddenly, he slipped his hands into hers.

  Before her feelings of happiness could blossom fully, he pulled away.

  “Very good.” She reached behind her and handed him a cake.

  He gobbled the delicacy down.

  “Let us try again.” She held out her hands.

  Hesitant, he placed his hands in hers.

  So ecstatic over their progress, it took a minute to realize one of his palms felt rough, wrinkled. She turned his hand over. Staring down at the red irregular scar in the center of his palm, the joy she’d felt but a moment ago fell flat.

  “Begging your pardon, miss?”

  The second Nona entered the room William dashed around to the other side of the armonica.

  He crouched down, stared up at the glasses, and began to spin his head in the same continual motion he had done so many times in the past.

  Nona glanced at him, then quickly glanced away. She curtsied, pushed a loose strand of cinnamon colored hair back into the white mobcap she wore on her head, then scurried to the center of the room.

  So absorbed with her teachings, Elizabeth hadn’t noticed the darkening room, until she watched Nona begin to light the chandelier.

  William, she now noticed, had stopped spinning his head and paid close attention to Nona’s actions. His gaze lie transfixed on the long lit rod Nona held in her hand. Elizabeth sensed a certain element of fear in his eyes. The scar?

  “Nona, why do you think William gets so upset when anyone touches him?”

  Nona gingerly got down from the stool and blew out the lit rod. “Well, miss…” Her eyes lacking of luster, now perked with the excitement of gossip. “Mind you 'e was always touched in the 'ead, 'as a peculiar way about ‘im.”

  Again, she glanced in William’s direction, then quickly looked away. Elizabeth had the feeling Nona was uncomfortable with his presence.

  “‘as a fit if ye don’t put ‘is things back in the same place. Learned that out soon enough. But these bouts of ‘ysteria only started after the accident.”

  Elizabeth ushered Nona to her side of the room, away from him. “What accident? When?”

  “ Oi guess that be… “ She tapped her lips with her finger, then dropped her hand. “When the boy was about some two years past. Lord, Missy, didn’t they tell ye nothing?” She clucked her tongue and shook her head, surprised.

  Leaning closer she whispered, “anything ye needs to know, ye comes to me. Bertha, the cook, she’s a good friend of me ma’s and she tells me everyt--”

  “Nona, about the accident?” she reminded her impatiently. “You were saying?”

  Nona’s lips curled in annoyance. “Well, oi weren’t ‘ere then but, they says when no one was watching, ‘e stuck ‘is ‘and over a flame till it nearly burnt a ‘ole through ‘is skin. Can ye i
magine?”

  Elizabeth paled. She reached for the chair, slowly sat and glanced sympathetically in his direction.

  Poor child. Whatever could he have been thinking? That’s why Philip felt he belonged in his own section of the house where he could be protected at all times.

  Oblivious to their conversation, William stared down at the glass bowls, circling his head, imitating the motion of the glasses.

  “‘e does that you know, gets stuck on one thing and can’t seem to move any farther,” Nona shivered. “Gives me the willies.”

  Elizabeth glanced back to the servant. “What else happened?”

  “Well miss, it ‘appened when ‘is Lordship was entertaining a room full of guests, some with little ones looking on. Needless to say they all took up and left rather quickly, can’t say oi blames them any.”

  Elizabeth shot her a look of disgust. Nona didn’t seem to notice.

  “That was the last anyone ‘eard, or saw of them. Thems with children to protect.”

  Now she understood Philip’s anger when she’d mentioned William’s lack of friends. It pained him as greatly as the thought now pained her. And his inability to change the situation frustrated him.

  “Took four people to ‘old ‘im down so the doc could set ‘is wound. Oi reckon that’s why ‘e’s so fearful of people.”

  To have acquaintances witness the accident, then to be so uncaring and not inquire about his well being, to be fearful of him…to look upon him as some disease that could rub off on their children ‘twas a disgrace.

  Elizabeth unclenched her hands and rose from her seat.

  Knowing about the incident gave her hope. Hope that he could return to the child he once was. Perhaps not like every other boy, but nevertheless

  “There ‘e goes again,” Nona’s close-set brown eyes widened with horror.

  Elizabeth glanced over to William. He turned the wheel and at the same time spun his head in a circular motion.

  “Oi don’t know ‘ow ye can be around ‘im all day. ‘Tis enough to make a person go mad, if’n ye don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Yes, I do mind. And I’d prefer if you didn’t speak that way about the child.”

  A sour look puckered her mouth. “Sorry Miss.”

  William plopped down on the floor, disappearing behind a chair.