The Possessive Kiss: Victoria's Story: Book Two of The Kiss Series

by Michelle Hillstrom

  “You know, Thomas and I are not the types of men that you are going to impress by pretending as if you are not hungry or do not need to eat,” he said observing the sisters.

  “I am not sure what you are going on about, Wesley. Samantha and I would never play such foolish games,” Victoria retorted while gazing longingly at a buttermilk biscuit.

  “Mm-hm…” Wesley and Thomas mumbled skeptically in unison, both with mouths full of a portion of the lavish picnic cuisine.

  “Truthfully we were so nervous and excited about this outing that our stays are just a tad too tight to eat with much enthusiasm,” Samantha blurted out.

  Victoria almost choked in shock causing an unladylike sound to escape from between her lips, which she tried to hide behind a fan that she quickly brandished and fluttered in front of her face. Wesley and Thomas, however, were doubled over howling in laughter. Samantha grinned widely at her sister, the wicked glint in her eye that she never showed in front of their parents. “Sorry, Tory, I just didn’t feel like pretending anything else was true. It’s not like they are not aware of our silly ways of dressing, and I did not want them to think that we were pretending to be something that we are not.”

  “Come now Victoria, that was funny!” Thomas cajoled the older sister and winked at the vivacious Samantha.

  “Aw, Mavourneen, don’t be cross with Samantha. You know how much I admire your spunk and honest way of speaking your mind. It seems that she has inherited the same fine traits. Besides, I did not think that you would be the kind to be embarrassed of speaking about your underclothes. Honestly, I am amazed that you even agree to such a vulgar custom as binding yourself in such a manner, especially to the point of not being able to eat.” He took her hand in his own as he spoke, removed the fan from her grasp, and looked into her eyes so that she knew he was not shocked by her sister’s boldness in speaking bluntly.

  Hannah walked up just then. “Miss Victoria, Ma’am, may I get you anything?” It was an obvious but well played tactic. Victoria knew that the slaves overheard the inappropriate conversation, as well as observed the way that Wesley held her hand.

  Victoria gracefully removed her hand from Wesley’s to take a sip of wine. “Thank you, Hannah. I believe we are ready to pack up.”

  “It’s still early yet, Tory!” Samantha objected with a child-like whine.

  “We’ve been in the sun long enough, Sam,” Victoria shot her younger sister a warning look.

  “Yes, Victoria is right. Let’s head back to the drawing room, we could play some cards or have a sing-a-long. Samantha told me that you are quite the musical talent,” Thomas tried to sweet talk Victoria into allowing the visit to linger on longer. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Samantha just yet. He enjoyed the time that they spent together. She definitely kept him on his toes and enjoyed the laughter that they shared whenever they were together.

  “Ha! Did she now? Well, I fear that she may have over sold my talents, but yes, let us head back to the house to continue our visit. I suppose that we can stay a bit longer, but, only a little while, then we must head home.”

  Thomas and Samantha whooped in triumph and did a victory Gallopade, while Hannah and the driver gathered the things. Then, they all rode in the buggy back to the house. Wesley and Thomas quizzed the girls on card games (it was agreed that Whist was the consensual favorite) and song knowledge, while making various requests when the sisters knew particular favorites. They arrived and the brothers led the girls into the music room. Samantha and Victoria took a seat on the piano bench and the brothers stood beside each sister. “Shall I turn the pages for you, Mavourneen?” Wesley asked.

  “Yes, thank you, but this first one Sam and I shall play from memory. I think you will like it.” The sisters began to play and Wesley was surprised when he recognized the tune as the dance that Victoria and he had shared.

  “Ah, it is our song!” he proclaimed. Wesley grabbed Victoria’s arm and swung her around into the dance. The group laughed in merriment as Samantha continued to play the song. Wesley and Victoria polkaed around the music room and Thomas clapped his hands and tapped his foot in time.

  Victoria and Wesley fell onto the settee at the end of the dance, still holding hands from their dance position and laughing. Both were breathing heavily from their exertions. Thomas and Samantha stood clapping for their siblings’ satisfactory dance skills. Victoria caught her breath and made her way over to the piano again with Wesley following admiringly behind her. The couples sat together singing and playing the piano for another couple of hours, before Victoria insisted that they must return to Mossy Oak. Their mother would be expecting them for dinner and the hour was growing reputation damagingly late.

  On the carriage ride back to Mossy Oak Manor, the girls sat across from the boys again, but there was jovial laughter and teasing amongst them. The couples had grown closer over the time they spent together that day and Victoria had not thought of Christopher once, which meant that Wesley’s goal had been successfully met. Confusion plagued Victoria. She wondered how it could be that a man she hardly knew could so easily replace someone whom she had thought she loved so sincerely and thoroughly.

  Victoria had known Christopher nearly all of her life, but the feelings that she was developing for Wesley were different from what she felt for Christopher. How was she to know which was stronger or more true? Was it possible to love two different people at the same time? Or perhaps there are different or varying degrees of love? She had previously always believed that there was one person in the world meant for her. Everyone had that one person who was meant for them. Soul mates. Perhaps there are options in regards to who it was that you were to end up with. These confounding thoughts led to her request Polly’s audience in her room upon her return to Mossy Oak that evening before everyone sat down to dinner.

  Chapter Five

  A sheepishly quiet knock announced the arrival of Polly at Victoria’s door. None of the slaves were quite as timid as she, despite the fact that she was so beloved by the two girls. Polly was a young woman about Victoria’s age and rather pretty to look at with creamy cocoa colored skin and long black braided pigtails that made her look even younger than she was. Her petite size also contributed to her youthful appearance. She was as thin and curveless as she was short. The dress that Polly wore under her white apron was pattern-less and neither quite red nor brown, but some rusty color in between, with long sleeves and a collar that clung right to the bottom of her neck.

  Polly had been the sisters’ childhood companion and then served as their maid once she was of the working age, which made her a true and trusted friend to the De’Muerre sisters. They had created a bond while they all sat in the schoolroom together, and though it was illegal for slaves to learn how to read, Polly had gained other knowledge while she sat in the classroom with the girls. Because of that, she was exceptionally well educated for a Negro girl and quite capable of carrying on intelligent conversations with her mistresses. As they all grew up together, the sisters had learned that Polly had a secret. Not only was Polly logical and possessing of a deep understanding of human nature, or merely educated with the same knowledge as the sisters, but she was wise with an ancient and mystical knowledge too. She was a voodoo priestess and had been taught in the ways nearly from the day that she had been born.

  Victoria urged Polly to sit down in one of the high-back chairs beside the fire and Victoria joined her there, after she made sure that the doors were closed and no one would be able to overhear their conversation. “Polly, I need a favor from you.”

  “What is it Miss Victoria, ma’am? What can Polly do for you?” Polly’s voice was smooth and deep like velvet smoke in strong contradiction to the tiny child-like body from which the voice emerged.

  “I’m sure you are aware that Christopher has been betrothed to another woman and that there is a new man in my life.”

  “Yes, Polly has heard rumors to dat, ma’am.”

  “What I need from you, Polly, is
a way to know which path is right for me and which man I am to be with. For so long I thought that I was meant to be with Christopher, but I have these sudden strong feelings for Wesley and I barely know him, and they are so different from the way that I felt for Christopher. Is there a spell or other voodoo hocus-pocus that you can give to me in order to help me figure it out, Polly? Something to help me know which man is the right choice for me? Not, that Christopher is a viable option anymore, but I need to know if it is okay for me to be feeling this way for Wesley.”

  “Yes, Miss Victoria Polly know just da thing. I will bring it to you after dinner and prayers this evening, when I come to stoke the fire and turn down the bed before you go to sleep tonight.”

  “Thank you, Polly.”

  True to her word, Polly brought a potion in a glass vial to Victoria that evening when she came in at her usual time to assist her mistress in the bedtime preparations. “You must do exactly as Polly tells ya, mistress. You must wear a white night gown and braid ya hair into three braids weaving these red ribbons into da braids. Light a candle at each direction placing one in the north, south, east, and west centered position of your room. Then lay upon ya bed and recite these words: Moutre m 'chemen an, o vanyan sòlda youn. Montre m 'sa a se verite. Ki moun ki se renmen an pou mwen? Sa a se sa m 'mande nan nou. Then you put one drop of the potion on the bottom of each of ya feet. Afta dat, drink da potion and you will sleep a deep sleep in which the mighty one will give you the answers dat you seek.”

  Polly sat with Victoria for a while longer redundantly repeating the spell and instructing her mistress in the appropriate pronunciation until they were both sure that Victoria had it correct. The hour grew late and Victoria began to prepare herself for the ritual. She washed herself in the blue and cream basin that depicted a picture of the French countryside then brushed and braided her thick, blonde hair into three braids with the red silk ribbons. She dressed herself in one of her white lace trimmed nightgowns, placed and lit the candles as Polly had instructed her to and then crawled up into bed.

  Victoria recited the words exactly as Polly had instructed her earlier that evening. Continuing to follow the elaborate procedure Victoria placed a small drop on each of her feet with her finger, and then tossed the voodoo tonic back. It tasted astonishingly bitter and sugary at the same time, and it was thick enough to coat her throat. She could feel the liquid as it oozed its way down to her gut before it settled there uncomfortably. Clutching her stomach, Victoria then laid down and easily fell into a deep slumber mere moments after her head hit the plump feather-down pillows.

  A thick, murky vapor filled the immediate atmosphere making it nearly impossible for Victoria to see what was happening around her. The light and shadows played upon one another in cruel trickery by hiding and illuminating shapes and shadows that would appear and disappear with each ticking second. Victoria was standing upon a dirt pathway in an unfamiliar wooded area. The trees were strange and foreign to her, for these were not trees that were native to Louisiana. The trees proudly displayed their fall foliage as they shrouded themselves in vibrant leaves of red and orange. A ticklish breeze fluttered through the leaves making the strange trees dance an exotically shaking jig.

  A sulfuric scent burned Victoria’s nose and throat. It left an acidic taste in her mouth and had her mentally begging for a drink of crisp, fresh water from the well. As she walked further through the smoky air, Victoria’s exposed skin began to itch and burn. Her nose and eyes began to water and the spots upon her cheeks, where she wiped away tears, stung so bad it was as though Cooksey had taken kitchen knives and slashed her face. Voices were calling to her, but in a strange language. It wasn’t English; she wasn’t sure that it was a language she had even heard before, but somehow she understood what they were saying. She followed the voices and found three hooded beings standing inside a ring of fire.

  They were frightening figures in their cinnamon hooded robes. Dark hollowed emptiness filled the space where heads should have been. The middle figure began to speak in that strange language that was full of hisses and clicks. “You cannot live a full life if your heart has no scars to show. That is why you are tested in life. Sometimes you have to dance within the flames of danger and mystery to find fulfillment.

  “A fulfilled life that is lived outside of society’s norms can lead to unfavorable attention, therefore you must be strong, and you must be able to face the sorrows and the shame that comes with the non-conventional life, a life full of desire and passion. You must know that where there is desire you will find flames. That is what desire is made of, internal flames and the object of your desire is the incendiary. Be watchful child, for where there are flames someone will undoubtedly be burned before it is all over.

  “With that said, you are not weak for believing that love might exist. However, before we can reveal your path, you must prove to us that you are willing to forsake it all. Right now, you are standing where it is safe outside the ring of fire, but it is a metaphor for your life. You can choose a safe life in which you are guaranteed to survive to a ripe old age in comfort and security, or you can choose a life that is consumed by the love that is burning deep in your soul. So, which do you choose, mortal? Tell me, do you choose stability or do you choose love?”

  Victoria leapt through the fire exuding more bravery than she felt. She stood before the hooded figures. Inside the flames, all of her orifices stopped burning. She breathed easier and was able to speak clearly. Throwing her head back and raising her hands to the hazy sky, Victoria shouted the determined proclamation clearly for all to hear, “I choose love.”

  The flames burned hotter and brighter; they rose higher toward the sky growing taller than Victoria, taller than the three hooded figures. “Very good,” The hooded figure in the middle bowed its head to her. “So mote it be.” The three figures vanished and the flames dimmed down. Soon they were nothing but burning embers. The embers then began to move. They were leading her somewhere, creating a trail for her to follow. Victoria began to pursue the embers and soon she heard new voices calling out to her (in English this time). It took a few moments before she recognized them as the voices of Christopher and Wesley.

  Victoria ran towards Wesley’s direction barreling right into his chest, but when she looked up, the face changed and it was that of Christopher. He wore a ferocious and frightening scowl, an expression that she had never seen upon his face before. She again heard a man call out her name from behind her and she turned. There was Wesley, once more. She again tried to run to him, but her feet were suddenly weighed down as though she were stuck in mud, stuck in the swampland behind her house.

  Victoria struggled forward, reaching out to him. The more she struggled the more she felt stuck, the more it felt as though she were sinking deep into the boggy mud of a swamp and the swamp sucked her feet in deeper and deeper, weighing her down more and more. Then, she heard gunfire and explosions. She called out to him. “Wesley! Wesley!” Then she saw him jerk back, grab at his chest, and a red spot began to form and spread. Wesley buckled at his knees and fell to the ground. He stretched his arm out to her, beckoning her to come to him as pain carved itself across his face. Victoria tried to break free, but Christopher was holding her back preventing her from reaching Wesley, keeping her stuck in the muck.

  Victoria awoke with a gasp. Her heart raced and breath came in short gasps. The potion did its job through that very strange dream, which left her feeling panic-stricken. Victoria now had the answer that she sought. Wesley was the one she wanted. She longed for him and he woke within her thoughts and feelings that she had never been aware of before. Christopher was her past and she had to let go of him before it ruined her chance of a happy future with Wesley. She thanked the deities for revealing the hidden truth of her heart and set out to make him hers, before anything else could happen, before he could be taken away from her forever, something she now feared thanks to that dream.

  Chapter Six

  After awakening from
her dream, Victoria spent the rest of the night hours tossing and turning. She pulled the covers on and kicked the covers off. She bunched her pillows up, flattened them out, and threw them on the floor. Sleep was not returning, so she rose from her bed with the first light of dawn. After donning her robe, Victoria sat at her writing desk and penned a letter to Wesley.

  My dear Wesley,

  I hope this letter finds you well and in as pleasant a spirit as I am this morning. Our outing yesterday was most enjoyable and I do look forward to the next social gathering within the county so that we may spend more time together. The relationship that I had with Mr. Worthington weighed heavily upon my mind, but in your presence yesterday, I was able to be free. Thank you for that. I hope that you will write to me until we next see each other.

  Faithfully Yours,

  Victoria