Illusive Flame

by Girard, Dara

  “He said they’re above me.” She pulled a suitcase from under the bed. “How could that woman be above me?”

  Janet sat on the bed, her voice sad. “For all the obvious reasons.”

  She flung open a closet. “Well then, let me find my kind. I’ll make a living with the rest of the bottom feeders!”

  “You’re just in a temper. Give yourself time to cool down. I’m sure if you apologize for whatever you said, he’ll give you your job back.”

  “A Spenser doesn’t grovel.”

  “Nor do we spin gold, child. How will you live?”

  “I’ll find work.” She tossed some shirts in the suitcase.

  “I’ll see if the nursery in town needs hired help. I’ll work as a waitress, I’ll clean gutters, but I won’t work here.”

  “This is a great place to work.”

  “How can I work at a place where I’m expected to kiss the very feet that kick me? I’ve done it all my life. I won’t do it anymore.”

  Janet grabbed the iron bedpost. “You can’t afford your pride, Victoria.”

  She opened her drawer and began taking things out.

  “You’re young and you’ll soon learn that we are all given positions in this world. You can’t think yourself too high. I kept my thoughts to myself and attained this house, a car, a good income, and the ability to send money back home.”

  “I want to do that too, but not like this. I don’t belong Aunty. I never do. No matter how hard I try. I always cause trouble.” She stuffed her suitcase. “Will you drive me to town?”

  “Victoria, please.”

  She took her aunt’s hands and sat on the bed, feeling the heaviness of her aunt’s sadness. It compounded her own. “I admire you more than anybody I’ve ever known. You’ve been in my life for a short while, yet you fill the majority of my heart. You took me in when no one else would. You were the first to treat me like family, to give me a home and work. You didn’t make me feel bad. I thank you and I will live in this world with the hope of making you proud.

  “But all my life I’ve been told I’m less than because of something I can’t control. Is it wrong to ask to be treated with a little dignity? Because we are small does that give anyone the right to crush us? No money is worth myself respect.” She kissed her aunt’s hand. “I will survive. I always have.”

  Janet hugged her and whispered. “Please don’t leave. The house will be empty without you.”

  Victoria drew away glancing at her room. She’d hate to leave the safety of this. “Perhaps I’ll just work in town. I could use the car and come back and forth and if I can’t find anything in town... I’ll find something.”

  “Finding work isn’t that simple.” Janet stood and went to the door. “We will talk more tomorrow. Perhaps you’ll think more clearly in the morning.”

  Victoria sat on the bed and whispered, “I’m thinking clearly now.”

  * * *

  Janet left that evening. Probably for church, she didn’t say where she was going. Victoria lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling, repeating all that her aunt had said, but Braxton’s words forced them into the background. He was like her Aunt Margaret, who saw her as a worker rather than as a person. All that time she had spent with him, sharing dessert, speaking at Bailey’s gravesite, had been an illusion.

  Victoria closed her eyes ashamed she was foolish to believe it could be anything else. She had barely finished secondary school; he had advanced degrees. He’d been born into money and privilege; she couldn’t even claim her father’s name.

  “She doesn’t even look like a Spenser,” she remembered her grandmother telling her mother. “Too much of that Taylor blood. Did I not tell you not to run off with that man?”

  “Yes, Mummy.”

  “And now you’re back here and want to give his child our name?”

  She nodded. Her mother could give her the name, but needed it to be recognized by other family members.

  Victoria recalled her grandmother’s long fingers as they grasped her chin. The older woman peered into her face. “It’s not your fault your mother slept with the devil. You’ll never be anything, but at least you’ll have a good name.”

  Victoria opened her eyes. Yes, she did have a good name. And although she tried to live up to that name, she continued to fail. Spenser pride. Yes, she knew the Spensers had their pride, but she knew hers came from a dark place in her heart. A Taylor place.

  She knew no matter the outcome, she could not go back into that mansion with its cold paintings on the walls that mirrored the hearts of the people inside. She could not pretend that it didn’t hurt when Nicholas or Patrice spoke rudely or when Katharine with her elegant manners and perfect diction would correct a phrase or word she said. Yes, she needed to leave that house and everyone in it—especially him.

  Braxton, Braxton, Braxton. Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? Why did what he thought of her matter? He did not see her as important and he never would. She didn’t blame him. Sometimes she didn’t feel important. He probably still thought she was crazy.

  He hadn’t mentioned anything about her vision. She discovered she’d been right by watching the news. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

  Victoria wrapped her arms around herself. She fought the familiar feelings of loneliness and rested her head on the couch. She drifted off to sleep.

  She jumped when someone pounded on the front door. She looked through the peephole then opened the door surprised to see Robert standing there. “What do you want?” she asked.

  He blinked. “What do you mean what do I want? You called me.”

  “No, I didn’t”

  “Yes, you did. I heard you. You called me three times.”

  She rested a hip against the doorframe. “No, I didn’t.”

  His voice grew insistent. “Yes, you did.”

  “Did anyone else hear me calling you?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone.” He rubbed his forehead.”You called me. If you’ve forgotten the reason why, that’s fine. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I didn’t call you.” She straightened. “But I did think about you.”

  He nodded. “You thought about me then you called me. I understand.”

  She shook her head. “No, I just thought about you.”

  His face changed at the implication. He took a step back and held up his hands. “Oh no. You can’t pull that stuff with me. I have absolutely no psychic abilities. You’re the empath not me.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because...” He shook his head frustrated. “Look, I know you’re upset. Why do you want to leave?”

  Victoria began to smile. “If you haven’t spoken to anyone how did you know that I was leaving?”

  Robert thought for a moment then waved his hand as though brushing the thought aside. “It’s a simple deduction that’s all. However, that’s not the point.” He rested a hand on either side of the doorframe. “Why are you upset? I thought we’d come to an understanding.”

  “We had.”

  “Then why are you leaving?”

  She turned. “Because you gave me no choice.”

  He came inside and closed the door. “I gave you the choice to obey a simple order. But you have such little respect for me that you can’t even do that.”

  She stared at him surprised. She’d never heard that tone before. She’d heard him angry, demanding, but never with such sad bitterness. “I do respect you, but I can’t stay.” She shrugged not knowing what else to say.

  “Don’t leave because of this. They won’t stay forever.”

  Victoria suddenly felt tired. “It’s not just this. It’s everything.” She walked to the stairs. “Everything I do is wrong and everything I say is wrong. Nobody believes me. Now good night.” She walked up the stairs.

  “I believe you.” The words, softly spoken, shot through the room as though he’d shouted them.

  She spun around. “What?” S
he took a step toward him then stopped. “What did you say?”

  “I said I believe you.”

  Victoria gripped the front of her blouse and sat down hard on the stairs. Disbelief made her legs weak while an unbelievable joy filled her. “You do?”

  “Yes.” Robert glanced away and grasped the newel post as though searching for words. “There was a fire and an old woman died. And all the evidence says accidental, but something bothers me. Everyone says she had a dog, but I don’t know why the dog didn’t bark and a body of a dog hasn’t been found. So I’m thinking that it was a cleverly set up arson, though I can’t figure out why, since she had no money or anyone who’d want her dead.” He waved his hand exasperated. “And I have all these questions and if you leave...” He faced her again. “I’ll have nothing.”

  “You believe me,” she said, treasuring the words. She covered her face, wanting to cry, but too stunned to do so. “You really believe me.”

  “Yes.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Would you like me to write it down?”

  She let her hands fall as a sense of caution entered her joy. She had to be careful. She stood then took a step toward him. “Another man once said he believed me and I thought all my dreams had come true. He made me feel special. Finally someone in this world believed me. Believed in me. Someone who thought I was a good person. But it was just a trick. He wanted to see what I was like. He found out.” She hugged herself remembering his cold touch and cruel words. “I think he was disappointed.” Her lips twisted in a cynical smile. “I’m glad?

  “And you think I’m like him?”

  “No, you never pretended to believe me and that’s what makes you different and why I can’t believe what you’ve just said.” She looked at him, weary. “Or maybe I’m afraid to.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  “I think you’re more dangerous to me than he was.”

  “Why?”

  She couldn’t tell him why. She couldn’t admit the reason to herself. She’d been vulnerable to the emotions of others for so long, but never this vulnerable to her own.

  He spoke in a whisper. “I want you to stay.”

  “But Patrice—”

  “I’ll handle Patrice. I can barely stand her myself.” He leaned against the wall and stared up at her with a grin. “Remember when I said people are like medicine? Think of her as antacid.”

  “Actually arsenic comes to mind.”

  She expected him to smile. He didn’t. His gaze intensified instead. “Please stay.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Could she trust him? Dare she trust him? A man who confused her, but who she knew in her heart was a good man. She should leave, but she wasn’t ready to say goodbye... not yet. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  “Good.”

  Neither moved.

  Victoria let her arms fall to her sides and turned.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

  Robert walked up the steps until he stood behind her. “I notice the house is quiet,” he said his breath warm against her cheek.

  Victoria gripped the railing. “My aunt isn’t here.”

  “I know.” He spun her around and claimed her mouth. The feel of his lips again assailed her with unfamiliar feelings that gripped her as strongly as his hands did. Feelings of such exquisite desire filled her, she was almost ashamed to acknowledge them, but too enthralled to deny them.

  His arms wrapped around her waist like a curling vine, yet she felt no fear. He was strong, he was fierce, but his mouth was too tender for her to fear him. She pressed her hand against his chest, whether to restrain herself or him she wasn’t sure, but it only succeeded in exciting her as she felt his beating heart beneath her palm, racing as fast as her own. She drew back, breathless. “Remember who you are.”

  His voice broke with huskiness. “You can remind me later.”

  He kissed her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth eager to taste every part of her. He groaned deep in his throat when she attempted to do the same. He knew he should stop, but couldn’t. He had yielded to temptation, determined to understand his attraction to her, determined to find the answer that would stop his curiosity. His curiosity only grew. He’d touched her, tasted her, and held her only to realize that it wasn’t enough. He broke away and took her hand. He raced up the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” Victoria asked.

  He didn’t reply. Instead he darted into a bedroom. He halted in the doorway as he surveyed the strict decor. “Oh no.”

  “This is my aunt’s room.”

  He sighed with relief. “Good. I was worried for a minute.” He backed out of the room. “It’s sort of hard to make love with a picture of Jesus staring down at you.”

  “Come here.” She pulled him inside her room. He closed the door with his foot, grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. He kissed her again—quick, but just as heated. She moaned deep in her throat as he pressed her tighter against him.

  “Careful Mr. Braxton.” She loosened his shirt from his trousers.

  “My name is Robert,” he growled, “ You’ll be saying it a few more times before the night is over.”

  She slid her hand up his chest, teasing a taut nipple with her fingers. “Perhaps.”

  “And what might your name be Ms. Spenser?”

  Victoria kissed the side of his throat and whispered. “Doesn’t matter. Before the night is over you’ll be too exhausted to say it.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  She began to unbutton his shirt “It’s a guarantee.”

  They quickly shed their clothes and fell on the bed. Victoria saddled his hips while Robert stared at up at her “At last I get to meet them,” he said.

  “Meet who?”

  He lifted her breasts and kissed each nipple. “My new best friends.” He sighed with pleasure and cupped them in his palms. “Now what should I call you?”

  “You’re being silly.”

  He playfully frowned at her. “Excuse me, Miss, but this is a private conversation.”

  “I don’t think they’ll mind the interruption.” She buried her face in his neck and moved against him. He moaned. She gently nipped his earlobe. “Are you ready?”

  “Don’t I feel ready?”

  She clasped the erection pressing against her thigh. “You feel great.”

  His voice deepened more. “Umm, we may have one problem.”

  She sat up. “What?”

  “My little friend has forgotten his hat.”

  Victoria laughed. “And you can’t enter church without a hat.”

  Robert frowned. “What?”

  “Never mind,” she said still laughing to herself. She jumped up. “I think I have something.” She opened her closet and dug inside a bag. She returned to the bed and tore open the foil packet “I borrowed my uncle’s suitcase and found a whole bunch of these.” She saddled him again. “His friend is always well dressed.”

  Robert stared at her appalled. “You want me to wear a condom you found?”

  She lowered her gaze and slowly ran her hand up and down his erection as he had the orchid stem. “Would you rather go home?”

  He snatched the condom from her, rolled it on then changed their positions. “No, I don’t plan to leave anytime soon.”

  “Really?”

  “In fact I think I would like to start a garden. Let me survey the land.” He skimmed his hand over her stomach. “I’ve never dealt with this much land before.”

  “Too much for you?” she challenged.

  “No.” His eyes caressed her as his hand descended. “So beautiful. Such rich land and soft grass.” He ran his hand through her triangle of hair then opened the lips of her center as though peering into the petals of a flower. He stroked inside. “Yes, the land is rich and moist.” He slipped a finger inside. Victoria writhed with gathering desire, remembering another
time his finger had sunk into soil, feeling the sweet agony of her arousal.

  Robert saw the passion in her eyes and his grew stronger. “I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

  “You don’t have to,” she gasped “Please.”

  “Time to plant.” He entered her with a little less control than he’d planned and felt her wince. “Sorry.”

  “I think your tool is too big.”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  She adjusted to him. “No, I just have to get used to you.” She ran a hand down his thigh. “I thought all men were created equal. I think you just blew that theory.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  She placed a finger over his mouth. “Stop talking and let me find out.”

  She did. He stirred passion, her body exploding at his touch. “I didn’t know you could do that with a garden tool.”

  “I know how to use mine.”

  She smiled and pinched his thigh playfully. “How many gardens have you made?”

  He brushed his nose against her neck, inhaling her scent. “I don’t remember anymore.” At that moment he couldn’t think, but felt everything. He felt as though his skin was exposed—sensitive to every touch, every movement of the woman beneath him as though her feelings were also his own. He could feel the cotton sheets; smell the scent of wisteria outside her window. There was such fire in her, and it blazed past any darkness inside him.

  “When my grandfather taught me about the birds and the bees, I think he left out flashpoint.”

  “What is that?”

  “The temperature at which something will ignite. I think I’m on fire.”

  “Want me to put out the fire?”

  “No, baby, just let me burn.”

  They both thought they would burn as their lovemaking intensified. Soon they had no energy to speak as their bodies said and did all that they couldn’t. They collapsed panting, every part aching with ecstasy. Victoria rested her cheek against the sheen of sweat on his back. His heat threatened to meld her to him; she didn’t care. “You can’t stay here,” she said, stroking his thigh.

  “I know, but I like what you’re doing.”

  “Me too.” She cupped his bottom. “You’re very well made.”

  “Thank you.”