“Faith,” Miss Benedict spoke again. “I believe the question was directed at you.”
Her eyes rounded. She looked back to Miss Benedict who had her fan toward her brow. Faith needed to apologize.
“Oh, no, I have no problem with smoke,” Faith replied in haste to cover her gaff.
She looked at Miss Benedict. Her head appeared tilted, inspecting her fan, desperate to hide the smile that was forming on her lips.
“Do come, Mr. Wilson,” Miss Benedict beckoned a hint of laughter in her voice. She opened her fan, to hide a growing smile, “I am in need of another escort it seems.”
Faith felt Wilson let go of her elbow. The void was filled with a sudden draft as his shadow crossed between them. Still she didn’t move. Mr. Oakley stared at her, as if she were a clear pool and he, a man dying of thirst. She must break the silence.
“Wh-what type of cigars do you prefer?” The tremor in her voice belayed the nervousness that descended on her. Whirling around she was relieved to find the bar close at hand. Faith moved around to the other side, dropping her fan to her waist as her hand moved along the polished wood. She hoped to put some distance between them, and regain her wits.
“A Havana cigar if you have them,” Thaddeus stepped closer leaning on the dark wood. His eyes never left her figure as she moved around and knelt to retrieve the box.
“Will these do? They came from Virginia, the Lorillard Factory outside of Richmond, but the leaves are from Cuba and the box says hand rolled.”
Faith rose, setting the box with the bare-chested woman upon the polished mahogany surface. In doing so, her arms pressed the tender flesh of her breasts together. Hearing him heave a sigh, she gazed up to find his eyes drawn to the mounds. She twisted. A slight turn to the right, then to the left, allowed his eyes to inspect the bounty she laid before him.
“So you like what you see?” Her coy voice low, it slid across, only loud enough for their ears.
His feet shuffled on the wooden floor. His eyes moved from her bosom to her face. “Yeah, you’re a definite sight for sore eyes.”
Flipping open the box of tobacco, she asked, “Care to try?”
His cheek twitched at her subtle remark. In a flash, he regained his composure. “I would.”
Faith handed him a cigar, watching as his fingers stroke the tobacco before placing it into his mouth. She licked her lips. His tongue darted out to moistening the end. She swallowed the lump in her throat and wondered how it would feel if his tongue were to caress her breast or if those fingers would stroke her intimate place before draw her nipple into the warm regions of his lips.
“Light,” she rasped, fumbling for the matches beside the stack of clean glasses.
He took one, their fingers brushing, causing heat to gather in the pit of her stomach. He ran the match along the mahogany and the head burst into flame just as Faith felt her body would with his touch. He held the match to the end and puffed.
“Excellent,” he smiled taking a deeper draw, then letting the smoke exit his mouth, pausing he spoke again. “There’s nothing like a good cigar unless it’s a good woman.”
Faith found his eyes upon her again. She smiled. “I hear a good woman is hard to find,” she lowered her lashes and gazed at him through their dark ebony color, “in your case, a bad one might be better.”
He nodded and took another puff. “How did you end up here?” he looked around the room. “I mean, a beautiful woman, like you, in a brothel.”
She lowered her chin, “True, but the war makes women their own master does it not and while a bit unorthodox, it is a line of work.”
“Did you choose this for yourself?”
Faith looked into his eyes, “Are you asking if I was forced to use my body?”
He shrugged.
A glance down and she took a deep breath. “No, I was not forced. I prefer this to sleeping out on the street. Besides, I am well taken care of. We do not open every night and our clients, the ones escorted upstairs, are of the elite class.” She took a deep breath, closing the box. “So, what brings you here, to Panther’s Landing?”
“Other than the railroad,” he drawled.
Faith relaxed, “Other than the railroad.”
“As you said the war makes us all strangers in our own land.”
“I take it from the sound of your voice, you come from the south.”
“Texas to be exact.” He nodded.
“I’ve always wanted to visit Texas,” she murmured. “Is it true what they say?”
“Ma’am?”
“That things are always bigger in Texas,” Faith purred.
He rocked on his heels, amusement filling his face, “I suppose that depends on tonight?”
She clucked her tongue and gave the standard Sweetbrier reply. “To spend the night with one of Miss Benedict’s ladies, you must pass her personal inspection. While you play cards tonight, you will be on display as well.”
She noticed his eyes widening.
“I feel honored,” he replied.
“For what reason, sir? You haven’t been invited upstairs yet,” she reminded him.
His mouth opened in shock.
She laughed at his surprise. “Shall we?” Faith gestured toward the back room.
“Of course?” he echoed with a bow.
Stepping around the end of the bar with the box of cigars in her hands his voice stopped her.
“Miss Faith.”
Turning, she expected a question. Instead, she found Thaddeus before her. His arms reached out and took possession of her shoulders. She had only moments to moisten her lips before his descended to imprison them.
At first, his lips were crushing as they moved across her flesh, branding them with his own fire. She leaned forward, molding her body to his, feeling the box trapped between them.
Acting as a wedge, the wood denied the satisfaction of their touch. As the kiss continued, she felt his lips begin to tease and entice. His tongue ran across her upper lip coaxing them to open. When she did, his swept inside.
Her breath quickened as his fingers tightened their hold on the wooden box. She tipped her head and felt the broad sweep of his tongue against of her mouth. Her pulse quickened. The scent of bay rum on his skin and the flavor of whiskey overwhelmed her. She could not get enough, as their tongues stroked each other rising and twirling in a sensual dance.
Faith felt him stiffen in surprise. She moved her head and ran her tongue a second time across his. The kiss erupted, deepening to something needy. Her pulse quickened. It was too soon. She heard him moan. Summoning all her strength, she stepped back breaking contact.
He stood for a moment with his eyes closed, swaying. As they opened, beneath the long dark lashes, Faith could see a hint of desire in the sharpening color of his eyes.
“How?” his voice cracked as he asked.
She didn’t need to hear the exact words from his lips. She knew he was referring to her company upstairs. “You must be the winner in tonight’s hand,” she explained. “I am to choose my paramour, my lover. I am to become his mistress for as long as he needs my body.”
He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Then I must concentrate.”
“Yes, you must,” she answered boldly before moving toward the gaming room with Thaddeus close behind.
Chapter Five
Opening the door, Faith and Thaddeus entered the smaller gaming room. Unlike the rich red and gold flocked paper which accented the salon, this room was decked in beige and deep green striped paper, which set off the darker, more masculine furniture. On the floor, an oriental rug sat anchored by a claw–footed, pedestal card table and five chairs. Light dazzled across the room from the eight gilded sconces which held kerosene lamps fitted with reflecting mirrors.
“Ah, Thaddeus, you’ve joined us,” Howard spoke as he pulled out a chair for Miss Benedict to be seated.
Moving to the sideboard, Faith placed the box of cigars on top, then pulled open a drawer to retrieve
three ashtrays.
“Do you need the lamps turned up?” she asked.
“Please, the ones behind me.” Miss Benedict murmured as she pulled a pack of playing cards toward her from the center of the table and began to shuffle.
Moving toward the wall lamps, Faith turned the wick ever so slight. Light leaped into the room causing shadows to dance.
“Very good,” Miss Benedict answered. “Gentlemen, there are only three to play?”
“Our fourth folded,” Mr. Wilson sighed, easing his girth into the seat across from Miss Benedict.
“Really,” her eyebrow rose as she cut the deck and lay the cards edge against edges allowing them to shift and over lap back and forth with a flick of her wrist. “Do you wish a fourth?” Her hands lifted and with a swift staccato of rat-ta-tat the cards aligned themselves again into one deck.
“I dun know, Howard?” The portly gentleman looked to his cohort.
Faith watched as the gentleman who had played utmost attention to Miss Benedict scratched his jaw.
“Can one be found,” he inquired. “Its rather late given the stakes of the game.”
Miss Benedict smirked, “This is a gentleman’s club, my dear,” she laid a hand upon his arm. The gesture of affection didn’t go unnoticed. “One can always be found.”
Faith caught her meaningful glance and moved toward the door. Cracking it, she whispered to Big John who stood blocking the doorway, watching the crowd. With a nod, the bouncer moved away, she turned to reply. “He has someone in mind.”
Miss Benedict sighed and shuffled the cards another time. “The house will issue each gentleman a thousand in chips. Faith, will you attend to this matter?”
With a dip of her head, she moved toward the box containing the gaming pieces.
“Any bets over this amount will be cash only. No IOU’s are accepted.”
The door opened.
“Pardon me, Big John sent me in to a poker game?”
All eyes focused on the doorway and the army officer who filled it.
Miss Benedict spoke, “Ah, welcome, Major Abrams. Gentlemen, I can vouch for this man.”
“Won’t you join us,” Howard asked. Standing, he extended his hand to the Major who grasped it with a firm shake. His eyes focused over top of Stetson’s shoulder and captured Faith. A possessive smile cut across his features.
The army officer strode in pushing past Mr. Stetson. His white gloves, held in his left hand, smacked the side of his precisely pleated trousers. She knew he was headed straight for her with no where to hide, she could only play it cool and detached. Faith wondered if she could actually see her reflection in the spit and polish of his boots. And it was catty of her, yet she couldn’t help but wonder how many hours it took the Chinese laundress to pinch those sharp pleats in place. Even his brass buttons had a high shine about them.
Feeling his stare, she glanced up. Her eyes widened, catching the naked hunger in his unbridled gaze. The look sent shivers down her spine.
“Why, Miss Faith. What a surprise to see you?”
She watched his lips pull back over his white teeth like a panther ready to leap and tear into her flesh. “Major,” she acknowledged his presence, yet kept her mind focused on the chips. He stepped forward. She felt his pants leg graze her skirt. Faith grew uneasy. Her fingers shook and the stack of chips falling shattered the silence. Across the corner of the table, she caught Mr. Oakley’s face. While the Major talked, she watched the younger man’s eyes darken with unmasked fury. Her eyes darting down, she could see his hands curl into fist as the Major ranted on.
“I’m sorry I missed you the other night,” his voice low. She felt the pressure of his hand against the small of her back. A cold feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.
“I was entertaining another customer,” she offered him a practiced smile, “Perhaps another time.”
Holding onto the box, she turned toward the table. His hand caught her elbow. Faith glanced down as his grip tightened. With slow determination, she kept the emotion from her face as she looked down at her arm. Summoning her dignity, she lifted her gaze to stare him down. The message clear, let go of me and leave me alone.
He paused. His brow puckered as he read the message from her face, “I want to spend the night with you,” he repeated lifting his hand from her arm and bringing it to her face.
She stilled as his finger traced her cheek.
“We shall have to see how Lady Luck plays this evening,” Faith murmured, hoping to dismiss him.
Her answer must have left him unsatisfied for she noticed his mouth lifted into a sneer. She felt his fingers at the base of her neck, knowing he could feel the beat of her heart beneath his fingertips before he brought his finger down to rest at her jugular vein. Standing so close, she knew Major Abrams could hear the deep intake of her breath and watched as he concentrated on the fabric constricted against the swell of her breasts.
“They are so lovely,” he whispered to no other. “I want to feel their weight in my hand.” His fingers traced the rising mounds. “I want to let them get firm, draw them into my mouth and…”
“Major Abrams,” Miss Benedict called out.
Faith looked up her cheeks flushed. His hand paused at the underside of her breast as his thumb raked across her nipple.
“Madame?”
“Please, let’s not fondle the merchandise.”
His hand let go as if burnt.
“Are you joining us or not, Sir?” Miss Benedict questioned. One well groomed eyebrow rose in a fine arch as she narrowed her glance.
He chuckled and moved toward the table. “Game as usual, Miss Benedict?” He tossed his gloves on the surface and pulled out a chair as Faith finally relaxed.
“As usual Major,” Miss Benedict replied.
Faith watched him take his seat across from Mr. Oakley, whose expression gave the impression of being almost murderous. Moving to the table, she began taking the stake from each man to replace with the betting marks. Counting to see that they had the correct amount, it struck her how different the ages prepared for battle. The two older gentlemen made themselves comfortable removing their coats and rolling up their sleeves. However, the younger men both inhaled their cigars and blew out the pungent smoke sizing each other up like rutting bulls. Counting Mr. Wilson his chips, she leaned forward, shoving the stack toward him.
“Lovely,” he sighed gazing down her bodice.
“Now, Now, Mr. Wilson,” Miss Benedict chuckled while she pushed the deck toward Mr. Oakley. “Cut.”
Faith watched his fingers lift and separate the cards then restack them for her to shuffle the last time.
“Tell me, Mr. Oakley, were you in the war,” the Major inquired looping an arm over the back of the chair.
“Perhaps,” Thaddeus Oakley replied, his lips a thin line.
“Gentlemen, first bets,” Miss Benedict called.
The players tossed in their chips and Faith stepped back shoving the box into the drawer of the sideboard and began preparing drinks. Behind her she could hear the rustle of the cards as Miss Benedict dealt each man five. As the players picked up their hands, Faith moved, quiet in the background, placing a crystal glass coaster at each man’s elbow then his drink.
“Is that a new dress? You’re looking exceptionally lovely today. It’s much more becoming than those drab dresses so many of you ladies wore after the war.” the Major murmured, as she placed a cold beer within his reach.
“Yes,” Faith smiled, “One of Nanny’s creations.”
“Beautiful,” he murmured shifting his cards around, “Why don’t you sit beside me, for luck?”
Not to be outdone, Mr. Oakley joined in the conversation. “I would imagine Miss Faith looks fetching any day of the week from what I’ve seen. I bet she could make a cotton sack look like something from Atlanta.”
The two stared at one another. The tension grew palpable with each passing second. Faith glanced between the two men then shifted in the chair as th
e uncomfortable silence continued. She glanced to her benefactress and in an unspoken flash of her eyes, Miss Benedict reminded Faith to remain calm.
Mr. Wilson coughed and adjusted his cards. “Fetching, reminds me of sailing.” He began. “Tell me any of you been to the East coast and done any sailing?”
And the situation diffused.
Faith breathed out in relief and moved quietly around the table, making sure each man was fortified with drink or food as the night wore on.
Not wishing to play favorites, she sat between Mr. Howard and the Major as the next round of betting continued.
“Cards,” Miss Benedict asked the army officer.
“Two,” he replied laying his cards and pushing them across then accepting the new. Before placing them in his hand, he lifted the unseen cards toward Faith, “Just a gentle blow, sugar, for luck. We can’t have that Johnny Reb thinking he has luck on his side.”
Pursing her lips, she blew soft across the cards watching as he pulled them close putting them in his hand.
“Wonderful.” He sighed and taking his free hand placed it upon her knee.
Across the table, Faith watched as Thaddeus’s eyes turned lethal. He tossed several more chips into the pot. “Raise,” he called out, his voice sharp. “Careful Miss Faith, that Blue Belly can’t be trusted.”
As much as she wanted to respond, Faith had to act as if his words didn’t raise the tension. She knew what the Major was about. She’s seen him do this many times in the past. He’d found the chink in Oakley’s armor and would keep placing wedges until the young man from the railroad became reckless and lost his money.
“Gentlemen, I’ll remind you this is a card game,” Miss Benedict warned.
Mocking him, the Major laughed. “Hiding behind a woman’s skirts, Reb?”
Oakley rose. Howard Stetson’s arm shot out and the pressure he exerted forced Thaddeus to sit. “We are here to play cards.”
Sweetbrier Academy:Having Faith Page 4