Dangerous Obsession

by Natasha Peters

  “I’m not afraid of him,” Seth growled.

  “You should be afraid. I’ve seen him when he’s angry. He would surely kill you.” I stood up and sighed deeply, and said in a lighter tone. “But perhaps you will kill him. And it will break your mother’s heart all over again. And Gabrielle, who was too young to know what was going on when it happened the first time—her heart will be broken, too. And your whole family will be in disgrace. But Fate has done this to us, hasn’t it? Fate has sent me here to destroy you all!” I threw back my head and laughed. “You’re right, Seth, it is a joke! Jove has married the beautiful Venus to the ugly Vulcan, who is a brute and a beast. But she loves the fair Apollo. And so there is war in the heavens!”

  Laughing and crying, I sank down onto a cushion at his feet. He gripped my shoulders and shook me, hard. “Stop that,” he said sharply.

  I looked up at him beseechingly. My cheeks were wet with tears. “Don’t tell them,” I begged him. “Please, Seth. You can make up for all the sorrow you’ve caused. Promise me, promise me—”

  “You’re hysterical—”

  “Please, Seth,” I whispered. I put my hands on his chest and leaned forward. I touched his cheek with parted lips. “Please?” I kissed him lightly in a half-dozen places and felt him shiver. “You have no choice—and neither do I." I murmured. “You will do this for me—I know you will. You will let me be happy, Seth.” I rested my hand on the bulge under his trousers. He was huge—and ready.

  Promise me—promise—”

  I let my dressing gown fall open and I took his hands and placed them on my breasts.

  “I won’t—,” he started to speak. I covered his mouth with a soft kiss.

  “You will,” I said knowingly. “Say yes, Seth. Just—yes. That’s all. One word. Yes. Yes.”

  His heart was racing and he was breathing heavily. I let my robe slide off my arms and gently I pulled him down, down on top of me. He buried his face in my hair.

  “Yes, say yes,” I coaxed him. “Promise me, Seth.” I moved under him, slowly, like an ocean wave on a calm bay. “Promise—yes—”

  “Damn you—”

  “Yes, Seth—oh, Seth—ready—now—yes—”

  He drove into me—mercilessly—I was his hated enemy.

  15

  Our Reverie Ends

  SETH LEFT ME at nine o’clock the next morning, Christmas Day. I tried to persuade him to leave the house by the back door, but he uttered a really crude word and walked boldly out the front, swinging his cane and whistling. He really was unbearable. But I had won. He would not tell, I was sure of it.

  I spent that day with the McClelland family and of course I attended their ball in the evening. I feared that Seth would mar the pleasure of my day by private jokes and innuendos, but I was mistaken. He was rather cool and distant, and he behaved with a deference and courtesy that not even Steven could fault.

  I only saw him once in the afternoon. Steven and I were playing with the children in the nursery on the top floor. I was telling little Marie’s fortune, I remember.

  “And this is the line that shows how smart you are, Marie. Right over this line, which tells how you will fare in love. Ah, such a long heart line! Longer even than your Papa’s!”

  Steven laughed. The boys clamored to have their fortunes told. We laughed and joked and when I looked up once I saw Seth standing in the doorway, watching us with an expression of supreme disgust on his face. He withdrew quietly, before any of the others saw him.

  Later, at the ball, he danced one waltz with me late in the evening. “You and Apollo make quite an attractive pair,” he remarked as we whirled around the floor.

  I flushed slightly. “Please don’t talk about it. You’ve been so good all day. Don’t spoil it.”

  “You realize we can’t possibly go through with this,” he said mildly.

  “Yes, we can!” I insisted. “If we just keep our heads. Listen, Steven told me that if you—my husband—didn’t turn up after seven years, I could have you declared legally dead. That’s only three years from now. He said we could resort to that if we had any trouble with the divorce or in getting an annulment—”

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

  “Well, I’m just telling you that it’s all right, what we’re doing. After a while I won’t be married to you at all, you see? And you don’t have to do anything, just keep quiet. Oh! Stop it, you’re holding me too close. Why don’t you go away, Seth? Back to wherever it is you go when you disappear.”

  He looked hurt. “This is my home, remember? I wanted to spend Christmas in the bosom of my loved ones. Very appropriate, I think, that I have spent most of it in your beautiful bosom.”

  “You are the worst devil I have ever known,” I hissed. “And you are the most beautiful devil I’ve ever known.

  Also the craziest. Sounds like we’re well suited to one another, don’t you agree?”

  ‘‘I do not!”

  I was thankful when the dance ended and Steven joined us. Seth moved away and Steven said, “You mustn’t let him annoy you.”

  I smiled. “It was my fault. He said something catty about opera singers and I jumped down his throat. He’s rather a tease, your brother.” The orchestra struck up a polka. “Come, my dearest, dance with me again. You dance so well—”

  “Better than Seth?” Steven grinned.

  “Far better,” I assured him. Actually they were equally good, equally strong and graceful and sure of themselves. Fortunately, I thought, they are not equal in other things, and that made my choice easy. Then my mind flew back to the previous night with Seth, and my cheeks reddened as I thought about his ferocity and his hunger. I was afraid that Seth had a slight edge when it came to lovemaking.

  “You’re flushed, darling,” Steven said. “Shall we sit down?”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” I protested. “It’s just a little warm in here.”

  “Seth is watching.” I’m sure he envies me. What a rogue. He went out last night and didn’t turn up here until ten this morning. I hate to think where he’d been.”

  “So would I,” I said weakly.

  The week that followed was a busy one for me. David and I quarreled over last-minute changes in the program and finally he wrested it out of my hands and delivered it to the printer before I was satisfied with it. I fussed at my dressmaker, worried over ticket sales and publicity, and in a last-minute ploy to assure that the French Opera House would be filled to capacity, I forgot my resolve to temper my outrageous conduct for Steven’s sake and I rode a white horse down Bourbon Street at midday on Friday, the day before the concert. I drew crowds and prompted cheering, and some enthusiastic young men tossed flowers at me. I smiled and waved to them, then out of nowhere Seth appeared at my side. He was riding a superb black stallion.

  “What are you doing here!” I exploded. My horse danced, suddenly shy of the noise and excitement This is my show! Go away!”

  “I didn’t want you to create a sensation,” he said smoothly, tipping his hat to an acquaintance in the crowd. “Ladies do not ride alone, at high noon, down the main thoroughfare of the town. I wouldn't want Steven to be ashamed of you.”

  “You’re not thinking of Steven,” 1 said tartly. Why do you think I’m doing this if not to create a sensation?” I affixed a dazzling smile to my face and called out, “Bonjour, Monsieur Gallier! I hope you will come and see my concert tomorrow!”

  “Wouldn’t miss it, Baroness,” he grinned, lifting his hat. “Who’s that with you? Seth? How are you, lad? I haven’t seen you in an age or two.”

  He rode a little farther. “I can’t bear this,” I said furiously. “It is bad enough having to attract people to my concerts this way without attracting attention to the fact that I know you. I am so angry with you that I could scream. I suppose you have hired half the hall yourself, just to make sure that no one comes. Or perhaps you will have a hundred ruffians there to hiss and shout at me? Well, I tell you I’ve had to deal wit
h tricks like that before, and they won’t work! I will sing even if there is no one there to hear me, and I’ll still turn this town on its ear! I defy you to stop me!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you, my darling,” he said with a smile that showed his amazement at being unjustly accused of treachery. “Let’s stop and have lunch, shall we? I wonder if Felix's is still as good as it used to be?”

  “I wouldn’t eat with you if I were starving,” I informed him.” I gave my horse a stinging blow with my goldhanded whip and clattered away from him. People scattered and when the coast was clear I goaded the horse into a gallop.

  The next day I suffered an unusually bad attack of pre-concert jitters. I had my dressmaker in tears in five minutes. Dora threw a sweet potato at the wall after I’d scolded her. Kalinka cowered under the piano, keening. Even faithful Anna refused to come into the music room at all that day. Only David Thatcher maintained any semblance of calm, and God knows it couldn’t have been easy for him.

  Seth arrived at the tail end of one of my better scenes. I was trying to sing and I sounded awful, I thought.

  “Did you hear that?” I shrieked at David. “It sounded like a foghorn! Like a bugle! I cannot sing that note tonight. It’s much too high. I must change the program. 'Casta Diva’ is out, out!”

  “ ‘Casta Diva’ is in,” David said calmly. “Or I won’t play for you.”

  “What? You threaten me?” I raged. “I will break your fingers! You will never play anything again! You’ll have to buy a barrel-organ and a monkey if you to make music!” Then I whirled around and saw Seth standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed to be enjoying the scene immensely.

  “You!” I breathed. “You—come here—when you know that the last thing I want is to have you in my house! And today, of all days, when I have a thousand and one things to worry about? I will not look at your ugly face and listen to your sneering remarks! Get out! Out! Well, why don’t you go?”

  He helped himself to my good brandy and said, “I’m having too good a time.”

  Then my frog-faced dressmaker ran in, whining. “It is impossible, impossible, I tell you!” she said to me. She saw Seth, a new face, and turned to him. “She is impossible, Monsieur! Utterly ridiculous and impossible! Do you know what she told me this morning? Lower the neckline! Madame, I said, it is out of the question at such a late hour! We decided long ago! But no, she had to have it and have it tonight! What am I to do. Monsieur? Speak to her, I beseech you!”

  Seth shrugged. “Lower the neckline. Every man in the audience will thank you.”

  “This is a circus!” I shouted. “I cannot bear it any longer! I am going to my room to shoot myself. Come and tell me when this villain has gone, David.”

  I swept into the bedroom and slammed the door. I paced angrily, cursing and muttering. Then I heard masculine voices and I pressed my ear to the door.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Seth asked David. I assumed the dressmaker had left the room. I heard Kalinka whine.

  “Matter?” David sounded vague and uninterested, as usual. “Nothing is the matter. She always gets excited before a concert. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m impressed,” Seth confessed. “She’s really spectacular. Well, that’s what happens when little Gypsies grow into big Gypsies. Tell me, is she any good?”

  “Good?” David sounded puzzled. Really, he could be maddeningly vague. “Oh, as a singer. Oh, yes. She’s more than good. She could be great, really great. But she’s lazy and she hates hard work, in spite of what she says. She has a tendency to rely on really spectacular effects on top to make up for deficiencies on the bottom. She says that’s what audiences like, and she’s right. But it’s not good singing.”

  Silently I shook my fist at him through the door. Effects! Not good singing! I’d murder him—after the concert.

  “Yes, Mr. McClelland,” David said, “I think you will be pleasantly surprised tonight. At your little Rhawnie.” There was a long pause. “So you know about that.”

  “Oh, yes. She thinks she’s very secretive and devious, but I can read her like a book.” Oh, you can! I thought. “But I know how to be discreet. You have nothing to worry about on my account. I just don’t want her to get hurt.” Dear David. He said more, but he dropped his voice so that I couldn’t hear. What could he be saying?

  Then Seth spoke softly, and David again. Finally Seth said, “Well, I’ll run along so the Baroness can get back to her screaming. I suppose it tones up the voice?”

  “I guess you could say that,” said David. “I really don’t pay much attention.”

  I had one more visitor that afternoon, Elise McClelland. She appeared just after Seth had left. I wondered if they had met. I didn’t wonder long. We chatted briefly, then David excused himself and she said.

  “You know Seth from before, don’t you? Before you met Steven?”

  My mouth fell open and I stumbled around a bit. “Oh—you mean because he was here just now! He—he wanted to wish me luck—I think.” You’d think that a practiced liar could do better, but she caught me off guard.

  She sat close to me and held both my hands. “Oh, my dear, I didn’t mean to upset you!” she said warmly. “And today of all days! But I knew the minute he stepped into the drawing room the other night. I’m not a fool. I know my sons. And I know what a woman feels like when she’s in love.”

  “I love Steven!” I protested. “I swear—”

  “I know you do,” she said gently. “But you love Seth, too, don’t you? Only not in the same way. You can’t ever love them in quite the same way, can you?” She paused, remembering something in her own life, perhaps. “It’s no one’s fault, not yours, not theirs. They both love you.”

  “He doesn’t love me,” I said dully. She knew who I meant. “He never loved me.”

  “After you all left for church on Christmas Eve, Seth stayed and talked to us for an hour or so before we went out. He asked a few questions about you, very casual. And we told him you’d met Steven—or at least we told him what you told us. I watched him, Rhawnie. He thought he was being so clever, concealing his feelings. But he failed miserably, as you’re failing now. No, don’t be upset! His father and I both saw it and talked about it later. Seth— can’t talk about his feelings. He never could. His father is the same way. Seth always fought for attention, for love. He didn’t have to—we loved him so much!—but he couldn’t help himself. He did crazy reckless things. But he never said, ‘Love me.’ Or ‘Do you love me?’ He needed deeds, not words. He was never sure. He needed proof.”

  “Proof!” I cried. “I gave him proof! Tears and blood—!” I shook my head. “He left me anyway. He ran away from happiness.”

  “He really loved Julie,” Elise said gently. “And he felt that she betrayed him. He didn’t want to be hurt again.” My brain was whirling. London. I had tried to kill myself because I hated him and he wanted to take my baby. He married me to save me. To save the baby. And after Nicholas was born, he left me. Because he thought I didn’t love him? Because I had a child and he thought I didn’t want or need him any more? It was so painful, so confusing.

  “But I’m going to marry Steven,” I said in a small voice. “Is it really so easy?” she asked. “You love them both. They love you. You know them, you know their strengths and their weaknesses. Their needs. It seems to me that you have to do some serious thinking about which one needs you the most. Because that’s the one you’ll be happiest with.” She kissed me and stood up. “Good-bye, my dear. I picked a bad time to talk to you, I know. But I saw Seth downstairs and I couldn’t help myself. I’m a little busy-body. But I love you like a daughter, and I want you to do the right thing.”

  "There is no right thing,” I said miserably. “The only right thing for me to do would be to get out of both their lives.”

  “Oh, it’s not so bad as that,” she said cheerfully. “The answer is really clear, if you think about it.”

  “You know�
��?”

  “Certainly! But I won’t tell. Au revoir, Rhawnie. Sing well tonight. We’ll all be there, cheering for you.”

  With a final bright smile and a gay wave, she went out. I sat back and closed my eyes. I tried to think about it, but I couldn’t. The whole mess made my brains ache. I loved Seth, I hated Seth! Bah. I cried a little. Poor Kalinka came out from under the piano and licked my face. When I dried my eyes I discovered that I wasn’t jittery any more. In fact, my worries about my concert seemed pale compared to the other things that plagued me.

  The noise inside the French Opera House swelled to a roar as I walked out on stage, followed by David Thatcher. He carried no music. He memorized all my songs so that the audience would not have the distraction of page-turning. He said he did it because he wanted them to concentrate on the music and because pianist and singer should merge into one glorious unit, but my feeling was that he liked to show off. He wore evening dress, as usual, and as usual he was completely calm and unperturbed by the prospect of performing for three thousand people. He said he couldn’t see them anyway, so why should they bother him?

  I wore rich ivory satin with pearls, lots of pearls on my neck, at my ears, in my hair, on my wrists. The skirt had a bit of a train at the back and I told David to be sure not to step on it or we’d both look like idiots.

  “What do you think?” I modelled for him before we went out on stage. “It’s dull, isn’t it? Too much ivory— sown, pearls, gloves. I need some color somewhere! Dull!”

  “But you have color,” he said. “In your cheeks and in your eyes. That’s all the contrast you need. You look— splendid.” And then he did an amazing thing: he leaned forward and kissed me awkwardly on the cheek.

  “David Thatcher!” I said astonished.

  He blushed to the roots of his pale hair. “You needn’t think I’m falling in love with you,” he said. “But I—oh, never mind.”

  I curtsied deeply several times, and made a special deep obeisance to the occupants of the McClelland box, which was on the first tier above me to the right. I could see them all plainly: Garth, looking distinguished; Elise and Gabrielle, looking like sisters rather than like mother and daughter; Sean, looking pert and cocky and full of mischief; Steven, so handsome and golden and perfect that he took my breath away; and Seth, pale and expressionless.