Isabella complied, feeling silly, as she'd done since Selena assured her the look was destined to bowl any man over. Inwardly she sighed as Selena fussed with her gown, ensuring her own bosom was displayed to advantage.
"Here's the gents, Missus," Katie announced, clapping her hands as she cocked an ear. Coming to give Isabella a hug, she whispered, "Good luck then, an' knock 'em sideways."
"I'm shaking in my shoes, Katie." How Isabella wished she were anywhere but here.
Strangely, she'd enjoyed the months of enforced privacy in Selena's house. As Katie said that first day, they ate well, enjoyed a bath every day, and lived life with a seeming indolence that left Isabella feeling as if she'd entered a fantasy land. The nights Selena entertained Gareth, Isabella played cards or silly games with Katie in their room. It had been easy to forget her past life; even to forget Tiger Carstairs for great stretches of time. The whole period seemed disconnected from all that had gone before.
But there was nothing fanciful about it now. After all the weeks of lessons, preening, fussing, and primping, she was going out to begin a life that would become normal from now on. Goosebumps rose on her skin.
"That's right, you look like a woman of class." Selena's smile was strange, almost feverish, as Isabella lifted her chin and linked her fingers over her stomach. "We've kept the gentlemen waiting long enough. Good evening, Gareth darling," she turned to coo as Moreton came in.
Gareth kissed Selena's outstretched hand. "Good evening, my dear, you look stunning as usual." Then he eyed Isabella as he straightened, and his red brows lifted. "And so do you, Isabella. My, I would never have recognized you." With an admiring glance, his eyes swept over her from her head to her toes.
"Thank you," Isabella murmured as Selena adroitly hooked him by the arm to steer him out.
"Let's hope Fergus will be suitably impressed," Selena mused, pressing her bosom against his arm.
"I'm certain of it." Gareth patted her hand and then helped her into the waiting carriage.
Isabella was thinking it very strange that this Fergus hadn't stepped down from the carriage. She soon found out why when Gareth handed her up the step with a soft smile of encouragement. A bulky man sat hunched into a corner, a hand shielding his face. Obviously he had no wish to be seen by curious onlookers.
"Isabella, please make the acquaintance of Lieutenant Fergus Brunt," Gareth said. "He's a wee bit on the shy side. Doesn't want anyone to see him arriving at Selena's house, if you get my meaning. He's due to be wed at the end of the month and his future bride has a harridan for a mother, isn't that so, Fergus?" Gareth winked at his friend as he seated himself beside Selena, opposite Isabella and the reticent Fergus.
Isabella's estimation of Gareth went down a peg or two. She was secretly disgusted with both of them. "Aren't you a betrothed man yourself, Gareth?" she asked, and he sucked in a breath, shaking his head.
"Quite so, but my fiancée hasn't arrived from England yet, so I'm a lonely man at the moment." He sighed, but his grin showed no guilt.
Isabella pressed her lips together, staring at her fingers on her lap. So tense her hands ached, she tried to relax.
This whole business was distasteful, but now her decision was made she would have to live with it. But it was not going to be easy. She sighed, looking across the carriage. Selena sent her a warning glance. Isabella looked away, and saw that Fergus Brunt had a distinctly lascivious glint in his pale eyes, which were settled on her breasts.
"You're a pretty wench," he murmured.
Isabella felt like a piece of prime mutton under inspection at the market as his gloating eyes ate her up.
"Thank you," she mumbled, bringing a hand up to her throat in an effort to cover some of her displayed flesh.
Selena gave her a gentle nudge on the knee, saying, "You have me to thank for delivering her to you, Fergus love. Take my word for it, if you don't snatch her up for yourself you will be on the end of a long queue once the gentlemen of this town have seen her."
Nausea churned inside Isabella. Until now she'd viewed this as a bit of a lark, and it had certainly been more pleasing than being thrown on the streets to fend for herself. She owed Selena much, but now the time had come to repay her she wondered if she would be able to go through with it.
Fergus Brunt looked about thirty, not much different in age to Tiger, but there the similarity ended. Fergus did his best to conceal his paunch, but was already running to fat, his blonde hair thinning. He lapsed into silence, leaving Selena and Gareth to hold the conversation. Isabella shut herself off, barely hearing a word.
But she could feel the odious man's eyes on her and her skin crawled, making her feel as if she was being eaten alive by insects.
"Come along, no time for daydreaming, we've arrived," Selena announced, allowing Gareth to assist her from the carriage. Isabella put her hand in Fergus's as he helped her down, then withdrew it sharply. His palm was sweaty and hot; she felt it through the fabric of her gloves, and she caught a frightening gleam in his eye as he offered his arm.
He sighed, then whispered dramatically, "Alas, we must show our faces here, but I would sooner be alone with you, sweet child. Have no fear, I'll be your regular caller, and I'll pay you so well you'll have no need for other men."
Isabella reared back. At least Gareth was enough of a gentleman that he never made Selena feel like a whore, but this man had successfully done that with the only sentence of any length he'd uttered.
Isabella refused to answer, and he apparently didn't expect a comment from her. Lifting her chin she turned her attention to the house they were entering. Selena had told her it was the home of a wealthy free settler. The front door was reached by a flight of steps leading to the veranda circling the entire house. They went into the large living area, which had been cleared for dancing. The floor was highly polished and a many-candled chandelier hung from the center beam of the vaulted ceiling. Isabella recognized the sideboard and chairs as rosewood. Selena told her the Governor favored the rose mahogany. Selena's own bed, dining setting and cabinets were made of the beautiful timber that came from the heavily forested area north of the Hawkesbury River.
"Welcome to my home," a bearded giant of a man roared in an ear-splitting voice that made her wince. "Well, well, and who's this choice piece of womanflesh, eh, Selena my darling? Where did you pluck this peach?" Casting bloodshot eyes over Isabella in much the same way Fergus had, he made her feel naked. She quenched a desire to cross her arms over her breasts.
"So, you like her do you, Prince? Well, you'll have to wait in line behind Fergus. Our darling man here is besotted. Isn't that so, Fergus?" Selena gave the paunchy man a sly tap on his bulbous nose.
"That's a fact, Prince, old chap. Isabella here is my property until further notice." Proving ownership Fergus clutched Isabella's arm, his free hand caressing her neck. She felt like vomiting. The game had ceased to be amusing. She might not be on the streets selling her body, but she was no less a whore for mixing in this company of leering men and preening women.
"My home is yours," Prince boomed, winking elaborately at Isabella as he wandered away.
Selena went off with Gareth and Isabella was enveloped in Fergus's arms. He wasn't a tall man and she stifled an urge to laugh as he nuzzled her neck with his wet mouth.
Sweet heaven, how soon before she could escape? But then it hit her with the force of a hammer between the eyes. There was no escape. This was the path she'd elected to follow. Selena had not forced her; this was her choice. Hadn't she considered this way of life would be no worse than being Tiger's unpaid whore?
She glanced across the room and her eyes collided with familiar gold-flecked ones. With an oath she touched a hand to her mouth. Surely her imagination had played a trick on her. The ground seemed to shudder beneath her and when she looked back to the spot Tiger was gone, another fair-headed man stood in his place. Of course he wasn't here; it had just been her thoughts had conjured him up.
"Where are you? Y
ou're not with me, my dear," Fergus said grumpily, tightening his plump arm about her and pulling on the hand grasped in his sweaty palm. "I've paid well for your company this evening. If you don't pay me more attention I'll be asking dearest Selena for a return of my funds."
Isabella forced a smile to her lips, but her mouth felt tight and her voice came out strained when she said, "Forgive me," not really meaning it. She couldn't raise the slightest concern for this man. Given the choice she would rather have had Gareth's company. "Would you excuse me for a moment, Fergus? I find I have to refresh myself."
Fergus let her go with a reluctant sigh. "Oh, very well, run along, but hurry back, my lovely. I have a great idea." He tapped his nose and gave her a sly look. "We will take the carriage and make haste home. Why not make the most of the night, eh? I never was a one for this dancing and prancing." He gave her a small shove in the back and chuckled.
Picking up her skirts Isabella made for the room set aside for the ladies. A large man blocked her way. Keeping her head down she tried to dodge his bulk, but as she sidestepped so did he.
"Saints preserve us, you're in a tidy hurry, madam," he said with a snigger, and Isabella froze. She would know that voice anywhere. The memory of it would go with her to her grave. "I've been watching you. You have no desire to spend the evening in that dolt's company, so why not switch your alliance to me, hey?"
With a hand of steel he pulled her around until she was staring at the fob watch looped upon his waistcoat.
"What's the rush? Tarry awhile. That fool Fergus Brunt would have no notion of how to satisfy a pretty handful like you." Lifting his free hand he pressed the knuckle beneath her chin, forcing it up. "Hmm, a delectable wench," he muttered, his eyes roving over her face.
Isabella swallowed bile, her knees shaking. Dear Lord, she'd thought to never set eyes on this devil again. The smell of his body revolted her; as it had before. What was he doing here? The last time she'd set eyes on The Honorable Cecil Houghton she'd been standing in the dock while he fabricated lies, blackening her character to suit his needs. What had she done to deserve this?
"Come, we'll have this next dance, wench," he ordered, and at last she lifted her eyes to give him a defiant glare. In that moment he recognized her, and his eyes narrowed into malevolent slits.
"By all the saints." He grinned evilly. "What luck is this? The wench who tried to unman me." He waved his deformed thumb beneath her nose. "So, I have my chance for retribution. You should have hanged for your attack on me, daughter of Satan. But seeing you didn't, I'll now take my chance at reprisal."
"I'm serving my sentence. Your revenge has been asserted in full," she spat. "I was shipped to this godforsaken place because of you and your evil. I owe you nothing. Now, take your hands from me this instant."
His roar of laughter brought many eyes round to them. Fergus was talking to the man called Prince. His eyes filled with jealous fury and he began to come their way.
"Yes, you have spirit, I'll give you that," Cecil Houghton said, his fingers biting into her flesh. He brought his face so close Isabella could see every blue vein patterning his blotched skin. Could feel his vile breath fanning her cheeks. With a cry of despair she turned her head away. "If my memory serves me right, too much spirit for your own good. Put up a fight, didn't you? But I like a wench with plenty of go in her. Come, let's be off." His grip on her arm tightened until she felt as if the blood ceased to flow.
"Leave me be." She tried to force his fingers loose.
"Take your hands off the wench." Fergus reached their side and Isabella had to admit his interruption was welcome, even if he was as abominable as the man who'd sent her to New South Wales in the first place.
"This wench, who has the appearance of an angel, but is in truth a daughter of the devil, is responsible for this." The thumb sitting at an odd angle was prodded under Fergus's nose. "Beware, man, she's a careful wielder of a blade. But for the grace of God, and a small miscalculation on her part I would not be here in one piece to tell the tale. Guard your manhood well."
"So?" Fergus shrugged. "What the chit did to get herself transported is no concern of mine. Just as long as she keeps her knives sheathed and her talons under control. I must admit to having a yen for a spirited woman."
"What's she worth to you, Brunt? I'll pay whatever you ask for one night in her company. I have unfinished business with her." Houghton's eyes took on the glaze of a wild creature on the hunt and his mouth went slack as he cast his eyes from her head to her slippered feet.
"'Tis my first night with the wench. Best see Selena and you can have my leavings when I tire of her. But I should warn you it may take some time before I grow sated by her charms." Fergus bestowed a twisted smile on Isabella as he patted her cheek with a sweat damp palm.
Isabella shuddered, her insides churning. All men should be tossed through the gates of hell. They stood discussing her as if she was worth nothing. Merely a vessel to satisfy their lust. Dear God. Was this what life held for her? Was her future to be spent being handed to the highest bidder? She would throw herself from a cliff before she would let this evil man touch her again.
"What say you to a turn at the gaming table, Brunt? The chit as the stakes, hmm?" Houghton suggested, finally releasing her arm.
Isabella rubbed at her sore flesh, sure she would be bruised by morning. But if this fiend managed to arrange time with her she would end up with more than a few bruises, she knew.
"I beg leave to go to the ladies' room," she said, turning her attention on Fergus, who at the moment seemed the lesser of two evils.
"Run along then, but be quick." Fergus gave her a wet smile. As she fled she heard the two of them still bartering over her.
Going through the nearest door she found herself on the verandah at the rear of the house. Tears misted her eyes as she stood in the fresh air, inhaling the scents filling the night air. A multitude of stars sprinkled the heavens. How could her life be so desolate on such a perfect night?
Leaning on the rail of the balcony she thought seriously of picking up her skirts and making off into the night, running until she came to the ocean. The thought of wading into the sea and walking until it devoured her held appeal. Yes, that was the only solution. She would rather face the danger of natives and wild animals than the fate planned by Fergus Brunt and Cecil Houghton, bickering over her at this moment as if she was horseflesh.
"I ought to kill you now," a familiar voice said from the shadows.
Isabella was so startled she nearly fell over the rail to land on the roses below. So, she hadn't been mistaken. While she stood undecided he pushed himself away from a tree and strolled to the steps a few paces away.
"How charming you look." His voice was devoid of emotion. "So you chose to sell your body, eh?" Climbing the steps he reached her side, and the gaze he swept over her was full of contempt. "Tell me, how do I match up to the other men? Found me wanting, eh?"
Isabella could only stare, her fingers clamped onto the rail. He looked so imposing, so daunting. Was this the man she'd lain with and cried out her love for? How did she ever think he might share her love? His face said it all. He held her in such contempt it made her ache with despair.
"Lost your tongue?" he drawled.
"No, my tongue is still as sharp as ever. And as for finding you wanting, you were and are all that I could expect an Englishman to be." Her lip curled, while inside she quaked. How could he still have this effect on her? Clenching her fists, she hid them beneath the folds of her skirt, despising the weakness that made her yearn to reach out and touch him, to feel once more his skin beneath her fingers. How she hated him for bringing forth this desire in her.
"So, you ran away from one English pig only to wallow in filth with other men who are no better." His beautiful mouth curled.
"Do I look as if I'm wallowing in filth? At least I now have fine clothes to wear. Do you like my gown?" She twirled once and his eyes narrowed.
"I gave you a fine gown and
you ripped it to shreds." As if he couldn't help himself he reached out to touch her. With a soft gasp she backed away. "Do you know how much anguish you've put us all through, Bella? Why did you run away like that? We thought you dead."
"No doubt you were relieved to be rid of me. I wrote you a letter to let you know my intentions." She turned her back on him, unable to face the contempt in his eyes.
"The letter contained the barest details. Dougal was out of his mind with worry; Thelma too."
He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her nape. She shuddered. "I'm sorry for that. Both are my dear friends. I didn't wish to hurt them." Her voice held a distinct tremor.
"But you wished to hurt me. Is that why you did it? To be revenged on me?"
"You?" she spat. "You have no heart. How can someone who is filled with nothing of substance be hurt by someone else? You care for no one but yourself."
"Isabella! What in hell's name is taking you so long?" Fergus roared, bustling along the verandah. His eyes took on a menacing stare as he faced Tiger. "Well, if it isn't Tiger Carstairs. Keep your hands off the wench. She's mine." He clutched Isabella's arm.
"On the contrary, the lady's mine. She belongs to me, Brunt. Every last lock of her hair is mine." Tiger's voice was smooth, but there was no mistaking the menace beneath his level tone.
"What's going on here . . .? Ah, Tiger—how are you my dear?" Selena swept along the verandah, Gareth at her heels. "I wondered where you were, Bella. We thought this naughty boy here had whisked you off out of sight." Playfully she tapped Fergus on the arm.
"Selena. I might have guessed you'd be behind it," Tiger said.
"Behind what?" Selena fluttered her long lashes.
"Don't act the innocent. What the hell do you mean by turning the girl into a painted harlot?"
Selena sniggered. Isabella fumed. "I'm not a girl, in case you haven't noticed. And stop talking about me as if I'm not here." With hands on hips she glared at him. "I decided to stay with Selena of my own free will. She kindly bought me this gown, and she's fed and clothed me."
Mystic Mountains Page 17