The Flame and the Flower (3 page)

William opened another door within this room and stepped back to allow Heather to enter. Inside she found a large four-poster bed draped in royal blue velvet. A small commode was convenient to the bedside with a large candelabrum upon it and a bowl of fresh fruit. A silver-handled paring knife had been placed beside it.

"Oh, sir, it is elegant," she breathed.

He took a pinch of snuff and smiled slowly as he watched her move toward a mirror standing near the bed. "I pamper myself with a few luxuries, my dear."

If she had turned at that precise moment, Heather would have been aware of what he had taken care to conceal before. His desire for her was plainly visible in his eyes as they traveled down her slender body. He turned lest she swing round and find the lust within his gaze.

"You must be famished by now, Heather."

He went to a wardrobe and flung open the doors. A vivid and wide assortment of lady's gowns hung within and he searched among them until he found a beige gown of lace sewn with tiny sparkling beads and lined with a clinging flesh colored material. It was a gown of much cost and beauty.

"You may wear this for dinner, my dear," he smiled. "It was made for a young girl your size but she never came back for it. I've often wondered why she failed to, seeing it's one of the loveliest I've ever designed, but I suppose the girl found she couldn't afford it after all." He gazed at her from behind lowered eyelids. "It is her loss but your gain. It is my gift to you. Wear it tonight and you'll please me greatly."

He moved to the door and there turned again to her.

"I've sent Thomas to tell cook to fetch us dinner. It should be here shortly so I beg you not to keep your sweet company from me too long, if there are other articles of clothing you need, the wardrobe is at your disposal."

Heather smiled hesitantly, holding the treasured gown to her as if unable to believe it belonged to her. When William closed the door behind him, she turned slowly to her image in the mirror, still clutching the dress to her.

During the years she had lived with her aunt, Heather had not looked upon her reflection except for glimpsing it in the piece of broken glass and in occasional pools of water. She had almost forgotten the way she looked. She was now as she had seen her mother in her portrait, the very image of her. Yet she was perplexed over why people thought and remembered Brenna as being beautiful. The tall pale blond beauties who visited court and whom she had read about in her girlhood had always seemed to her to be the very essence of loveliness, not small, dark-haired women who looked like herself.

Heather washed the day's grime from her body and found a fresh chemise in the wardrobe. Donning it, she blushed at its indecent display of her body and felt more than a little wicked wearing it. It was of the softest batiste, transparent to the eye, and it completely revealed her body. Its low bodice barely covered her bosom. She was too accustomed to the childish garments of her younger years to be totally at ease in the chemise, yet she could not bear to even think of wearing her own badly frayed one under such a beautiful gown.

She smiled in amusement at herself.

Who will see me? Only my eyes will gaze upon this reckless creation, no one else's.

She laughed at the nonsense of it and gaily set about to do her hair. She twisted, twirled, curled and pinned the glossy black tresses into a fashionable coiffure, pulling it up and away from her face. Instead of a plain coiled hair-do, she chose to catch it into a mass of soft ringlets that cascaded over each other down the back. Concentrating a moment over her artistry, she picked up the paring knife from the table and began to cut little wisps of hair in front of her ears until each had a soft curl dangling in front of it. With a smile of satisfaction, she thought of how her aunt would shriek in rage and call her loathsome names if she could but see her.

Very gently she touched her finger to the knife to test its edge, as she idly thought of her aunt. At once a drop of blood stained the blade. Grimacing and holding her finger to her mouth, she put the instrument down, commenting to herself that she would be careful in the future if she wanted any fruit sliced or peeled.

The beige gown caused as much surprise as the undergarment she wore beneath. Wearing it she no longer looked the young girl but the woman full grown. Indeed, her eighteenth birthday the following month would prove she was. But there was something else about the gown that made her seem strangely different. As the chemise, it barely concealed her bosom, and the lining gave the illusion she was without even that questionable undergarment. She looked the temptress, seductive, without innocence, a woman knowing her way among men instead of a maiden still untouched as she was.

William was waiting for her when she came from the bedroom. He had taken some time with his own appearance, changing his traveling garb for richer, more elegant clothes and curling short wisps of his thinning hair around his fat face, succeeding only in making it appear rounder.

"My dear sweet Heather, your loveliness does make my heart wish for younger years. I have heard tales of such great beauty as yours, but never, never have I seen it with my own eyes."

Heather murmured a gracious comment before her attention slid to the food that had been brought. She sampled the tantalizing aromas that filled the air. The table had been set with crystal, china and silver and a feast lay on the sideboard. There she found roast game bird, wild rice, buttered shrimp, sweet pastries and candied fruits. A light wine was in a decanter conveniently placed at the head of the table.

William, at the moment, filled his eyes with other pleasures as he allowed his appraising gaze to sweep over Heather slowly, no longer attempting to hide his lust. His devouring stare remained momentarily upon the décolletage where the higher curves of her breasts swelled above the gown. His tongue passed over his thick lips as he surveyed those soft curves, impatiently anticipating the taste of that sweet, young flesh.

He held a chair for her near the head of the table and smiled. "Sit here, dear lady, and let me wait upon you."

Heather complied and watched as he filled their plates.

"Cook is a bashful sort," he commented, dipping a generous portion of rice upon his plate. "She delivers my food promptly at my command then hurries away before I barely catch a glimpse of her. She whisks everything away again with the same silent efficiency and I've hardly known she's come. But as you will soon find out, she's a most excellent
chef de cuisine
."

They began the meal, and Heather was amazed at the amount of food the man consumed. She found herself wondering if he would be able to move when he finished. His bulging jaws continually worked to chew his food and as he devoured the delicious partridge and sweet tarts he licked his greasy fingers and almost incessantly smacked his lips. Several times he gave a loud belch, startling her.

"When you begin at Lady Cabot's, you'll have great opportunities to meet some of the men from the wealthier class of people, and with your beauty it will not take you long to become the most sought after girl that ever entered that establishment."

He laughed, peering glassy-eyed at her over his goblet.

"You are more than kind, sir," she replied politely, though she thought the wine had made him a little daft. Few men visited ladies' schools and those who did were usually well beyond marriageable age and had some business there.

"Yes," he grinned tipsily. "But I expect to be paid well for my efforts."

He looked at Heather hard now, but again she did not notice, watching instead the wine glass he held unsteadily in his hand. He spilled some of the drink down his waistcoat and some dribbled down his chin when he took a deep sip.

"You'll find Lady Cabot's quite a different place than you've ever known before," he slurred. "The madame and I are partners and we take care that only the comeliest maids live behind its doors. We must be very particular, for it's frequented by the very rich and they do have such high standards. But with you I think there's a fortune to be had."

Heather decided the poor man was too inebriated to know what he was rambling about. She stifled a yawn, feeling the effects of the wine herself, and longed to crawl into bed.

William laughed. "I fear I've exhausted you with my chatter, my dear. I had hoped you would not be too tired from our journey to permit us a long, friendly chat, but I see our conversation must continue tomorrow." He put up a hand when she tried graciously to protest. "I'll hear no arguments. You must go to bed. As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to feel in need of that favored spot myself. It would please me greatly to know you're reclining upon those soft downy pillows."

Heather more or less glided to her bedroom, the warmth of the wine relaxing every nerve, every limb. She heard William chuckling to himself as she closed the door behind her, and she leaned against it and laughed too, knowing all was changing in her life. She danced over to the mirror, feeling a little giddy, and bowed low before it.

"Tell me, Lady Cabot, how do you like my attire? If you view this with pleasure, you must see the gowns my aunt gave to me."

Laughing, she whirled and threw open the doors of the wardrobe to inspect the assortment of gowns within, deciding William wouldn't mind if she feasted her eyes on them. She had always enjoyed beautiful clothes and it had been hateful wearing those old dresses of her aunt. She selected a few gowns to admire further, took them to hold before her in front of the mirror, dreaming a little of owning such fine clothes.

She did not hear the door open behind her, but as it was pushed wide she spun around with a start and saw William standing on the threshold, wearing a dressing gown. Doubt grew rapidly to sweep away her confidence. It dawned on her why he was there and it came as a great surprise, having associated him with Aunt Fanny and her rigid views of such matters. She stood staring at him, stunned, feeling the weight of the trap he had sprung upon her. She had fallen into it like a lamb for slaughter. His eyes burned bright in his ruddy face and a repulsive smile twisted his thick lips. He turned and locked the door behind him and leisurely held the key to tantalize her before he dropped it into his pocket. His gaze roamed over her and he seemed to enjoy the fear he saw in her face.

"What do you want?" she breathed.

He leered. "I've come to collect my due for taking you away from that dreary life in the country. You are such a tempting wench I couldn't resist you. And you were so trusting it was easy to snatch you from my poor sister. When I tire of you I shall allow you to join Lady Cabot's lovely group. You'll not find boredom there. And in time perhaps I'll even let you wed some rich soul who fancies you." He came a step closer. "There'll be no need for you to worry, child. Your husband will be a bit disappointed when he takes you to his bed, but he'll not complain too loudly."

He moved forward and Heather backed fearfully against the table by the bed.

"I plan to have you, my dear," he said smugly. "So there is no reason why you should fight me. I'm a very strong man. I do enjoy force if that is what it is to be, but I prefer willingness."

She shook her head. "No," she choked through her fright. "No! You'll never have me! Never!"

William laughed in a terrifying way and Heather braced herself to flee. He was deeply flushed from the great amount of wine he had consumed and the fire raging through his veins. His raking gaze unclothed her and she pressed her hand to her bosom as if to ward off his penetrating gaze. She made to dart past him, but he was quick despite his fleshy bulk and he caught her round the waist. He pressed her backward over the table, enfolding her in a bone crushing grip. His lips, wet and sticky with wine, sank to her throat, and a sick feeling of nausea rose within her. She struggled with him, but her strength was no match for his. As his lips traveled upward she strained her face from him and tried to kick out, but his weight increased, pinning her legs against the table. She was held in an iron grip that left her breathless, and she wondered if her ribs could stand the pressure without cracking. In a panic she remembered the candelabrum on the table behind her and reached for it to protect herself with. She almost had it within her grasp but she was too hasty and it fell to the floor. Then her hand brushed the knife and she clutched at it in desperation.

William was intent on spreading his hot, moist kisses over her throat and bosom, paying little heed to what she did until he felt something sharp press against his side. Glancing down he saw the knife and with a startled oath snatched at her arm. She winced in pain as his fingers closed cruelly about her wrist, yet she held on in blind desperation. His anger soared that this small slip of a girl should dare threaten his body. Heather fought back with all the strength she could muster. His obesity forced her backward until it felt as if her back would break. Her hand grew numb and she knew she must soon yield the blade to him. Pressing his weight against her, William freed his other hand and, reaching across, twisted the small knife from her. Fearing the worst, Heather ceased her struggle and fell to the floor at his feet; deprived of her support, less than agile William Court staggered forward and fell headlong upon the polished planks. He gave a growl with the impact. Heather had risen and stood poised to flee when William slowly rolled over. The small hilt of the fruit knife protruded from a slowly blooming spot of red on the shoulder of his gown.

"Pull... it out..." he gasped.