Evil's Niece (6 page)

She spun me around and let go, aiming me towards a young man who released his partner and caught me. The clearing was filled with couples and small groups of children, who danced in a ring, all of us riding high on a wave of sheer delight. Hand to hand I was passed along, sometimes grabbed around the waist and sometimes I twirled like a top in a clutch of women.

More wine…more of that Cajun whine — lyrics I didn’t need to understand to love — and more of Tommy Jon’s suggestive squeezebox ringing out with the fiddle and guitar. Two of the older women took the children’s hands to lead them in a line that snaked towards the house. Bedtime, but how were they to sleep? The musicians paused to swill their beers, but showed no sign of letting up.

And then the dancers began to peel off shirts wet with sweat and the colourful dresses that swirled above the ladies’ knees. I caught my breath, to be sure the wine punch wasn’t affecting my eyes. They were taking off their clothes! Along the edge of the trees, pants and skirts and underthings piled up, and then the dancers filled the clearing again, answering the siren cry of the singer and the fiddle that vied for second place.

Thank goodness they got so caught up in their dancing they didn’t press me to disrobe as well. It was one thing to show myself to Monique, but another thing entirely to cavort in the all-together among total strangers. I watched their glistening, moonlit bodies, trying not to stare at bobbing breasts and jiggling hips and coarse, dark hair curling around sex lips or emerging erections.

‘See anything you like, sugah?’

I jumped when someone squeezed my shoulders, as that voice registered in my mind. ‘Dewel! You scared me half to —’

‘There’ll be nothin’ halfway about it, once I get you warmed up.’

He turned me in his arms. His face was shadowed by the trees, but those eyes…sparks danced in them like the bonfire’s flames, which sent heat surging through me. ‘You look so free and easy in those clothes, Miss Eve. Even if you are overdressed.’

‘You’re fully clothed yourself, Mr Proffit,’ I replied, grasping at any straw to remain sane. His hands followed the tops of my shoulders, as though he might tug my blouse down over my breasts. ‘Do you always wait for this crowd to get carried away before you appear? Afraid the plantation master might dampen the night’s activities?’

‘I was dancin’ with these people before I was born,’ he replied, lowering his face so I could see every flicker of his lips by the firelight. ‘It didn’t matter that Mama carried me out of wedlock, nor did they think less of Daddy for it. Even if I hadn’t inherited Bayou Belle, I’d be welcome here.’

I lowered my eyes, feeling stupid. ‘I stand corrected.’

‘Stand closer instead.’

Dewel’s hand found my hip, pressing me against a body hot with animal desire. His mouth covered mine, driving away my protest, for I’d longed to feel this moment — this man — again, in something other than my dreams.

I leaned into him, letting him fill me with his longing. His moan resonated in my throat and the kiss deepened, becoming more carnal. It was the wine, I told myself, for my rogue brother-in-law had nothing but trouble to give me, and I’d had enough of that. His lips burned into mine, parting them for a tongue thrust so disorienting I had to grab him to keep my balance.

Dewel released my mouth with a savage sigh, running his lips down my neck to burrow into the top of my blouse. Did I let him claim my breast, or did it offer itself up? When his teeth teased my nipple, I came back to my senses.

‘Dewel — we mustn’t! I can’t give Chapin any more fuel for the…He
saw
us the other day!’

He released my breast to look me in the eye. ‘Saw us what? Spyin’ on him?’

‘
You
, swatting me on the bottom. He must’ve come around the corner at just the wrong moment.’ My body throbbed, recalling my guilt. Or was it something else at work here — perhaps the ridge Dewel was rubbing against my front?

‘And what did we see
him
doin’, sugah?’ he drawled. His dark hair fell forward, casting a rakish shadow over a face alight with wicked intent. ‘You’ve done nothin’ wrong, Miss Eve. You’re still a wife faithful to her vows, and I’ll respect that — until you tell me not to.’

It sounded like a foregone conclusion; only a matter of propriety cast to the wind. I clung to his muscled arms, shaking. I had nowhere to go, nor did I have the inclination to escape.

Behind us, the music shifted into a mellower waltz, where the singer let the instruments woo us. Tommy Jon was stepping off the porch, too. He took the outstretched hand of his naked lover and they slipped into the trees.

Dewel chuckled. ‘Ah, young love. Bodies rushin’ to fulfil their needs, only to create more. I want to dance with you, Eve, but you’ll have to be naked. Only skin-to-skin will do on a night like this.’

He unbuttoned his shirt with efficient flicks of his fingers, never letting his gaze leave mine. White silk gave way to skin, dark and smooth in its mystery, more tantalising for the swirl of black hair on his muscular chest. His trousers drifted past his hips and by the time I realised he wore nothing under them, he’d stepped out of his boots too. Naked and unashamed — no, downright brazen — Dewel stood before me, ruler of all he surveyed.

And he’d never stopped looking at
me
.

He untied the ribbon in my peasant blouse, which he gently shoved past my shoulders. I didn’t try to stop him, for every thrum of my pulse told me it would do no good — and that I wanted what he was doing to me. I watched, spellbound, as the rest of my clothes drifted down my bared body into a puddle on the ground. When a couple dancing past us paused so the man could hoist his pretty partner, impaling her on his erection, Dewel grinned. His ravenous kiss left no doubt about what he intended to accomplish tonight.

Then he moved us into the graceful sweep of that Cajun waltz. His steps were confident, accommodating my shorter strides and leaving me in no doubt about how to follow his lead. Few men were so easy to dance with the first time, and I found myself stepping closer, revelling in the heat of our bare bodies as we moved among the others yet remained in our own alluring little world. His skin ignited mine. He smelled like wine and desire, and a light sweat that intensified his musk.

Yes, he was rock-hard, and when his cock brushed my bare midsection I closed my eyes against a surge of need. When had a man ever seduced me this way — in a naked crowd, all of us swaying like lovers about to fall on to a bed? I was vaguely aware of couples disappearing into the trees or simply sinking to the ground around the clearing, but Dewel danced until the last note floated away to blend with the gentle lapping of the bayou’s waters against the shoreline.

Then, with a sorcerer’s grin, he guided me towards the woods. ‘Tell me what you see,’ he whispered, ‘and tell me what you want. What Chapin doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’

When Dewel turned me to face away from him, hugging me against his hot, hard body, my eyes widened: on the ground, not fifteen feet away, my maid Monique lay with her legs and arms wrapped around Tommy Jon. They were humping so furiously they didn’t notice they had an audience — but then T-Jon raised up, as though to give us a better view.

‘Oh, my,’ I murmured, for his attributes were every bit as impressive as Monique had hinted.

‘Describe his cock.’ Dewel’s breath warmed my neck, in rhythm with Beaumont’s forceful strokes.

‘It’s so long and thick, I don’t see how she takes it all,’ I wheezed, aware of another erection prodding my back. When his hands came up under my breasts to cup them, I found myself thrusting forward, greedy for his touch. ‘Are they always that dark at the top?’

‘When a man’s aroused, sugah, he goes from pink to red to purple. Just imagine how her sweet little cunny must feel, gettin’ filled and then emptied. In and out, like a piston, he’s pumpin’ it.’

My own cunny — for I could think of it that way now — burned with the same longing I heard in Monique’s moans. I clenched and became very wet. When Dewel moved one hand seductively down my stomach, I shuddered.

‘Part your legs, darlin’. I’ll give you a samplin’ of what you see — unless you want me to take you full-on.’

I closed my eyes with the effort of refusing him, for his own tip was thick and insistent as it slipped between my thighs. ‘No, we’d better —’

Two fingers eased through my curls, to find the folds that so needed their attention. ‘Now look how he’s anglin’ her ass on to his lap, so he can dive even deeper inside her.’

‘And when she puts her heels on his shoulders —’

‘Our young stud not only gets a fine view of her bouncin’ breasts, but he’s got a straight-on shot. I’m guessin’ he’ll explode any minute now.’

Indeed, Tommy Jon was clasping his lady’s ankles and throwing back his head as he thrust in a desperate rhythm. Dewel, meanwhile, had slid his shaft into my outer wetness and was holding it against my slick slit, with his hand completing the sheath. He bent his knees behind mine, bumping forward, creating an illicit friction…so close to sliding inside me that my slightest shifting would’ve captured him.

The thought of that coupling, going at it like dogs in an alley, excited me beyond belief. Chapin had never…or at least not with
me
, he hadn’t.

As though sensing this break in my concentration, Dewel rubbed against me with unmistakable need. ‘You’re drivin’ me crazy, Eve. I’ve wanted you for so long, sugah. No one would be the wiser if we —’

Monique babbled in wild French, her body shaking crazily. It spurred Tommy Jon to climax too, and their bodies made wet, slapping sounds that had me reaching between my legs for Dewel’s cock. I held it between my palms, rocking my clit against it to reach that same sweet surge my maid had given me with her tongue…pressing frantically against the shaft that poked in and out beneath my springy hair.

The sight of his purple tip, coupled with the bumping of his large, male body, carried me off the cliff. I doubled over with the first spasms, and Dewel slipped his fingers deep inside me until I gushed, mindless with the pleasure…oblivious to everything except the sensation of flight. When I looked down again, his seed was spewing from between my thighs, white and shiny in the moonlight. Two long spurts and then a third, and then he held me hard to catch his breath.

Monique and T-Jon grinned and gave us a little wave. A few days ago I would’ve felt filthy, ashamed to show my face, yet this open sharing of passion gave me ideas about what might happen among the four of us at another time. Something in Beaumont’s expression as he stood and helped his lover up, and something in Dewel’s possessive kiss, told me I was branded now. A wanton — at least until I got caught at it.

A sobering thought.

‘I’d better get home,’ I fretted, struggling in vain towards my clothes. When had the music stopped? When had the others disappeared into this night I would never forget?

Dewel held me against himself, spreading my honey up my stomach. ‘And I’ll take you there, sugah, as soon as —’

‘No! What if Chapin’s out looking for me? He’ll see —’

‘His half-brother, escortin’ his dear wife safely back to that house on Prytania. That house where he leaves her unsatisfied. Untouched, most likely.’ He penetrated my soul with his gaze. ‘What sort of a lover would I be if I left you to face him alone, Eve?’

I swallowed hard. ‘You’re not my lover, Dewel. I appreciate your gallant —’

‘Not yet. But I always get what I want, which is precisely why my big brother can’t stand me.’

He released me, but while I hurried into my clothes, that maddening man told Monique and T-Jon to run along — leaving me no choice but to let him escort me home. He wasn’t the least bit concerned about the hour, or the way my late arrival wouldn’t escape the housekeeper, or my husband. He dressed calmly, all the while watching me fuss with my dishevelled hair and dirt-smudged blouse. He glowed with the confidence of a man who cared nothing about appearances, or what others might think. Like a lion, Dewel assumed the rest of the jungle revolved around him, the king of beasts.

As we left the clearing, still littered with remains of the Cajun feast, Dewel poured us two last glasses of wine. Then he dipped his fingers and ran them along my face and beneath the top edge of my peasant blouse. I was so startled by his wet fingertips skimming my skin, I could only drop my jaw.

‘Chapin will think…I’m going to smell like a bum.’

‘Better than smellin’ like me,’ he drawled. Then he kissed me, heading immediately into that ravenous realm of possession where I couldn’t think or act. I could only shiver with the thoughts he planted in my poor muddled head, and fear for my future.

We finished the wine during the ride in the pirogue: while Dewel rowed deftly between cyprus stumps and lumps I suspected were alligators, I tipped the glass to his lips. This meant I sat close enough to feel the deep strength of his body, rekindling our heat with his every pull on the oars. When the claret liquid sloshed on his white shirt, he laughed. After he pulled us ashore, we walked towards the plantation house in the moonlight, swinging our clasped hands between us like carefree children.

The carriage ride into town was another example of pleasure a married woman should never allow herself: Dewel took every advantage of those twenty private minutes to fondle me into submission again. Dazed by his potent kiss, I sprawled across his lap as his hands roamed beneath my clothes. He went straight for my wet cleft.

‘No underthings,’ he remarked with a lascivious grin. ‘Such a wayward wife.’

‘Monique talked me into —’

‘No, ma’am,’ he countered, his wine-scented breath sending shivers of need up my spine. ‘Your body was preparin’ for
me
, even before your mind realised it.’

‘And how did I know you’d be there? Monique invited me to a family gathering,’ I retorted, playfully slapping his shadowed face.

He grabbed my wrist, and then ran the point of his tongue around my palm. ‘You and I
are
family, Miss Eve,’ he teased, but then his eyes darkened. ‘I knew the moment you set foot on my property. Watched you girls scamperin’ to the pirogue, from my window. And I started plottin’ your fall.’