Karen Mercury (14 page)

Foster stepped aside so she could not see he’d been looking in the mirror. “I have an idea, actually. I’ll be able to do something about it tomorrow.”

“Will you leave, now that you’ve figured out how Phineas died? Rejoin Custer’s regiment?” Tabitha giggled without enthusiasm. “I’m sure her ghost would follow you. And you’d never need to feed her.”

Foster spun about to face her. He gripped her naked upper arms. “Bettina. You
are
Bettina, and I am Pierre. Of that I have no doubt.”

This seemed to please Tabitha, for she smiled that precious smile and nodded. “I would think it should be obvious.”

“And the message is obvious. Bettina and Pierre allowed themselves to be separated by his work—his pirating or whatever it was he did.”

“Plundered Spanish ships in the Gulf of Mexico, according to what Bettina says.”

“All right. That sounds exciting enough. But the message is clear. We should never allow ourselves to be separated again.”

“I agree. So you’re not returning to Custer?”

“No. I feel I’ve done my time in the mountains. This child’s getting old, and I want a woman’s face around my lodge for the balance of my days.” He hesitated then. “Is that agreeable to you?”

Softly, she said, “What are you asking me, in your mountain man lingo?”

Foster sighed. As a lawyer, he had been very good with persuasive words. But he was rusty in their use now. “I am asking you, Tabitha Hudson, if I have your permission to court you. You are my true love knot, sweeter than spice.”

The smile that busted forth on her face was a caution! Tabitha placed her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.

He assumed that was a “yes” to his proposition, and he kissed her back. This time, it was not gentle or sorrowful but imbued with happiness and lust. Instantly, Tabitha was nipping at his lips, slithering her precious little tongue into his mouth, tickling his teeth. Foster pressed his hands to her shoulder blades to hold her to him as he returned the depth of the kiss.

Her apple scent seeped into his nostrils as he supped on her dewy lips. He knew he was snorting greedily and that she probably felt his insistent, rigid cock pressing against her lap. It would simply not do to introduce his stubbornly masculine need into the equation now, so Foster did what any polite, respectful suitor would do when overwhelmed holding such a bountiful gem in his hands.

He abruptly dropped to his knees and buried his head underneath the towel.

Tabitha squealed at first. But it wasn’t the outburst of a victim who would protest such manhandling. It was an adorable squeak of surprise, and she immediately reached out to the stool to balance herself. She even hitched one bare foot onto the stool’s lowest rung to give him access to her divine muff. Unsure of how experienced Tabitha was in the perverse ways of men, at first Foster merely nibbled the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He knew his damp, spiky hair was creating sensual havoc against the sensitive skin of her pelvis, and she instantly set to an encouraging array of panting sounds.

When his tongue-tip first touched the curly hairs of her attractive muff, she gasped so loudly it resounded against all four walls of the tiled room. Foster clasped her hips and dove right in, boldly licking the jutting extension of her clitoris. He applied great cow’s licks to her sweet, bulging clitoris, slow at first, then swifter as she gasped out,
“Oh God oh God oh God!”

It was an endless jumble of cries that indicated he was doing it right, and when he briefly paused to suck a pulpy labia lip between his teeth, she dug her nails into his shoulders.

Her thighs quivered with tension and she gyrated her pelvis against his face frantically, crying, “Don’t stop, you bastard!”

He had paused to see how much she really wanted it. And, apparently, she did. A lot.

Foster returned to his previous task of lapping away with a stiffened tongue against her enlarged clitoris. Sweet juice slicked his efforts, and he knew he sounded like a grunting pig at a trough, but he didn’t care. She had the most delicious pussy he’d ever eaten, and he was going to bring her over the peak of the most impressive, consuming orgasm of her life. This was the way to impress the dolls.

“Oh God oh God oh God oh God!”

When she caught her breath and held it, Foster knew he had her. He sped up his stoking of her inner fire until he heard her choke on her own cries.

He didn’t let up then, not even when her fingernails punctured the thin covering of his linen shirt. She shuddered and quivered and held her breath so long he was sure she must faint soon. A gush of juice poured from her, dripping down his chin as he lapped away. He humped her leg that was still planted on the tiles, deliciously rubbing his erection against her ankle, and she seemed to come for many long minutes.

His jaw was nearing that sore point, and she at last shoved him away. She collapsed on the stool, uncaring that her towel had dropped to reveal her succulent, bouncy breasts. Foster sat back on his haunches, overcome with bliss, wiping his face with his forearm.

Tabitha panted into her palm, staring at the tiles as though astonished by what had just happened.

Curious, Foster fished for a compliment. “Was that all right?”

She stared at him with round eyes. “All right?” she repeated dully. Then more stridently, “
All right?
”

“Yes,” Foster said dubiously. “Was it all right?”

She broke into a wide smile. “I should
say
it was all right! It was more than all right, Foster. In fact, it makes me sort of suspicious how you know all that, but I don’t think I want to question it.”

Leaning forward, she took his face into her hands and kissed him, unmindful of her juices that still scented his face.

“I love you, Pierre Badeaux.”

He was unsure if she really meant she loved him or was remembering how wonderful the pirate Pierre must have been, so he didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t have to say anything, though, for she pulled back with knitted brows. “But what about Worth?”

“What about him?”

She blinked at him, as though it should be self-evident. “He is your other soul mate. How will he feel if you tell him you’re courting me and cannot continue to fuck him whenever the mood strikes you?”

Though he wanted to laugh at Tabitha’s crude terminology, it did make Foster think. He had not realized until now how much anxiety the thought of giving up Worth created in him. “Maybe I don’t have to say that to him.”

She smiled slyly, as though they were plotting a crime. “Sex is the essential element of human happiness. That is what my free-loving marriage taught me.”

“And I agree.”

“There should be sex only if love is present. I can tell you love Worth.”

Foster tilted his head. “In a certain way, yes. We definitely lock horns, but I think that’s because we have such a high, competitive regard for each other. I wouldn’t allow him to rile me if I didn’t think him my equal. I don’t love him as I love you, though. I don’t wish to give him a bouquet of flowers, for instance.”

“That’s romantic love. There are different variations on the love theme.”

“That allow for sex?”

Tabitha nodded confidently. “That allow for sex.”

Foster was glad they had worked that out.

Worth helped Tabitha down from the carriage. “You say this pharmacist once helped you with a case?” he asked Foster.

Foster shouldered the satchel that Worth knew held Phineas’s skull and—for some reason—the gown Tabitha had worn to the fandango the night before. “Yes, when I had the Mirror Murderer as my client years ago. I—and everyone in town—knew he was guilty as sin, but I defended him for the fun of it. Most interesting case I’ve ever had. I had Chang test an item for a poison. You can thank your brother, Tabitha, for providing the entertainment.”

“I shall,” Tabitha said brightly. “I’m sure he loathes you for defending that miscreant, but I shall tell him you’re courting me.”

They shared a knowing smile, and Worth again wondered. Their courtship seemed to have progressed mightily after the fandango. He could kick himself for being so occupied in the merriment of dancing he hadn’t even noticed that his partner was puking into the buffet, but it was only right that Foster had been the one to take her home and care for her. Care for her a little too well, apparently.

Jeremiah hopped feebly from the carriage. He had to grip the door sash to steady himself after the effort involved. “You must not be a very good lawyer if your most famous client wound up having his hair raised, as you mountain men like to say.”

This angered Worth—Jeremiah was constantly belittling others!—but Foster took it in stride. “Made a big name for myself.”

“Yes,” Jeremiah sniffed. “And you capitalized upon that by riding off into the mountains wearing a possum on your head.”

Foster laughed fully then, and it was a beautiful sight. “A beaver,” he corrected the puppeteer.

The shop was dim and absolutely choked with dust. Incense hung heavy in the air, and Worth navigated to a counter crammed with jars containing dust, roots, and herbs. In one jar, serpent eggs floated in a vile liquid, and something lived inside another jar. Worth wobbled the jar a bit to see black beetles swarm all over a branch. They had horns on their noses, and some reared on their hind legs and hissed at him.

“My good sir,” Jeremiah proclaimed loudly. Worth looked up and spied a diminutive Chinese fellow wearing a skullcap and one of those robes where they could hide their hands in the sleeves. “I would like assistance with
this
area of my body.”

Jeremiah pointed to a poster tacked to the wall. It depicted all the internal organs of the body labeled with Chinese characters, and Chang squinted at it.

“You wish help with penis? I have exactly the thing!”

Jeremiah went stiff with mortification. He swiveled his head to study the poster. “Am I pointing at a penis? No, I am not! I am pointing at the intestines.”

But Chang was dead set on his penis idea. “I make very good prick tea! Will rejuvenate the organ so you never have to worry about miners ever again.”

The only muscle in Jeremiah’s body that moved was his lips. “Miners? What does that have to do with miners?”

Chang replied happily, “You will sink the shaft every time!”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Oh, jumping Jiminy! Can someone help me out here? I’m pointing at the
intestines,
and this fellow keeps mentioning penises and miners. Look, riceman. Bowels. Intestines. Innards.”

Chang frowned. “You need shaft help!”

Tabitha said, “I suspect that is his remedy for everything. I hesitate to ask him my question.”

Foster said, “Look, let me ask about this skull. That’ll distract him.” He placed the skull, wrapped in the green gown, on the counter next to a mounted armadillo. “Chang, I need you to tell me. What is the green dye in this gown? It also appears to be the same dye that has colored this canine skull.”

“Ah, lawyer Richmond!” Chang apparently recalled his former client quite well. “Who died this time?” He chuckled fondly at the memory. “Your criminal was quite amusing. Used a barrel for a toilet. Wreaked havoc at the Morning Star Gallery.”

“Yes, well,” said Foster, “he won’t wreak havoc any longer now that he’s met Judge Lynch. Chang, what can you tell me about this gown? See the same green tinge on this skull?”

Chang placed a lamp on the counter but seemed to shy away from the pile of green things. When Foster unwrapped the skull, the jumpy pharmacist even cringed back from it, although he evidently had seen his share of skulls in his life.

“This is not good!” he declared.

“You’re telling
me
,” Tabitha agreed. “Mr. Chang, I got very ill last night while wearing this gown and these gloves. Can you tell me what it’s dyed with?”

Now Chang looked at his customers suspiciously, as though they were the ones responsible for the mess. “Paris Green is not good for dying clothing. You should have known that when I sold it to you. It is used to make blue in fireworks, not for eating or wearing.”

Tabitha held a hand to her breast. “
I
bought it from you? But I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“I sold you that can of Paris Green dye a week ago. You cannot remember? You told me it was for killing rats. How do you not remember?”

Jeremiah sidled up to them. “I don’t think he can tell the difference between white women. Allow me. Mr. Chang! When you sold this Paris Green whatever-it-is to Miss Hudson last week, what was she wearing?”

Chang frowned something fierce. “Same thing all women wear! Gown.”

Jeremiah closed his eyes patiently. “Let me try again. What color was her hair, a week ago?”

Chang appeared to put some thought into this. “Reddish color, like cinnabar. Like yours!” He pointed at Foster’s head.

“That’s right,” Tabitha said. “I did dye my hair. Now it’s blonde.”

“Yes,” Chang agreed. “You dyed your hair. Lucky thing you did not dye it green.”

Foster had wandered off holding his head, perhaps with the shock that a red-headed woman had bought the green dye, so Worth stepped up. “And could this Paris Green also kill a dog? That’s a dog’s skull.”

“Oh, yes!” Chang asserted. “This woman could have mixed it with food that a dog likes, such as beef or bison, and dog would have eaten it right down. I can test for it.”

“Test how?” Worth asked.

“I can test skull and gown.”