Microsoft Word - Jenny dreamed (11 page)

Six

While the red-headed whore, Lady Alice, smiled at the red-faced, gangly youth who was trying to impress her by plying her with the cheap white wine Billy Evers had re-labeled champagne, her gaze flickered past him to the tall, quiet stranger who'd arrived almost twenty minutes ago. Her mouth twitched with irritation, and to mask it, she raised her glass and drank, easily evading the boy's fumbling attempts to fondle her large breasts.

That sly tart, Susie, had pounced on the only good-looking customer to come in for weeks now, and if Billy hadn't been sitting back in the corner with his usual glass of whisky, Alice would have started in against the slut-and won. But Billy was there, and he was mean whenever there was a squabble, too mean to risk getting him riled. Still, Alice thought with an amused smirk, she had the consolation of watching Susie's frustrated attempts to lure the man upstairs. He seemed interested in only one thing -watching the new girl.

Her crisp, near-perfect speech had prompted Bill to dub the girl English Annie. Alice hadn't tried to be friendly, and Annie had kept to herself, giving the impression she thought she was too good for Evers's house. Hadn't they all thought that at one time, though! Annie would get used to it-she'd have to if she wanted Bill to layoff using the whip against her smooth, white flesh.

Jenny wasn't aware that she was the object of such intense scrutiny. She had blanked out the sight of the tawdry, cheaply decorated room, the sounds of lewd, inviting laughter, and the business that was being transacted in the bordello parlor. One of the customers was playing a popular melody on the upright piano in the far corner, and one of the girls was giving her bawdy version in a wavering, off-key voice. A glass of "champagne" rested lightly in Jenny's fingers, and she sipped it occasionally, hoping it would further dull her senses.

When the settee creaked protestingly under the weight of the corpulent, sweating hulk who dropped down beside her, Jenny did not look up. She was afraid to, afraid of the greedy unconcealed lust she would see in his eyes. It was a look common to all the men who paid Evers for the use of her body. Tall or short, thin or fat, young and old alike, they resented

'having to pay for pleasure; and more often than not, it was the girls who bore the brunt of their resentment.

Now the man leaned close, and her nostrils flared as his fetid breath washed over her, as he

"complimented" her beauty, wondering aloud if she wouldn't like him to warm her up a little. His pudgy hand, damp with sweat, slipped onto her leg, squeezing her knee through the thin covering of the red satin wrapper she wore, sliding it back to test the texture of her black silk stockings.

Jenny closed her eyes with a shudder, tense under the trespassing hand of a strange man.

Only the knowledge that Evers was watching her kept her from slapping the man away and bolting from the room. Suddenly the man grabbed her, pinning her body against the back of the settee. With one arm around her shoulders, he pawed at her breasts, already exposed and vulnerable to the action by the half-cupped bodice of a tightly cinched black lace corset. His fingers closed cruelly on her soft flesh, grasping for a hold as his mouth came down wetly against her skin. Reflexively, without considering the consequences of the defense, Jenny struck at him, struggling to get away. His hair was dripping with the spilled wine; but the rutting animal seemed not to notice, and Jenny raised the glass high, desperately bringing it down against the side of his head. The glass splintered, and she was free. She scarcely noticed the pain of a sliced finger as she pushed at him and scrambled away, running for the safety of the hall. She had her foot on the first step of the stairs when Evers caught her. One of his hands caught the back of her head, his fingers grasping a handful of curls and the other closed over her wrist, yanking her backwards. Jenny found herself sprawled on her knees on the landing, one arm stretched high as Evers drew back his palm and swung. Her scream was cut off as his hand slammed across her mouth, rocking her body with the force of the blow. Evers had a smile on his thin, hawk-nosed face, and as he drew back to hit Jenny again, a man's voice stilled the movement. "I wouldn't do that again."

The calm command was underlaid by a steely, unspoken threat.

Just out of the pure pleasure it afforded him, Evers jerked the girl's arm and was rewarded by a sob, then turned to see who had dared to interfere. It was the tall, quiet man who'd been watching Jenny Bryant since he'd arrived. "And why shouldn't I, mister, eh? This is a whorehouse, not an orphange. I let one of these bitches get away with actin' up, they'll all be tryin' it."

The stranger smiled and raised the brim of his hat with a flick of his thumb as he lounged against the parlor door frame. No amusement gleamed in the brown, gold-flecked eyes that challenged Evers to hit the girl again. Like a lean, well-conditioned animal, he seemed ready to pounce at the slightest provocation "Twenty bucks says you shouldn't, Evers. Like you said, you're in business." He dug in the breast pocket of his blue checked shirt and then tossed a-coin, a coin that glinted as hard and golden as his eyes, at the whoremaster. "Now, if you feel like havin' yourself a little fun, don't let me get in your way, but I ain't payin' for a marked-up girl."

Evers had caught the gold piece and quickly examined it, his sharp gaze verifying its worth.

He'd been passed counterfeit in the past and learned by his mistakes. With a negligent shove, he released Jenny's arm and turned his back, missing the flare of anger in the stranger's eyes. Pocketing the money he went behind a desk that 'sat in the staircase alcove, reached into the top drawer, and pulled forth a key, then looked up with a sneer as he tossed it to the man." You just bought English Annie's services for the night, mister. She's a good-looker, but there ain't no whore I ever seen worth that much gold!"

"Well ... that's my worry, now, ain't it?"

Evers shrugged, then started to laugh as he headed. for the parlor. "Sure is, now I got my money. Just see you get your money's worth … I like my customers satisfied when they leave."

Bought and paid for again. Jenny wiped at the smear of blood on her swelling lip, determined not to cry. Tears didn't make a bit of difference to Evers; in fact, he thrived on bringing his girls to tears, How many men did this one make this week? What did it matter, anyway? She still hadn't looked at the man who'd saved her, who'd paid an unheard-of price to buy her. Whatever pleasure he cared to extract from her body's use, there would be no one to deny him, no one to defend her. She almost wished ... almost, that Evers hadn't weaned her off of the drug. Then, at least, everything would have been a blur, and her senses would not be so offended by the degradation.

A pair of boots appeared before her and Jenny's mouth tightened. Would she ever become used to this-to letting a strange man accompany her upstairs and use her body? She looked up, hatred battling with fleeting rebellion in her eyes. This one was at least good-looking, blond and clean and ... somehow oddly familiar. He reached down and gently grasped her hand, pulling her to her feet. It briefly entered her head to wonder why a man so young and handsome had to buy a woman's feigned response, but it really didn't matter what his reasons were. He was studying her, appraising her features just as he would a fine piece of horseflesh he'd just bought.

"Come on, honey," he said now, his voice low and soothing as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the stairs. Several of the girls stood at the parlor door, having watched the entire episode from the time Evers had hit the girl, and one of them called out a lewd suggestion while the other girls giggled. Jenny tensed, but before she could whirl with a retort, her escort tipped his hat in mock respect and said, "Ladies, I got better things to do than listen to you giggle. And I think you all got a few farmer boys and office clerks back there pantin' after your wares!"

A fleeting smile touched her mouth as the girls gasped and, thoroughly chastened, flounced back to work. Then, with leaden feet, Jenny began to climb the steps again, going as slowly as she could. A second later there was a humiliating pat on her derriere, and her face flamed at the order to "Get a move on, miss!"

For the second time that night Jenny forgot that she was supposed to be docile and cooperative. She whirled, swung her hand with a fist, and a moment later, as the man ducked neatly to the left and simultaneously threw an arm around her legs, she was; slung over his shoulders, being carried up the steps as easily as if she were a down-filled pillow.

Jenny struggled, screaming the few mild curses she knew, striking uselessly at his broad back. In his left hand he carried a bottle of expensive house whisky, the kind Evers was afraid to water down, and Jenny made an attempt to grab it, hoping she could bring it crashing down on his head.

That failed, as well. He seemed able to forestall her every move before she could translate thought into action. In a minute his long legs had carried them from the landing to the door of room twelve. The key turned in the lock and all was lost. The bedsprings creaked as he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed, set the bottle on a nearby table, and returned to lock the door.

Just as he was turning the key, the sound of a crash and splintering glass made Dev wheel around. Jenny had bounced off the bed, quick as a cat, and grabbed the bottle, breaking it against the table's edge. She stood there now, holding the jagged top third of it by the neck, extended toward him as a defensive weapon. She looked every inch a wildcat, with claws extended, disheveled and bruised, a force to be reckoned with because of her unpredictability. A tousled mane of black curls spread across her shoulders, and her scarlet wrapper, loosened in the struggle, hung half-open. "Don't come any closer," she threatened,

"or I'll be the last woman you ever spend your filthy money to buy."

Noting the direction of his stare, Jenny used her free hand to gather the robe across her breasts, never taking her eyes from his face. He still hadn't moved, but she had the impression he was sizing up the threat she posed, measuring the chance of disarming her without injury to himself.

"There's no need for that, now," Dev said in a low, reassuring tone, slowly moving forward and keeping his eyes, not on the weapon, but on her face, watching warily for any change that might precipitate a sudden offensive.

"Don't come any closer!" Jenny warned, her voice rising with a frightened pitch. She took a step backward, even as he steadily advanced, and suddenly the mattress touched the back of her knees and she was hemmed in. He was only three feet away when she tensed, raising the glass high with a determination to go down fighting.

A split second later she was sprawled across the bed on her back, pinned beneath the stranger, and his strong fingers gripped her wrist, forcing her to drop the weapon.

It rolled behind the brass headboard and crashed to the floor. Jenny glared, steeled against the inevitable assault thatshe had only managed to delay, not avert.

"That was a waste of good liquor, Miss Bryant," Dev commented dryly. "We could have had a toast to your rescue." Jenny's eyes widened with surprise, their blue-gray color reminding him of Jared's. She looked closely at him, and as she realized his identity, the tenseness seemed to ebb out of her. Dev rolled to one side, giving her a hand up.

"You ... you're Dev Cantrell?" Jenny managed to stutter. "In the flesh, miss, and happy to have found you at last; it's been one hell of a month!" Dev grinned, She knew she should feel relief ... gratitude that he had found her, but all Jenny could think of was her fury at the past half-hour's charade. Why hadn't he told her sooner? "I could have hurt you with that piece of glass," she said accusingly. The skeptical look in his eyes, telling her he'd never taken the threat seriously, further fueled her anger. "Your month could not have been worse than mine, Mr. Cantrell, and you only added to my misery with that manly display of domination downstairs!"

"Well, I had to get you out of there," Dev explained. "I'm sorry-I couldn't just barge in and grab you." He hadn't expected her to react this way, and he. wasn't quite sure what to say next.

Jenny suddenly realized the long ordeal was oyer ... or would be soon. No longer would she have to put up with Bill's abuse or allow another dirty, pawing animal to touch her. She was berating the very man who'd come to save her from it. "Oh, God .. , I'm sorry!" she sobbed an apology, "I didn't mean-"

Silently cursing all the rotten people who'd contributed to the girl's pain, Dev pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, stroking her head in comfort as she wept unashamedly. Jenny seemed no longer to be under the influence of drugs, but Evers undoubtedly had ways to control his girls without them. "That wasn't the first time Evers struck you," he said angrily.

"He's the type who gets a thrill from it."

Still crying, Jenny shook her head, and told Dev about the whip that Bill used to keep all the girls in line. Dev swore to her that Evers would pay for how he'd treated her. "Somebody should've finished him off long before now." Jenny panicked. As much as she hated Bill Evers, she was still frightened of him. The past week and a half he'd reduced her intake of laudanum until she was free of its effects, but when she was at last lucid enough to resist his plans for her, he'd brandished a whip. This light, supple whip, he'd coldly explained during her first encounter with it, wouldn't break the skin or leave marks-the customers wouldn't like that. The first time she'd rebelled and tried to grab it from him, she had failed and had made the added mistake of trying to kick out and scratch at him. She'd learned since then not to resist, for the whipping lasted longer and was more brutal. He'd beat her that first time until she became a Whimpering, terrified child willing to do anything to escape additional pain. The next morning he'd returned, tossing an outfit similar to what she was wearing now onto the bed, ordering her to rise and strip naked. With the memory of the previous day's pain still fresh in her mind, Jenny had obeyed immediately and stood there, docile, while he examined with an almost clinical detachment, the pale red welts from the whipping as he ran his hands possessively over her flesh to impress her with the idea that he was inspecting his property.