Girl Desecrated 1984: Vampires, Asylums and Highlanders, page 7
Just as the Pope’s picture had tempted my nose, the men at the table were awash with scents. The greasy odour of bone marrow and fat, the pungent sting of sweat, and the opaque thrust of cologne mingled with clouds of carbon dioxide. I could hear the leathery stretch of their lungs when they sucked in air; the click of their tendons when they shifted their feet beneath their chairs. My sensual response to them exhilarated and unnerved me.
I opened my mouth slightly to breathe without using my nose. It reduced the onslaught of odors, but engaged my taste. I was struck by an impulse to nip the inside of Lennox’s wrist. I opened my eyes in surprise and shook my head to dislodge the urge.
The guy on my right placed a cold beer beside my hand on the table. He held it lightly in his wide palm, just within my reach. I hadn’t looked at him yet and purposefully still didn’t turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him tap his thick thumb three times against the side of the Molson label.
“Let’s play a wee game,” he said in a deep Scottish cadence that danced the suggestion out into the air.
Keeping my eyes forward, I tilted my head and pretended renewed interest in Lene’s shameless antics. But truthfully, I wanted to play a game. I needed a distraction from my fears, and the scents, and even my inside voice, which was now trying to join in on the conversation.
The man chuckled, not misled in the least by my apparent disinterest in him. He moved the bottle closer to me, and left it there. I should have shown better manners, but I needed a drink, badly. I grabbed it and sucked back almost half of the beer before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
I couldn’t help a little twitch at the corner of my mouth as I imagined his shock at my beer guzzling extravaganza. That display should turn him off.
“Lass,” he said, softly, “Tell me yer name”.
I finally turned to face him and was stunned into silence.
He was hot. Hot beyond Fabian-Harlequin book-cover hunky. His skin was lighter than mine, old fashioned European skin, but the sun had warmed it and scattered a few freckles along the tops of his cheeks. It gave his handsome face a boyish charm, but there was nothing boyish in the way he was looking at me.
I couldn’t find my tongue to break the silence that dragged on. His hair with its rich dark auburn shine was cut long. The ends curled in slightly to caress his wide cheekbones. A trim bear surrounded his kissable mouth.
“Are ye done?” His dark, green eyes crinkled at the corners.
I swallowed. He was somewhere around thirty, which wasn’t a turnoff. With looks like his, if he was over sixteen and under sixty, we were good.
He gave his head a little shake as he grinned at me. The movement made his long bangs slip down over his forehead and he tossed his head to move them out of his eyes.
It might have happened in slow motion, and my tongue might have been hanging out of my mouth.
The bangs slipped forward again, covering one eye. I was tempted to brush them back, but he finger-combed them back.
“What?” I asked, wondering if he had spoken.
He smiled, revealing a dazzling row of strong teeth, and I was back in slow mo.
“Yer name.” He tilted his chin up, urging me to come out of my stupor.
I dipped my chin and raised my eyebrows.
“What would you like my name to be?”
Instead of a flirty reply, he stayed silent and the edges of his smile dropped just a bit. I quickly shifted down.
“You said you wanted to play a game,” I reminded him. “Guess my name.”
“Hmm.”
He looked me over carefully as if preparing to bid on me at auction. It was hard not to wiggle while he titled his head to the side and looked all the way down my body and legs. I tucked my ankles away under the chair and straightened my back. His glance swept back up over my tight curves.
“Give me a hint.” He locked eyes with me.
I gulped and tried to remember what we were doing.
Finally, I thought of something. I would give him clues to my initials. “R ye really Scottish?”
“Aye.”
“No, A”.
The silence stretched on, and I turned my head to the left to hide a smirk. Lennox started to say something, and I quickly turned back to “Bangs”.
He leaned against the chair, his muscular arms relaxed. “Is yer name Rose Amy.”
I gave him an impressed look. I hadn’t expected him to catch on to the vague alphabetical clues to my initials.
“Wrong.”
“Curses.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth a few times, and I wanted to lean in and kiss him, hard. “Renee… Antoinette”.
“I’d kill my mother if she named me Rene Antoinette.”
I took another drink of my beer, wishing I hadn’t mentioned my mother.
He gave a throaty laugh. “It’s god-awful, that’s fur sure.”
“Quit stalling,” I sighed in mock boredom.
“Rachel Anne.”
My blood slopped to a halt in my veins.
“Uh-No.” I lied, hiding the shock in my eyes. “And that’s three tries. You’re out.”
Grabbing the half empty bottle, I tipped it up and emptied it, while struggling to figure out how he could guess so close to my name. Or did he get it right? Had he said Rachel Anan?
I shot a dirty look at Lene wondering if she’d been stupid enough to share my personal info with these Scottish throwbacks.
“Bet yer name’s Ronnie. A nice soft name to go with yer manner.”
Maybe he didn’t know my name after all. Coincidences can happen.
“I’m no Ronnie.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth, but they didn’t linger.
“Well, Aam gonna call ye Kit, until Ah ken different.” He raised his finger to order another round.
“Kit…” I repeated the name slowly, testing it in my mouth and feeling slightly liberated at the renaming.
Across the table, Lene tossed her black hair around her head like a runway model. She was completely aware of the slow burn she was building in the men as she teased them. Duncan-of-the-sheepskin coat was turned in his seat to face Lene, his face all puppy-dog eyes, as he listened to her.
The booze had chased away the fleshy tints my nose had been picking up earlier. “Bangs” now smelled earthy and spicy, like an evergreen forest. I closed my eyes to bask in his scent. Much more appealing than butcher shop aroma.
He leaned down to my shoulder and whispered, “They seem to be getting on.”
I opened my eyes to see Duncan and my best friend’s foreheads almost touching. They were talking in hushed voices, no doubt making plans for the night. Watching them made me feel a little anxious. Lene shouldn’t be doing anything on the rebound. If anybody knew that piece of advice, I did, because I’d lived that mistake one time too many.
I tried to hear what they were saying by ignoring the sounds closest to me and watching their mouths intently. Along with the weird things happening, my ‘spidey senses’ were improving. The tracking, the shadows, and the ability to hear people who were far away was getting better, and I was getting used to using them.
I cleared Stevie Nicks’ wailing “Rhlannon” from the air, peeled the murmurs from the late-comers at the surrounding tables, forced the Scottish brogue to slip into the background, and finally, I picked up Duncan’s soft whisper.
“What about yer friend?”
Lene didn’t glance my way, when she said, “She doesn’t matter”.
The dismissal made me feel a little hurt. After all, we had made plans to pull an all-nighter together.
“What do ye think they’re talking about?” “Bangs” asked.
I turned, surprised, “You couldn’t hear them?”
“Nae. Could ye?”
I slouched in my chair. “Oh, I’m sure they’re playing some sort of Scottish name-guessing game.”
He was unfazed by my barb. “Oh aye, we Scots love our games.”
I took another look at Lene, burned she was planning a tryst. Maybe the wrong girl was making anti-sex resolutions. A better friend would have dragged her into the washroom for a serious talk.
“Why the long face, Kit?”
I shrugged, even though I was worried about Reg’s insane jealousy. “I was just thinking we reap what we sow, eh?”
“Yes.” He nodded and continued to study my face from the side. “We all have tae accept our lot.”
“Our lot?” I turned to meet his eyes. “You mean, the results of our decisions?”
“Nae.” He clenched his fist and pressed it into his other hand. I tried not to gawk as his chest muscles expanded beneath the cotton of his t-shirt. “Ah mean, each of us has a place we ur meant tae get tae. Ye ken it as fate.”
I gave him a searching look. “Have you been reading the philosophy in the girl’s washroom?”
He hooked the end of one my curls on his finger and slowly lifted the strand of hair until it settled back on my breast. “Whit’s fur ye’ll nae go past ye.”
I raised my brows and lifted the side of my mouth.
“Whatever is meant tae happen, will happen.”
“Och,” Lennox’s voice close to the back of my head made me jump. I leaned back to let him make the third point in the triangle. “You’ll nae git me t’agree with thet.”
His accent was much stronger. I could barely work out the meaning.
“So, you don’t believe in fate?”
“Ah prefer tae be in charge of mah own future.”
I laughed, “You sound like Doctor Who.”
“Who?” Lennox said, but “Bangs” cut over his words.
“Only a fool ignores the path set out fur him.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Dorn’t be a fool, Lennox.”
Silence hung heavy around the table, except for Lene’s whispers of encouragement. She was trying to drag Duncan back into a little tête–à–tête, but his attention was on the scene playing out in front of me.
The big boys appeared to be locked in a stare-down. I pushed my chair back a bit, not wanting to get in between these two big brutes if they decided to go head-to-head.
“I completely agree with Lennox,” I said, giving the tension a little poke.
“Bangs” turned his face slightly towards me while still holding Lennox’s glare. I could feel the anger sizzling in him. My body responded with a slight shiver.
“Hmm,” he grunted.
Then he cast his eyes my way. The familiar temptation to tame the bad guy tickled at my insides.
“If fate controls your life, what do you think is fated to happen, tonight?” I blinked, innocently.
The tension left his shoulders. He gave me a wink. “Yoo’re meant tae ken Angus a wee bit better.”
I quickly scanned the men as if they could provide a clue, then caught on to his little joke. “Oh, you’re Angus.”
He put his hand, a strong hand, the palm wide and calloused. I hesitated to take it.
“You know what they say about people who talk about themselves in third person, don’t ya?”
“Tell me.”
“Loony. Nutbar. Crazy beans.”
I pushed my hand into his firm grip. The minute his warm skin touched mine, a spark lit inside my chest and rippled like lava deep into my belly. My eyelids flickered and my lips parted, releasing a trembling “oh” of surprise.
The conversation died around us as all eyes turned our way. Angus gave Duncan a very obvious nod. I shut my mouth and composed my face.
Lennox cursed, pushed back his chair and stomped off to the bar.
Suspicious Angus had some sort of bet going with Duncan, I tried to slip my hand from his, but he held on.
“Let’s try again, Kit. Mah name’s Angus.” He lifted his chin, encouraging me.
I wasn’t going to share my name, but just to get my hand out of his, I intended to say ‘pleased to meet’ya’.
Only when I opened my mouth, I simpered, “Honoured, I’m sure,” in a bloody Southern voice.
Angus’ mouth fell open and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a number of heads jerk up.
Not even bothering to look around for a clock, I blurted, “Whoops, look at the time. I gotta go.”
Standing up abruptly, my thigh caught on the arm of my chair. It tipped up, and Angus hung on, standing with me and moving my chair to the side with his other hand.
I looked up. He was big. A big man who stood over me.
“Settle down there, Highlander,” I warned, steadily pulling my fingers from his grasp.
He wouldn’t let go.
“Ah get the impression ye dorn’t want me tae settle.”
I cringed, wondering which of my voices was going to be talking when I opened my mouth to answer.
“It’s never about what I want, friend.” I cast a nervous glance toward the exit.
“Ah find that hard tae believe, lass.”
I prickled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A woman like ye ur surely knows how tae get what she wants.”
His eyes, like evergreens on fire, burned me with a provocative invitation. A hot flush spread up my torso.
In that moment, I decided what I wanted for my eighteenth birthday. I wanted Angus the Scotsman. I wanted him like nothing I’d ever wanted before. His lingering gaze held me pinned with unspoken messages… he wanted me, too.
His friends were openly staring, strangely interested, as if they were attending a “Girl Pick-Up 101” class and taking notes.
I didn’t care, I didn’t want to step out of this moment to care about anyone other than Angus. My body was smoldering, and I wanted to turn up the intensity.
Angus gave my hand a gentle tug, inviting me to get closer. The movement caused the greasy scent of bone marrow to glide into my sinus cavities. My nostril’s flared like a stallions, when picking up the scent of a mare in heat. I quickly turned my head to the side to hide whatever deviant look might have crept across my features. I had two choices: plant a kiss on those sensual lips, bringing our bodies grinding together, or shut down my raging hormones and dismiss him to keep my word to Patrick.
Lene caught my eye and gave me a frown, which meant I should quit hogging all the attention. Normally, I would step down and let Lene take the stage, but she hadn’t been keeping me in booze as she had promised. Right there on the table, my beer bottle stood empty, the last of the condensation drying from its dissolving label.
Ignoring the heat rippling off Angus’ body six inches from my breasts, I picked up the empty bottle with my left hand and tipped it upside down.
“Doesn’t look like I’m very good at getting what I want, now does it?”
A twitch flickered in his cheek.
I shook the bottle again and grinned, “Hmmm?”
He gave a hearty laugh, released my hand, stepped back and waved the waitress over.
I had just bought myself more time to decide on my birthday present. A night heaving beneath the highlander, or sacrifice what was sure to be glorious sex in the name of my mental wellbeing?
JAMESTOWN FORT: TRAINING THE TONGUE
~
WHEN SHE JOINED THE OTHER women by the window, they parted to avoid any companionable closeness with her. She took her rightful place in front of them, standing directly before the glass. The She was not one to hide behind curtains and giggle behind her hand. She stood proudly, her head held high, ignoring the whispers of the others. She perused the crowd below over her straight nose, her poise that of a Queen standing on the royal balcony looking out upon her people.
She scanned and measured the men, sorting them by their clothing, their walk, who they spoke to, and how others reacted to them. During her inspection, her dark eyes alighted like a pair of crows on the man. Unknown to her, he was the man who, in the future of Jamestown, would harvest the richest tobacco crops. To do so, he would have to purchase the largest number of slaves, and he would rule all from the most opulent home.
She was not able to read the future, but on this day, the She judged him by his size and poise, which bespoke of health, his clothes of breeding and wealth, and even from this distance, he had the most handsome face a woman could hope to gaze upon.
She turned from the window to see a serving girl, a daughter of the colony bringing bread and cheese on a tray.
“You,” the She said.
The young girl looked up in surprise at the beautiful woman’s tone and gave an awkward curtsy. “Yea ma’am.”
“Come,” the She said.
The girl flushed with a willingness to please. This summons was a fortunate chance for her to prove her ability to be a lady’s maid. She turned, once, twice, thrice before she found a flat, uncluttered surface on which to place the laden tray. Then she picked up her skirts and rushed to the lady’s side.
“Yea ma’am?”
The She’s nostrils flared in appreciation of the girl’s natural disposition to serve.
“Who is this man?”
Finding the one man within the crowd who had captured the She’s attention should have taken a pointed finger, and the asking of many questions such as, “Is it he?” or “Do you speak of that one?” Yet, the She had only to touch the girl on her shoulder, and immediately the girl’s eyes were drawn to their target.
“Oh, that be William Cain, m’lady.”
“William Cain.” A growing smile spread the She’s red lips revealing just the tips of her white teeth. “Tell me all you know about Master William Cain.”
And as is the way in towns with small populations, the girl seemed to know everything about the man. Words fell from her lips about William’s brother Edward and about their combined land, making them the wealthiest land owners in Virginia. On and on, the girl droned, listing his preference for pigeon pie, describing his prize stallion, laughing at his affinity for cards, and swooning over his manners, which made the few ladies in the colony fall in love every time he doffed his hat. Why the servant girl even knew his favourite bird in this new world, the Scarlett Cardinal.
Rather than being irritated by the incessant chattering of the lowly serving girl, the She listened carefully to the cadence of the girl’s speech. Her sensitive ears were acutely aware of how some vowels were delivered high in the front of the girl’s mouth, pushed out by her tongue as if it could not wait to release the words “bow” or “cow”. She also noticed the girl used her nose to merge other vowel sounds making it difficult to determine whether she was speaking of “hem” or “him”. During this intense study of the girl’s language, the She cast off her strange Eastern European accent and adopted a new way of speaking.
