had but a few precious hours to spend with Margette—and also aware nothing he said would make any difference, anyway.
Margette had been angry that he was late. He’d tried to tell her about the ugly scene, wanting assurance his mother was wrong, but Margette didn’t want to waste time talking. She stripped him of his clothes and cast aside her own, wild with passion.
As the first fingers of dawn clawed at the eastern horizon, they clung together, bodies slick with perspiration. “I’ve got to have you all the time,” she gasped, her tongue circling his ear as she danced her fingers up and down his belly. “I want you in a house, in a real bed, and where I can have you any time I want you. This meeting in the middle of the night, with the mosquitoes and gnats all around, rolling on these hard planks, is terrible.
“And I can’t help thinking,” she added huskily, “how much better it’ll be somewhere else.”
He was used to Margette’s rambling on about their future, but this night, needled by his mother’s grim foreboding, he found himself on edge, alert for any sign she might be right.
“I think I’ve finally convinced Daddy to buy a house in town,” Margette was saying, “so I can use it for the social season, or shopping trips, and what I can do is just tuck you away there for my very own. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Of course, Mammy Lucy would have to be with me when I stayed there. It wouldn’t be proper for folks to think I’d stay there alone, but she won’t say a word about you being there, because she knows if she did, I’d have her whipped, so—”
Brett sat up so quickly, she fell away from him with a squeal of protest. Anger rising, he cried, “Wait a minute. You said when grinding season was over, we’d be getting married. What the hell are you talking about?”
She sat up, began pulling on her gown as she petulantly explained, “I have to wait till the time is right. We both know Daddy isn’t going to like it, and neither is Mommy, but till I can convince them, you can just stay in town, and I’ll take care of you.”
“And what happens if they never agree?”
“Oh, well.” She picked aimlessly at a strand of hair that had tumbled onto his forehead. “We’ll be together, anyway, and that’s what counts. I mean, you’ll have a good life, Brett, and I’ll make sure you always have the best of everything. You’ll never have to work or do anything—”
“Except keep you properly fucked,” he snapped.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy? It’s a wonderful arrangement.”
“I’m a free man, Margette, not one of your daddy’s breeding bucks.” He got up and jerked on his trousers. It was getting light, and besides, all of a sudden he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
“Wait, Brett. Don’t go, please.” She threw herself against his chest and clung to him, pleading, “Don’t you see? This is the only way for us right now. I’ll come into town as often as I can. We can make love all the time.”
She began to rain tiny kisses over his face, but he stood motionless, his expression granite. When he did not speak, she took the silence for assent, albeit reluctant. Pressing closer, so her breasts rubbed provocatively against him, she whispered huskily, “All you’ll ever have to do, my darling, is fill me up with your love.” Her hand dropped to his crotch.
He pulled from her grasp. “I’m not for sale, Margette, so why don’t you just go pick out one of your daddy’s slaves, a nice, big buck for your very own?”
For the second time that night, he was slapped.
Face twisted in a furious grimace, she cried, “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? You should be grateful, damn you! I’m offering you a life of luxury.” She raised her hand to hit him again, but he caught her wrist and held it.
“No more, Margette.”
“Bastard! You’re nothing but a—”
“Cajun, right?” he interjected.
“Exactly,” she
Margette had been angry that he was late. He’d tried to tell her about the ugly scene, wanting assurance his mother was wrong, but Margette didn’t want to waste time talking. She stripped him of his clothes and cast aside her own, wild with passion.
As the first fingers of dawn clawed at the eastern horizon, they clung together, bodies slick with perspiration. “I’ve got to have you all the time,” she gasped, her tongue circling his ear as she danced her fingers up and down his belly. “I want you in a house, in a real bed, and where I can have you any time I want you. This meeting in the middle of the night, with the mosquitoes and gnats all around, rolling on these hard planks, is terrible.
“And I can’t help thinking,” she added huskily, “how much better it’ll be somewhere else.”
He was used to Margette’s rambling on about their future, but this night, needled by his mother’s grim foreboding, he found himself on edge, alert for any sign she might be right.
“I think I’ve finally convinced Daddy to buy a house in town,” Margette was saying, “so I can use it for the social season, or shopping trips, and what I can do is just tuck you away there for my very own. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Of course, Mammy Lucy would have to be with me when I stayed there. It wouldn’t be proper for folks to think I’d stay there alone, but she won’t say a word about you being there, because she knows if she did, I’d have her whipped, so—”
Brett sat up so quickly, she fell away from him with a squeal of protest. Anger rising, he cried, “Wait a minute. You said when grinding season was over, we’d be getting married. What the hell are you talking about?”
She sat up, began pulling on her gown as she petulantly explained, “I have to wait till the time is right. We both know Daddy isn’t going to like it, and neither is Mommy, but till I can convince them, you can just stay in town, and I’ll take care of you.”
“And what happens if they never agree?”
“Oh, well.” She picked aimlessly at a strand of hair that had tumbled onto his forehead. “We’ll be together, anyway, and that’s what counts. I mean, you’ll have a good life, Brett, and I’ll make sure you always have the best of everything. You’ll never have to work or do anything—”
“Except keep you properly fucked,” he snapped.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy? It’s a wonderful arrangement.”
“I’m a free man, Margette, not one of your daddy’s breeding bucks.” He got up and jerked on his trousers. It was getting light, and besides, all of a sudden he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
“Wait, Brett. Don’t go, please.” She threw herself against his chest and clung to him, pleading, “Don’t you see? This is the only way for us right now. I’ll come into town as often as I can. We can make love all the time.”
She began to rain tiny kisses over his face, but he stood motionless, his expression granite. When he did not speak, she took the silence for assent, albeit reluctant. Pressing closer, so her breasts rubbed provocatively against him, she whispered huskily, “All you’ll ever have to do, my darling, is fill me up with your love.” Her hand dropped to his crotch.
He pulled from her grasp. “I’m not for sale, Margette, so why don’t you just go pick out one of your daddy’s slaves, a nice, big buck for your very own?”
For the second time that night, he was slapped.
Face twisted in a furious grimace, she cried, “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? You should be grateful, damn you! I’m offering you a life of luxury.” She raised her hand to hit him again, but he caught her wrist and held it.
“No more, Margette.”
“Bastard! You’re nothing but a—”
“Cajun, right?” he interjected.
“Exactly,” she
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