Bayou Baby Read online

  The sound of the door closing brought her out of her shock. She turned to comment on the expensive décor but the words froze in her mouth when confronted with Rosaline’s face. Frowning now, the beautiful smile gone, Rosaline slipped the key back into her dress. Rowan backed away.

  Rosaline circled her. “I know that you have had a hard time as of late. Things have changed rapidly and you are adjusting, and that is the only reason I have tolerated your insolence.”

  She walked over to the large oak wardrobe placed next to the bed and opened the door. Inside was a variety of things that chilled Rowan’s blood. Whips, masks, and costumes she never could have imagined, even in her wildest dreams, hung inside.

  “You are mine. I own you. Accept it and your life will be easier. I will not tolerate rudeness or disobedience. You will learn that pride is a wasted emotion. You will not need such foolishness here.”

  “I’m sorry I—”

  Rosaline turned. She held a thick black whip. “I did not ask you to speak, slave. I only wish for you to listen. You will not speak until you are spoken to. You will not blink unless I order you to do so. If you disobey me, you will be punished. If you question me, you will be punished. You will learn to submit or you will die. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Yes,” Rowan whispered.

  “Yes mistress.”

  “What?” The whipped snapped and Rowan cried out as it stung her arm.

  “You answer me, ‘yes Mistress’.”

  “Yes Mistress, I’m sorry.” What had Mama done? This was not protection. It was Hell.

  “This room will be your entire world until your training is complete. You will eat, sleep, and learn the art of pleasing a man here. The door will be locked unless I come to open it. When I bring a client in, you will do as you are told or you will be punished.” Rosaline paced the floor running the whip through her fingers.

  Rowan bowed her head, not wanting look into the woman’s eyes. If she did, Rosaline would see such hatred that she would surely kill Rowan on the spot.

  “Your first lesson will be tonight. I am not cruel, though. It will be an easy lesson. You may have some time to bathe and dress. Those rags must go.”

  Rowan looked down at her favorite dress. It wasn’t so bad. Her mama had bought the fabric, a pretty blue, and Rowan had sewn it using a picture from one of the magazines she had found at Mama Gator’s house. It was long and fitted perfectly to her body. She didn’t own any of the fancy petticoats or undergarments that would have made the skirt full, but in the swamp such things weren’t needed. The hem had begun to fray and the bodice had grown a bit snug as Rowan had filled out since making it, but it was still a pretty dress.

  “I will also let you sleep,” Rosaline continued. “I’m sure you didn’t get much rest last night.”

  Rowan resisted the urge to speak of the night before. She didn’t want the whip again.

  “Henri was to be here to see you arrive, but alas, he has been feeling rather ill today. Swamp fever I figure. We’ll clean that out of you soon. Lucien has agreed to help. He‘s good with untrained girls.”

  “But he can’t, he—” Snap went the whip across her thighs and Rowan hit her knees.

  “I didn’t say you could speak. Why wouldn’t you want Lucien to help me? He is a fine man. Many of my girls fight for his attentions.”

  “He is my father,” Rowan said.

  “So says Jolene. I don’t think she knows who your papa is, child. She chose the richest man in the city and latched onto him. Then she cursed the poor man when he wouldn’t play her game. Besides, you look nothing like him.”

  Rowan did not respond. Jolene wouldn’t lie about it. She refused to speak of him until that day and her eyes told Rowan everything. Lucien was her father, and now this woman was going to make her do unholy things with him.

  “Get some sleep and I will send someone up in a while with a tub for you.” Rosaline walked to the door and Rowan risked a glance at her. She moved slowly and then turned, one hand on the knob. “I know you hate me very much right now. It is natural. I am your mistress though and you will learn to respect me, even love me perhaps. Right now, you’re confused and resentful of what life has given you. You wonder what makes me better than you; I am a whore too, after all.”

  Rowan said nothing. She knew what Rosaline was; her mother often spoke of her. She had arrived from England some years ago, newly widowed and looking for a new start. There was a rumor that she had killed her husband, an old Lord or Duke or something like that, but that was never proven.

  She promptly bought the largest house available and began selling the maids she brought with her to men who sought something unique; sex with an English lady. She became very popular very fast. What became of the poor maids, no one knew for sure. They vanished eventually, replaced by slaves and local women who’d fallen on hard times. Once established, Rosaline never took on a girl unless there was something exotic about her and there was nothing exotic about those maids. Rowan wanted to believe she sent them home, but now she knew that was not the truth.

  Rosaline smiled. “The difference between you and me is simply position. I am in a position where I can buy and sell souls. You cannot. I bought you; therefore, I am your better. It’s just life. You will accept it in time.”

  She left the room and Rowan sank to the floor. Her thighs bled from the whip’s lash and stained the front of her favorite dress. She would not be here longer than necessary and she would not make it easy for them. She vowed she would die before allowing Lucien Dumas to lay one finger on her. If she didn’t die, he would.

  CHAPTER 7

  Rowan lay on the large bed staring at the ceiling for a long time, but eventually drifted into a restless sleep. She woke to the sound of men talking. Sitting up, she watched as a large iron tub was brought in, followed by buckets of steaming water. When the tub was filled, Rosaline came in carrying an armful of towels and bottles.

  “You haven’t removed that rag I see. Get it off now. I have what we need to get the swamp off you. You’ll be a new woman come morning, in every way.” She set her burden on the dresser opposite the bed.

  Rowan stood and unbuttoned her dress. She didn’t want to be vulnerable to this woman but realized she had little choice. If she didn’t get into the bath she would be forced into it. Some battles were not worth the fight.

  “I took your bag by the way. You won’t need that stuff here.”

  Rowan looked to the end of the bed where she had placed her bag and it was gone. “Why would you take my things?”

  Rosaline paused while pouring a bottle of purple oil into the water. “I don’t believe I asked what you thought about it. You do have much to learn about being a good slave. You don’t own anything unless I give it to you.”

  The best thing to do was to remain silent. Rowan bit down on her tongue and averted her gaze. She could get what she needed again, there were many places here in the city where she could find it. Once Rosaline was confident that she had been subdued, she might even be able to set up an altar for her spirits next to the door. She could make it so it wasn’t seen as anything but decoration. Hopefully Rosaline knew nothing of the dark arts.

  Rowan climbed into the tub, releasing a sigh as the hot water warmed her skin. It felt heavenly. The scent of lavender drifted up with the steam and the heat soothed her aching body. After Henri’s brutal treatment, she didn’t think she would feel pleasure again. Even the welts from the whip felt better. She lay back and closed her eyes, but was jolted out of her dreamy haze by a bucket of water being poured over her head. She sputtered and coughed while Rosaline chuckled.

  “This isn’t for your enjoyment, my love.” Another bucket poured over her, but this time she was ready for it and glared at the other woman. “I would love to be able to finish this, but I am needed downstairs. I’ll send someone up to wash the rest of you, and I’ll be back later. You will do as you are told or you can expect severe consequences.”

  Rowan lowered her
gaze to the steaming water as Rosaline left. The soft light from the kerosene lamp on the dresser reflected off the rippling bubbles, making them sparkle. She glanced up and saw Rosaline had left the door open. If she wasn’t naked, she could have darted out and vanished before anyone knew she was gone. That was probably the whole point. Rosaline wanted her to know how close she was to escape. Either that or she hoped to humiliate her further by seeing her streak naked through the house only to be caught by someone waiting outside.

  No, now was not the time.

  The soap sat on the dresser, but without getting out of the tub, Rowan couldn’t reach it. She didn’t want to risk being punished for assuming that she could bathe herself. If Rosaline was sending a girl up, Rowan hoped she did so soon. The water would only remain hot for so long and her body would soon begin to wrinkle.

  She lay back against the tub and closed her eyes, picturing her mother as she had been years ago, before time and circumstance had turned her into what she was now. Mama used to be fun and loving. Except for the men that visited almost nightly, Rowan’s childhood had been happy. They would catch toads and bugs and Jolene would let Rowan keep them for a time. They used to make up silly songs and dance around the little shack until they collapsed into a giggling heap on the floor.

  Jolene changed slowly. First in ways Rowan barely noticed. She stopped going on bug hunts and rarely set foot beyond the porch. When she found out Rowan had befriended Mama Gator, Jolene forbad her to leave without permission. Rowan balked at this, because she’d been able to come and go as she pleased for as long as she could remember. Then Mama began to check her bag when she left the shack and upon her return. It hurt at first, because she’d hated that her mother didn’t trust her.

  Then one day a man came in the afternoon, they never came until after dark, and Jolene made Rowan leave for hours while she spoke to this strange man. After he left, Rowan noticed the way Jolene grew paranoid of everything. Men stopped coming as often, and Mama withdrew into herself. She still watched Rowan, but she became obsessed with the Goddess and practicing the art she had abandoned when Rowan was born.

  Jolene began to argue with Rowan over silly things and they no longer went into town. They used to go once each month, for food and occasionally a new dress or something to pretty up the shack. Jolene began to send the men who visited for that stuff. Rowan thought it odd, but when she asked about it, Jolene became distant and sometimes hostile.

  Rowan eventually figured out that the old man who used to visit, Papa Dee she called him, had died and his passing gravely affected Jolene. He had protected them all of these years and now they had no one. True, he sometimes looked at Rowan funny, like the other men who came tended to do, but he never once made her feel uncomfortable. He was the only man Rowan was allowed to speak to. The others were forbidden and Rowan didn’t have to be told more than once. She didn’t want anything to do with those men with the strange stares.

  Soon Rowan determined that when you grow up, parents changed. Her mother was seeing her as an adult woman, and that was why she was so different with her. She never imagined Jolene would do something like this to her, but looking back Rowan admitted she should have seen the signs. Her mother mentioned that she should comb her hair more; she should dress better, or use some of the rose scented oil that she loved so much. She introduced her to the men who visited and had been encouraging Henri’s attentions for the past year. No, it wasn’t something Jolene just thought up out of desperation. She had been planning for some time.

  Still, never in her worst nightmares would Rowan have believed that her mother would be capable of sending her to such a fate. She couldn’t know what Rosaline was really all about. If she did, she wouldn’t have sold her. Rowan had to believe that or everything she had known would be a lie. Her mother would not be the person she loved and Rowan would be the biggest fool in Louisiana.

  The sound of the door closing forced Rowan to open her eyes. She sat up, startled to find Lucien Dumas standing in front of the tub. “I’m sorry, but I believe Rosaline is sending someone up here. You would be wise to leave before they arrive.”

  He came around the tub and picked up the pink soap from the dresser. “You think so? Hmm… I wonder who is coming. Do you think I might be in trouble? That would be a terrible thing, non?”

  Rowan watched as he picked up the washcloth, dipped it into the water near her feet, and lathered the soap on it. She crossed her arms over her breasts and shivered despite the hot water. “You don’t scare me. I know who you are.”

  “I suppose Jolene told you? That is interesting because Jolene fancies fantastic stories and she’s a compulsive liar. Anything she says can only be considered questionable.”

  “She doesn’t lie, not to me.” Rowan watched as he set the soap down on the edge of the tub and moved behind her. If she turned, she exposed a good portion of her lower body. She didn’t want to do that, but having him behind her, not knowing what he would do, drove her mad. “Rosaline won’t be happy about this. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Dear child, Rosaline is the one who sent me up here,” he chuckled when she turned. “I am to be your tutor. Let’s see if the daughter learns as quickly as the mother, shall we?” He moved the cloth over her back. Rowan leaned against the tub, hoping to deter him. She did not.

  “So, it’s to be like this. That’s fine, cherie. I will do your front then. Rosaline would like you washed from top to bottom. If I must climb in there with you I will.”

  She glared.

  He chuckled, giving her a wink. “Or we can call your mistress up here and see what she thinks of your rebellion.”

  Rowan mulled this over. If Rosaline did send him, she wouldn’t be pleased about Rowan’s rebellion. She forced her lips to curve into a smile. “I guess many papas bathe their children. If that’s what you wish, go ahead, but I must point out that most do this at a young age. It is highly inappropriate at this point.”

  He grabbed her hair and yanked it so she had to look up at him. Her scalp burned as he wrapped his fist in her hair. The hate in his eyes made her blood run cold. This man had no feelings, no concern for anyone. He would snap her neck just as soon as he would look at her.

  “I am not your father, let’s make that clear. Your mother tried to trap me, and she almost succeeded. Instead, she fooled my father. Then, after he gave her a home and alienated his family in order to be with her, she betrayed him. Jolene Maynor is a vile witch, conspiring with that old woman of yours to destroy my life. She killed my papa and the rest of my family with her lies. No girl, I am not your father. Before this night is done, I will disabuse you of such ideas.”

  He released her and picked up the soap. Rowan felt ill as his fingers skimmed her shoulders before they massaged her scalp. Low in her belly she felt a stirring, an unsettled feeling that bubbled up into her throat. This was wrong; he would go straight to hell for this. She stiffened when he moved the cloth across her breasts.

  “Now child, if you don’t learn to pretend, you won’t please the gentlemen. Rosaline doesn’t like her guests to be disappointed.”

  “I don’t plan to please them. Anyone who touches me will die. I promise you that.”

  “Mais oui, I forgot that you are a great voodoo queen aren’t you? Where is your power now, ma petite fille?”

  Rowan didn’t reply.

  He laughed. “It has abandoned you, just as it did the old woman. Fairy tales, all of it. It is time you left the fantasies of your childhood in the swamp and faced the realities of life.”

  “I know I’m not a voodoo queen. There is no such thing. Only white people are foolish enough to believe such nonsense. I meant only that I will kill whoever touches me. No magic required for such things. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but one day I will see it happen.”

  He moved his hand over her belly. Rowan closed her eyes.

  “I’ll start with you.” She promised.

  “Threats now? Ha! That is priceless, cherie. You think I am
afraid of a swamp rat? No, you are nothing just as your mother was nothing. I think you should accept your lot in life and just be what you were born to be: a whore.”

  She jumped when his hand slid lower. Rowan pushed at him as she stood, causing water to slosh over the side and onto the wood floor. “We’ll see what happens to me, and what happens to you. Perhaps I’m not the only one who needs to face reality, Monsieur. I will not allow you to do this. It is sinful.”

  Dropping the soap, he came around the tub. “Is it? Mmm…I do love sinful things.”

  “I do not.”

  “Then why tease me this way?”

  Rowan frowned. “I’m not teasing.”

  Lucien raised an eyebrow, his gaze traveling down the length of her body. “If standing before a man naked and wet is not teasing, then I don’t know what is. I think you’re clean enough. Time to begin your lesson.”

  “I want you to leave.”

  “Once I’ve received what I’ve paid for, I will go. Or, perhaps I’ll stay here for a day or two and make sure you know your place.”

  She stepped out of the tub clumsily, slipping on the polished wood floor as she attempted to walk backward to the door. He followed; a knowing smile on his lips.

  “Please don’t do this,” Rowan begged. “You’ll regret it when you accept the truth.”

  “Your mother lies, girl. She wanted what I have, and she lied to get it. Look at the consequences of her schemes. She languishes in a pitiful shack in the swamp, just waiting to die. If you continue with this you won’t be as lucky as to be banished as she was. You will simply die.”

  Rowan glared, knowing she was beat and hating him for it. She couldn’t fight this giant of a man or Rosaline, but it didn’t mean she’d submit quietly. “I won’t do this.”

  He grabbed her arms and then pulled her against him. She felt his erection when her damp body pressed into his. Rowan focused on the way the rough material of his clothes scratched her skin.