Karim al-Zib - Wild in the country book three

But a little quiet blackmail might be just the thing. Force her into Clete's arms and distance her from Mark so that Priscilla herself could carry on an affair. She wouldn't ruin it this time, no, nor would she allow anyone else to do so. Once Mark was in the state government and bound for the Federal, her father could no longer belittle her relationship with the young politician. And, if he did, who could care? Mark was in line for a fortune of his own, if she knew anything about politics.

She knew that Mark could never stomach his wife having had sex with Clete, which would effectively alienate him from DesirЋe and clear the field for Priscilla. While the idea of a divorce would most probably be out, Mark would never touch the little blonde slut again, and would only put her away after he was firmly established in national politics. Meanwhile, Priscilla would act as an eminence grise in his public life, as well as his lover.

What Priscilla really could not understand was why DesirЋe had not called her back that afternoon after she had called with the threatening proposal. DesirЋe had effectively called her bluff, it appeared, as if she knew that the older girl had no evidence of her infidelity with the black sheriff.

Priscilla had no way of knowing that, even though DesirЋe had seen the video tape and had meant to call back, Dr. Hemmings had expunged the whole episode from her consciousness. Now, she would not call, and Priscilla would be left waiting until something brought the memory back to her, which was unlikely in fact. What the scheming older woman thought was uncommon bravery was merely hypnosis-induced amnesia.

When Mark picked up the ringing phone, the last voice he expected to hear was that of Nancy Pace, yet that voice was hers, and its dulcet tones woke sweet recollections of illicit passion not so long past.

"Hello, Mark," she said very quietly. "How are you?"

For a moment, he was at a loss for words. What they had shared that afternoon less than two weeks ago was still a pleasant memory when he tried to shake off his visions of what he had seen since then when Lobo had invaded his bedroom and mounted his beloved DesirЋe before his very eyes. And while he still loved DesirЋe, he found it yet impossible to forgive her abandoned response to that perverted act of bestiality while he watched. Nancy, another victim of a Lobo attack, somehow had the quality to make him forget the pain he felt. He felt a twitch below his belt and tried to find his voice.

"Hello, Nancy. I've been just fine." No one else could know it was a lie. "What can I do for you."

He heard her breathing unevenly on the other end. "Maybe something that I can do for you, or we can do for each other," she said in her childish voice.

The twitch was becoming massive. "But-but Nancy, you're engaged, I thought."

For a moment she said nothing and he thought he heard her sniffing on the other end. "It's-It's Clete. He's been acting funny. Since you raised the reward."

"Well, a bounty of that size is bound to make any hunter act funny. He can do his job, wipe out some vermin, and make himself a sizeable nest-egg for his wedding. Let's just hope he succeeds before anyone else is… attacked."

Nancy paused and Mark wondered if she was still on the line. "Can I see you? Sometime? I mean, I'd like to talk to you."

"Really, Nancy, I don't think we should. You're engaged to be married, and I'm…" He didn't finish the sentence. Right at the moment, he didn't feel married himself.

"Just for a while," Nancy insisted. "After what happened, I think we should talk it out. I feel so confused. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, but – But, it isn't right, is it?" He had a healthy respect for Clete Anderson if nothing else when it came to getting involved with Nancy.

"Please. Just for a little while. I'm upset, confused. Please."

Mark thought for a long time. Why not? Nothing will happen, and besides, DesirЋe doesn't deserve total fidelity. "I can't today, Nancy. Nor tomorrow either."

"Then Thursday?"

"Yes, that's fine. Thursday."

"Thank you, Mark. Thank you so much."

Priscilla Devereaux stood in the kitchen, drinking a cup of strong coffee and watching her father and Robin talking happily in the living room. It was funny that the young girl could be so attached to Jim Devereaux. Priscilla never had been, in spite of his open-handed generosity with her in all things. She would never forgive him for using his power and influence to break up her and Mark's love affair and delivering him into the sticky little hands of the piano teacher she hated. And now Robin was taking lessons from her! It seemed that DesirЋe was everywhere in Priscilla's life, and she resented it to her very core. She had perhaps one hope of achieving her goal, and that was to get her into bed again with Clete and make sure she ended up with the photos with which to blackmail Mark's young bride.

Priscilla glanced again at Robin, who seemed to be content to sit and bask in Devereaux's dry sense of humor. Little bitch could spend her whole summer sitting at Dad's feet if she wanted, as long as she stayed out of Priscilla's way.

And then the phone rang. She let it howl for six or seven rings before her father shouted from the living room, "Pick it up, Priss, damn it!"

She did.

"Am I talking to Miss Priscilla Devereaux?" said the quiet, vaguely-familiar man's voice. She'd heard the voice before, but where?

"Yes, this is she," Priscilla answered. He'd better not be selling anything.

"I have a message for you, from Mark Denning."

She shivered at the sound of his name. "Yes?"

"He couldn't call you himself, he's involved at the moment, but he wanted me to ask you if you could meet him out at the old Pace stone mansion. Do you know the place?"

Priscilla caught herself nodding affirmatively. Could it really be true? But it was the perfect place, an elegant old house, fully furnished, yet unoccupied for the last thirty years. A perfect place for a tryst, comfortable, cozy, and secluded. Rumored to be haunted and avoided by everyone since Nancy Pace's rape there by the marauding dog Lobo.

"Yes, I know the place," she said very quietly, unable to trust her ears.

"Mr. Denning wants to know if you can meet him there at one o'clock."

Priscilla's fevered mind made some quick calculations. "Yes, certainly," she said, not worried that she might sound too eager or accommodating.

"Then he can expect you?" the man's voice asked.

"Yes, I'll leave right away."

She hung up, giving a disdainful parting glance in Robin's direction. Let her waste her time with the old man, she thought.

Priscilla hurried out toward the stable. Riding over the hills direct would get her there in time, she knew.

Priscilla couldn't help the uneasiness she was beginning to feel at not seeing Mark's car yet parked by the Pace mansion. If this was some kind of a – Perhaps, he'd gotten tied up in town for a while, or perhaps his little slut-wife had interfered with his schedule. Damn him, whatever, she had no intention of returning to the ranch until she'd seen him face to face here, alone again, then made her own demands! He was going to find out that Priscilla Devereaux usually got what she wanted, and that once she did, no one took it from her!

Damn, she was hot, too! Riding western-style above the saddle for any distance had always exhausted her legs, and for the last ten-minutes she'd been forced to re-seat herself, the provocative massaging to her young loins immediately re-firing her sensual excitement. If she kept it up she was going to slip into a series of uncontrollable orgasms for sure, and this morning she definitely did not want that to happen before she got to young Mark Denning!