Blue Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

had unwittingly enchanted him to the point of igniting an obsession. No matter how much the other girls complained about her, teased him, tried to tempt him away, or openly pouted about Olivia’s unprecedented length of special status, Darcy had not been able to cut her loose and launch her in the business of whoring for his customers.
    She had lived with him over a year in his private suite, surrounded by luxury, at his beck and call morning, noon, and night. Just when he thought that she was finally warming to him, that she had come to accept her place, she had somehow managed to escape, slipping out onto the streets of New Orleans and disappearing without a trace. He was fast becoming convinced that she was no longer in the city. He had already spent a small fortune on a search and even now men were out combing the streets and waterfront for her, questioning soldiers, slavers, even the nuns at the Ursuline convent.
    Darcy snubbed out the cigar in a crystal dish set out on the table for that very purpose. Across the room, one of his most requested ladies of the night, Marcella Champion, made eye contact and smiled at him, then began to weave her way through the maze of tables. Her eyes were as clear as a cloudless blue sky, and her long, blond hair bounced with a vibrant sheen. Whenever one of the patrons stopped her, either by word or touch, Marcella would pause and smile at him as if he were the only man in the world. Then the two would share a laugh and before she moved on, she whispered into his ear and convinced him that he just might be lucky enough to have her tonight.
    Marcella, like Darcy’s other whores, had taken to selling her body like a swan takes to water. If only the same could have been said of Olivia. For some reason, even though he tried long and hard, Darcy could never reach Olivia’s heart and soul, never convince her that she would be far better off leaving her old life behind to live like a queen under his protection. He could not charm her, beguile her, bribe her, or tempt her into accepting that she would eventually be working for him. Her body might have been entirely in his possession, but she had never totally surrendered.
    He sensed from the first that he would have a hard time convincing Olivia that working for him would give her a percentage of the money she earned and, in turn, give her power in her own right, far more money and power than any man’s wife would ever have, certainly. His girls wore the finest clothes. They had carriages at their disposal and elegant furnishings in their rooms. They used their own money in any way they wished. Not one of them had ever tried to run away, at least not after a few weeks with him. Even the girls who came to him against their will, just as Olivia had, were eventually charmed by him after he had separated them from everyone but himself, made them dependent and spoiled and tutored them in the fine art of pleasing a man, thus taking pleasure himself.
    Once he deemed a girl ready for work, once she agreed to his terms, she was no longer a prisoner in any sense of the word. And he was no slaver. When the time came for a girl to retire, or if she was offered a position as some wealthy man’s exclusive mistress, he would let her patron, or the woman herself, pay back his initial investment in her, and then he would bid her fond
adieu
. Some women down on their luck had even come to him voluntarily, begging to be added to his stable of whores.
    Eventually, when he was ready to give her up, Olivia would have been afforded all of the same generous opportunities. But no matter how well he taught her, no matter how deftly he had manipulated her body, no matter how often he had coaxed a physical response out of her, he had never been able to persuade her to leave the past behind. She never did become convinced that he and the Palace of Angels were the keys to her future.
    But no matter how much she wished it otherwise, no matter how much she tried to deny or