Bartered Bride Romance Collection (2 page)

Josée’s sides ached from laughter. She smoothed the skirt of her new dress and gave Mama LeBlanc another smile of gratitude. Jeanne had helped her put her hair up on her head, and she felt as fancy as any lady over in Lafayette. Merry fiddle music matched the bonfire’s roar, and Josée tapped her bare feet to the beat of the drum played by one of the village boys.

Then she saw
him
at the edges of the crowd. A tall man with eyes as black as the murky bayou water at midnight. Jacques’s brother, Edouard, the eldest of the LeBlanc clan.

“Looks like my brother made it to the party,” Jacques murmured into her ear.

“I…I’m glad.” Although, Josée wasn’t sure how she felt. Dark. Brooding. His eyes spoke of a soul deeper than the waters that flowed through La Manque. She wondered if he ever laughed. The only time she ever saw him was when she and the other LeBlanc children would go to the bayou to fish and play by the water. If the children grew loud, Edouard would hop into his pirogue and drift away.

Whenever Josée would ask Jeanne or Marie if they should be quieter, one of them might say, “Ah, pah. It’s just Edouard sticking his head from his shell like a
tortue
.”

Tonight she could feel his gaze on her when Jacques gave her a bottle of ink as a gift and when Jeanne and Marie gave her their present, a writing pen. Where had they found such treasures?

Josée was, as they called her, “the smart one” and could read and write. Perhaps the LeBlanc children admired her, even if they did not grasp the use of such activities. Tonight when she met Edouard’s gaze, she couldn’t tell how he regarded her.
A’bien
, she wouldn’t let his opinion bother her. She stuck her chin out and tried to stand like a lady.

“My son, my eldest.” Papa clapped him on the back. His voice boomed loud enough to be heard over the crowd’s chatter. “You honored your papa and your family by comin’ tonight.”

“I could do no less.” Edouard knew he should have left after the dances began. Yet the sight of Josée, her hair up, and flitting like a bird around the bonfire, her arms linked with his sisters’, had made him stay. Several times he caught her stare at him. Did she see the scar, or was she watching his limp? He dared her to say something.

Here she was now, arm and arm with Mama LeBlanc, so close he could see the skin peeling from her sunburned nose. Her hair glowed almost blue black in the firelight. He wondered if she looked like her
mère
who had borne her. She gave him an uncertain smile.

Then Papa bellowed again, “
Mes amis
de La Manque, tonight we celebrate! Josée Broussard, raised as my daughter since she was but six, is now eighteen years old!” He gave a great laugh. His belly shook and the buttons on his vest threatened to pop. A few whoops and hollers and cheers rose up from the merry group.

Josée’s already bronze skin glowed with a deeper blush that crept to her neck, which curved gracefully to her shoulders. Edouard’s throat felt like he’d put on a tie tonight, except he had not.

After the cheers gave way to silence, Papa continued. “Tonight, I have a special su’prise for Josée an’ another member of my family.”

Edouard saw Josée dart a glance at Jacques, who jerked his head in their direction. Then he watched Josée’s gaze shift to him, and he saw her eyes dawn with a sudden, horrible recognition.

“As is the custom of our people,” Papa shouted gleefully, “I announce the betrothal of Josée Monique Broussard to my eldest son—Edouard Philippe LeBlanc!”

Chapter 2

L
ike the tears coming from Josée’s eyes, rain fell on the LeBlanc’s farmhouse roof. The crowd had celebrated until late, but Josée found it hard to sleep after the family settled to bed for the night. Snores from various areas of the attic told her the LeBlanc siblings rested with as much vigor as they’d rejoiced at her betrothal to Edouard.

In two weeks, the priest would meet them at the village common house. He would marry and bury, then move on and leave them until his next passage through.

Mon Père, I do not understand Your plan
. Josée rolled onto her back and looked up into the darkness, as if to see through the ceiling above her and up to heaven.
My mama—my real mère—always said You work Your will in our lives. How can this be Your will if I’m not happy? Edouard is moody and dark. Jacques is—

Everything Edouard was not. Josée sighed. She should accept what Mama and Papa LeBlanc had decided for her—for
them
, she corrected herself. After all, her world wasn’t the only world that had been disrupted. Edouard looked as if he’d been sentenced to hang.

She couldn’t picture any other unmarried man in the village being happy at the prospect of marrying an orphan without a dowry. She had nothing except herself to bring to the marriage. Josée shivered and pictured lonely years ahead.

Forgive me, mon Père. I should be thankful You are providing for me for the rest of my life
. Yet like a snake from the dark waters not far away, fear slithered around her heart. What if Edouard was a cruel man?

Josée flung back the quilt and tried not to disturb Jeanne who slept next to her.
She
was destined to marry someone she cared for, and he for her. Tonight the soft mattress that smelled of moss did not comfort Josée. Her feet found the cool plank floor. Perhaps a cup of coffee, reheated on the coals, might do her good. She descended the loft’s ladder and entered the kitchen.

Mama LeBlanc stood at the table in the warm glow of lamplight.

“Mama?”

A wooden trunk lay open before Mama LeBlanc. “I thought you might be down,
chere
.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She hoped Mama did not see the traces of tears on her face. “What’s this?”

“Some things from your family. Look.” Mama patted a yellowed paper wrapper.

Josée pulled the paper away to find an old dress that pricked at the edges of her memory and hurt a little. Her real mère’s dress. A lump swelled in her throat. “Oh. It’s beautiful. I’d almost forgotten.”

“We’ll have jus’ enough time for you to try it on and see if I need to sew the hem.” Mama’s rough fingers smoothed the lace. “Your mère would be proud to see you wear her dress. There’s more in here for you. You may take this trunk when you move to your new home.”

Josée’s heart beat faster, and she nodded. A new home. With Edouard.

“The coffee should be ready. Would you like a cup?” Though her surroundings remained the same, for the first time Josée felt as if she’d changed merely by reaching her eighteenth birthday.

“Of course.” Josée settled onto one of the wooden benches as if she were one of the local village women visiting Mama for a cup of coffee and a talk.

Mama LeBlanc placed two mugs of coffee between them and rested her ample form on the bench across from Josée. “Marriage brings lots of changes.”

One sip of the dark brew made Josée sit up straighter. “Oui, I am sure.” She clutched the mug with both hands.

“Edouard is a good man. A hurt man, a disappointed man, but a good man.” The older woman exhaled deeply, as if unburdening herself. “I know, deep down in his heart, Edouard understands
le bon Dieu
carries his troubles and cares for him. But—”

“Then why couldn’t I marry …” Josée made herself stop. She had no right to question the LeBlancs’ choice of husband for her. She had grown up with the knowledge that one day she’d likely marry one of the older LeBlanc brothers.

“Why not Jacques?” Mama patted Josée’s hand. “Jacques is too young. He is impulsive. He would keep you laughing, oui. However, he cares more for himself than anyone else. He is a
pourri
, a spoiled young man. I am to blame, and his papa.”

“I care for Jacques, and I think he cares for me, too.” Josée’s dismay at the words she spoke aloud caused her to touch her hot cheek.

“Ah, but is his affection the kind of carin’ that would last?
Chéri
, I love my son, but Jacques is too young to marry and shoulder such responsibility. For when marriage comes, then come
bébés
.”

Bébés
. Josée’s mind spun like a top. She could scarcely breathe. If only she could have stayed seventeen forever.

Edouard let the July sun soak into his bare shoulders. He spread more pitch on the cabin’s roof. In spite of his anger at his father’s decision, he wouldn’t dream of causing his family—or the innocent Josée—any dishonor. So he must prepare the cabin and make it fit for a young bride. A woman around would be like having a hen loose in the cabin all the time.

“You don’t want to marry her, do you?” Jacques scuttled across the roof like a crab and squatted next to him. “Wish I was older.”

“Not her, not anyone.” Edouard spoke the words truthfully enough. Heat radiated from the tar paper and roofing. Jacques was delaying their job by his talk. Edouard wanted nothing more than to be done.

“Not even Celine Hebert?”

“Celine Hebert forgot me and married another four years ago.” Edouard clenched his jaw. Jacques’s words irritated him more than the sweat trickling a path down his back.

The anguish over his lost love that had once torn his heart had dulled to a dismal memory, but Edouard still hadn’t the inclination to seek anyone else as a wife. “You haven’t forgotten her.”

“I don’t love Celine, if that’s what you mean. What’s done is done.” Marrying Josée without any thoughts of love would be best.

“Yet you’ll marry someone you don’t care for to please Papa.” Jacques shook his head and picked up a hammer.

“For honor’s sake I marry Josée Broussard. She has no feelings for me, so we begin the marriage even.” Edouard recalled her dark-eyed expression the other evening at the party, as if she were trying to see inside him. He wasn’t sure he welcomed her curiosity. But at least she didn’t flinch from the sight of his scar. Aloud, he continued, “And perhaps over time she will forget what feelings she
thinks
she has for you.”

Jacques shrugged. “I should have never told you what I heard her say the other night, the night of Papa’s announcement and the big storm. Like I said, if I were older—”

Edouard’s gut twisted, and he glared at Jacques. “Once Josée and I are wed, you’ll not come around and cause trouble. I’m marryin’ her. You are not. And I noticed you speakin’ with several young ladies at the party. I will be faithful to Josée—mon Dieu requires no less.”

“As you try to forget your lost love Celine!”

Enough! Edouard shoved Jacques and sent him hurtling over the edge of the cabin’s roof. The young man whimpered like a pup on the ground. Edouard sprang from the roof. He managed to land on his feet, his hands curled into fists. How dare Jacques accuse him of harboring love for Celine?

Jacques leaped to his feet and doubled over. He used his shoulder to ram into Edouard’s midsection. Edouard let the motion carry him backward and onto the grass. He flipped Jacques over his head then whirled to pin his brother down.

“I … don’t … love her. Now you see why I wish to be left alone!” Edouard ground out the words. He held Jacques by the shoulders.

A sudden shadow blocked the light. Edouard glanced up to see Josée standing over them. The summer wind teased her hair, and she clutched a basket over one hip. A tendril of blue black hair, glossy as ink, wafted across her full lips.