Bartered Bride Romance Collection (3 page)

Josée’s capable hand moved the offending wisp out of the way. “I … Mama sent me with lunch. You both must be hungry and thirsty.” A blush swept down her neck. She averted her gaze from their shirtless figures and looked at the cabin instead.

Edouard remembered where he was and released Jacques. He grabbed his nearby shirt and gestured for Jacques to do the same. “Jacques and I are done workin’ on the roof for today. I can finish the rest on my own. Thank you—and thank Mama—for lunch.”

Jacques, who took longer putting on his shirt than usual, busied himself with the contents of the basket. Josée ambled around to the entrance of the cabin that faced the bayou. Edouard wanted to stop her. He hadn’t finished making the place habitable for a lady.

Which is exactly how Josée carried herself. He tucked his shirt into his trousers and caught up with Josée. “The cabin ain’t very big. Two rooms. I have a good fireplace that is easy to cook over and makes good fires. I keep some things cool in the bayou water.” He found himself in a struggle for words. He did not understand the effect this young woman had on his speech. She could see this for herself.

Yet she paused on the tiny porch and turned to face him and the bayou. “I—I wanted to see the view. If it’s not ready, I won’t go inside. Not yet.” Then came another blush.

Edouard felt unspeakable relief. “Mornings are best here. Early, you can see the sun risin’ up over the cypress trees and hear the birds calling. The pelicans feed, and you fight ’em for a catch of fish.”

“It’s very peaceful here,” Josée said. She looked as though she was being fitted for the hangman’s noose.

He knew she could read and write. Maybe Josée would be better off in a place like Lafayette, where she could be a nanny or a governess or work for a rich Creole family. If the prospect of marriage seemed as undesirable to her as to him, now would be a good time for them to talk. Maybe it would be better if they didn’t marry after all.

“Josée, I didn’t know my papa had planned this for us.”

“I know. You looked as surprised as I imagine I did.” Josée leaned on the porch railing. “Remember, like Papa said, it’s the custom of our people.”

“We don’t have to follow the custom, not if both of us don’t wish to.” Edouard felt a pang at the clouded expression that crossed Josée’s face at his words. “It wouldn’t be the first time I went agin’st my papa’s wishes.”

“What about the plans of our bon Dieu? Could He be plannin’ this for us?” Josée faced him again, her arms crossed across her body. “And when you went to war, it cost you greatly to go against Papa LeBlanc’s wishes.”

“Our bon Dieu.” Edouard ground out the words. “He let me be scarred. He let my one love marry another. He left me with a bad leg. What is good about such things?”

Before Edouard could undo his hasty speech, another voice intruded. “
Bonjour
, young Edouard! We bring a gift from the Landrys, a new bed for you and your bride!”

Jean Landry and two of his sons came around the edge of the cabin. They carried a bed frame wrought from cypress wood, sturdy enough to last generations.

Edouard saw Josée glance at the bed before she fled toward the main house. First the fight with Jacques, then his words with Josée, and now a marriage bed, paraded down the path to his cabin.

Chapter 3

F
or the next week, Josée purposed in her heart not to speak of the conversation she had shared with Edouard on the cabin’s porch. He didn’t want her. Worse, he seemed angry at God, his anger like a festering wound that would not heal.

The families of La Manque had sent gifts along with gentle teasing, and others teased not so gently about the upcoming union. Josée tried to smile and give her thanks. Already she had several bolts of cloth as well as pots and pans. Edouard had already cleared a small patch of land by the cabin so she could plant a late-summer garden. The tilled land waited for her after it had lain dormant for years.

Now, Josée perched on a footstool in the center of the kitchen while Mama altered the hem of her mother’s old dress.

“You will soon call the LeBlanc family cabin home, chere.” Mama LeBlanc took up another section of the hem. “The first LeBlanc settler, Michel, came here after Le Grand Dérangement and built the cabin for his young bride, Capucine. Oui, the LeBlancs have much more now than then. But my Nicolas keeps the cabin to remind us of how good our God has been to us. And now our joy spills over, knowing that you and Edouard will start your lives together there.”

The heat was unbearable, the prickly kind that made Josée want to run for the cool bayou, shed her garments to her pantaloons, and dive in. Marriage. In seven days, the priest would pass through La Manque and change their lives forever.

Anger that rivaled the summer heat rose within Josée. “Mama, I do not think Edouard wants to marry me. He …” She struggled to find the words. On that day when the Landrys brought the bed, at first Edouard seemed proud of his cabin, as if he wanted her to like it. Then he changed, as if he believed she didn’t belong there and wanted to convince her of that, too.

“Edouard has spoken to his papa.” Mama seemed to consider her words carefully. “He somehow thinks that you are too good for this place, and for him.”

“Why? La Manque has always been my home.” Josée sighed.

“You can read. You can write. You speak like one who has been to school.”

“I know that my mère would want me to study. So I have, borrowing books and helping Jeanne, Marie and the others. Books aren’t much use to them, though.”

“Edouard is searching for reasons which do not exist. His papa has persuaded him that marriage is for the best.” Mama LeBlanc patted Josée’s shoulder. “There. You can put your other dress on. This one will be fine for the wedding. Perhaps you can find Edouard and bring him a piece of that pie you made for supper last night.”

Josée’s pulse thudded in her ears. “I don’t think pie will convince Edouard.”

“Go. Speak to him. I have been married many years, and I know this: Good conversation and a slice of pie cure many things.”

Minutes later, Josée headed toward the bayou cabin. She clutched a plate of pie covered with a cloth napkin. She felt as if the
teche
waited, coiled and ready to strike, as she approached the cabin. When she rounded the corner, she saw Edouard stretched out in his hammock, his eyes closed.
So the teche sleeps
.

Josée cleared her throat. “
Pardon
, I brought you some pie.”

Edouard opened his eyes and sat bolt upright, as if embarrassed to be caught lounging. “Merci.”

She could not gauge his expression. He took the plate from her hands, and Josée watched him taste the pie. She tried not to grip the edges of her apron. She wanted him to say something. Why wouldn’t he? Should she speak first? An inner nudge suggested she sit on the porch step. And so she did, though keeping silent about the pie and the more urgent matter of the wedding nearly smothered her.

“The pie’s good. You made it?” came Edouard’s voice. He settled onto the step next to her and took another bite.

“Oui. Mama said I should share it with you, and she said that you talked to your papa.” Josée watched the bayou drift silently by. She took a deep breath and let the dark green canopy of trees calm her.

Mon Père, help me. I want whatever You have for us, Edouard and me. Help him see it, too
. She heard a bird’s call far away through the trees.

He finished the pie, acted as if he were going to lick the plate, and then stopped. Josée would have chuckled if Edouard’s silence hadn’t made her want to drag conversation out of the man.

“I … my papa says I am much like his papa, who built this cabin.” Edouard gazed out at the dark water. “He lost many things. His home in Acadia. My papa’s mama, Capucine—she, too, knew loss.”

Josée watched his hands. He placed the plate on the top step behind them then rested his chin on folded fingers.

“Jacques, he is like Papa, so full of
joie de vivre
.” Edouard turned to face Josée, and she could scarcely breathe. She had never been within arm’s length of the man, and now he seemed to loom over her, although he was sitting on the top step. “I think more than I speak. But you would not miss such liveliness here? My life is simple.”

“It’s—it’s peaceful here.” Josée realized she was studying the scar on Edouard’s face, dulled by stubble. “And I would not miss Jacques’s liveliness so much. When we marry, I will not think of him again.” She shifted her gaze to his eyes. Their brown depths almost begged her to explore the secrets inside.

I haven’t wanted to kiss anyone since—

Edouard wished that he no longer thought of Celine but of the young woman who had willingly come and offered him part of herself with a simple piece of pie. He had sensed Josée’s urgency to speak and gave her credit for her silence. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish several times while he ate the pie.

Now while she waited, her mouth, well, it practically begged for a kiss. Thoughts of fish left his mind.

He stood and tried to keep his wits about him. This was Josée Broussard, who tutored his younger siblings and had somehow grown up when he wasn’t looking. And soon she would become his wife.

“Josée.” Edouard bent, took one of her hands in his, and pulled her to her feet. “My papa has arranged for us to marry. I doubted his choice at first, but then I do not trust easily. I cannot promise you much. I have little. But”—he gestured to the cabin behind them—“the cabin is snug and the bayou is good to me. I will provide for you, and you will lack nothing.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand. “Edouard, I know you will. While you may not, as you say, have the joie de vivre of your papa, you work hard. And I promise you I shall be true to the vows we make before
notre
Dieu. I can do no less. I will be a good wife to you.”

At that, Edouard raised the hand he held to his lips and sealed their agreement with a kiss.

Josée carried the memory of Edouard’s chaste kiss for the next several days. Sometimes she found herself rubbing the spot his lips had touched with the thumb of the other hand. No longer did she want to cry when considering the idea of the upcoming marriage. It was also too late for her to make plans to escape to Lafayette or another large town.

Jacques even kept away, which was also a relief to her. She didn’t understand how the dizzying sensations Jacques used to cause inside her by his very presence instead occurred at the mere thought of Edouard. She wanted to find a reason to visit the bayou cabin yet didn’t want to overstay her welcome. And perhaps Edouard was only making the best of the situation he’d found himself in. She reminded herself he didn’t promise to love her.

She did cry, though, when she slipped her mère’s dress over her head and Mama LeBlanc fastened the buttons at the back. The afternoon sun made long shadows through the windows.

“No, no tears today! This is a day of joy for our families.” Mama dabbed at Josée’s full eyes with a handkerchief. “Plus, your Edouard would be worried to see you with red eyes.”

My Edouard
. Evidently Mama LeBlanc carried the notion that love would grow between them. Josée tried not to think of love.