CultOfTheBlackVirgin (29 page)

More silence.

“Simone?”

“I understand,” she said in a small, distant voice. “Call me when you get home.”

Then shortly afterwards, in the
gîte,
Luc had to listen to Joanna singing the praises of her perfect boyfriend—the one she was intending to marry once she got home. He sounded like a perfect ass, Luc thought.

For the first time he began to think about what it would be like after she left. He didn’t like the way his body responded to the thought. He was far too tense.

And now, scowling—he knew he was scowling—at her at the other end of the dining room, he entertained the idea of leaping over the table, ripping her pretty clothes to shreds and fucking her blind.

He couldn’t stand it anymore—the ways her eyes teased him. Her body, too. It was killing him.

Putain
alors! Fuck! What’s happening to me?

* * * *

Jo didn’t want the evening to end, but she had to get up to use the toilet. When she was done she, she heard Luc’s
“Hsst!
” as he called to her softly from
Madame
Guillmont’s
office. Without hesitation, she went to him and he pulled her into the tiny room, shutting the door softly behind them. They fell together and stood still for a few moments with their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Blood rushing in her ears, Jo savored the feeling of her body fused to his, his demanding grasp, as she held him with equal force. She slowly breathed him in and sighed heavily.

Delicious. Exquisite. Perfect. If love didn’t take so long to grow, I’d swear I love this man.

He released his hold and looked down at her with an expression of both submission and desire. “You look amazing tonight, Joanna. You’ve never looked sexier than you do right at this moment. You’re taunting me, making me crazy, sitting at the other end of the room. Torturing me with those eyes.”

His fingers gently raised her chin up to his face, and he kissed her deeply, inviting her into him, offering himself to her. The smell and taste of his mouth, made more delicious by the brandy, intoxicated her. She responded with another sigh and a moan and felt a fluid surge of real desire. She began to shiver as his hands slowly and sensuously rubbed along her hips, made slippery by the silk of her skirt.

He broke the embrace, and said softly, “I’m burning to have you again. Meet me in the garden later. We can make love under the stars.”

Make love under the stars? Ohmygod—could anything be better than that?

“I can’t. Not tonight. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“But I want you now. It would be so sweet, so
very, very
sweet. You know it would.”

He kissed her again, more gently this time, and when he drew back she could see the fire in his eyes, despite the dimness of the room. But his expression was serious, somber, even. He moved his hand lightly along her neck, her shoulders, down the length of one of her arms.

“I want you. I’ll do such beautiful things to you, Joanna. You’ll see how I can make every cell in your body sing.”

She suppressed a giggle. “Yes, and we’d wake up the entire
gîte.
I would so love to meet you later. Oh God, but I’d love to spend the whole night with you. But no. I can’t.”

She trembled at the thought of another few glorious hours together.

“Although, it
would
be so very, very sweet,” she whispered, as if to herself.

“Meet me here, then.
Madame
will be long asleep and we can lock the door. Please, Joanna.” He ground his cock into her belly, not a subtle bone in his body, and covered her mouth with his. She felt her insides turning to liquid.

She opened herself to a kiss she knew could change her mind.

“No!” She had to be strong.

Then she kissed him again, slowly, pushing and revolving her tongue inside his mouth, tasting and relishing every bit. She felt the familiar tingle in the pit of her stomach. It was her body warning her that she would soon lose control as his hand moved again back and forth over the slippery fabric of her clinging skirt, tracing the outline of her damp thong.

Another wet and hot kiss stopped her in its urgency. He slid his hand had up inside of her opening thighs and began to rub the little triangle of hair covered by her thong. She had to break away, fighting for air. She could feel his hardness pressing into her hip.

She breathed her protest into his hot mouth. “I can’t. Iris or Sarah will notice I’m gone.”

He was silent for a moment as he ran the fingers of his other hand lightly over the pinned up tresses of her hair, all the while rubbing between her legs, rocking his body against her, sighing into her ear.

“What does it matter if your bed is empty for a while?”

She stiffened before she told him what he seemed oblivious to. “Because everyone
knows
. Everyone thinks we’re committing adultery. It’s very bad for both of us.”

Instantly his entire body grew rigid. He let her go, his mouth hard, his eyes narrow.

“Ah. I see. That’s why you’ve been so quiet all day.”

“Yes—I’m on my best behavior because I’m about to be crucified. They all think you’re married. Women hate it when another woman lures a married man into sin. They’re bound to be much more lenient on you.”

In the half-light Jo could see the anger in his face, could feel the tension of every muscle in his body. She put her hands up and held his head as if he were the most precious treasure in the world. A vein in his temple was pulsing.

“Fuck!” he muttered under his breath. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“But it has, and we have to salvage some of my dignity, and both of our reputations.”

She pulled his head down and planted a chaste kiss on his mouth. His body loosened as he responded with a real kiss, one that flowed down to her toes.

“Oh God, Luc—don’t make this any harder than it is.” She sighed again.

Making an enormous effort to do the right thing, she pulled herself away from his embrace and placed the palms of both hands against his chest, like she had that night in the phone booth at Rocamadour. And again she pushed him, hard, away from her.

“Believe me. There’s nothing I’d rather do than meet you tonight, but I can’t. I have to go now. They suspect we’re together right this minute.”

This time when she pushed he didn’t step back to let her pass. This time he grabbed her tightly and took her mouth with such fierce need that her legs buckled. And this time, she kissed him back. She responded with equal ardor and felt herself slipping away into the only place she cared about.

Her resolve was almost destroyed by the way he moved his hands over her body—up, down and around her hips, cupping her buttocks, circling her waist, over her breasts, lingering to pull at the hard tips.

Suddenly he broke away, panting, and grabbed her hips so tightly she thought he’d leave marks.

“Don’t worry, Joanna. I’ll deal with this. I’ll make sure no one will say a word against you. And then we will spend tomorrow afternoon together.”

Feeling an overwhelming relief, she couldn’t respond, her breath caught somewhere. She buried her face in his chest and held onto him until she could speak. This was exactly what she needed to hear him say.

“Yes. But let me go now, please!”

With that, he released her, rumpled and shaking. She was in no shape to walk back into the dining room, and asked him to make her excuses. She wanted to get into bed before Iris and Sarah came in so she wouldn’t have to pretend she wasn’t being ignored.

In parting, he offered her a sad smile that melted her heart.

“Yes. Tomorrow.
Yes.
Trust me, Joanna. I’ll make it right.”

* * * *

Mais quel bordel. What a mess!

Luc was furious—at himself as much as the others.

I’ve been such a fool!

There was only one thing to do and he resolved to do it tomorrow as soon as he had half an hour to himself. It tore his heart to think that Joanna had been suffering at his expense.

What a fucking idiot I’ve been. Gros con. Espèce de con. A complete and utter moron!

Chapter Nine

Not surprisingly, Jo slept poorly. Her dreams were vivid and alarming, and she awoke with a heavy sense of dread. In one dream, James had left her, claiming he didn’t love her, had never loved her. She was devastated, both in the dream and outside of it. Feeling suffocated by a blanket of doom, she wondered where this fear had come from. Dreams like this were not unusual, but this one was especially intense and upsetting. Maybe it had something to do with the fact she’d forgotten to send James an email yesterday.

A moment later she remembered what the day held in store for her—Luc wanted her again! Instantly, all negative thoughts evaporated and she was energized by a wave of bliss.

Of course she had to get through the morning with everyone else sending her sideways glances, wondering what she and Luc would be up to next. The next few hours would be agony as she pretended there was nothing going on between them. But she would manage. And admirably, too.

At least no one could accuse her of impropriety last night. She didn’t leave her bed once, although she was kept awake for hours by Iris’s snoring and Sarah’s muffled sobs.

Breakfast was the usual excellent coffee and baked goods, with lots of fresh butter and fruit preserves. As Jo picked at her food, she tried not to look at Luc. He seemed more animated than usual this morning, she thought, and a flash of anger shot through her. Was he so insensitive to his role in this mess that he could just carry on as if nothing was wrong?

She overheard a few bits of his conversation, though. He’d been jogging through a campground on the edge of town when he witnessed a domestic dispute. It sounded quite funny, the way he described it. An over-large, overbearing woman threatened to drive a car over her husband who was still in bed inside their tent. Everyone at the table was laughing, but Jo was too distracted to be amused and had to force a smile.

On the books was a two-hour tour of the old town center of Martel. They would visit the church and the lone remnant of the town’s seven original towers. Afterwards they would be free to take lunch anywhere they wished, and then spend the rest of the day relaxing or shopping. Luc told them he was going home to attend to some personal business, and he promised to bring some of his own wine back with him for the farewell dinner on Sunday.

As he discussed his plans for the day, Jo sensed his blue-eyed gaze turn onto her from across the table. She knew what he was thinking. Although she was trying to be cool, she was still powerless under those eyes. She nodded at him once, almost imperceptibly, and turned back to her croissant.

While they were eating, Edward and Glenda were kind enough to invite Jo to have lunch with them after the morning tour. Whatever she might have done, they seemed to have forgiven her. She thought it might be the Evans’ last chance to talk to her about their upcoming trip to the U.S., so she accepted, grateful that at least two people in the group weren’t about to tar and feather her.

Although the weather was still dry and hot, the temperature had dropped a little from the uncomfortable highs of earlier in the week. When the group met outside the
gîte
at ten, Jo was dressed for a casual walk through the town. Her hair was demurely held in a ponytail with a barrette. She wore a sleeveless white t-shirt, a modest floral skirt and sandals. She carried a straw hat against the sun. She felt pretty, and Peter’s admiring ogle as she walked past him confirmed her feeling.

“Well good mornin’ again darlin’,” he said as he made a mock bow. “All dressed up for a day on the town?” Catching Carol’s evil eye, Jo gave him a curt nod.

As they set out she sensed that Luc was trying hard not to look at her as he led them to the center of town. That was fine with her. He was wearing the red bandana again, although he wouldn’t be walking across country today. Again, it gave her something to focus on as she followed him, anticipating the afternoon.

As they trod the old stone sidewalks, he read aloud from some literature he carried, relaying Martel’s long and violent history.

“Originally surrounded by tall double ramparts for protection, the town has only two old gateways remaining, and one tower—the
Tournemire
Tower—that once served as the prison,” he told them.

Everyone snapped photos of the tower and the two gates when they stopped briefly at each for a few minutes.

The next stop was the very old
Eglise Saint-Maur
.

“This church is unusual,” Luc explained, “because it still contains crenellated battlements from the days when it formed part of the city walls. It’s a unique structure, so take plenty of pictures.”

He led them inside to the cloying atmosphere of a damp tomb.

The abrupt change in temperature and humidity was remarkable, reminding Jo of her trip into the caves. The air smelled old, as if it had been held prisoner for centuries between the sweating stone walls.