French Quarter (23 page)

Rose fumbled to open her shabby bag.

“I don’t need any proof,” Celina said. “I believe you. We’ve got to have some sort of plan. We’ve got to get Antoine back.”

“The man said Antoine will come home when they decide the time’s right. If I make sure no one says nothing they don’t want them to say. Oh, Miss Payne, if I lose my Antoine, I’m not sure I can live no more.”

“Don’t talk like that. You aren’t going to lose him.”

Rose took out a crumpled brown sack and dropped her bag on the door. She opened the sack and pulled out a wad of cloth that had once been white but was now filthy and bloodstained.

Celina couldn’t stop herself from exclaiming and drawing back.

While she straightened the ruined fabric, Rose cried openly. What emerged was a ruined T-shirt, mostly soaked in blood, but with the words THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE still visible on the front.

“Antoine’s,” Celina whispered. “He was wearing it the last time I saw him.”

Rose hiccupped and nodded her head. “Me, too. That man give me this, too, just in case I don’t believe him.” She unwound a scrap of tissue and held it toward Celina.

Resting there was part of a front tooth with a gold rim.

Nineteen

Ben had moved into a room next to the one Sally shared with Wilson. It made her nervous, his proximity. His arrogant treatment of her only grew more overt. He behaved as if she were absolutely no threat to him. He ought to be cautious around her and the fact that he wasn’t had to mean there was something she didn’t know.

Tonight Sally intended to find out exactly what she didn’t know about Ben.

Every morning he came strolling into Sally and Wilson’s bedroom and Wilson actually asked her to go into the bathroom and “start makin’ herself pretty” while he talked to his new bodyguard about the plans for the day. And Ben never as much as looked in her direction, even when she climbed half-naked from the bed.

She would find out what that was all about too. So much for the wonderful surprises he’d promised her back on that first delicious morning when all he’d been angling for was a permanent job on the household staff. He hadn’t touched her since.

On the night of that same day, at the last fund-raiser, Wilson had singled Ben out and appointed him his almost constant sidekick. Sally had begun to wonder if Wilson’s tastes ran in

directions she’d never guessed at. There was no doubt that Ben had a cute ass.

Sally was looking at that ass now. Once more the house was filled with Wilson’s adoring followers, including Neville Payne, who had surprised them by arriving without Bitsy and with some excuse that she wasn’t feeling well. Wilson had barely hidden his anger when Neville told him that Celina would not be coming. Cyrus has been invited too but hadn’t arrived. So far this evening wasn’t going at all as Sally had planned.

But it was time to do something about Ben.

She waited until Wilson was deep in conversation with the president of one of the most prestigious banks in the South, then walked nonchalantly close to Ben, who looked so irresistible in evening dress.

She put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Evenin’, sugar,” in a voice meant only for him. “I’m really wounded that you haven’t found the time to thank me for your wonderful new job yet.”

He glanced sideways at her with those marvelous smoldering eyes of his and said, “Thank you for helping me be in the right place at the right time.”

“Think nothing of it, lover. Don’t I remember you talkin’ about some
surprises
you had in mind for me. Didn’t you tell me I was goin’ to have to be on my toes because I was never goin’ to know when you’d decide to give me one of those surprises?”

His blank stare angered her.

“Well, Ben, you may think you don’t need me anymore, but you’re wrong. I’m goin’ for a walk in the gardens. I anticipate bein’ in the old pergola in about five minutes. In case you don’t know where that is—it’s out back of the house. On the other side of the greenhouses. No one goes there anymore. If you want to keep your wonderful new job, you’ll meet me there.”

Sally walked quickly away, smiling and nodding to the guests she passed. Holding her head high and swinging her hips in the short, stretchy, black-sequin-covered halter dress she wore, she left the house by an open door at the end of the passageway that bordered the kitchens.

Excitement mounted with every step, and confidence. She would teach him to respect her. Her backless high-heeled sandals slowed her down, so she took them off and carried them in one hand. And she hurried, because she wanted to have time to collect herself before Ben got to the pergola.

This wasn’t the first time Sally had received gentlemen callers in the pergola that dated back to her grandmother’s time. The thought made her smile and remember some pleasurable interludes.

She arrived at the birdcage-shaped iron structure, opened the door that squealed on its ancient hinges, and went inside. Clematis vines completely covered the wrought iron bars that curved to a point overhead. A circular stone bench with a hole in the middle was the only inner adornment. Huge white blooms on the vines loaded the air with a heavy night fragrance.

Sally went to the far side of the pergola. She put on her sandals again, faced the door, and reached to grip bars behind her head. Even from this distance she could hear the strains of the Dixieland band playing in the house, and she swayed from side to side with her eyes partly closed. Anticipation was half the fun, so they said. Well, she wouldn’t put it quite that high, but she did enjoy feeling her body get ready for a man.

The door whined open.

She leaned her head against the bars and watched Ben come in. In the almost complete darkness his eyes glittered, and his teeth shone very white. His high cheekbones gleamed paler than the rest of his face. He looked frightening. Almost satanic.

Sally wriggled a little with delicious apprehension. “Hello, Ben.”

“What is it?” he said. “What do you need to say that couldn’t be said in the house.”

She was older, wiser, and a whole lot tougher than he was. “Sit down, Ben. We need to talk.”

Rather than do as she told him, he pushed his hands in his pockets and sauntered around the pergola.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said. “You’re here because of me, because I showed an interest in you that first day. You think that gave you the upper hand. But all I have to do is talk to Wilson, and you’re out.”

Ben picked a clematis blossom and held it to his nose.

Sally’s skin prickled. He was too sure of himself. “What is it about you?” She was surprised she’d asked the question aloud.

He crossed his arms, held the flower against his mouth, and regarded her with inscrutable calm.

“You arrogant little bastard,” she said through her teeth. “If you think you’re bulletproof, you are so wrong. My husband is a jealous man, Ben. What’s his is most definitely his. If I tell him you took advantage of me, you are in big trouble, honey.”

The flower’s petals took a twirl on Ben’s chin.

She gathered her composure and sauntered toward him, snapping her fingers as she went. “I’ve got it. You used me. Hah! Who would have thought it? You planned the whole thing. You intended to get close to me so you could figure out a way into a fat job with my husband. Oh, you couldn’t have expected that kid to try to rob us. That was an unexpected bonus. It speeded up the process. But that’s it, isn’t it?”

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” he asked when she paused to take a breath. “If it is, I’d better get back. Mr. Lamar might need me.”

Tears of rage smarted in Sally’s eyes. Her jaw trembled with fury. “You have met your match,
Angel. I
see it all now. You’re afraid to touch me again because you don’t want to jeopardize your wonderful, cozy position with Wilson. Guess what, lover? You need to get a lot smarter before you try playing in the big leagues. If you don’t do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it,
I’ll
make sure you go back where you came from, and I don’t mean you’ll get the consolation prize. No one in this town would touch you once I finished with you—they wouldn’t touch you or your aquariums. I will destroy you—not that you’re anything but a pretty face and an efficient body anyway.”

“Thank you for sharin’ that with me, Mrs. Lamar. Would you like me to escort you back to the house?”

“I’d like to take you apart piece by piece. You want me. I can feel how much you want me. I can smell it. But you’re too scared to take me. You must have been terrified you wouldn’t pull it off that morning when I took you upstairs. But you held yourself together until you could do what you wanted to do and get out safely. You decided you’d try to frighten me, to make me think you could call the shots. And you wanted sex with me so you could have something on me, but you sure as hell didn’t want to get caught.”

“Oh, dear lady,” he said softly. “Your mind is certainly goin’ in little circles. Could it be you drank too much’? Mr. Lamar will never forgive me if I don’t make sure you get home safely.”

She seethed. Sweat broke out on her back. “If there’s one thing I don’t have to put up with, it’s a fuck-and-run artist.” Half expecting him to push her away, Sally reached for his bow tie. “Υοu can run, honey, but I’m getting one for the road. And if you expect to last around here, I’ll get it again and again.”

Ben didn’t stop her from wrenching his tie undone and pulling the studs on his shirt free. He did push the bruised blossom nonchalantly inside her dress. He kept his hand inside and kneaded a breast until she fought to tear his shirt aside, panting in her hurry, angling her pelvis toward him.

“Mrs. Lamar,” he said, the tone of his voice unbelievably even, “you really should try to control yourself. you.”

He plucked at her nipple, rolled it, freed her breast from the dress she’d imagined him taking off her.

“Oh, Ben, Ben,” she said, “you have a kinky sense of humor, but I could come to love it. Don’t stop. Oh, don’t you stop.”

“You’re not yourself.”

“I am very much myself. And myself is getting better every second. Help me get your clothes off. I want to see your body shine in the dark.”

She didn’t have to guess if he wanted what she wanted. He was hard enough to make holes in concrete. Sally pressed her thighs together and dipped, reveled in what she felt while she got his pants undone.

He removed his hand from her breast.

“I told you not to stop,” she said, gasping and looking up at him. He pushed out the tip of his tongue, pulled it in again, and grinned. “You are teasin’ me, you beast.”

Laughing, she released him and struggled out of the halter top of her dress until she was nude to the waist. Hands on hips, she backed away, turned sideways, always looking at him while she posed, knowing the moonlight shone on her breasts.

It also shone on Ben’s strongly muscled chest, and on a beautiful promise that rose from a thick mat of pubic hair. His pants clung at the level of his massive thighs. He stared, and that thrilled her, but he didn’t make a move toward her.

“I do believe we’re going to hold a little lady’s-choice.” Giggling breathlessly, Sally inched her abbreviated skirt upward until it joined her bodice and revealed the tiny black G-string she wore.

Ben beckoned with a single finger. He held his tongue between his teeth now and ate her with his eyes.

“Yes,” she told him. “Oh, yes.”

He wasn’t passive anymore. With one arm he swept her up and planted her on the bench. With the other he held her to him while he buried his face in her breasts. He took as much of her as he could suck into his mouth. It hurt, but she liked it that way.

She ripped the G-string away herself, and gasped when he turned his face up to hers. He was every bit as beautiful as she’d ever thought he was. Another powerful move and he had her legs wrapped around his waist while he took her to the only paradise she cared to visit. How could one man have so much? Every part of her ached and clenched. He stretched her, and she loved it.

With a great burst of motion, he made her come. He did it, and did it carrying her while he rammed her up and down. And he didn’t come out of her when he was finally still. Waves kept right on blasting all those good places.

“Careful,” he said. “Hold on to something, please.” And he backed against the bars.

Sally giggled and bumped up and down until she felt him growing hard again. Ben let her go and she squealed, clinging to her handholds on the bars. When he raised his hands again, he held two fresh blossoms. He licked each one slowly, smiling at her all the while. Then he crowned each of her nipples with his damp tributes that stuck to her skin, and she closed her eyes.

Α snick sounded, and something sent light across her closed eyelids.

“What was that?” she said, opening her eyes and twisting around.

“Oh, no,” Ben said. “Stop it. You, get away. you.”

Α camera strobe flashed again, and Sally screamed.

Twenty

Celina had never felt more aware of being alone with a man than she did now, here in Jack’s home, and with the knowledge that he knew she was there because she’d wanted to be with him.

He’d shown surprise when he’d opened the door to her, but then she’d been almost certain he was pleased she’d come. But people often saw what they wanted to see.

As on her two previous visits, he settled her in his study, but the phone in the hall had rung before anything could be said, and he was talking to someone. She felt more gratified than she should that he’d made no attempt to find privacy for his conversation, but she soon realized he was talking to Tilly about Amelia. Why would he want privacy for that?

“Put her on,” he told Tilly after a series of exchanges, then he said, “Hi, squirt. You havin’ a good time with your grandmother?”

Celina eased out of the chair and went to study photos on Jack’s desk. They were all of Amelia—at various ages—apart from one of a very young woman who was so like Amelia that she was obviously the child’s mother.

“I have told you not to go up there, young lady,” Jack said. “No. And I am not amused that you’re makin’ a scene like this in front of your grandmother. She looks forward to seeing you, and it isn’t kind to make up stories to try to get home the minute you get there.”

He’d raised a little girl who, understandably, adored her daddy and didn’t want to be with anyone else. He was also responsible for her storytelling penchant.

Looking into the older version of Amelia’s face made Celina deeply sad. How could someone with so much decide to leave it all behind?

“Amelia Elise Charbonnet, there are no witches in this house—no, no, right, no witches across the street, then. And no ghosts with binoculars either. Sweetheart, I have told you to stay out of the attic. You could fall and hurt yourself up there.’’

Celina glanced at the windows. It was dark outside, but the moon iced grillwork on galleries overhanging sidewalks across the street. She moved closer.

“You haven’t seen the people who live there because they’re very old.’ Jack sounded less patient. “Two old ladies who never go out. No they aren’t witches, Amelia. And that’s enough. What? No, you don’t turn into a ghost when you get real old, and their food must be delivered. Now— You imagined little red lights, squirt. That’s
it,
Amelia. Now be kind to Tilly and your grandmother. I love you. Good night.”

It took Jack several more firm instructions before he could finally hang up.

Celina parted the curtains and stared at the windows opposite. They were all dark. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said when he returned to the room. She nodded at the buildings they faced. “They do look closed up, don’t they? I expect Amelia’s been practicing the skills she’s inherited from you.”

“Why don’t you come and—”

“Sit down?” she finished for him. “And stay away from the windows, maybe?”

“I didn’t say that, you did.” He sounded aggrieved.

“So I did. I have absolutely no right to intrude upon you, and I’m not going to dream up an excuse. You get the truth. Cyrus has decided to try to please our parents by going to the Lamars’ party, and I didn’t want to stay in Royal Street on my own. I left a note to say I’d be here with you and asked him to call when he gets back.”

“I wanted you here with me.”

She smiled nervously. “Thank you.” Since Rose left, there hadn’t been a moment’s respite from the struggle to decide what to do about the information she’d been given, the evidence of bestiality she’d been shown.

“Antoine’s wife was a surprise.”

Celina was startled. She said, “She wasn’t what I’d expected.”

“What’s the excuse for Antoine’s absence? Is he ill? Did she say anything about his visit to Dwayne—or about what he thinks he saw?”

She could tell him, ask him what she ought to do. “I’m still not sure about why he wasn’t at work today.” Her mouth was dry. Rose had been so adamant that Celina not tell anyone anything.

“The woman was edgy. I thought maybe she was afraid of something.”

“I don’t think she liked coming to me. She...she didn’t say anything much.”

Celina saw the instant when Jack lost interest in Rose. He said, “Are you hungry?”

“I’ve eaten. And I’ve had juice and milk. And I took some vitamins.”

“You need prenatal vitamins.”

He made her smile again. “You aren’t my daddy, Jack.”

“Thank God,
chère.
I am your future husband, your soon-to-be husband. And I’m going to be that child’s father.” He indicated her stomach. “That’s part of the deal. I’m not takin’ it on lightly. But I am in a hurry. I have to think of Amelia. She needs to be made part of the whole baby sibling thing, and I don’t want it sprung on her a couple of weeks before you give birth.”

“You are so matter-of-fact.”

“What...sorry. I’ve been organizing my own life for a long time.”

Celina shivered a little without knowing why. She crossed her arms. “You were going to ask me what I expect other than a no-nonsense approach to this. And you’re right. I’m going to keep on being direct, Jack. If you’re sure about this marriage, then I’m sure. Part of me keeps whispering that I want you because you’ll give me and the baby safety. And that’s true. But I can be good for you too.”

His sudden wicked grin confused her. “I know you can be good for me,
chère
,”
he told her. “I know we can be good for each other—and with each other.”

Men were unbelievable. “You aren’t talking about sex again. You can’t be.”

He shrugged and appeared the slightest bit abashed. “I might be, Indirectly, of course. But it was accidental, honestly.”

“Of course it was.” To hide her smile, she turned back to the window. She shouldn’t be having a moment’s rest or cheerfulness when she knew Antoine was being held prisoner by some depraved creatures and Rose was beside herself with worry over her husband. The bloody shirt had been terrible, but the tooth had reduced Celina to trembling horror.

“Would you like to see the rest of the place?” Jack asked.

Rose had made her promise not to tell anyone what she now knew. Talking to Jack about it would be such a relief. Surely she should ask someone for help.

“Celina? Can I show you around? I think it’ll work out just fine. There’s plenty of room, and with Tilly’s quarters upstairs, I don’t see any problems.”

If she broke her word to Rose and something happened to her, and Antoine...and their boys... She couldn’t say anything, not yet. Maybe Cyrus was the one to talk to. He was accustomed to keeping confidences.

She didn’t know Jack had come up behind her until he touched her back and turned her to face him.

“Do you want to share what’s on your mind?” he asked.

This was the time to tell him. “No. Except that everything is so strange. If we go ahead with this, it’ll be a modern-day marriage of convenience, won’t it?”

“Not entirely. Not anymore. And we are going ahead with it. I asked you. You’ve accepted. By sometime next week you’ll he my wife. I expect you’ll want to keep your own name.”

“Moving right along?” Somehow she didn’t feel like laughing. “Would you prefer that I keep my own name?”

He raised his brows. “Isn’t that back to front? Aren’t you supposed to ask me if I’d prefer you to take my name, then politely suggest you’re a thoroughly modern woman who would never consider such a thing?”

No more games.
“I
think Charbonnet is a lovely name. If you feel comfortable, I’d like to take it. And I’ll expect to sign a prenuptial agreement. It shouldn’t be hard to get it drawn up. I have no right to anything of yours. You’re already giving me a great deal.”

“I’m getting a great deal,” he said, silencing her entirely. “But I appreciate your being sensitive to sensitive issues.”

She would speak to Cyrus. Perhaps she should return there now, just in case he’d got home and hadn’t seen the note.

“Celina?”

“Yes,” she said sharply. “Yes, Jack. Thank you. Whatever you say.”

He became quiet and the lamp on his desk picked up the gold flecks in his eyes. No man she’d ever known could look quite as serious as Jack when he was serious.

“Well, if we’ve covered everything, I should get home.”

“This is going to be your home. And you’re waiting for Cyrus to call, remember?”

“I was. I’ve already intruded long enough.”

“Not nearly long enough. Tilly and Amelia are gone until tomorrow.”

“And you must be looking forward to a little peace. We all need that from time to time.”

“I hated that discussion we just had.”

For an instant she wasn’t sure what he meant. She watched his face and suddenly knew exactly what he’d been talking about. “It’s necessary for us to cover these things sensibly. I understand that.”

Jack bowed and tapped the end of her nose with a forefinger. “It’s not necessary to be cold about something that should be warm. I’m attracted to you. If I weren’t, I would be worried about what we’re going to do. I’m not worried.”

She considered only a moment before saying, “I’m not worried either.” This should all feel outrageous. Perhaps it did, but she wasn’t backing away.

“Would you stay here with me tonight, Celina? Please?” He asked her a question, a particularly personal question—just like that?

“I want us to be very comfortable together. This weekend will be the only opportunity we have to get a little used to each other before you move in permanently.”

Dithery. Α simple question from a mature man to a mature woman, and that woman’s response was to feel like a dithery kid. “Perhaps we should put it off until Amelia’s had more time to get used to the idea.”

“If things were different, I’d agree.”

“If things were different, we wouldn’t be doing this.”

He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m not so sure we wouldn’t eventually have been doing something together, Celina.”

She had known her share of uncomfortable reactions, but Jack’s ability to make her throb beneath the skin ranked at the top of the intensity scale.

“Surely, adversity threw us together,” he persisted. “Now. But I couldn’t have remained blind to what you really are forever.”

“You don’t know what I really am. That kind of thing takes time.”

“I’m terminatin’ this discussion. We are movin’ on. The front door is locked. There’s just you and me, c
hère.
What do you say? Shall we see how we are together?”

Celina cast about. She needed to sit down, to think, to regroup.

“I am too cold,” he told her. “I am an ass. Tell me I’m an ass and you wouldn’t stay with me if I were the last man on earth.
Shall we see how we are together?
I’m sorry.”

His frown revealed the vulnerability he usually hid completely. His frown and the worried set of his features, the way he ducked his head to study her face.

“I’m not sorry, Jack. I’ll leave a message for Cyrus so he’ll know I’m not coming back tonight.”

Once Jack Charbonnet hadn’t known a moment’s uncertainty with a woman. He didn’t feel uncertain now, did he? Strange, because the situation was strange, maybe, but not uncertain.

He felt uncertain.

In a quaint, old-world way, the two-floor apartment delighted Celina. She’d dutifully allowed Jack to show her around—more quickly than she would have preferred tonight—before ushering her into his bedroom. Two small rooms separated the master bedroom from Amelia’s little-girl-feminine domain. Celina had acknowledged to herself that she’d calculated the layout of the rooms because she worried about sleeping with Jack and having his small daughter very near. The rooms between relieved her.

Sleeping with Jack.

They’d kissed. Danced in a courtyard in the sun. Held each other a couple of times. He’d “talked dirty,” to shock her—she smiled at that, while she observed how he drew heavy bronze-colored draperies over the windows. Their shared experience was almost nothing, yet he’d coolly asked her to spend the night, and she’d coolly accepted. Not coolly, but she had accepted.

Jack faced her across the bed and thought that the colors in his room might have been chosen for her. Against the browns, beiges, and dull golds her skin took on a bloom, and the red in her hair became more obvious.

“I haven’t been sleeping too well, Celina.”

“It’s hard,” she told him. “We’ve been through so much.”

“I wasn’t talking about what happened to Errol. I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about him, but you’ve been the one on my mind at night.”

Her eyes were the kind that held a person’s soul. And if they were hiding a whole lot, he’d be surprised. She was full of hope, hope that they’d pull off a miracle and form a great relationship from the bones of a disaster. She wanted him to care about her, not just for her. And she wanted to care for him. He was sure those were the hopes he saw in her eyes. She’d give this thing her best shot.

And he was turning into a romantic fool at the age of thirty-seven, when any man ought to know better.

Romantic? Or had he deprived himself of a woman for long enough to make him mistake hormones for emotions. Dangerous stuff.

He looked away.

“I’m afraid to hope for anything,” she told him quietly. “I’m afraid we’re making a horrible mistake. I— From the first time I met you I’ve felt something. That thing you feel when— You took my breath away.” She laughed, and he returned his eyes to hers. “This should be taped and given to women in danger of making fools of themselves over men. It would save them.”

“If it was taped and given to men who thought they didn’t need or want someone in their lives, it would change their minds.” He was stepping in too deep to climb out, but, hell, he was a big boy. If this was a giant error, he’d survive.

Celina felt light-headed. Not the kind of light-headed she’d come to dread, but the kind she’d only read about. He didn’t have to say these things. “We won’t be the first couple to decide to make a marriage work, Jack. We’ve both got good reasons, the best reasons.” She refused to examine all her own too deeply. A pregnant woman was known to be susceptible to her emotions, and hers were trying to lead her around.