Your Wish Is My Command (11 page)

Jamie let out a small shriek and almost fell off her stool. Stumbling to an upright position, she turned to find Sebastien bending over her workbench, studying the sketches for her newest project; a nineteenth-century pirate ship.

She tried to tell herself that her heart was beating wildly only because he'd startled her. But the fact that her mouth was watering over the way his linen shirt pulled snugly across his broad back told the real story. “Nice of you to drop in.” She hadn't seen him in a few weeks. Only now did she realize how much she'd missed him.

He grunted in response, his attention fixed on the plans, photos, and stacks of other resource material cluttering her work space. She folded her arms across her chest. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of another heart attack?”

He finally looked up, and she felt her heart squeeze just the teeniest bit at the boyish way his hair had fallen across his forehead and the somewhat lost look on his face. “What did you say?”

“What is it with boys and boats, huh?” she asked, then laughed when he looked confused.

He straightened then. “What are these drawings for, mademoiselle?”

“It's a hobby of mine. Building model ships.” She shrugged. “Boats aren't just for boys, I guess.”

“I see.” That teasing light came back into his eyes, making her throat suddenly dry. “And your new project just happens to be a privateer schooner. Interest-ing.

She should have left well enough alone. The man was a walking Y chromosome. And her X's were all clamoring to get closer.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, well.” She turned her attention to the plans. “You're wrong about the halyard. I do very careful research, and every source I checked specifies that it looks exactly like that.”

“Then you have faulty resources. I sailed a ship just like her.” He grinned wickedly. “And I've boarded one or two others in my time.” He pushed several papers around and slid the plan showing the rigging profile on top. “Yours is the original design, but privateers have, shall we say, specific needs. We were quite innovative in rebuilding our ships to suit our own purposes.” He pointed to a scale drawing at the bottom of the plan. “This actually goes here. Connects there. That way the captain can hoist the sails far more swiftly when he has to get underway in haste.” He winked. “Something that came in particularly handy in my former occupation.”

Right. As a pirate. With Laffite. She hadn't forgotten that part, really. She'd just … tucked it away for a while. Now it was untucked again, and she still didn't know exactly what to think. He sounded absolutely convincing. “I … I'll take it under advisement and do a bit more research.” She took the plan from his hands, stifling a small shiver when her fingertips brushed his warm skin. “Thanks.”

He turned back to the scatter of plans on her work
bench and flipped through them. “There are some other design flaws here.”

Bristling, she looked past his shoulder at the plans she'd so painstakingly labored over. “These are commercial plans, but after fairly exhaustive research, I fine-tune and alter them to make as exact a replica as I can. I take a great deal of pride in my level of accuracy. I know my ships.”

He turned and pinned her with his dark, penetrating gaze. “So,
mon amie
, do I.”

Jamie suddenly decided that maybe this was one argument she didn't really want to have. She might have daydreamed on occasion about Sebastien's piratical claims. Okay, so there had been one or two hot and sweaty night dreams in there as well. But maybe it was best to walk away from all that. Right now.

He took a step closer. She stepped back. He didn't move closer, but the oxygen was rapidly evaporating anyway. The man consumed space. This was no time to speculate about who he might really be. When he looked at her like that, she had no trouble whatsoever seeing him climbing the rigging of a pirate ship, muscles bulging, cutlass clenched firmly between two sets of white teeth.

He leaned back against the workbench and folded his arms. “You can hardly be held accountable for faulty historic documentation.”

She narrowed her eyes but managed to refrain from a retort.

“Do you have any finished models?”

“They're still packed. I haven't decided where to display them downstairs. I haven't had much time to get my apartment in order yet.”

“Yet you have time to work on a hobby.” He bent over the ship again. “Interesting.”

She made a face at his back, then quickly masked it when he whirled around to face her.

“I'd like to see them sometime.” He wasn't playing with her now. His interest seemed very sincere.

She didn't know how she felt about that. Part of her felt suddenly shy at the idea, even though she was very proud of her level of craftsmanship. Another part of her wanted to sit down and go over every model, questioning him endlessly on what he knew. Whether it was from personal experience or not, she didn't dare to consider.

“You must spend a great deal of time planning a project as detailed as this,” he said. “How long does it take, start to finish?”

“Depends on the model, my access to source material, and how much time I have to devote to it. Usually a year or two. I moved around a lot, so it was kind of tricky. I might be able to get this one done a bit more quickly now that I've settled in one place.”

“And how do you decide which ship to build next?”

She tried not to flush, honestly. The knowing twinkle in his eyes proved too much. “I'm in New Orleans, so I decided to take advantage of the information available to me.” When he continued to study her, she hurried on. “It just so happens that this is one place where I can gather a great deal of authentic detailing on this particular kind of ship.” She shrugged again, suddenly self-conscious.

“An unusual diversion for a woman.” He stepped closer. “Could it be you have private dreams of sailing the high seas? Romantic visions of life as a pirate queen?”

Jamie swallowed hard, remembering how they'd first met each other. “I doubt it was all that romantic,” she managed.

Jamie swallowed hard, remembering how they'd first met each other. “I doubt it was all that romantic,” she managed.

“You would be correct.” He ran his fingertip along the rigging lines of one of her plans. His expression took on a faraway look, his eyes reflecting a fond sadness. “It was adventure and danger and every dream a
boy could have of treasures plundered.” He turned suddenly and looked at her, his dark eyes now reflecting far more than an adolescent high-seas holiday. “But romantic?
Non
.” He dropped his hand. “There are days when I miss the taste of salt in the air and the feeling of being rocked to sleep by the sea. I miss the camaraderie of having crewmates.” The barest hint of the twinkle resurfaced in his eyes. “And coming into port had its own special pleasures.” The light dimmed as he turned away from her. “But the rest? …” He shook his head. “I do not miss the rest.”

“How long did you sail?” The question just popped out. So what if he was a phony? At that moment, for just that moment, maybe she was a believer.

“As I told you, I was pressed into service for my country as a young boy. Our ship was raided, and I was given to the crew who boarded her. Several times over the next year I moved from crew to crew. Never at my own request.”

Jamie could not swallow. Even if she could have formed the words, she could not have asked him to speak of what she saw in his eyes.

“Then Dominique took the ship I was on and I became part of his crew. We sailed to the Caribbean, and it was there I found my home. I found the closest thing I ever had to a family. I stayed with them until—” He shrugged and once again his smile returned, but this time it didn't ignite that twinkle in his eye. “Until fate guided me in this new direction.”

Jamie knew this was insanity, but it was almost impossible to look in his face, hear the experience of life color his voice, and not fully trust that this man spoke of things he'd truly known. “What happened?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “How did you end up … you know.”

“I fell prey to the machinations of a young island woman.”

Jamie couldn't help but smile at that. “Yeah, right. I'm believing you as the innocent victim.”

The twinkle returned, and Jamie felt herself relax her guard altogether. Foolish of her, most likely, but she was enjoying herself too much to care.

“I was never innocent,
ma chérie.”

Foolish, most definitely. “What happened? You seduced an innocent woman?”

“Hardly innocent, despite her surprising virginal state. Her
maman
was an island priestess of sorts. She was as believing in my innocence as you.”

“Ticking off a priestess. Tsk tsk. Not good juju.”

Sebastien laughed at that. “
Non
. Not good juju, as you say, at all. She thought me callous and insensitive to the ways of the heart. As punishment, she cast me into the Sword of Hearts and this eternal destiny of matching souls. I am forever a slave to the hearts of others.”

“Doomed to find the love for others that you believed you could never have for yourself?”

She'd meant it as a joke, but the sudden stillness of his expression told her that she had hit a vulnerable spot. Surprised and strangely touched by the discovery, she wanted to apologize, but he spoke first.

“Oh, I believe in love, mademoiselle. Most heartily. I find great pleasure in locating that rare seed and nurturing that most delicate of blooms.”

“But only in others.”

He nodded. “
Oui
. True love is for others, not me. Not in my mortal life. And certainly not now.”

He was smiling, but there was a dead certainty to his tone that Jamie found unsettling. And sad. She worked up a smile. “But you have certainly sampled a bouquet or two.”

His grin surfaced, most devilishly. “A bloom or two, perhaps.”

I bet, she thought, unfairly jealous. She wanted to
be one of his sampled blooms. It was foolish in the extreme, but at least she'd faced the truth. Now she just had to make sure she kept all her petals to herself. Not that he'd made an attempt at unfurling any of them. She swallowed a sigh of frustration.

“So, you believe now that I am what I proclaim to be?”

“I said no such thing. I was merely interested in hearing whatyou think you are.”

“And my matching of Mademoiselle Marta and her beau, Monsieur Graham, has not swayed you in the least?”

She laughed nervously. Hadn't she thought that very thing? “You're claiming responsibility for Marta and Bennett? And how, pray tell, were you involved?”

“You don't believe I guided that match?”

“His dog followed her home. It was serendipity, nothing more.”
Wasn't it?

He smiled knowingly. “Ah, so it would appear. I do not toss souls together at whim with no forethought. It takes great planning and a sixth sense that, if I may be so bold, I have well developed over the years. I am not obvious in my work. For love should be serendipitous.” He winked. “Or at least appear to be.”

“I still don't believe you.”

He didn't appear insulted. Instead, he switched tactics. “She has been a single widow for how long?”

“Three years.”

“And in that time she has dated how many single men?”

Jamie glowered. “None. But that isn't the point.”

“I claim I will find her soulmate for you, and in less than one week I do so. This is not proof?”

“Coincidence. And they're not exactly married yet.”

“They will be.” At her stubborn expression, he sighed but continued undaunted. He waved his hand
in that Gallic manner of his. “Fine, fine. Believe what you wish. Perhaps this time I will forewarn you, as proof. I have already put into motion the events that will lead Mademoiselle Broussard to her intended.”

Jamie raised her eyebrows. “And who is the lucky bachelor?” She had to warn Ree.

Sebastien tilted his head and studied her. “I'm none too certain I should share that detail. You would work to subvert my plans just to thwart me.”

“If they are truly meant to be together, then nothing I do could change that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Okay. How about this: You tell me who you have in mind, and as long as I don't see Ree in any danger or get any weird vibes about the guy, I'll stand back and let life happen. Otherwise, if someone happens to come into her life and you just take credit, how will I know it's really you?”

“You will not interfere?”

“You're saying I could? What kind of cupid are you?”

“I'm not a cupid.”

“That's right. You're a man on a mission of love.”

Sebastien laughed. “A man on a mission of the heart. And to answer your query, you cannot stop them from discovering they are meant for each other, but you could delay their eternal happiness with the interference.”

Jamie thought about it, then nodded. “As I said, I won't interfere unless something happens to make me suspicious about the whole thing.”

“Then promise me you will bring your fears to me first. Allow me to allay them before you involve your-self.”

“Deal.” Jamie smiled and rubbed her hands. “This ought to be good. You've basically taken on matching the unmatchable.”

“You do not wish for her to find happiness?”

“Oh, it's not that,” Jamie said. “I'd love for Ree to find the right man. I just don't think she'd ever allow herself to see him, even if he walked right up and presented himself. She doesn't have the same attitude toward men that most women do.”

“Women like you? How do you think of men?”

Jamie felt the heat creep into her cheeks again. “Let's just say we both relish our single state, but for different reasons, okay?”

Sebastien nodded readily enough, but that penetrating look of his did little to settle her jangled nerves.

“So who's the lucky guy?”

Sebastien smiled. “Monsieur Angel Santini.”

Jamie's mouth dropped open and she howled with laughter. It took her a minute to recover. “You have to be joking. They hate each other.”

“Passion manifests itself in mysterious ways.”

“Maybe. But there is nothing mysterious about Ree's feelings for this guy.” Jamie grinned. “It's the impossible match of the century. But I will say, you pull this off and I'll believe anything you tell me from now on.”