CultOfTheBlackVirgin (9 page)

He walked with Duncan most of the time, and they often got so far ahead that Jo lost sight of them completely. Luc’s red bandana, visible in the distance, was often all she could see of him as they made their way through the beautiful countryside.

Jo liked Duncan Hammond, a disappointed young man recovering from a failed engagement. He was stocky and a bit simian in his bearing, but attractive in a tragic, brooding way, with his thick black hair and sad dark eyes. Somewhere in his late twenties, she figured, he often seemed distracted, but showed a quirky wit and enthusiasm about everything that was planned for the week. Around her he was soft and eager to please. When he looked at her, his eyes seemed to grow a little moist, and sadder still. He did something with software for a living, but she never had learned what it was.

She was happy to see he’d found a friend in Luc. Thinking of James for a moment, she hoped Duncan’s holiday would help him ease his broken heart.

What
will it take to mend James’? I’m not doing a very good job.

She hadn’t talked to James since Souillac. She’d deliberately left her cell phone at home and now she was dependent on the French public system. She would try to call him tonight, she promised herself.

They reached their destination in the late afternoon, which had grown very warm. When she first saw the stone buildings hanging off the steep cliffs of Rocamadour, looking as if they had sprouted naturally from the rock face, Jo was mesmerized. This was one of the places she had most wanted to see. A pilgrimage site for over eight hundred years, Rocamadour was an astounding melding of the natural and the manmade. And it was far more beautiful than she had imagined.

Locals parked their cars on the roads at the bottom or top of the town, because everywhere between was accessible only by foot. Pedestrians entered its narrow streets from below by climbing a steep stone staircase called the
Grand Escalier
.

As they approached, Luc explained its significance.

“These stairs are part of a pilgrimage route taken by the faithful on their way to Lourdes for the last two centuries. Pilgrims were expected to climb two hundred and sixteen stairs—on their knees—to St. Saviour’s Church, now called the
Chapelle Notre Dame,
at the top.”

Jo winced at the thought of such a painful show of devotion. Not a religious person, she marveled at the faith that would drive people to such an act of sacrifice.

Luc continued, “But many had another reason for making the climb on their knees. Some pilgrims weren’t interested so much in showing devotion as they were to give penance for their sins.” He flashed a wicked grin at the entire group.

This, Jo could understand better. Guilt and the fear of punishment were strong motivators to even secular humanists of the twenty-first century. She knew she wasn’t immune.

“You’d better get going, my love,” quipped Carol to her husband. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

Peter just laughed.

Protected by Nike technology, Jo began to climb, and by the time she was stepping over a dozing German shepherd in the lobby of the Hotel Christina she was soaking wet and out of breath.

Her room was perfect. Not fancy, but spacious, with large double windows opening out to a spectacular view of the gorge directly below. The vista was incredible. She could stand at the windows and see no sign of human habitation—no other hotels, no cars, no tourists. But she could see, and hear, birds on the wing. Swallows. Hundreds of them. They swerved and dipped through the clear air of the valley, enviable in their dexterity and grace. Their lovely calls could be heard everywhere in the village.

And to make Jo even happier, the room included a large bathroom with a shower, a bathtub—and a bidet.

The French are such a civilized people
.
Bidets are one of the greatest inventions, ever.

She wished her bathroom at home were big enough to accommodate one.

After a good soaking in the tub, she tried again to find something to wear that would make her feel especially attractive. As the temperature and humidity had steadily grown, she also wanted to be cool and comfortable, so she pulled the lightest dress from her bag. She called for an iron, carefully pressed out the wrinkles, and then slipped on the pale yellow linen. It was close fitting, yet comfortable. The lingerie James bought her on their first day in Paris worked perfectly with the low cut, sleeveless bodice
.

Because her freshly washed hair was still wet, she braided it carefully into a single plait. The mirror told her that her smooth, tanned skin was aglow, and her dark, shining eyes needed no embellishment other than a little mascara. A touch of pale lipstick and she was ready to go down to the outdoor bar for a drink.

As she joined her group on the patio, all head swiveled to greet her, but she saw only Luc’s. His face wore an expression of real appreciation, eyebrows raised, eyes alight as they moved up and down in appraisal of her body. She felt herself beginning to turn pink, and tried to deflect attention from her face by exclaiming at the view.

“Oh, how beautiful!” she offered self-consciously. Everyone was sitting at rustic wooden tables under colorful umbrellas, an outstanding vista behind them. She had only to stand up and lean over the railing that ran alongside the bar to feel dizzy and enchanted by the scene below. The swallows were still swooping madly, filling the air with the sounds of their cries.

She took the vacant seat between Sarah and the Stewarts and ordered a beer from a very polite waiter.

“Oh darlin’,” announced Peter dramatically as she settled herself. “You’re breakin’ my heart.” He grinned at her crookedly as he clutched his chest in mock agony.

The lively Peter and Carol Stewart were already well lubricated. By far the most outgoing couple on the tour, they were always saying how thrilled they were to be so far from their home in Melbourne. Jo didn’t much care for Carol’s loudness, and Peter practically drooled whenever he looked at her, but she had to admit they did add a spark to the group. They owned a share of the family wine business, and despite the enormous amounts of wine they managed to put away between them, the pair looked fit enough to have just finished a trek across the entire continent of Australia.

Jo took a sip of beer and snuck a peek along the table at Luc. He was still looking at her, intently, his face animated by his obvious attraction to her. A spike of adrenaline caused her to smile in spite of herself.

Has anyone noticed his blatant staring at me
?
It’s almost lascivious.

But she really didn’t care what they thought. She was flying.

For the moment, a radiant Jo was in love with the world. She began talking to Sarah, who complemented her on her dress. Like Duncan, Sarah Gill, a law student, was nursing a broken heart, Jo soon learned. Sarah had a lovely face, enormous dark eyes, and a thin, graceful figure. She seemed a thoughtful, quiet girl, and Jo already liked her very much. She hoped that by the end of the trip Sarah and Duncan would find true love with each other and go off to live happily ever after in a cottage in England’s Lake District.

* * * *

Luc’s entire body gave him away as soon as Jo entered his line of vision. His head swiveled, his eyes widened, his nostrils flared and unconsciously his lips twitched at the corners as he watched her take her seat. Luckily no one could see what was going on in his pants. Still, that he was smitten was perfectly obvious to anyone who was paying attention.

But at the moment it was only Jo’s attention he cared about.

Her slender waist and perfect breasts, her shapely hips and round little ass, all sheathed in thin yellow fabric—never had a woman seemed more desirable. Her creamy smooth skin, her inviting eyes that held secrets meant only for him—Luc was becoming aware somewhere in his reptilian brain that this was his mate. His partner. His female equivalent. His other half.

Mais qu’est-ce que tu fous là? What the hell is going on?

* * * *

Edward and Glenda, ever observant because of a natural curiosity about their fellow human beings, agreed that Jo looked exceptionally lovely tonight. But Edward was troubled. He and his wife both noticed the change in the interaction between Jo and Luc. Yesterday afternoon Jo had seemed uncomfortable around Luc, barely speaking to him. But last night and all throughout today she was a different woman. Her entire demeanor was changed—she exuded sensuality and promise. She was flirting with everyone in the room. Not overtly, but unmistakably nonetheless.

And then there was Luc—Edward frowned as he watched their guide’s demeanor transform from professional to almost lecherous. He couldn’t blame the man, though. Jo was stunning. But Luc was in no position to be acting like a schoolboy.

He leaned close to Glenda and whispered, “I have a premonition of trouble ahead. Luc had better keep his eyes on the job and his pants zipped up.”

He knew his wife would be less hard on Jo and Luc, so he wasn’t surprised when she said, “Oh, you old stick, you. A little harmless flirtation never hurt anyone. Luc’s a sensible man, and I’m sure nothing could interfere with his professionalism. And Jo speaks so highly of her boyfriend back home. Besides, I get the sense she isn’t the type to go after a married man.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Edward as he watched Glenda smile indulgently at Jo.

“I am, dear. And remember that every man here is flirting with her too. Even you,” she added with a grin.

* * * *

Glenda admired the yellow linen. “I love your dress, Joanna. The color is perfect for you.”

“Thank you. It’s one of my favorites. Very comfortable. It’s awfully warm tonight, isn’t it?”

Glenda was wearing a sleeveless blouse and a loose skirt, and she patted her hair absent-mindedly. “Too hot for me, I’m afraid. I hear it’s going to be even warmer tomorrow.”

Earlier Glenda had commented on the cache of shiny stones clustered on Jo’s finger. Now she added, “The blue of your ring complements your dress beautifully.”

Jo studied the aquamarine as if she was looking at it for the first time. “This was a Christmas gift from James.” She glanced at Glenda’s earnest face and felt comfortable enough to add, “He chose it because it’s exactly the color of his beautiful eyes. It’s to remind me of him whenever we’re apart,” she added guiltily.

For some reason she felt she had to explain the ring. “Of course I brought it with me when we went to Paris. But now that I’m in the country it’s a bit of an inconvenience. I mean, I have to wear it, of course.”

She drained her beer and continued, feeling she had found a friend in Glenda.

“But it keeps snagging my clothes, pulling threads, and scratching my skin. And worse, it keeps catching everyone’s eye.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, dear. It’s lovely.”

Jo wondered what people felt when they looked at it. Envy, for its value and beauty? Or pity, that she was the type of woman who needed to display her wealth and privilege? If she felt this way about her aquamarine ring, she knew she could never be comfortable wearing the engagement ring James had chosen for her.

She knew she sounded a bit whiny, and changed the subject.

As she enjoyed her cool drink, Jo heard talk about the morning’s trip into the caves. Marcie had been badly frightened, feeling claustrophobic. Her husband had to practically carry her through the last half of the walk.

Jo was surprised. She hadn’t noticed Marcie’s panic attack. She herself was so giddy she’d heard nothing but Luc’s voice, She’d seen nothing but the man wearing the red bandana as he led them through the galleries of limestone labia.

Marcie, a petite faded-looking blonde, did indeed look flushed and bothered, even now, and Jo offered her a few empathetic words. Ron didn’t seem to be of much help to his wife.

Not like James would have been,
Jo couldn’t help thinking. She knew she was lucky to have a man like James in love with her. Very lucky.

Don’t go there,
she warned herself.
Not tonight. I want to be free tonight.

The beer had been delicious, so she ordered another as she proceeded to get to know Marcie and Ron.

In their mid-forties, the Davies were away from England for the first time in their lives, Jo learned. That explained why they seemed a little out of their element here in the French countryside.

Ron held a stressful position at Scotland Yard and Marcie was a stay-at-home mom. She explained to Jo that she slept, ate and breathed for her children.

“When I saw you walk into the room tonight, I thought about my eldest daughter. I do so hope she isn’t eating too much fried food while I’m away,” she said to Jo. “She could have such a nice figure, you know, if only she’d exercise some control.”

“Oh leave off her, luv. She’s lovely the way she is,” interrupted Ron, lighting one of his many cigarettes and frowning as he stood up to leave the table.

Marcie said, “Oh don’t mind him, luv. He’s got such work pressures, you know.” In a lower voice she leaned towards Jo and confided, “We only came here to get away from the job. He’s so afraid he’s going to be demoted back to Narcotics. It’s an ugly, ugly place to be, you know.”