Anne's Courage [Le Club 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) (13 page)

“I would love to, Jamie, and I have a lot of vacation time stored up, but with Kelly on her honeymoon, I don’t know if I can get away,” she said sadly.

“How about if we bring in someone to handle your office while you’re away. You could actually trade places with Gregory Dempsey from Le Club Beaudelaire and his assistant, Natasha Romanova. Greg can more than handle the office. He does exactly the same things at the club in New Orleans. You would just have to leave him your contact list and a schedule of what needs to be done. He could do the same for you up there. The New Orleans club is like a well-oiled machine. It wouldn’t take much to oversee the operations there.”

“Really? I don’t know...”

“Believe me, the club here would run like a top. They don’t call him ‘Gregory the Terrible’ for nothing. I’ll talk to Jason about it and see if he has any objections. Come on, cher. I can see you’re tempted. It would be fun and a challenge to see if you can step in and take over another club.”

“Okay. If it’s all right with Jason and the board. I really don’t want to be separated from you just yet.” she said with a grin.

Jamie pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jason Steele on his cell. After explaining the situation, assuring him that Gregory Dempsey could handle all aspects of club management, and promising not to keep Anne away too long, it was decided that if Greg could be convinced to make the temporary move, they would leave Saturday morning. Jamie didn’t want to be away from the farm for too long either until Justin returned to take over. Max could handle overseeing the farm and their new responsibility, Mark, without breaking a sweat. He had the utmost confidence in him.

“I have to say, Jamie, the Devereau brothers are single handedly decimating the club’s management team! First Kelly and now Anne. This Greg guy had better be as good as advertised, or you’re going to hear from me!” Jason said, laughing. “But it’s only a week or two. How bad could it be?”

“As I told Anne, they don’t call him ‘Gregory the Terrible’ for nothing. Everything will be fine,” Jamie said. Greg was known to be a very dominant personality, and Jamie was sure things would run smoothly, or else. Natasha, Greg’s sub and assistant manager of the club in New Orleans, was a force to be reckoned with as well. She was an ex-Domme who had become Greg’s submissive, and she still retained a lot of dominant personality traits where everyone but Greg was concerned. He wasn’t going to let that cat out of the bag though. The staff here would find out about these two for themselves all in good time.

After one more call to New Orleans and Greg Dempsey, Jamie had it all arranged to his complete satisfaction. That was what he did, after all, make things happen.

When Jamie put his phone down on the table with a satisfied smile on his face, he looked up and saw Max coming up the stairs and into the club. He was still wearing the tuxedo from the night before. Jamie’s face split into a wide grin, and he called out, “Max, you old dog! Did you get lucky? I can’t believe it! So there is life after sixty.”

“Jamison Devereau, where are your manners, young man?” he asked with an exaggerated sharpness to his voice and a severe look on his face before he headed upstairs to the Ming Suite.

“
So, that’s where you learned that voice!” Anne gave a happy giggle. She realized Max had a real edge to him that wasn’t readily apparent on the surface.

Jamie poured another cup of coffee for each of them and sighed. Feeling the need to unburden himself, he said, “Before we go up there, I really need to tell you a little bit about my father and my childhood. We may spend some time at Devereau Plantation, and you will be spending some time at Le Club Beaudelaire. I think you should have an understanding of my background.

“Our childhood was rather unconventional, to say the least. Justin and I were mostly raised by Max and other caretakers and servants, as well as the priests at the Jesuit prep school we were sent to when I was twelve and Justin was fourteen. Our mother died when I was six. My father, who was a son of bitch of the first order, died a few years ago. He was more interested in business, his membership in Le Club Beaudelaire—New Orleans, and his playroom in the old slave quarters of the Plantation, to pay much attention to me and Justin. No loss there. To say we weren’t close would be an understatement to say the least.”

Anne said tentatively, “If you need to talk about this, I’m here to listen.” After all he had done for her, she definitely wanted to be there for him.

“My brother and I snuck into the Playroom in the slave quarters to watch him have sex with his sub or whatever they were called back then. We had done it many times, but this one time we got caught, just bad luck. Dad was furious of course, but we just thought it was a lark. It was just what we did. Anyway, he gave us both a beating and sent us away to Jesuit boarding school in Pennsylvania. After that, we went to Harvard and Harvard Law School. We spent summers and holidays at home with Max and some maternal relatives. Thankfully, we saw very little of our father. He was not a nice man, and he had no parental instincts at all. I think that part of my attitude about family life stems from the poor relationship we had with him, and our mother’s death at a young age. At least Justin and I were together, and that’s one of the reasons why we are so close now. We spent Christmas and other holidays with Nanna, our maternal grandmother, and our aunts and uncles. But for the most part, it was just Justin and me.

Anne stirred her coffee reflectively. “I can see that you and Justin have a very close relationship. You were lucky to have each other. You know, Jamie, nothing you tell me about your past is going to affect the way I feel about you. I can see the kind of man you are. Although you try to hide behind your ‘bad boy’ façade, I can see your sense of responsibility and caring, not only in the way you handle your business and the way you treated me, but also in the way you stepped up to help Mark Taylor. Not everyone would have done what you did to help him and his mom.”

“Well, that's good to know. I appreciated your support with that. Sometimes doubts just creep in, you know? The BDSM thing…Don’t think that I don’t recognize that’s a little off the wall. Anyway, a few years ago, Justin discovered some old journals in the library, and they shed a lot of light on the family history. Apparently, the kinky sex drive runs in the Devereau family way back into the 1700s. Devereau Plantation was built in the early 1800s. According to the journals Justin found, there was a lot of kinky behavior in the males of the family, mostly with slaves, mistresses, and prostitutes. According to the journals, it was pretty extreme, or ugly if you consider it wasn’t particularly ‘consensual.’ In any case, except for Max, we didn’t have a very secure upbringing. And dear old Dad did not provide a good role model.”

Anne took his hand and squeezed it as her heart ached for him.

“Justin was two years ahead of me, and by the time I graduated from law school, he had already begun taking over the family businesses. When I finished school, I joined him. The old man was really out of it by then, and he died in an institution a few years later. We both think a taste for the kinkier aspects of sexuality was hardwired into us at an early age. But Justin and I adhere to the “safe, sane, and consensual” premise of BDSM. Neither of us go in for the really extreme practices. Anyway, that’s the saga of the Devereau clan. It’s not a pretty story, and I didn’t want to go back home to the plantation and face those old ghosts without telling you and giving you an opportunity to opt out if you want to.”

He was not usually one to admit his insecurities, but he felt it only fair to let Anne in on the family history, given the way he was beginning to feel about her. He had not felt this strong of a connection with any other woman. Up until now, sex had been for fun and games, not for emotional connections. He thought that maybe her emotional needs at the beginning of their relationship had triggered some of his own.

“Jamie, everybody has skeletons in the closet or baggage of some kind. There are no people or families that are absolutely perfect,” she said comfortingly. “I have my own baggage as you know. Thanks to you, it’s gotten a lot lighter recently. So I have to thank you for that.”

“Anne…You know that I care a great deal for you. This has moved past the fun and sex stage for me, and I hope for you, too.”

“You know it has. I feel a lot more for you than I really want to admit to you or to myself. I’ve realized over the last weeks how much you are coming to mean to me. I’m very nervous, however, about the ramifications of a long term relationship with you. I’ve mostly come to grips with my physical deformities. Don’t give me that threatening look. I know you are not happy to hear me refer to my scars in that manner, but I’ve felt that way for a long time. I’m also worried about the five-year age difference. There, the ugly truth is out! I’m five years older than you.” She grimaced.

Jamie laughed. “Wow. A whole five years, you cradle snatcher!”

“Five years does not seem like much, but it depends on which section of your lifetime they occur in. And don’t laugh at me!”

“Sorry, cher. I really can’t help it.” He was still chuckling.
Of all the ridiculous notions. Women are amazing. Next she’s going to worry she might get gray hair before I do.

“The difference between five and ten or fifteen and twenty is a lot. It shrinks to insignificance at twenty-five and thirty or thirty-five and forty or fifty and fifty-five. But it mushrooms again between fifty-five and sixty or sixty-five and seventy. It’s funny but it shrinks again at seventy and seventy-five and eighty and eighty-five. It’s definitely a concern to me. Stop laughing! This is important to me.”

It was clear to Jamie that she had given this absurd concept a lot of thought. “I really think that your concern is ridiculous, but you have a right to it, as stupid as it is.”

“Stupid? Now I’m stupid? See how quickly romance seeps away at our age?” She was starting to breathe through her mouth as she got more upset.

“In a minute, you’re going to be stupid and have a sore butt!” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t threaten me!”

“Are we having our first argument?” He gave her his most devastating grin.

Anne took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes, and then they both burst out laughing. “I guess we are. How dumb is that?”

Jamie gave her an understanding look. “How about this? Let’s argue about something really important. Let’s just cut to the chase and ignore all the unimportant bullshit. You make me laugh, you make me think, you make me feel, you support me when I need it, and you’ll kick me in the butt if I needed that. I love you. I don’t care about your stupid five years. I wasn’t really ready to say that yet, but hell, facts are facts.”

Her eyes filled with tears as he took her hands and pulled her into his lap right there on the club’s veranda. “Do you really mean that? Because I love you, too. I have since that first morning I woke up in your bed and you made me confront my scars.”

Magically, the difference in their ages had disappeared, at least for the moment, as Jamie wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Jamie smiled into her eyes and kissed her nose. “Let’s go back to the suite and
discuss
this further. We have all the time in the world since we’ll be together forever, even if you are the ‘older woman!’ We can explore all the nooks and crannies and enjoy every minute. Our future is there for us to grow into.”

Justin and Kelly pulled into the driveway of the farm on a lovely day in May. They were finally home from their honeymoon. Jamie had left the black Range Rover for them at the airport, and they had just arrived. Of course, Justin’s first stop was at the barn to see Jester. It was a happy reunion as Jester bellowed his greeting when he heard Justin’s car and his voice. Justin and Kelly ran into the barn to greet him and hand over treats. Jester really did have everyone trained, and his newest slave was Mark Taylor.

“Hello, big guy. Have I ever missed you!” Justin said, as he scratched behind Jester’s ears. Ripples of joy ran down the big horse’s back as Justin scratched his withers. No one could scratch like Justin.

Kelly threw her arms around his neck, and Jester whinnied, lifted his massive neck, and picked her up off the ground, then gently put her down again. “Nothing smells as good as a nice warm horse! It’s wonderful to be home, Justin. Provence was nice, but the smell of our own green pastures, hay, barn, and warm horseflesh is precious beyond belief. I can’t wait to see the house.”

“Max, Jamie, and the housekeeping staff moved us in during the last few days, and we’re going to be in our own home for the first time. I can’t wait to sleep in our own bed. I wanted it to be a surprise.” A month’s honeymoon sounded great, but he had been anxious to get home, and he had known Kelly was anxious as well.

* * * *

Mark watched this reunion from the doorway of the barn office and had a moment of intense terror.
Jester really is the apple of Justin’ s eye.
He realized with horror just what would have been his fate if permanent damage had been done to the horse. The guy was a serious black belt. Luckily, the stitches had been removed, and there were no scars, just a little disturbance of Jester’s hair coat that the vet said would smooth out. The last month at the farm had been a growth experience for Mark in more ways than one, beginning with the confrontation with Jamie in the barn. The new school was a challenge, especially starting at the end of the school year, but he was beginning to make friends. Being driven to school a couple times a week by Jamie in the Maserati hadn’t hurt there either.