Josette (26 page)

“Hush.” René shot Josette a speaking glance. “If Alexia does not wish to go, we will not force her.”

Alexia stood before everyone, fists clenching and unclenching, her jaw working. Suddenly her eyes glistened. Before Josette could reach her, Alexia turned and ran.

Josette's hand went to her breast. “Oh, my word. Even if he's already departed, she will never forgive herself if she refuses to go to him. Especially after what transpired between them when he forced her to return everything she stole.”

Vivienne helped René on with his shirt. “I'll go to her.”

“Leave her be,” he said. “It isn't what happened between her and her father that has her acting this way. Maman spat on Alexia and leveled a curse on her when she chose to leave with me. She's scared to death of her grandmother now. And of Lucien.”

Josette stilled. If she could strike one person from this earth, it would be Lucien. “What did he do?”

“It was what he was about to do.” René cast her a meaningful glance that needed no further explanation. “I think I broke his jaw.”

“Good,” Régine said, and left the room.

He slid off the table and reached for the fresh pair of trousers. “If we are to try to fit four people into a pirogue, I suggest you figure out something else to wear. But hurry,
chère.
We need to locate Cameron's cousins.”

 

 

By the time they reached Maman's, dawn had washed the sky in shades of pink. René guided the pirogue to the dock, tied it to the crude post, and held it steady while Michel stepped from the rear of the boat. Together, the men helped Josette and Felicité make their exit.

Josette shook the skirt of the thin gardening dress clinging to her ankles. The bit of water at the bottom of the pirogue had soaked her hemline. Felicité, dressed in riding boots, men's britches and a white blouse, appeared fresh and composed despite her choice of clothing. How much more comfortable those garments would be than what Josette wore.

The four steps up to the veranda were the longest and hardest Josette had ever taken. Felicité clutched her hand and murmured something that sounded like, “Dear God, help us all.”

The door stood open and a green curtain made of strips of cloth, meant to keep out bugs and mosquitoes, rippled in the faint breeze. From inside, a deep moan rolled through the house.

Josette's breath caught. She squeezed Felicité's hand. Michel's footsteps paused behind them.

“He's alive,” René said quietly. “But I do not recommend rushing in. I have a feeling we must tread very carefully so as not to offend Maman. I suspect she might not be in the best of moods.”

René parted the drape and stepped inside. Cameron's cousins and Josette followed. Maman sat at the table in the large, open room, coffee in hand. And that awful pet snake of hers wrapped around her shoulders.

“
Bonjour,
Maman,” René said.

She did not dignify him with a reply. The albino snake lifted its head and stared at them with its glassy red eyes, its carmine tongue flicking in and out.

Felicité gave a little yip and stepped back.

René slipped his hand around her elbow. “I assume Bastièn and Cameron are in the bedroom?”

Maman turned her cheek.

“Follow me,” René said. “But I should warn you that what you are about to witness might not be so pleasant. For Cameron's sake, please try to keep your emotions to yourself.”

“Heaven help us,” Felicité whispered.

They only had to follow the groans to the short hall that separated the bedroom Bastièn and René had shared all these years from the one Josette had once shared with her mother and Solange. Bastièn had Cameron propped in bed with pillows behind him and quilts wrapped around him. His eyes were closed, but his cracked lips moved as if he tried to speak, and his throat muscles rippled convulsively, as if he were attempting to swallow.

“Can he hear us?” Michel asked.

“He's out of his mind right now, and loaded with laudanum, so I don't know,” Bastièn said. “But the good news is that he's not going to die, and I doubt he will lose his leg. There were two bites. It seems the big snake gave him a dry bite. The smaller one let loose the venom.”

Very carefully, Bastièn unwrapped the blanket from around Cameron's leg and exposed the wounds. The left side of his britches was slit to his waist. His leg was discolored and swollen from toes to hip. Two ugly gashes marked the spots where the snakes had attacked.

“Lord, have mercy,” Josette murmured.

René shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips.

Felicité stepped forward, pale and shaken. “How do you know the larger snake didn't carry any poison?”

Bastièn looked Felicité over from head to toe, then pointed to Cameron's leg. “This is where it bit. You can see it is red and messy,
oui
?”

They all nodded.

“That's because it's been cut into. We'll need to keep infection out, but more than likely, the snake thought Cameron was a gator and was defending its territory. She was saving her poison for food. They do that sort of thing. But look at this one.”

He pointed to two puncture wounds not nearly as wide apart as the others. “This bite is all discolored and the surrounding flesh has died off. There was a good dose of poison in that little snake. Lucky it didn't hit a vein.”

Josette hung back, giving Felicité and Michel room to stand beside the bed. This was Cameron's family surrounding him. She had no place with them. But oh, how she wanted to go to him. And oh, how alone she suddenly felt just watching them.

“What of Maman?” René asked. “Has she been of any help?”

Bastièn shrugged. “Reluctantly. His heartbeat dropped so low I gave him some herbs and spices along with a lot of strong coffee to get it pounding again, but I don't trust her to give him anything. I only take advice, and little of that.”

Josette could stand it no longer. She went to Cameron and bent beside the bed. She stroked his brow. “He's running a fever, so why do you have him wrapped in all these blankets?”

Bastièn nodded. “To make him sweat the poison out of his pores.”

Maman stood at the doorway. “He needs to drain the poison out the bottom of his feet, too. Just like a horse heals through its hoofs and sends the sickness into the earth. Dat's why you don't wear no shoes.” She eyed Felicité as if to make a point. “Them fancy boots will keep poison in you.”

Josette ignored her mother's rude intrusion. “How long before we can move him?”

“He's in too much pain right now,” Bastièn said. “Perhaps in a week or two.”

“
Non!
” Maman spat. “You get dat man out of my house today.”

She made certain to look every person in the room in the eye. “And dat goes for all of you.”

Felicité paled and slipped her hand into her brother's.

Maman's eyes narrowed at Josette. “You get your lover what killed Solange off my property, you hear? You worthless—”

René stepped forward. “Do not speak to your daughter like that, Maman.”

The snake wrapped around Maman's shoulders grew agitated and shook its rattle-less tail. “From now on, she can call me Mademoiselle Thibodeaux.”

Josette took a step back. “Oh, for heaven's sake, Maman, you cannot disown me just because—”

“Look at me.” Odalie slipped the agitated snake back into his cage and whirled on Josette. “Take a good last look at me. I am
not
your mother!”

“But . . .”

Her eyes spit fire at Josette. “You are someone else's bastard child I was forced to take in.”

The room stilled.

Josette didn't have to hear another word. With unshakeable certainty, she knew she'd heard the truth. No wonder she'd never felt as though she belonged. “But what . . . what of my siblings? Am I not related—”

“Oh, you all have the same father, to be sure. He just dumped his brat on me from some whore what died birthing you. Said I had to raise you or he'd . . .” She clamped her mouth shut.

“Or he'd do what?” René asked.

Odalie looked from Bastièn to René. “They are your half brothers. That's all I have to say. Now leave.”

“And Solange?”

“Your half sister.”

Then another truth struck her. “You said
Mademoiselle
Thibodeaux, not
Madame
Thibodeaux. So you and our father were never married?”

“He already had a wife.”

“Is he still alive?”

A slow, wicked twist of Odalie's mouth formed a smile so cold it was a wonder her face didn't crack. “
Oui.
” She laughed—a harsh, cold sound that grated on Josette's ears.

Odalie swept her hand around the room. “Where do you think all these fine furnishings came from over the years? You think we stole it all?”

Tears pinched the backs of Josette's eyes, but they remained dry. She pulled a ragged breath into her lungs, and just as she'd done as a child when she faced Maman's . . . no, Odalie's wrath, she hid her fists in the folds of her skirt, and held her head high.

René slipped an arm around her. He shot Bastièn a dark look and nodded toward Cameron. “He may be filled with laudanum, but that doesn't mean he cannot hear all this. We must remove him from here at once. Can you find a way to make that happen?”

Bastièn's gaze fixed on Cameron. “
Oui
.”

Mind blank, Cameron opened his eyes. Angels hovered above him in a sky so blue as to seem surreal. A cherub sat on a cloud peeking down at him. . . . Wait. This was a painted ceiling. A familiar painted ceiling. And he was lying in an equally familiar bed. Balcony doors stood open. A sultry breeze swept through the treetops, green leaves rippling. He was in a room on an upper floor of a house.

But where?

A movement to his right caught his attention. He turned his head. A fastidiously dressed man of impressive bearing sat in a chair near the bed. He watched Cameron through startling blue eyes framed by black hair and a close-cropped beard. A beard so meticulously sculpted it looked like a work of art. His clothing befitted a proper English gentleman out for a ride—fine leather boots polished to a soft sheen, fawn-colored britches, and a dark green jacket.

A corner of the man's mouth tilted upward. “You have finally decided to join the living,
oui
?”

Bastièn? At the sound of that deep and lilting Cajun accent, memory flooded in with a vengeance. Good God, how long had Cameron lain here for the man to have grown such facial hair?

Cameron went back to staring at the angels and cherubs while he collected his thoughts and tried to string them together in some semblance of order. This was Josette's bedchamber. He'd been snake bit. He remembered now—foggy moments of terrible pain. Ensuing sickness. Rough hands jostling him. Soft hands touching him. People urging him to eat. Feet soaking in strongly scented water. Relentless vomiting. And more and more pain.

His daughter.

“Where's Alexia?”

“At the moment, she is with your cousin, learning to drive a carriage. I was along for the ride earlier. She's getting good at it.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Nearly two weeks. Taking up space in my sister's bed.” Bastièn withdrew a fancy knife from his boot. “She insisted you take this room.”

Surely she hadn't slept here. Cameron knew better than to pursue the subject of Josette with this damn fool.

A flick of Bastièn's fingers and the knife's narrow blade snapped into place. “She's been sleeping alongside Alexia. Not with you.”

“Bugger off.” Cameron squinted at Bastièn's feet. “Are you wearing my boots?”

Bastièn grinned and tossed the knife in the air, catching it by the hilt. “
Oui
. They carried many fang marks but I managed to polish each one out. You would have been dead for sure had you not had them on.”

“Well, you'll soon be dead if you don't take them off.” He shoved the pillows against the headboard and inched his upper body into them, shocked by his lack of strength. Pain pinched his left leg. He winced. “Damn it, that's my good knife you're playing with.”

He looked closer. “Blast it all, those are my clothes, aren't they? You actually broke into my home and stole from me, knowing I was lying here helpless? You bastard.”

Bastièn chuckled and flipped the knife again. “Bastard,
oui
. Thief,
non
. Michel let me in to collect some of your belongings. As for what I wear, I needed something to go with the fine boots you gave me.”

“I gave you no such thing.”

“Ah, but wouldn't a man of your upbringing insist on rewarding someone for saving his life? Besides, you have another pair like this, and also in brown.”

“That gold vest is one of my favorites and is not meant for riding.”

Bastièn shrugged. “Good, because I do not own a horse.” He examined the blade of Cameron's prized
navaja
. “This be one mighty fine knife. Fell out of your boot when I removed it from your rapidly swelling foot. Where did you get such a beautiful weapon? Not from around here, that be for sure.”

“I acquired it in Spain, and you're not keeping it.”

Bastièn folded the thin blade into the tapered pearl handle and slipped it back inside his boot. “You think so little of your worth that you intend to offer me no recompense? For rescuing you, I would think you'd want me to have all that I wear plus one of your ships,
oui
?”

Damn if the man didn't sit there looking proud as a popinjay and acting as if he owned the place. “I'm surprised you haven't tried to steal one.”

Bastièn crossed one leg over his knee and slowly swept a hand back and forth over the boot as if caressing a favored pet. “Speaking of your ships, I have decided it would be to our advantage if your fine company were to employ me.”

Christ Almighty. “When a donkey plays the cello. Now, go away and send someone up with food. I'm hungry.”

The door opened. Josette stepped into the room carrying a tray. At the sight of him sitting up in bed, a broad smile brightened her face. “You're awake. How wonderful.”

God, she was lovely.

Even burdened with a salver, her movements were graceful and light of foot. She wore that soft pink dress he favored. He especially liked that it was cut so low. Every nerve in his body danced a little jig.

Bastièn cocked a brow. “As you can see, a Thibodeaux can read minds. And since I am also a Thibodeaux, you should be very careful right now about what is going through yours.” He speared Cameron with a knowing look, paused a beat, then chuckled deep and low in his chest. The bloody dolt.

“Your pathetic stab at humor is neither funny nor appropriate, so why do you laugh?”

“Ah, so there won't be an awkward silence afterward. I am very thoughtful in that regard,
oui
?”

“Do get out, Thibodeaux.”

“Only because you ask so nicely.” He stood and headed for the door.

Oh, hell. “Thibodeaux,” Cameron called after him.

Bastièn paused at the threshold and turned. “
Oui
?”

“Thank you for saving my life. You can keep the bloody clothes and boots.”

“And the knife?”

Shit.
“Yes, damn it.”

Even from where Cameron lay, he could see amusement sparking in Bastièn's eyes.

“Let my sister know what time you wish for me to report to work,
s'il vous plaît
. She can inform me over dinner.” He saluted Cameron and closed the door.

“The damn fool.”

Josette set the tray on the bedside table and pulled a chair next to the bed. She lifted a silver cover off a bowl. “So you have hired him?”

“I didn't say that, he did. Your brother stole my boots, the beggar.” Wouldn't he like to pull her onto the bed and wrap his arms and legs around her! If only he had the strength.

She placed a serviette over his bare chest, her touch a gentle whisper that sent provocative chills skittering along his skin. “Why would you want those boots, anyway? Wouldn't they always be a reminder of what happened?”

She was right. “Then what makes you think I would want to see him walking around in them?”

“You won't be here much longer to see any such thing. If you like, I'll ask him to refrain from wearing them while you're still in town. He did save your life, you know.”

Cameron took a deep breath and exhaled with a groan. “He made me very well aware of the fact.”

“For your information, he has quit Madame Olympée's. And as we speak, he is off to join René in swimming lessons.”

“What the devil for?”

“I believe it was you who informed René he is required to know how to swim before sailing on one of your company ships. Obviously, Bastièn has similar plans.” She brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear.

Cameron took note of her unconscious act. He'd kissed that ear, trailed his tongue along that lovely neck. “Well, good luck to Bastièn. I need to get out of this bed and check on business with Michel.”

“You can't possibly think you'll be fit enough to do anything other than walk around this room for a few days. You've been in bed going on two weeks, filled with laudanum, and nearly at death's door. We've been lowering the dose for three days, but it still hasn't fully worn off. I can see it in your dilated pupils. You also need time to gain back your strength. Besides, Michel visits daily. So does Felicité.”

“Oh, yes. Bastièn said he was out riding with Alexia and my cousin in the carriage. All dressed up in my clothing, he was. I'll just bet he wasn't there for my daughter alone, the cur.” Cameron lifted the covers just enough to see he wore only his drawers. They appeared clean and fresh. He dropped the blanket, choosing to ignore the bandage around his leg and the discolored skin. Odd, but after so long in bed, he didn't feel as though he needed a bath. He sniffed at the back of his wrist. It smelled of herbs and lavender. Someone had been bathing him. One swipe across his jaw told him he'd been recently shaved. He looked to Josette in question.

She laughed softly. “While I've been allowed the privilege of shaving you daily, I was not privy to your baths. Bastièn saw to those.”

“Oh, good God!” Cameron squirmed at the idea of one of his worst enemies bathing him, and one of Josette's brothers to boot. Pain shot up his leg. He winced.

She tilted her head and studied him. “He was here for you every day, and throughout many a long night.”

Bastièn was there through the entire ordeal? Cameron heaved a sigh, as if that would dispel any guilt for resenting the man all these years. “I didn't even recognize him when I awoke. I guess it must have been his beard. That was a surprise.”

“Oh, but doesn't he look absolutely dashing?”

“That's not a question you ask a man, Josette.” Especially about someone who'd been giving him baths, for pity's sake. “It must take him the better part of a morning to get it looking like that. Whatever possessed him?”

“At first he didn't take the time to shave because you required around-the-clock attention, but when that eased up, he set about creating the finest beard in town.”

“What's he trying to prove now?”

“If you were to take the time to get to know my brother better, you'd soon learn he is meticulous about his person and surroundings. I know he's been misdirected in the past, and he can be a vile enemy when crossed, but he's also loyal and honest to those he respects. I do wish you'd consider having him work for your company. I believe he is sincerely out to better himself.”

Guilt could actually make Cameron's bones ache. He'd had enough of that in this lifetime. He let loose another exasperated breath. “I suppose I'll have to bloody well hire him.” A pause, then he shot her a wicked grin. “The Thibodeaux brothers working as a team. Serves Michel right for all those frogs in my bed.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He would have hired Bastièn for saving his life anyway, but why not let her think she played a hand in his decision? So sweet she was, but filled with an inner strength that fascinated him—and enough heat and sensuality to satisfy a man for a lifetime. He imagined tracing the smooth, creamy curve of her neck with his mouth. Parting her full pink lips.

Their gazes locked.

A pulsing urgency thrummed through his veins. He bent his knee to raise the thin blanket off the mounting proof of his ardor.

She glanced at the action. Her lips twitched. “Do you have an appetite?”

“A ravenous one.”

“Then let me feed you.” She picked up a spoon and dipped it into the bowl.

Well, hell. He peered at the contents. “Not only are you wicked with your double entendre, but what is that foul-looking stuff in the bowl? Dishwater? I'll not have it.”

“It's beef broth.” She set down the spoon. “Do you think you can manage to feed yourself if I hold the bowl?”

“I'd rather have jambalaya.”

“Now who's the fool? You'll need to be careful while you build up to solid food or you'll sicken. We've barely managed to get liquids and a bit of bland rice into you.”

He grunted.

“You certainly can grumble a lot.”

“Didn't I hear you say I was near death? As sick as I was, I doubt even the Pope would find himself in a particularly jolly mood.”

“Indeed, you were near to dying, but once that crisis passed, in between doses of laudanum, you were quite demanding. You used up my entire supply of tooth powder, by the way.”

“Tooth powder?”

She nodded. “Every time you roused enough to speak, you demanded to have your teeth brushed.”

“I was trying to rid myself of the taste of snake and mud. I doubt I ever will.”

Without warning, she leaned over and brushed a light kiss across his mouth, then sat back. “Mmm. Nice, with a hint of mint. Not a trace of mud or snake.”

He folded an arm behind his head and studied her smiling face. Something very warm, very comfortable, and very enjoyable washed through him. His mood shifted. “What makes you so cheerful today?”

“You're awake and alert. That's something to celebrate.”

“How is Alexia doing?”

“As well as can be expected. She went through quite an ordeal. Odalie has rejected her with the same vehemence as she has me. And then there's Lucien. He frightened her silly.”

“The bastard.”

“René broke his jaw.”

“Humph. Your brother was far more lenient than I would've been, so in the end, perhaps the right person went after Alexia.” Damn if he didn't miss the little hoyden. “Has she been in to check on me?”

Josette nodded. “But not while you were awake. I'm afraid that's going to take a bit of time. She feels responsible for what happened that night. Feels as though she nearly caused your death. I don't think she knows quite how to face you. One good thing that came out of all this is that she seems cured of wanting a life in the bayou with her grandmother. At least for now. But knowing Maman . . . excuse me. Knowing Odalie, she will not accept Alexia back again.”