Josette (32 page)

“Solange was determined to carry a wealthy man's child. She was convinced it was her only way to escape a sorry life in the bayou. Had she not chosen you, she would have tricked someone else. Do not blame yourself for her demise. Odalie is deranged. Not only did she murder her own daughter, she poisoned my mother, as well. It seems she got rid of whomever or whatever displeased her. I now have my suspicions about how my grandmother suddenly took ill and died.”

“Good Christ! Odd that Odalie spared you.”

“Vennard said she didn't dare do me harm or he'd have had René and Bastièn done in.”

When Cameron said nothing, Josette slid her arms around him and held him, rubbing at the taut muscles in his broad back. God help her, whatever came of this, at least she'd told him the truth.

They stood together for a long while, silently holding each other. Finally, he took in a deep breath and let go with a great sigh. She felt him relax, as though he'd come to terms with what she'd told him.

He backed away enough to tug at the tie to her robe. Easing the fabric off her shoulders, he let it fall to the floor. Grasping a handful of his shirt, he yanked it over his head, tossed it aside, and swept his arms around her once again.

“I know of a wonderful sidewalk cafe in Paris that serves the most incredible desserts.” Despite his half-smile, his husky words rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest. He cleared his throat and continued. “Much to the owner's chagrin, I sometimes toss crumbs to the pigeons. Care to join me?”

Oh God, she'd go anywhere he wanted to take her! “I've thought many times I'd like to see Venice one day.”

The sight of the hard planes of his belly, his well-muscled chest, sent a rush of selfishness through her.

His fingers traced small circles around the tips of her breasts. “Venice is best in October when it's not so hot. There's a little restaurant off St. Mark's Square that's been open since the sixteen hundreds. Believe it or not, they still serve many of the same recipes. Their saffron ravioli is worth the trip.”

“If my mind was frazzled before, you're making me dizzy from all you propose.”

He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. “We can travel the world, darling. We'll have a myriad of choices as to where we end up settling. Some you will never have thought of until you stumble across a place that feels at once like home.”

He swept his tongue over the curve of her neck. “You are a beautiful woman who makes my soul ache when I'm not with you, so you may as well decide to marry me and end my misery.”

His fingers traced the outline of her lips, his nostrils flaring with the force of his breath. “I want you,” he said hoarsely. “Not just your body, but all of you. I want you by my side as we move forward in life. I need you, Josette. Say yes.”

This was all real. He was real. This beautiful, wonderful man who'd haunted her dreams and who'd left a vacuum in her heart when he'd been sent away in his youth, had returned. And he wanted her in his life.
Forever.
His countenance, so sweetly filled with devotion, caused her words to catch in her throat, her tongue to swell.

At her silence, his lips grew taut. Suddenly, he looked shy, unsure of himself. “Say something, for God's sake.”

Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She drew in a breath, ready to scream her response if she had to. Suddenly, her throat relaxed and one soft word escaped. “Yes.”

A wave of pure pleasure lit his countenance as if the moon had become the sun and shone brightly upon him. He pulled her tight to him and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. “Thank God.”

He was quiet for a moment, simply holding her. Then he said, “We have a wedding to plan aboard ship, so instead of leaving tomorrow, I'll give you a week.”

She pulled back and met his eyes. “Aboard ship? You want to marry aboard the
Colette
? Why, Bastièn and René are scheduled to sail on her.”

He nodded. “Did I tell you that my parents married aboard ship? It's an Andrews family tradition. I doubt it's customary to haul along the bride's entire clan, though. But it's only for a little over a week, so I guess I can manage to put up with your brothers until we reach Bermuda.”

She laughed and cried at the same time. He loved her. He cared for her. He'd wrapped up her doubts and misgivings in a neat little package and handed it to her tied with a ribbon of promise. And in a week he was going to take her with him to see the world.

She had to be the luckiest woman alive.

He reached into his pocket and tossed a packet onto the glass shelf.

“What's that?”

A mischievous grin lit his eyes. “A French envelope. You can add it to that crude collection Bastièn gave you. I bought it some time ago, but we won't need it.”

“We won't?” She ran her fingers along the front of his trousers, coming to a stop at the hard ridge against her hand. She squeezed.

He sucked in his breath with a hiss, and sweeping her up in his powerful arms, he headed for the bed. “Not as my wife.”

He set her down so the backs of her knees touched the mattress and placed his hands on either side of her face, directing her mouth to his. His breath fell against her lips—sweet, warm, and laced with rum. “I love you, Josette.”

As the words she'd once thought never to hear left his mouth in a husky rasp, she stilled. A gentle peace flowed through her like holy water raining down from the heavens. She wrapped her arms around him and reveled in the exquisite moment. “I love you, too, Cameron.”

He touched his forehead to hers and held her face between his strong, gentle hands. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to say and hear those words?”

Nothing spoken could possibly convey how very much she loved this man. She settled for a simple phrase. “I think I do.”

 

Josette and Cameron stood on the bridge of the
Alexia,
watching the ship's namesake at the helm as she guided the clipper up the Mersey River into Liverpool Harbor and along seven miles of docks. Even though it was Alexia's first time bringing a vessel into port on her own, the captain who stood beside her had little more to do than stand with his hands clasped behind his back and nod every now and then to Cameron, indicating the girl was doing a fine job.

“She handles a ship as if she'd been born at the wheel,” Josette said. “I suppose all her years guiding pirogues through bayou waters gave her a certain level of confidence. Nonetheless, I find her skills amazing.”

“Ah, but look closely, my dear. Her grip on the wheel is so tight, her knuckles have drained of blood.”

Josette leaned back against Cameron's chest. His hand slid around to rub her swollen belly. The babe kicked.

Cameron stilled. “Did you feel that?”

She laughed. “If you felt it, then surely I did, as well.” Covering his hand with hers, she gave his a squeeze. “I'm going to miss the seas during my confinement.”

“It's only for a while, darling. We have the rest of our lives to go wherever we wish. It means a lot to me to have you with family until well after the child is born. Besides, Celine will have plenty of good advice to offer.”

“Who would've thought I'd get with child at my age?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Are you calling thirty-one ancient? You may think you haven't changed much, but honestly, darling, you look younger than when we married. And more beautiful, if that's even possible.”

“Shimmying up palm trees can do that to a person.”

“God forbid, don't remind me,” he grumbled. “I'm fortunate I didn't turn gray overnight. You were worse than Alexia when it came to such folly.”

Her soft laugh was accompanied by another squeeze of his hand. “I was intent on gathering my own supplies. Coconut oil does wonders for the skin.”

Alexia turned, and with a grand smile, gave her father a brief wave. She stood barefoot, dressed in sailor's trousers, with her raven hair in a long braid hanging down the middle of her back. The captain wasn't tall for a man; Alexia nearly met his height.

Cameron waved back. “Do you think Prince Albert had any clue when he commissioned Albert Docks that one day a beautiful seventeen-year-old girl would be maneuvering one of the world's fastest ships into port?”

“Might I remind you once again, that despite her penchant for that damnable outfit she insists on wearing, your daughter wishes to be referred to as a young lady, not a girl? If you expect to remain on speaking terms with her, you had better heed her wishes. Can you guess what she wants for her twenty-first birthday?”

“Egads, Josette, she's barely seventeen. Whatever she thinks she wants now will have been long forgotten by the time she reaches her majority.”

“I sincerely doubt she'll change her mind in this regard. Not after today, anyway.”

“Humph. Then do tell, since I now find myself on veritable tenterhooks.”

“You're such a tease. She wants command of this ship, Cameron. How do we convince her it would be impossible?”

Even with the sway of the ship and the wind ruffling Josette's hair and skirts, she felt Cameron's energy shift. “We don't. She'll make an excellent captain.”

Josette sucked in her breath. “I was afraid you'd say that. Besides the fact that no sailor worth his salt would agree to sail under a woman's command, would you want your daughter alone aboard a ship filled with only men?”

“Thank God her last tutor taught martial arts.”

“Oooh, you're impossible. I worry that her fierce independence will cause her to do something silly, and you're not helping matters. She's already balking at having to spend time in Liverpool. Whatever is to become of her? She's beautiful, intelligent, wealthy, and scares the daylights out of any man who even thinks to be her suitor.”

Cameron chuckled. “As her father, I do not find that last part problematic. Not in the least.”

“Lord, Cameron, she's so world-wise, yet still thirsty for knowledge and more time on the seas.”

“Mmm.” He rested his chin atop Josette's head and rubbed slow, comforting circles on her belly. “Would it be fair of me to hold her back? I've lost count of the number of clippers we've boarded since we first set sail, but not Alexia. She's kept detailed records of all the ships' activities, cargo, and ports of call. She can spot a thief or liar in under a minute. She's learned every seaman's job, and can outperform most. So far, she's picked up Portuguese and Dutch from the deckhands, and is learning Italian. You know yourself she'll never be content trying to live a life others would call normal.”

Josette sighed. “I give up.” She glanced at Alexia's bare feet and at her brogans set neatly off to the side. She called out to her. “Alexia, change into a proper lady's gown before we dock. And put on some decent shoes.”

“It's too late,
ma tante
. We're nearly there.”

“Alexia, do get going,” Josette said. “We don't want your grandfather to see you dressed in that garb the first time he lays eyes on you. We'll wait for you before we disembark.”

Cameron lifted his chin off Josette's head. “Good God. Would you look who's gathered dockside with my family? Did your brothers know we would be staying here until you gave birth, or are they on another one of their bloody
inspection
tours?”

Josette bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning. “I may have written to them once or twice.” Oh, she had, but it was to beg them to be here to greet their new nephew or niece, whichever gender the babe turned out to be. Besides, they hadn't seen Alexia since last year in Hong Kong.

The ship bumped up against the mooring. Ratlines flew through the air and the gangplank was quickly lowered. Josette's heart tripped a beat. Would Cameron's family accept a Cajun? Of course they would, she told herself. Odd how those familiar misgivings still haunted her every now and then. She picked out Trevor among the group. He was hard to miss because he and Cameron so greatly resembled each other.

Boldly, Alexia perused the gathering on the dock. She squinted for a brief moment, then squealed and took off down the gangplank, her bare feet slapping against the wood. “Uncles!”

“So much for greeting your side of the family in a ladylike manner,” Josette grumbled. “The least she could've done was had the decency to don her brogans.”

Cameron, grinning from ear to ear, grabbed Josette's hand and started for the gangplank. “Don't blame life aboard ship for that little quirk. I do believe she got into the habit of not wearing shoes from your side of the family. Come,
chère
, it's time to meet this goodly lot.”

Thank you, Gwen Brunet, for sharing your spine-tingling story of having been bitten on the foot by a copperhead (and having it remain attached, like the water moccasin on Cameron's leg). Without the modern-day antivenin and being airlifted not once, but twice, to specialized hospitals, you'd likely not be around to give me the details that I passed on to Cameron. Copperheads and water moccasins carry the same kind of deadly poison. His run-in with the snakes and his painful recovery truly was your experience fictionalized, Gwen. Old Satan represented the antivenin made from horse and sheep blood that is in use today but wasn't developed until 1895.

Thanks go to those members of the Voodoo Society of New Orleans who were willing to share their sacred knowledge with me. Odalie was a deranged woman who stepped far beyond the rituals that were taught in the old tradition of Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau. Odalie, who created her own dark and deadly world, is purely a figment of my imagination.

The little restaurant in Venice Cameron mentioned, the one that serves recipes from the 1600s, does exist. I've tasted that awesomely delicious saffron ravioli many times, and I thank the chef for keeping it on the menu. Visiting Nawlins—especially the French Quarter—at any time of the year, except during the oppressive heat of summer, is a treat for me. I researched the town so thoroughly that when I arrived, I walked around as if I'd once lived there—well, in my heart, I guess I had while writing this series. Many thanks to the management of Antoine's for taking me on a historical tour of the fabulous restaurant. Antoine's really has existed since 1840. It really is that large, with fourteen dining rooms, and the French-Creole food really is very good.

Thanks to my critique partners, Tara Kingston, Ashlyn Macnamara, Barbara Bettis, Tess St. John, Lane McFarland, Averil Reisman, and Renee Ann Miller. You are wonderful authors in your own right. Without you helping me keep my story on track, I doubt Cameron and Josette would've had a chance at a happy ending.

Jill Marsal, as always, you are my superagent who knows just what an author needs. Thank you for believing in me.

To the Kensington crew working diligently behind the scenes, especially my publicist Jane Nutter, editorial assistant Elizabeth May, and production editor Ross Plotkin: You are all beyond wonderful. To my editor, Alicia Condon, there is an inherent grace about you that elevates how I perceive myself as a writer. I thank you.

And thank you, dear reader, for picking up this book. Without you, I'd be writing for my own entertainment. I love hearing from readers. You can contact me on Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter, or through my website at
www.kathleenbittnerroth.com
.

Authors appreciate and need reviews so if you'd care to leave one, I'd be grateful.