Page 134 of Frankly, My Dear

His lips curled with disgust. “I should have known. I’ll help you move everything back to your chamber.”

“No! This is fine. I’d rather be next to Etienne anyhow.”

He was about to object, then nodded with understanding.

“James, where have you been?”

“Searching for evidence.”

“And?”

“Bits and pieces. Nothing definitive yet.”

“And what do you suspect?”

“Victor and Giselle…working together.”

“To what end?”

“Mine.”

Selene pressed a palm over her heart in distress. “You don’t believe Giselle’s story.”

“Do you?” he scoffed.

She shook her head.

“My room was ransacked this morning when I came in from the barn, where I slept. Apparently, she was searching for the will. Luckily, I’d hidden it elsewhere.”

So he hadn’t slept with his wife last night. Selene was comforted by that thought, at least. “I just don’t understand any of this. I know there have been threats on your life, but why would Giselle pretend to be dead? And where has she been all this time? Why not just get a divorce if she wants to be with Victor?”

“There is no divorce in our church,” he informed her in a flat voice.

Selene’s heart sank. “Yes, that’s what Giselle told me,” she whispered brokenly.

James’s eyes shot up at that and his feet landed loudly on the floor. “What else did she tell you?”

“That she’s back here for good. That she’s your wife. That the most I could ever hope for now is to be your mistress somewhere away from Bayou Noir. That in the end she will win you back.”

He stood abruptly. “And did you tell her that I promised to love you forever, to never let you go?”

She slid her legs over the edge of the bed. Her toes curled in the soft rag rug at her feet. Unable to meet his questioning eyes, Selene hung her head. “No. I told her I would go away on St. John’s Eve.”

James sucked in his breath loudly, as if she had punched him in the stomach. When he recovered, he sank down on the cot next to her. Tilting her chin up with a forefinger, he asked, “How could you, Selene? I asked you to trust me.”

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought for words. “This isn’t about trust, James. It’s about morality. You’re married, and apparently you’re going to continue to be married. What other solution is there?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find one. I promise.”

“Even if you uncover evidence of Victor and Giselle collaborating together, you will still be married.”

“Shhhh. Trust in me, chérie,” James said, brushing her hair off her face and behind her ear. His warm breath caressed the shell of her ear, and Selene felt an electric current of pleasure shoot through her blood.

“No, this isn’t right,” she protested, even as she leaned into his shoulder.

“Au contraire, it is the only thing that is right in this nightmare. Our love”—he sought for the right words—“is powerful enough to withstand this threat.”

Selene wanted to believe him, but it was so hard. She had told him at one time that their love was a gift from God. Did God give with one hand and take with the other? She just didn’t know.