Page 99 of Frankly, My Dear

He nodded.

“Do you think Victor will come after her?”

“Undoubtedly. In his own twisted way, he will view this as my taking something that belongs to him.”

She nodded sadly in agreement. “And when he comes, will you be able to trap him?”

“Only if he makes an assault himself, which he rarely does, coward that he is.”

“Will it ever end?” she asked wearily.

“One way or another, oui, it will.” He intended to bring matters to a head with his brother, and soon, but Selene didn’t need to know that.

“James, it was awful tonight…that voodoo ceremony. I’ve never witnessed anything so bizarre, and evil. Have you ever attended one yourself?”

“Oui, many times in Santo Domingo. Voodoo is not always evil in character, though. In fact, sometimes the rites resemble a Christian church service.”

“Your mother said that.”

He was momentarily speechless with surprise. Apparently his mother was not quite the ill-informed, weak woman he had thought her of late. He would have to watch her more carefully. “Tell me what you saw tonight.”

As she sipped her drink, tracing the lip of the glass with a fingertip as she talked, Selene told him about all they had done and seen that night.

“Are you sure the chicken wasn’t Bob?” he asked hopefully at one point, and she laughed spontaneously…a moment of shared mirth as their eyes connected. And his heart slammed against his chest walls in longing.

He took another huge swallow of his drink for strength, draining the glass, and poured a refill.

“If you went to your father and gave him back the will, do you think he could put a stop to Victor’s schemes?” Selene asked.

“I don’t think so. I believe Victor is out of control, mad with greed and envy…though why he should envy me, I cannot fathom.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with Giselle,” Selene said tentatively.

“Why should you think that?” he asked with curiosity, surprised at his own lack of anger at her personal question.

“Well, your mother seems to believe that Victor and Giselle had been…involved…before your marriage…and you said yourself that you had met Giselle through Victor.”

“My mother said that? Truly, I need to have a long talk with her. But you are right. I suspect Victor did have feelings for Giselle, but my father would never have agreed to their marriage. I wish, in retrospect, though, that Victor had claimed her for himself.”

He saw Selene’s open face brighten at his words, and he chuckled at their impossible situation. He wanted her. She wanted him. And neither could have the other.

“Tomorrow is Thursday. On Sunday you will be going off with the Collinses, chérie,” he said softly. “After tonight, I am even more convinced you will be better off away from Bayou Noir. Your safety is important to me, no matter what you may think.”

She held his eyes for a moment in question before her long lashes fluttered downward. “Yes, I think you do care.”

“I didn’t say I cared,” he immediately amended.

Slanting him a knowing look, she remarked with certainty, “You care.”

He was trying to keep some balance in this tightrope he walked between self-control and mind-boggling lust. “Don’t push me, Selene.”

“You can’t even bear to touch me, James, for fear of the spark that would ignite between us.”

“Oh, and you think you could ‘light my fire’ so easily. Think again, my dear,” he scoffed.

“James, James, James,” she said with mock despair, “your fire has been lit for weeks. Hell, it’s a raging wildfire, as far as I can see. You just can’t admit that you care.” She stood then, her shoulders slumped with weariness, and left for her bedchamber to sleep off her exhaustion.

“I admit it,” he murmured aloud after she left, taking another long swallow of bourbon. “I admit it, chérie.”