Josette (24 page)

Oh, the tears were ready to fall, and she desperately did not want that to happen in front of him. “I don't see how . . .”

Twin lines appeared between his furrowed brows. “Is there a problem?”

She closed her eyes against the wetness gathering in them. “The truth is, I have worked so hard to become a woman of independent means, Cameron. Your plan would be brilliant if only it didn't steal my freedom.”

The air left his lungs in a great whoosh. He stepped forward and clasped her shoulders. Suddenly, he was two people at once—the formidable businessman whose power nearly made her tremble, and her concerned lover, touching her with protective yet gentle hands.

“Josette, darling, these kinds of things are done all the time. This entire transaction will be in name only. Everything will still belong to you. When enough time passes, or whenever Vennard himself passes, everything can revert back to you at your say-so.”

Was this truly the answer? He could save her brothers? Save her shop and her home? Hope threaded through her fears. “This could work?”

He gave her a slow nod. Then heat gathered in his gaze. She stared into his dazzling amber eyes, fire igniting in her belly.

“I was lonely on the sofa, Josette.” The timbre of Cameron's words shifted to a low huskiness. “I didn't care much for you sitting in that chair across from me.”

An easy, deliberate smile tipped a corner of his mouth. He nudged her shoulders with his fingers. “Come closer.”

She took a step forward, desperately wanting him, yet not wanting to lose a part of herself—the part she'd struggled so hard to mold into autonomous strength.

“Not close enough,” he murmured and eased her against him. Slipping his arms around her, he used his fingertips to massage the back of her neck.

She moaned as tension drained out of her. Why be concerned about losing something of herself? She'd not surrendered anything to him she hadn't wanted to. He'd soon be gone. Until then, she'd not let worry cause her to miss a moment of what they might enjoy together.

He swept a loose tendril behind her ear, then brushed a soft kiss on either side of her mouth. “That bastard must have been scaring years off your life.”

He kissed the outer corner of each eye. “You'll never have to fear him again, Josette. Nor do you ever have to see or speak to the scum. My solicitors will take care of everything henceforth.”

She gazed into Cameron's eyes while the full meaning of his words sank in. “But I should be there when he's told. At least I'd like to see the look on his face.”

Cameron shook his head. “There'll be more power in your silence, and in the complete removal of yourself from him. I'll see to having papers drawn up forbidding him to enter your home or place of business.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against his. Here was a man she could love. But she held no illusions about him—about them. About love itself. Perhaps one day someone would come along and fill her with the same wondrous feelings.

She doubted it.

Curling a finger beneath her chin, he lifted it. “Open your eyes, Josette.”

She did as he bid.

His gaze swept slowly over her face as if drinking her in. “Will you spend the night with me?”

Her heart kicked up a notch. “My brothers—”

“Can remain here while I take you to my home.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Do me the honor of saying yes.”

She felt him tense as he waited for her answer. Here was her first test at living an independent life alongside her brothers.

“Yes,” she whispered, and felt the tension in him dissipate.

“I should make my way to my solicitor's before the day draws to a close, but before I go, is there anything else you might want of me? Any favors I might have the power to grant?”

Her knees had gone soft, but not her reasoning. “A favor, yes. Will you break bread with my brothers tonight?”

He pulled back his head and frowned. “Don't tell me you want me to dine with those scoundrels, then waltz you out the door with a jolly good night?”

She planted a kiss of promise on his mouth. “Well, not the jolly good night, but yes, I'd like you to join us. After all, they are Alexia's uncles. Cameron, please grant me this favor before you and Alexia leave.”

The lids over his amber eyes lowered. “You manipulate me.”

She gave him a sly grin. “We're having étoufée. Bastièn brought fresh crawdads home from the bayou this afternoon. Could we see you at eight?”

Laughter rumbled in Cameron's chest. He pulled her tight to him and wrapped his arms around her in a great hug that buried her cheek against his chest again. “I'll agree to this insanity, but only because Régine makes the best étoufée in New Orleans.”

She grinned to herself. How comfortable they were with one another. How easily they conferred.

He lifted her chin and settled on her a deep and long kiss that harbored a promise of things to come. He released her, but the electricity traveling between them left its mark. “As I said, I need to visit my solicitor if I'm going to get anything accomplished.”

He kissed her again. “Your lips are swollen, so you'd best stay behind while I see myself out.”

Reaching the door, he paused. “Michel has a stable of horses, and I am in dire need of a good long ride to rid myself of what's built up inside me these past few days. Would you mind if I arrived a bit late?”

That hot pulse beating low in her belly ratcheted up. She gave him a sultry grin. “This is an informal evening, so if you were to show up in your riding clothes, we'd just have to be sure you bathed afterward, wouldn't we?”

A deep chuckle rose from his throat. “I do like the way your clever mind works.”

 

 

Cameron was a decidedly handsome man who easily turned heads when dressed in his finery. But with his hair still wind-tousled and wearing tall black riding boots and tight britches that outlined muscled legs and hips, and a smile filled with promise, he was a fallen god.

A god Josette was about to spend an entire night making love with.

They'd finished dinner, and he sat relaxed in a chair, bantering with her brothers and, Josette swore, actually having a good time. Perhaps it was the sinful intention of carting her off to his home right in front of René and Bastièn that had him in a particularly fine mood. Or maybe it was that he was leaving soon and could afford to call a truce for one evening. Whatever it was, he'd granted Josette her favor. She could have crawled right over the table and kissed him for the way he interacted with her brothers.

And surprisingly, they with him. Oh, the banter was acerbic, to be sure, but that was half the fun as far as she was concerned. She'd had to buy her brothers' good graces by promising them each a new suit of clothing if they could manage to be civil to her guest. Following a lengthy discussion regarding Vennard's attempts to purchase Josette's shop and home, Cameron introduced the idea of his shipping company making the acquisitions as a way to foil Vennard's plans and protect Josette. Both René and Bastièn were in robust agreement, which lent a celebratory atmosphere to the evening.

Adding to her pleasure, René moved about easily, showing few signs of stiffness. Oh, he had to be sore, but her herbs and creams were working wonders. A week from now, his stitches could be removed.

A pounding sounded at the door.

Josette's heart responded to the beat in kind. “Oh, dear. Could word have traveled so fast? Could that be Vennard ready to pounce on me?”

The three men stood. Cameron turned to Vivienne. “You should be the one to get that. If it is Vennard, do not let on that we are here. Tell him you'll collect Josette straight away.”

Vivienne nodded and scurried off as the pounding increased.

In moments, Felicité rushed into the room, so out of breath she had to bend and hold her sides.

Cameron went to her. “What the devil happened? Where's Alexia?”

“G . . . gone.”

Every part of Josette froze—muscles, brain, heart, breath.

Cameron held Felicité by the shoulders. “Take a slow, deep breath. That's it. Another one. Good girl. Now tell me.”

“We no sooner got home when her uncle came to call—”

“Uncle?” they all said.

“A man named Lucien.”

René stepped forward. “He's not her uncle. He's my no-good cousin. He took her?”

Felicité nodded. “Since Alexia was so pleased to see him, and he seemed congenial enough, I saw no harm in letting him in. I offered him tea. He said he'd come to take her to her grandmother, that her grandmother had a party planned for Alexia tonight.”

Bastièn and René cursed.

“She went with him?” Josette cried.

“She wanted to, but I said no, we should wait and ask her father. Lucien seemed fine with my explanation, but suddenly I grew dizzy and the room swirled around me. He must have put something in my tea when I went for a few sweets, because the next thing I knew, I woke up all these hours later, lying on my bed, and with a servant watching over me.”

“You were otherwise unharmed?” Cameron demanded. “Where the devil was Michel all the while?”

“I wasn't set upon in the way you are inferring. I doubt Lucien would have done anything to frighten either Alexia or the servants, and have them refuse to allow Alexia to accompany him. Likely he made some kind of excuse such as I had suffered the vapors. The man can be quite convincing. As for Michel, he has a lady friend. Said he wouldn't be home all night. But I knew that when I invited Alexia.”

“What time did Lucien show up?”

“Around four. Teatime.”

Cameron pulled out his watch. “Bloody hell, it's near midnight.”

Bastièn cursed. “That's why Maman wasn't so upset when I left. She was making plans to move her initiation up to spite us.”

“
Oui,
” René said and turned to Cameron. “Maman intends to take Alexia through that terrible initiation I told you about. Lucien practices the voodoo as well—that's why she sent him.”

Josette could barely manage to get her terrible words out. “What . . . what if he was lying and had no intention of taking Alexia to Maman?”

Dead silence permeated the room.

Bastièn was already halfway out the dining room door when he paused. “If Maman issued orders, he would not go against his priestess. If it be the voodoo ceremony, I know where to find them. I only hope we're not too late.” He shot a glance at René. “Are you up to coming with me?”

“He cannot,” Josette said. “He's full of stitches that would surely tear open. I'll go.”

“No!” all three men shouted.

Cameron stepped forward. “Josette, you stay here. Felicité, do what you will, but you both might benefit from each other's company.”

He turned to the brothers. “I'm Alexia's father. I'll be going.”

René shook his head. “
Non.
You do not know the bayou. You will only slow us down.”

That same formidable power Cameron had demonstrated in the library swept over him. “Damn it, that's my daughter we're talking about, René. I'm coming along. I know how to handle myself, and I know when and how to take directions. In this case, your directions.”

Bastièn guided the pirogue deep into the bayou through waters black as ink. Cameron sat on a wooden slat affixed to the middle of the flat-bottomed boat. Behind him, René perched on a similar plank.

Fireflies glimmered along the banks like nomadic stars floating down from the heavens. A noisy chorus of resonant bullfrogs, croaking toads, and high-pitched peepers filled the air. A soft splash sounded to Cameron's left. He jerked. An alligator sliding into the water? A fish jumping for mosquitoes?

Had the situation been less dire, Cameron might have found this place rather enchanting in the midnight hours, but from among the amphibians' songs, the vibrating hum of cicadas, and the occasional hoot of an owl, a murmur of distant drums raised his hackles. His daughter was out there in the middle of that gripping beat. But what if she wasn't? What if Lucien had lied about taking her to her grandmother? What if . . .

Cameron shoved the alarming thought aside. He couldn't allow such unnerving contemplations. The drumbeat grew louder. Wherever Bastièn was taking them, they were nearing their goal.

Bastièn turned to Cameron and spoke softly. “Now is the time to pay attention to that little lesson I gave you when we started out,
mon ami
. You follow what I say and do,
oui
? If you do not, we could all die.”

Cameron nodded. God help him if he had to find his way out of this place alone. When they'd first entered the bayou, he'd wondered how Bastièn could navigate in the darkness, but to Cameron's surprise, after his eyes adjusted to the moonlight and fireflies, he could see well enough to follow any commands. Still, he had to be missing most of what the two brothers were acutely aware of.

They rounded a bend and an acrid scent of woodsmoke filled with a mélange of food smells tainted the air. Bastièn had said there'd be pigs roasting on spits, but had mentioned nothing about anything else. Cameron caught the distinct scent of the holy trinity of Cajun fare—bell peppers, onions, and celery. He'd recognize those and the other heady spices anywhere. The mysterious, shadowy world of the bayou was a pristine environment. These strong odors stood out like foreign invaders and grated against nature's purity.

The drums grew louder until the sound vibrated across the open waters. The rhythm of Cameron's heart kicked up. He squinted through heavy underbrush, past the cypress and cottonwoods. He caught sight of a large bonfire, its flames licking the sky. Odalie's followers danced around the perimeter of the blaze. Another kind of smoke stung his nostrils, this one sickly sweet. Surely that wasn't opium?

Bastièn used the long pole to push their pirogue past a number of others that lay empty along a flat shoreline. In the shadows, they could've been a congregation of gators waiting to attack. A twist of the pole and Bastièn eased into a narrow inlet. He brought the boat to a halt at a horizontal angle to the festivities. They straddled the planks and sat side by side, barely a foot apart.

René leaned over and spoke softly. “Hidden in the brush like this, we will not be seen because everyone is either dazed or staring into the fire. With all the noise, they cannot hear us either, but they could sense our presence if we are not careful, so we must remain in the shadows and speak softly.”

Cameron slapped at a mosquito on his neck. “Where the hell is Alexia?”

“Likely around the other side of the bonfire in a peristyle,” Bastièn said.

“What the devil is that?” Cameron's patience had run out.

“A temple. A makeshift one out here. Maman's female assistants are preparing Alexia for the initiation. Have patience.”

“There's Maman.” René pointed to a dark-haired woman who was dressed in a thin white robe and shaking an
asson
, the sacred rattle of the priesthood. She danced a full circle around the inferno, eyes closed. An albino snake, as thick as Cameron's arm, was wrapped around Odalie's waist and trailed up her arm. Despite the sultry air, a shiver ran through him.

“She uses the rattle to release the power of departed spirits,” René said. “She intends to bind Alexia to the lineage connected to Maman. That is why it is important to halt this initiation. If it goes past the point of no return, Maman will consider Alexia her true child, and own her like no other. She will become another priestess.”

“Christ, she's only thirteen years old.” Cameron shot a glance at René, who sipped rum from a flask. Gosling Brothers, to be exact. But Josette had given it to him to ease his pain, so Cameron refrained from caustic remarks.

“There's Lucien.” Bastièn indicated a near-naked male dancing around Odalie. Cameron set his jaw until his teeth ground together. Even from where they sat, it was easy to catch the glazed look in the man's eyes. He wore a pair of white cotton trousers, the fabric so thin, his muscled legs stood in silhouette against the bonfire. The reflection against his sweat-shiny chest sent flames licking over him. His hair fell loose to his shoulders and swung about as he gyrated. The other similarly clad men twirled around the fire and chanted. The women wore colorful thin skirts and tops.

Bastièn removed his shirt, ready to make his move. The plan was for him to sneak around the edge of the group once they'd worked themselves into a hypnotic frenzy and lost awareness of their surroundings. He'd ease into the crowd, escape with Alexia into the woods, then wind his way back around to René and Cameron.

Cameron's head was beginning to pound to the beat of the drums. “Blast it all, where can she be?”

Lucien handed Maman a glass bottle filled with clear liquid. She took a mouthful and, cheeks puffed, spat a stream into the fire, where it hissed like a snake. The flames shot higher.

Alcohol.

Lucien's brew?

Wooden cages filled with white chickens lined the outside perimeter of the circle. Lucien reached in and pulled one out. With a sharp twist, he snapped off its head. Holding the sacrifice upside down over his chest, he hopped in circles, blood spurting over him, a grin on his face that looked sickeningly like someone in the throes of ecstasy.

Cameron's stomach curdled.

Another chicken left its pen and met the same fate over another chest, then another. The drumbeats increased as did the fever pitch of the gyrations and the sacrifices of the fowl. “Good God, does this go on all night?”

He turned to René and nearly flinched at the stony look on his face. Cameron didn't have to ask what Odalie and Lucien planned next for Alexia—René's countenance told the tale.

Heart pounding, Cameron glanced at Bastièn, who must have read his mind. “Do not move. You must leave her rescue to us.”

Lucien careened around the circle, tearing heads off chickens as if it were child's play. He chanted and whirled, then disappeared behind the bonfire. When he reappeared, he had a wide-eyed Alexia in tow.

Cameron cursed and made to rise.

“
Non
.” Bastièn shoved him back onto the bench. “They will kill you if you invade their sacred circle. René is too injured to go after her, so he will guide the pirogue. As another of the high priestess's sons, I must rescue your daughter. Maman is already in an altered state. Loa—the spirits from the other side—have entered her and taken over. Once the ceremony is finished and they exit her, she will not even know I was here, only that Alexia disappeared. But Lucien, he has not yet received the loa into him. We must wait.”

Lucien began a series of twirls and high-kick jumps around Alexia, the lustful expression on his face unmistakable. He held the bottle to her lips. She took a mouthful and spat it into the fire. He laughed, sang something to her, and moved around her in rhythmic agitation.

He grabbed another caged chicken, snapped off its head, and lifted it to Alexia's chest. Blood splattered onto her white blouse. Fear blazed in her eyes. She struggled to pull away. Lucien grabbed her around the waist, yanked her against him, and set his mouth to her neck.

“That son of a bitch.” Cameron bolted out of the pirogue.

“Stop.” Bastièn reached for him.

Suddenly, the water around Cameron boiled. “Christ! Something bit me.”

“Snakes!” Bastièn and René lunged for him.

Another sting, and as they yanked Cameron back into the boat, something heavy dragged at his left leg. He peered down at the writhing water moccasin clinging to him. “That bloody thing is still attached. Get it off!”

“
Merde
.” Grabbing the snake behind its broad head, Bastièn squeezed, forcing its jaws apart. He lifted the wriggling creature off Cameron and flung it back into the water. “You stepped in a nest of moc'sins.”

Pain shot up Cameron's leg, making him groan. “I think I got bit twice.”

“Sit up,” René ordered. “Keep your head above your leg so the poison doesn't reach your heart.”

“We have a sudden change of plans.” Bastièn reached for Cameron's boots.

He pulled back. “What the devil are you doing?”

“Your leg is about to bloat up like a dead horse in the sun. Won't be long and I'd have to cut it off you.” He yanked off the boots and tossed them in the bottom of the boat. Cameron's knife fell out of one and clattered across the wood.

A kind of pain Cameron never knew existed racked his leg.

Bastièn turned to René. “I know you're in bad shape,
mon frère
, but can you go after Alexia? If we leave her here, Lucien might get to her before Maman realizes anything is amiss. If I go after her, her father is likely dead. You know what has to be done.”

“You'll need this.” René tossed Bastièn the silver flask containing the rum and grabbed the long guide pole, digging it into the muddy water. He pushed the pirogue out of the inlet and over to where the others were lined along the shore. He removed his shirt. Clad in only trousers and the bandage around his torso, he waded to shore.

Bastièn turned back to Cameron. “Take a few easy breaths and remain as calm as you can. Keep them shallow.”

“Christ, this hurts.”

“
Oui
. It be the worst kind of pain.” Bastièn dug into his trouser pocket and withdrew a pocket knife. He flipped it open. “I have to cut those bites open and suck out as much poison as I can, so hold on to the sides of the pirogue.”

“Why couldn't René have taken care of me while you went after Alexia since you're in better shape?”

“Because I am the trained healer. My brother wouldn't know what to do.” With a quick slice of the knife, Bastièn slit the right leg of Cameron's breeches to his hip. “Good thing you were wearing high-top riding boots or a good dozen snakes would've latched on to your ankles. Not much I could've done but watch you pass over to the other side. And it's another good thing that biggest snake didn't bite into you much higher or you'd surely be a dead man.”

“Why is that?” The knife cuts Bastièn made didn't hurt near as bad as the severe pain shooting up and down Cameron's leg.

Bastièn sucked and spat. Then he took a mouthful of rum from René's flask and rinsed out his mouth. “Because I wouldn't be sucking anything much higher, don'cha know.”

“Christ, now's hardly the time for jokes.”

Bastièn continued to suck, spit, and rinse. Finally, he stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grabbed hold of the pole and eased the pirogue into the main waterway. “Stay still as you can and keep your breaths shallow.”

Cameron glanced back at the ceremony. “What the devil? We need to wait for René.”

“
Non
. He'll borrow one of those other pirogues and take Alexia to Josette, where she'll be safe. I'm taking you to Maman's.”

“What?”

“Her place is closer. She has things there to take care of snakebites. I know what to do.”

Cameron fought the panic trying to rise along with the escalating pain. He had to keep talking just to maintain his sanity. “How will we know if René is successful? He's all stitched up and can barely move around.”

“Fair interesting what a person can accomplish when circumstances require,
oui
?” Despite Bastièn's display of calmness, he moved them quickly through the water, his face a mask of concern.

“No matter what it takes, René will rescue your daughter. He is Maman's oldest son, so no one will harm him unless she commands it. And she won't. Josette will have some repair work to do on him, though.”

The pounding in Cameron's head increased. A dirty, raw taste coated his mouth and tongue, as if the swamp and snake had both crawled inside him. “You can't take me to your mother's. If Odalie recognizes me, I won't last five minutes.”

“
Non
. Above all else, she is a high priestess healer. Because of what has happened to you, René has halted the ceremony and Maman is lucid once again. You hear no more drums,
oui
? At this moment he stands in front of her and her following—her voodoo family—telling her of your plight and asking for help. Maman has her dark side, which has nothing to do with her spiritual practices, but with René challenging her in front of the others, she will not dare cast you aside. Nor can she refuse to allow Alexia to go with him if she so pleases. You saw the look on your daughter's face. She will leave with René.”

“Good Christ. I should never have climbed out of the bloody boat.”

“
Oui
, but that is in the past. If we are going to save you, or save your leg, you need to stop talking, stop thinking, and breathe very gently.”

The pain in Cameron's leg traveled to his belly. Nausea roiled. He leaned over the pirogue and vomited. Perspiration flooded his skin, and then his flesh ran icy cold. A trembling set in that made his teeth rattle. “You don't think I'm going to live through this, do you?”