“Aside from the fact that I haven’t seen him since he successfully played matchmaker for me and Christien—” she motioned to the journal opened on the night table, her diamond engagement ring glinting in the light “—if he could appear to you, then why would he be writing?”
Breanne cast a narrowed gaze at the journal in question, apparently considering. “Well…good. Why you and Christien and not me?”
“Haven’t a clue. But I don’t think Uncle Guidry ever saw him either.”
“Then why’d he say the place was haunted?”
“Because the place is haunted. Maybe he felt the cold, too. I never asked. But didn’t you say the captain started winging stuff around after he left the message?”
Gabriel couldn’t resist. Gathering all his focus, he knocked a small box from the dresser. It toppled to the floor, landing on the edge of the rug with a soft thump.
Tallis smiled. “Like that.”
Breanne sank onto the edge of the bed, fairly swooning.
Gabriel sent an envelope sailing off the dresser for good measure, and she jumped.
Tallis laughed.
“Child man,” a familiar voice snapped, and had Gabriel been of corporeal form he might have blushed for being caught in such foolishness. Except he wouldn’t give the crone the satisfaction.
“So how will you reply, pirate?” belle grand-mère asked. “You have our very great-granddaughters’ attention. Now what do you plan to do.”
“Break the curse. Dare I hope you might be tired of this eternal restlessness? Or do you truly want to spend another two hundred years suffering my company to have your revenge?”
He saw some emotion flicker across that withered face, prayed she might be mellowing. He hadn’t considered any fate but his own, yet the whole two-souls-bound-together-in-the-curse thing couldn’t have been pleasant for her either. Of course, belle grand-mère had chosen her path.
Oy, the misguided notions of righteousness.
He might have laughed, but as he stared into the face of the woman who had been his only companion for centuries, nothing about the situation felt amusing.
“So I ask again, what are you going to do?” she queried.
“Break the curse.”
“So you’ve said. They’re waiting.”
“I know.” Gabriel affected just the right tone of bravado—which he was not feeling at all, unfortunately.
He had been giving a great deal of thought to how he might convince Breanne to trust Lucas and give herself to love. She wouldn’t find another man her equal. The auras didn’t lie.
He’d learned that lesson the hard way.
And as Gabriel stared at his beautiful descendent, her aura fading back to the lifeless pewter color it would remain if she didn’t give her heart over to love, he realized his only chance to convince her meant teaching the lesson he’d spent two centuries learning.
Which meant owning up to every bad decision he had made in life and facing that so many had shared in the consequences.
Casting his gaze between his beautiful descendents and the withered old crone who had sacrificed herself to make him pay for his sins, Gabriel knew a shame that crawled through him as alive as if he had never crossed into the realm of death.
He reached for the pen….
“Tally!” Breanne gasped and pulled her legs up on the bed.
“Chill, li’l sis. Looks like he’s going to answer your question.”
The old crone hissed. “Must you always play the melodramatic ass?”
“If you have a better suggestion, Madame…” Gabriel let his words trail off as he pressed the pen to the page to begin his missive, determined to write honestly and from the heart. He refused to spare himself the pain of reliving his wasted love affair, the shame of his own foolishness, the regret of his betrayal of the woman who had loved him.
It was the least he could do to atone, to attempt to set things right—not for himself, because he had earned his reward, but for those who partook in the dismal fate through no fault of their own. The thought speared him on the edge of a guilt so heavy not even death tempered the weight.
Madeleine. Their children. Generations of descendents following the path of ambition to be spared the heartache of love. Tallis. Breanne. Even this horrible old crone, for all her bitter choices, had only been reacting to his actions.
IMPOSSIBLE WORDS APPEARED on the pages as if an invisible hand wielded the pen. Tally chuckled softly, but Bree could only stare, the breath trapped in her throat, disbelieving yet unable to tear her gaze from the words that formed sentences, stringing together into a story.
My dear Breanne,
Would that I could appear to you and prove my existence beyond a doubt. Alas, I am the victim of my own pride and foolishness yet again, a melodramatic ass of the worst sort, some would say. Unfortunately through the past few months I have come to understand how true is that claim.
The curse is real, brought down upon your head and the generations before you because of my selfishness.
In life I was blessed with the love of the exquisite Madeleine, who saw only the good in those she cared for. She was beautiful and kind, a gentle soul who deserved to be cherished.
You and your twin look so like her it wounds me until I cannot bear to look upon you. Alas, you are both too like me in spirit. Tallis has proven stronger than this curse, but you, my dear Breanne, have enough of my dear Madeleine’s spirit that I fear for you. I hope you will understand what I write. I pray you also possess the strength to rise above this curse.
Madeleine gave her heart to me, loving me for all she saw that I could be, not the man I was. I was not worthy. Neither of her love, nor of the faith that she placed in me.
For only after my death did I begin to understand what I had not in life—that no man who truly loved a woman would ever let his pride come before her.
Yet love her I did. With my whole heart and soul, as much as I was capable of in life.
Otherwise those accusations of piracy would never have nettled me as they did. But they bit so deep because each one proved what I believed in my heart—that I would never truly be worthy of that gentle woman’s love.
Had I believed in my own worth, I would have asked her to sail from New Orleans to start a new life with me. I would have understood that she cared more for me than for the trappings of society, more than the opinions of other people.
She saw me for who I was inside, who I could be.
If only I had believed in myself.
I did not. I let my pride rule my wits and sailed from New Orleans to spite society, leaving behind a heartbroken Madeleine with my children in her womb.
Society turned their backs on her, but it was not their betrayal that eventually broke her spirit. It was my betrayal.
Her voodoo-wielding grand-mère made as much clear when she sacrificed her own eternity to ensure I suffered for my sins. She cursed us all, believing she blessed our descendents with ambition instead of love to save you the same heartbreak Madeleine had endured.
I have spent my death haunting this court that I built, believing there would be no way to break the curse, but with the birth of you and your sister—another set of twins—I have been given a chance.
All you must do is place love over your ambition.
Even if you have not realized the truth yet, you love. I see it in the way your restless aura sparks to life around Lucas. Auras never lie. They tell the heart of matters. Have you not felt kinship with this man remarkable for your short acquaintance? Have you not felt the power in his arms? Do you not recognize that he is your match in every way that matters, your spiritual and physical and intellectual equal?
Love follows rules that have nothing to do with time or place. When one soul recognizes another, the result is magic. That magic can be yours.
All it takes is believing yourself worthy.
And while that sounds like such a small and simple thing…you more than your twin, more than any of your cu
rsed ancestors, will understand that it is not.
We share this in common, a trait unique to us, a trait born of our different circumstances, to be sure, but to the same effect. The only wisdom I can share is born of two centuries of experience, two centuries of atoning and finally understanding.
Until you believe in yourself, my dear Breanne, it matters naught who else does.
Yours in hope,
Captain Gabriel Dampier
Bree had eventually remembered to breathe, but when the pen finally came to a stop, came to rest beside her day planner, her gaze swam with tears.
Before she could even lift a hand to swipe at her eyes, to begin to pull her shell-shocked thoughts into some semblance of order, she felt the temperature dip sharply.
It felt as if a window had blown open and a winter wind swept in, a chill that sent goose bumps up her arms and built and shifted until it pierced her skin….
As if a ghost had kissed her cheek.
LUCAS’S CELL PHONE jangled a tune, and he grabbed it from the desk without taking his gaze from his laptop, flipped it to his ear and said, “Talk to me.”
“You owe me big,” Max shot back. “Josie’s been giving me the silent treatment all day. Not to mention I’m going broke losing at baccarat.”
“Then stop losing and start winning.”
“There’s a plan.”
Lucas laughed. “Is she all right? Haven’t seen any sign of the degenerate, have you?”
“Bouquet of roses showed up tonight. Coral. Huge. Since she marched them straight to Silver-Tongue Sammie, I figured you didn’t send them.”
“You figured right.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
Lucas and Max were tag-teaming Bree. Lucas had kept her all to himself after she’d come off duty, which had proven to be no problem. Max showing up at Toujacques that night had been trickier.
Bree wasn’t buying that Max had started playing baccarat on his honeymoon and wanted to hone his skills. After a long night of watching him haunt the gaming tables, she’d finally called to ask if there was a problem with the newlyweds. Lucas told her they’d had a fight. Better that than letting her think Max was a gambling addict.
“How about you?” Max asked. “Come up with anything?”
“I did, in fact. Hit the jackpot around midnight.”
It had taken him the better part of the night, but he’d managed to track Robicheaux’s money trail to discover the man not only existed under three aliases but was involved with a sleazy Internet scammer named Harvey Brondell.
Lucas explained to Max how he’d tracked this guy through seventeen separate ventures. Robicheaux and Brondell had sold everything from dicey insurance policies to cut-rate cemetery plots. They’d exploited historic artifacts from the Middle East and capitalized on the Pope’s death by setting up an online store that sold bootleg copies of the pontiff’s writings.
Each endeavor had yielded a small fortune.
It wasn’t much of a stretch to speculate that Robicheaux might want to capitalize on Tally’s treasure through his connection to Bree. Judging by the numbers he and Brondell were laundering through a variety of offshore accounts, a run with Captain Dampier could earn them another windfall.
Max gave a low whistle. “So what are you going to do? Pass off the information to the police?”
“I want to, but I keep thinking about what Josie said. If I take that step without Bree’s knowledge and she finds out—”
“She’ll be even more pissed at you than Josie is at me.”
“But you’re married already. There’s nothing keeping Bree from telling me to take a hike.”
“Tough luck. But I think I’ll tell Josie I’m helping you see the error of your ways. Might get me out of the doghouse.”
“Go for it.”
Lucas hated causing trouble between the couple, but he hated the thought of Bree being harassed even more.
“OMIGOSH, I’M NOT believing this dress.” Tally stepped back to survey Bree’s appearance with a shake of her head.
“I’m not believing we pulled it together.” Bree twirled around to see herself in the mirror.
One glimpse of the complete package made her glad she hadn’t begged a gown from Susanna and Olaf. She could hold her head high next to all the elaborate costumes the krewe had commissioned for its court.
Modeled after the French fashion of the time, Bree’s gown was a creation of lemon velvet and pastel silk that shone to perfection with the elaborate trim she and Tally had hastily tacked into place. With her hair upswept to showcase the glittering tiara, she looked a fitting courtier.
She whipped the skirt around, pleased it swished solidly. “Can’t even tell half the gown is only basted together.”
“We sewed all the important parts. Besides, no one will be looking inside.” Tally rolled her eyes. “Except Lucas maybe, and I don’t think he’s interested in your seams.”
Bree glanced back in the mirror again. Lucas would definitely have an image of her to haunt his dreams, along with memories of a steamy week she hoped he’d never forget.
She wouldn’t. Not ever.
“Honestly, that is hands down the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever designed,” Tally said.
“Couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks for dropping everything to help.”
“That’s what big sisters are for.”
And Bree was glad hers had come out to play again. She’d been missed. Their lives were changing so much…but when Bree thought about it, she knew Tally’s schedule wasn’t solely to blame. She had been hiding because of Christien and because of Tally’s preoccupation with the captain’s treasure and a ghost.
Because of Jude.
No more. She and Tally would both have to be open-minded as their relationship changed and grew. She wouldn’t give up her sister for anyone. Not her bad-news ex or even a doll like Christien.
Not even a ghost.
“Let me return the compliment.” Bree smiled. “You look stunning. Christien’s going to drool when he sees you.”
Tally gave the obligatory twirl so Bree could admire her handiwork—much more carefully sewn together. “I’m so glad you talked Josie out of that heinous ‘variations of pink’ theme she kept trying to run through the court,” Bree said.
“Me, too,” Tally replied. “I think she just had Valentine’s Day on the brain with the wedding.” She raked her gaze over Bree’s gown again. “How’d you get all the artistic talent?”
“Right. Spoken by the Blue Note’s main attraction.”
Before Tally could reply, the phone rang. Bree glanced at the display. “Damn, it’s work. I’ve got to pick up.”
Tally waved her off. “I’ll go tell the guys. We’re worth the wait.”
She disappeared out of the bedroom as Bree snatched the receiver off the cradle. “Hello.”
“It’s George, Bree.”
George McSwain had been the operating manager of Toujacques since shortly after Bree had moved from her debut as a cocktail waitress to VIP hostess. Although not all the staff would agree, she thought he was a good fit for the position. Tough but fair. The big boys obviously agreed.
“What’s up, George? Any problem with Renee covering my shift tonight?”
“Not at all, but listen, I got some news. I know you and Lana have been waiting for the meeting to find out who’s appointed head hostess, but Charlie called tonight and they’ve already decided. I wanted you to hear it from me.”
Her heart sank. There was no missing his tone that screamed she wasn’t going to like his news. “Let’s hear it.”
“We’re giving Lana the position.”
Under normal circumstances, Bree would never have grilled him. If the big boys thought sidestepping Lana’s tantrums was more important than who would do a better job, then she didn’t want the position anyway. She would have accepted the verdict gracefully and professionally.
But Bree knew George, and he didn’t sound happy.
“All right, I’ll bite. What happened? I’m the most qualified for the position. You know that.”
“I know, but I couldn’t sell you to upper management.”
“Why?”
He exhaled heavily, reluctantly, and Bree braced herself, her instincts on fire. “You had trouble with the law, Bree.”
There was a beat of silence while more hail-size words hit her, then the blood rushed into her head so fast she felt dizzy. “My record is as clean as your office, George.”
“Of course it is or we’d have known about it before we hired you. But someone got wind of some past trouble and mentioned it to the owners, who know everyone in this town and started asking questions…. Well, they got answers.”
She wanted to ask who someone was but didn’t need to. There was only one person who had anything to gain by digging into Bree’s past. Only one person who was self-interested enough to tell the bosses what she’d found.
“There’s no problem with your job, Bree,” George hastened to assure her. “Trust me on that. You’re the best damn hostess we’ve got. But they felt, given you were under investigation for a gaming scam, that a move into management at this time might not be best for all concerned. You know how we’re sidestepping the media with the gaming opponents right now. If they get wind of any past trouble, they’d blow things out of proportion and make all of us look bad. We don’t want to deal with it and didn’t think you would either. You know how it goes.”
Yes, she did.
She remembered an exchange with Lana just a few nights ago and wondered what handsome man she’d been referring to.
That question wasn’t a leap to answer.
Jude Robicheaux was a mistake that would haunt her forever.
“I appreciate you letting me know, George. I’d much rather hear it from you than walk in on it tomorrow.”
“Sorry, Bree. Just bad timing. Remember that.”
She assured him she would, then severed the connection, her hand replacing the receiver in slow motion, her whole body cold with the familiar feeling of shame that always seemed to accompany her past rearing up to smack her in the face.
She couldn’t blame the big bosses.
Going All Out Page 19