Your Wish Is My Command

by Donna Kauffman

  Jamie couldn't help but smile at that. “Yeah, right. I'm believing you as the innocent victim.”

  The twinkle returned, and Jamie felt herself relax her guard altogether. Foolish of her, most likely, but she was enjoying herself too much to care.

  “I was never innocent, ma chérie.”

  Foolish, most definitely. “What happened? You seduced an innocent woman?”

  “Hardly innocent, despite her surprising virginal state. Her maman was an island priestess of sorts. She was as believing in my innocence as you.”

  “Ticking off a priestess. Tsk tsk. Not good juju.”

  Sebastien laughed at that. “Non. Not good juju, as you say, at all. She thought me callous and insensitive to the ways of the heart. As punishment, she cast me into the Sword of Hearts and this eternal destiny of matching souls. I am forever a slave to the hearts of others.”

  “Doomed to find the love for others that you believed you could never have for yourself?”

  She'd meant it as a joke, but the sudden stillness of his expression told her that she had hit a vulnerable spot. Surprised and strangely touched by the discovery, she wanted to apologize, but he spoke first.

  “Oh, I believe in love, mademoiselle. Most heartily. I find great pleasure in locating that rare seed and nurturing that most delicate of blooms.”

  “But only in others.”

  He nodded. “Oui. True love is for others, not me. Not in my mortal life. And certainly not now.”

  He was smiling, but there was a dead certainty to his tone that Jamie found unsettling. And sad. She worked up a smile. “But you have certainly sampled a bouquet or two.”

  His grin surfaced, most devilishly. “A bloom or two, perhaps.”

  I bet, she thought, unfairly jealous. She wanted to be one of his sampled blooms. It was foolish in the extreme, but at least she'd faced the truth. Now she just had to make sure she kept all her petals to herself. Not that he'd made an attempt at unfurling any of them. She swallowed a sigh of frustration.

  “So, you believe now that I am what I proclaim to be?”

  “I said no such thing. I was merely interested in hearing whatyou think you are.”

  “And my matching of Mademoiselle Marta and her beau, Monsieur Graham, has not swayed you in the least?”

  She laughed nervously. Hadn't she thought that very thing? “You're claiming responsibility for Marta and Bennett? And how, pray tell, were you involved?”

  “You don't believe I guided that match?”

  “His dog followed her home. It was serendipity, nothing more.” Wasn't it?

  He smiled knowingly. “Ah, so it would appear. I do not toss souls together at whim with no forethought. It takes great planning and a sixth sense that, if I may be so bold, I have well developed over the years. I am not obvious in my work. For love should be serendipitous.” He winked. “Or at least appear to be.”

  “I still don't believe you.”

  He didn't appear insulted. Instead, he switched tactics. “She has been a single widow for how long?”

  “Three years.”

  “And in that time she has dated how many single men?”

  Jamie glowered. “None. But that isn't the point.”

  “I claim I will find her soulmate for you, and in less than one week I do so. This is not proof?”

  “Coincidence. And they're not exactly married yet.”

  “They will be.” At her stubborn expression, he sighed but continued undaunted. He waved his hand in that Gallic manner of his. “Fine, fine. Believe what you wish. Perhaps this time I will forewarn you, as proof. I have already put into motion the events that will lead Mademoiselle Broussard to her intended.”

  Jamie raised her eyebrows. “And who is the lucky bachelor?” She had to warn Ree.

  Sebastien tilted his head and studied her. “I'm none too certain I should share that detail. You would work to subvert my plans just to thwart me.”

  “If they are truly meant to be together, then nothing I do could change that, right?”

  He said nothing.

  “Okay. How about this: You tell me who you have in mind, and as long as I don't see Ree in any danger or get any weird vibes about the guy, I'll stand back and let life happen. Otherwise, if someone happens to come into her life and you just take credit, how will I know it's really you?”

  “You will not interfere?”

  “You're saying I could? What kind of cupid are you?”

  “I'm not a cupid.”

  “That's right. You're a man on a mission of love.”

  Sebastien laughed. “A man on a mission of the heart. And to answer your query, you cannot stop them from discovering they are meant for each other, but you could delay their eternal happiness with the interference.”

  Jamie thought about it, then nodded. “As I said, I won't interfere unless something happens to make me suspicious about the whole thing.”

  “Then promise me you will bring your fears to me first. Allow me to allay them before you involve your-self.”

  “Deal.” Jamie smiled and rubbed her hands. “This ought to be good. You've basically taken on matching the unmatchable.”

  “You do not wish for her to find happiness?”

  “Oh, it's not that,” Jamie said. “I'd love for Ree to find the right man. I just don't think she'd ever allow herself to see him, even if he walked right up and presented himself. She doesn't have the same attitude toward men that most women do.”

  “Women like you? How do you think of men?”

  Jamie felt the heat creep into her cheeks again. “Let's just say we both relish our single state, but for different reasons, okay?”

  Sebastien nodded readily enough, but that penetrating look of his did little to settle her jangled nerves.

  “So who's the lucky guy?”

  Sebastien smiled. “Monsieur Angel Santini.”

  Jamie's mouth dropped open and she howled with laughter. It took her a minute to recover. “You have to be joking. They hate each other.”

  “Passion manifests itself in mysterious ways.”

  “Maybe. But there is nothing mysterious about Ree's feelings for this guy.” Jamie grinned. “It's the impossible match of the century. But I will say, you pull this off and I'll believe anything you tell me from now on.”

  “You don't sound overly concerned.”

  “Believe me, I'm not.”

  He stepped closer, and suddenly the laughter died and every muscle in her body tightened in supreme awareness. “You so wish to disbelieve I am what I say? Would it be so bad for your friends to find love?”

  She shook her head, then swallowed hard when he lifted his hand to her hair.

  He brushed the wisps of hair from her temple. “Perhaps it is because you fear what comes next.”

  “N-next?”

  “Your heart,” he said softly, his voice an even more potent caress than his fingertips. “You are the last of the three, my mistress. When I succeed in this match, yours will be next.”

  She swallowed hard. “Impossible.”

  “One thing I have learned: Nothing is impossible.” “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “I am the man who will bring you eternal happiness.”

  Jamie had lost her mind. She knew it was true. Because right at that moment she wanted nothing more than to believe him. And worse, the man she wanted for all eternity—well, she couldn't even allow herself to think it. Insanity and beyond. “I don't know what to make of you, Sebastien Valentin.”

  “You need make nothing of me, Jamie.”

  Dear Lord, she loved it when he said her name. She wanted him to continue talking to her in that sexy whisper, continue touching her, continue—His chuckle brought her back to earth.

  “I fear the heat up here is getting to you. You're flushed.”

  She did flush then, but in mortification. She stepped away from his touch, from the hypnotic aura that seemed to emanate from him. “Speaking of which, I really want to get back to work.
I don't get much time off.”

  “How long have you been making these models?”

  She wanted him to leave, to let her find her balance again. “Since I was a young girl.” He gave her a knowing look, and she laughed. “Okay, so perhaps I had one or two pirate-queen fantasies. I grew out of those, but my fascination with boats remained.”

  “As I said before, an unusual diversion for a woman.”

  “Not so odd, really. I grew up on the water. My father and I are both maritime-history buffs. My grandfather built models. He and my aunt and uncle—Jack's parents—helped raise me until I was old enough to go off with my dad. I used to spend hours watching Granddad in his workshop. I was fascinated watching the ships come to life. He knew all the stories for each of them.”

  “And your maman?”

  “She loved the water too. That's how she met my dad. But she died when I was only two.” She smiled fondly. “My dad was a great parent to me, though. We traveled all over the world, just him and me. He was an offshore racer. Later on I got into racing too.”

  Sebastien's face lit up in surprise. “You raced ships?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised? It may be a predominantly male sport, but I did okay.”

  “You sail, then?”

  “Actually, no. I mean, I love the history of the high seas and all kinds of ships built over the years. Especially the tall ships. But for racing, sailboats aren't my thing.” “Your … thing?”

  “Too slow.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I have a need for speed.”

  Sebastien looked taken aback for a moment, then he tipped his head back and laughed. It was such a deep, resonant sound that Jamie felt the rush of it across every inch of her skin.

  He grinned at her. “Speed?”

  “I like the salt in the air and the wind in my face. But I want to fly over the water. I raced hydroplanes. Unlimited class. Up to two hundred miles per hour.”

  His eyes widened. “I am unfamiliar with that type of vessel. Do you have one still?”

  A little of the reminiscent thrill dissipated. “My father has it stored. I don't race anymore.”

  “Ah, yes, you sell books now. Quite a change.” His expression turned contemplative. “Do you miss the water, Jamie? It calls to me still. Very strongly.”

  His quiet words brought her right back to that edge of awareness. She wasn't sure if she liked the common ground they seemed to have found. It screamed danger at her. Maybe because she found she liked that bond all too much. And hadn't she come back to New Orleans expressly to get away from men and their fascination with boats? “I don't miss the racing circuit,” she answered honestly. “But I do miss the flying.”

  Sebastien's eyes lit up. He grabbed her hand. “Then let's go.”

  Jamie pulled back. “Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?”

  “Do you have to work again today?”

  She shook her head. “Marta is overseeing a signing for Bennett in the store this afternoon. We're having a bunch of kids in for a reading from his latest book. Jack is coming in to help Ree. Then we close early since it's Sunday. But I'd really hoped to get further with my model this afternoon. I won't have time off again for two weeks.”

  He took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “You have spent enough time with replicas. You need to taste the air. We must feel the sea spray on our skin.”

  “But—We? Our” Her protestations died as he whirled her around.

  “You work hard, Jamie. But you are accustomed to playing hard as well, no? This I understand.” When she would have protested again, he pulled her closer. “Just because you no longer compete in this racing of yours does not mean you have to close yourself into an airless box of an attic.” He stopped her protest with a finger to her lips. “You say you miss it. This is true?”

  She could only nod.

  “I want you to teach me to fly, mon amie. I want to know more about this need for speed.” His eyes were shining with an excitement she'd never seen. She was helpless against it. And, in truth, she wouldn't have fought it anyway.

  She wanted to fly again too.

  Chapter 9

  Sebastien stepped thankfully onto the dock and away from the death machine Jamie called an automobile. The gentle swaying motion beneath his feet brought him immediate peace of mind. Here he was in control. Or at least confident of his survival.

  “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

  He shot her a look. “Let us just say that I am no longer in need of a demonstration of your need for speed.”

  Jamie laughed and punched him playfully on the arm. “I'm surprised. Big bad pirate like you. I'd think you'd love a good road-hugging sports car.”

  He looked back at the tiny red demon he had barely folded himself into. He had to admit, the power of such a conveyance intrigued him. “Perhaps if I were manning one, that would be different.”

  “You should have said something. I'd have let you rive.

  Sebastien felt the heat rise toward his face. He was unaccustomed to being made to feel less than in command. Especially by a woman. But he was rapidly learning that Jamie was not a typical woman. “I have no license.”

  Jamie nudged him as they walked down the uneven planking. “I won't tell if you won't.”

  He shot her a dark look, then sighed.

  “What, you're going to tell me that a man who flaunted the laws of the sea holds to the laws of the road?”

  “No,” he said through clenched teeth. “I'm telling you I have never mastered driving such a vehicle.”

  Jamie stopped dead, holding on to his arm so he stopped too. “You can't drive?”

  Sebastien felt his muscles twitch. “No. It hasn't exactly been a necessary tool for me.”

  Instead of teasing him further, a sudden look of uncertainty crossed her face. He immediately felt better with her off balance. Perhaps it would be wise of him to keep her that way.

  “My last few times in the city I rode the streetcar everywhere I needed to go. At that time the rails covered more of the city. Prior to that, I rode horseback. Now there are taxis.” Jamie said nothing. He continued toward the small boathouse at the end of the dock, her long legs easily keeping pace beside his. She was as at home on the swaying planks as he was. If he allowed himself, he could almost feel a certain kinship with her. That wasn't such a bad thing, he tried to convince himself. Knowing her better could only help him in his mission.

  And yet he fought those feelings. They signaled a danger to him he couldn't comprehend, but he adhered to them all the same. His instincts were good, and he'd long ago learned to trust them without question.

  She began to explain the type of boat they were going to be taking out that day, a twin inboard something or other. He wasn't paying the closest attention. He was too busy studying her, trying to fathom from where his odd feelings were originating.

  Her hair was in its usual thick plait, swinging to fro across her back like a pendulum. Light wisps blew freely about her face. He wanted to reach out and smooth them back.

  Odd, this wanting of his to touch her. Surely it could be explained away—it merely irritated him to have his view of her face and expressions obstructed. And he wished to view her unobscured face only so he could divine her inward thoughts. Aiding him in the process of eventually finding her soulmate.

  It wasn't as though she was a raving beauty. Her skin, for one, was tanned by the sun's rays. There were fine lines fanning from the corners of her eyes when she smiled, similar to those on his own face. He knew she'd earned those lines just as he had, from years spent on the water, beneath the sun. They weren't feminine and certainly couldn't be considered flattering. They shouldn't have drawn his attention in a fond way. And yet they did.

  Then there were her cheekbones and jawline, both lean and far more angular than he usually enjoyed in a woman. Her shoulders were broad, her arms somewhat muscled. Definitely not alluring. She didn't look as if she'd ever leaned upon a man for assistance in her life. And he liked to
be turned to, needed. She was narrow of waist, but with no breasts to break the clean line of her body and lend it the soft curves needed to redeem her otherwise mannish physique. No, there was nothing about Mademoiselle Jamie Sullivan that called to him as a man. He was—could only be—interested in her as another mission to be accomplished.

  So why his gait was presently being hampered by a persistent ache in his groin was beyond him altogether.

  She had him wait outside the boathouse and emerged moments later with a small set of keys. “Off we go!” She motioned to what appeared to him to be a white raft tethered to the dock on a neighboring pier.

  “In that? It's no more than a dinghy.”

  She grinned. “A dinghy with two big beautiful Mercurys mounted underneath. It's not a hydro, but this baby will fly us fast enough. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the boat. He admitted that the line of the boat was sleek, the prow narrow and proudly lifted. He motioned for her to step down. She jumped and landed lightly before turning and steadying the boat for him.

  He untied the boat from the dock and followed her lead, landing just next to her. “Feels sound enough,” he said, liking the balanced way it rocked in the water. There was a single seat covered in a marine shade of blue behind the console, which boasted a small wheel next to a silver lever.

  “It's fiberglass,” Jamie said, noticing his interest. “Don't worry, you'll like it fine once we're out on the water.” She moved to the console and started the engine. “Go ahead and pull in the line.”

  Sebastien did so, which allowed him to conceal the shock he'd experienced at the powerful vibrations the engines had sent thrumming beneath his feet and throughout his body. He certainly was aware of the advances of technology—generally speaking—but in all his times back he'd never had reason or opportunity to go out on the water. And if he had, he'd likely have chosen a boat with sails. Something that would cut cleanly through the water and allow him to use the thrust of the wind to power his vessel.

  But this … this powerful throbbing sensation of harnessed fury was nothing less than life-altering. And they weren't even moving yet.

  He supposed it was quite possible that he could learn to enjoy this. Immensely.