by Ju Ephraime
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
They were driving home from the airport and stopped at her favorite pastry shop to pick up some of the tarts she loved. She was standing with Damon, getting ready to walk out the shop, when she thought she saw someone resembling Thorpe. “Darling, isn’t that Thorpe crossing the street? I wonder who that beautiful woman with him is.”
Damon had seen Thorpe the same time Franchesca had, but he schooled his face into an expressionless mask. “Who knows with Thorpe? He’s always chasing skirts.”
“Do you think we should call out to him?”
“No, I don’t think we should call out to him, Franchesca. It would be rude to yell in public.” Damon hoped she’d let the matter rest. He’d long suspected Thorpe and Izzabella had a thing going on, but he never had any proof, so he’d dismissed it, but seeing them together now, certain things began to make sense to him. Like how Izzabella knew exactly when to write to him. How Thorpe had tried to make a play for Franchesca by taking her out when he knew it would upset him. So Thorpe liked eating from the same dish as he. If Thorpe should ever even look at Franchesca the wrong way, he’d floor him.
There was no question; Thorpe had had Izzabella. Thorpe should consider himself lucky Damon had not known about it at the time. And just like that a light went off in his head. It had been Thorpe’s baby Izzabella had aborted.
That was why she’d told him and why she couldn’t keep the baby. The baby could have been the splitting image of Thorpe. He and Thorpe looked nothing alike. She would’ve had a difficult time explaining why their child was the splitting image of his man of business. Damon needed Thorpe to oversee things while he was gone to Martinique, but the minute he got back, he was getting rid of him. He’d given him too much leeway as it was; no wonder he thought he could play in Damon’s sandbox.
He and Thorpe went way back. He’d trusted him like the brother he did not have. They’d sowed their wild oats together. Thorpe was with him when he’d met Izzabella. On several occasions, he’d double dated with them.
And to think, all this time, he was either messing around with her or lusting after her. Damon tried thinking back to the way they behaved around each other, and he couldn’t pinpoint any instance that stood out. The one thing he remembered quite clearly was that, after Izzabella moved to Paris, Thorpe was, all of a sudden, spending a lot of time in Paris. He never questioned whether it was Paris or Nice that drew him back to France so frequently. He’d assumed it was business because he, too, was busy setting up his business in Cornwall. What a bloody fool he’d been.
“What has you so quiet?” Franchesca wanted to know. Ever since they had seen Thorpe, he had gone very quiet as if he’d forgotten she was with him.
“I was trying to formulate a way we could justify inserting ourselves into your brother’s wedding.”
Franchesca’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you having second thoughts about getting married so quickly?”
“No, but I believe we should wait until we get to Martinique before making plans for our wedding. After all, I don’t know your brother, and he may not be happy about someone stealing his wife’s thunder, even his beloved sister.”
“Okay, we can wait. I see your point. I’ll just let my family know I’m coming with a friend. Does this meet your approval?”
“Yes, I can breathe easier now. I was concerned about not knowing your brothers and meeting them and marrying their sister practically the next day, and it was causing me to question the plan. But who knows, I may hit it off with your brothers like a house on fire, but I won’t have the pressure of the wedding to deal with.”
“I understand perfectly, darling.” She reached over and gave him a kiss.
“Are you trying to cause me to have an accident?” he said, rubbing the back of her neck.
“No. Sorry, darling, I just couldn’t resist your sexy mouth, and I missed our game last night.”
“We’ll make up for it with an extra round. How’s that?”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
*****
Franchesca decided there and then she would go prepared for her wedding, even if she was not going to involve her family in the plan until Damon had met them, as he requested. She would return to her flat so she could go shopping with Marcella to select her trousseau.
She knew her family would have no problem with the double, especially her mom, who loved nothing better than to see her children make great marriage matches. Her brother, Raymond, whose wedding it was, wouldn’t care, so long as she was there. But she couldn’t tell all this to Damon. He’d feel as if she was pressuring him to do something he wasn’t comfortable doing. So she prepared herself for her wedding in secret.
Franchesca couldn’t wait to take Damon to Martinique and show him off to her family, especially her brothers. She wasn’t afraid for Damon. She knew he’d hold his own against them, but if Wolfe and Foxx came at him together, as they were wont to do, she didn’t know if he could handle them together. They made a formidable team.
Too soon the day of their flight was there. They flew directly from Nice to Le Lamentin Airport in Fort-de-France. She couldn’t help admiring her soon-to-be handsome husband. He received a second and then a third look from most of the women they encountered. She wasn’t worried, although she knew the women on the island would take what they wanted and worry about the consequences later. But she had complete confidence in Damon’s ability to resist them.
She remembered his comment when he saw she had two suitcases.
“Darling, we are only going on vacation, right?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You seem to be taking the whole of Nice with you.”
“You exaggerate, darling. I don’t think I could fit the whole of Nice in two tiny suitcases.”
“You call those huge monstrosities tiny suitcases?” he replied with a laugh.
“I have to bring gifts for the bride and groom and everyone in my family. I couldn’t very well go home empty-handed. Satisfied?”
“Yes, darling, I did not expect you to,” he said, stopping to give her a kiss. “Blame it on my inquisitive nature.”
*****
They settled down to enjoy the flight which was uneventful but for one slight pocket of turbulence they encountered just as they were dropping altitude to approach the airport for landing. They cleared customs with no problem and were soon out into the terminal. One minute, he was holding Franchesca’s hand, and the next she was behaving like a lunatic running through the airport to throw herself at a tall, heavy-built man with lots of heavy roped muscles on display in the tank he was wearing.
His close-cropped hair was almost military in its severity. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing more than thistledown and put her away from him so he could look at her. Then bringing her to him, he enfolded her in his massive arms. Had Damon not known he was her brother, he would have been all over him for handling his woman so freely. No one lifted Franchesca, other than him.
They were up to him now. “Raymond, meet my fiancé, Damon. Damon, meet my baby brother, Raymond.”
“Bienvenue, welcome.”
“Merci, thank you.”
Damon couldn’t help thinking that, if this was her baby brother, what did the others look like? He stopped himself from voicing his thoughts and extended his hand in greeting.
His hand was taken and shaken vigorously by a hand that gave his a run for its money. He looked at Franchesca to see if there was any resemblance between the two other than the height, and he was struck by the color of Raymond’s eyes—steel-gray, looking at him and accessing him, just as he was doing. It was so funny; they both began laughing at the same time. That was all it took, and he and Raymond were good to go.
Franchesca was talking between English, French, and the creole the natives spoke on the island. Finally, she settled down to converse only in English. The creole was a little strange for him, and he had a difficult time following them because they went so fast, but the Englis
h or French was fine with him. He learned from all the discussion they were going to Wolfe’s restaurant, which was very close to the airport and where the rest of the family were waiting to see her. That was a good thing; he would prefer to meet them all at the same time.
When he did walk into Wolfe’s restaurant, where there was a room just for his family, the old adage “be careful what you wish for” came to him with a vengeance. Damon had never in his life seen a family as excited as Franchesca’s. Her mom and dad kept hugging and kissing her and crying.
He thought it very touching until he saw Franchesca was crying. He didn’t like to see her cry. He was tempted to go to her, but he forced himself to remain put until the emotions were under control. It was quite apparent that Franchesca was as special to them as she was to him. To his great consternation, they paid him very little attention; he was all but ignored. This gave him an opportunity to observe them at his leisure.
The exception to this treatment was when Raymond, whom he had met, came to him with a man who needed no introduction. He knew the man was Wolfe, Franchesca’s second elder brother. Damon wasn’t taken to being fanciful, but the man moved like a wolf. He didn’t appear to hurry, but he ate up the ground with long, loping strides, and then he was on him.
He took control of the group without raising his voice. Soon he’d introduced everyone to Damon. He saved his twin, Foxx, for last. When Damon saw them together, something Franchesca said came back to him. They seemed to communicate with each other without verbalizing it. He also saw Foxx and Franchesca shared the same coloring and the same red hair. He was marrying into a very unique family. They were all interesting in their own ways.
He was still waiting to meet Franchesca’s parents, but it appeared he had to pass some test from the two brothers before he was allowed into the family circle. He liked both twins. Each had a strong presence, but together, they were formidable.
“Welcome to Martinique, Damon,” Wolfe and Foxx said together, as if they’d rehearsed the line.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“So, you know my baby sister well?” Wolfe asked.
“How well do you know Franchesca?” Foxx asked.
Before he had an opportunity to respond to either of them, he heard Franchesca’s voice rescuing him.
“Everyone, everyone, please quiet down for a moment. I want to introduce you to my fiancé, Damon Dumont. Please give him a warm welcome because Damon and I will be getting married very soon. I love him to death, and I don’t want him to feel unwelcome here. And, Wolfe and Foxx, back off.”
“Hear! Hear!” they all shouted in unison.
“Welcome, Damon, as our Franchesca’s fiancé, you are among family and friends,” her dad said.
The talking started all over again, but Franchesca was approaching him, and Wolfe and Foxx, indeed, backed off. She took his hand and said, “Let’s go meet my parents.” Her parents were sitting away from the group conversing quietly.
“Maman, Papa, I want you to meet the love of my life, Damon. Damon, my parents, Mr. and Mrs. LaCasse.”
“Mr. and Mrs. LaCasse, it is a pleasure to meet both of you.”
“Likewise, Damon. Have you known Fran long?” her mother asked.
“No, not long, but I recognized her when I met her.”
“You recognized her? Please explain,” she said.
“I recognized her as my soul mate, so the length of time did not matter.”
“Hmmm,” was all she said.
“Come take a walk with me,” her father said, and he found himself liking the man instantaneously. He was an older version of Raymond, with the same coloring, down to the unusual silvery grey eyes. It gave them the focused stare of the alpha wolf. It was a pity her Wolfe did not have that eye color though he was formidable looking enough with his obsidian eyes.
Damon had an interesting conversation with her dad, who, without seeming to, managed to extract from him what was private and personal. He didn’t blame him, and by the time they returned to the table to Franchesca and her mom, he and her father had reached an understanding about his responsibility toward his Fran, as they called Franchesca.
They enjoyed a wonderful meal which he learned was prepared by Wolfe with a little help from Foxx. They were both master chefs, among other things. He had yet to meet her oldest brother, Brian, and the wives of Wolfe and Foxx, but he met Cecilia. He was told there was going to be a big bash at her parents’ home the following evening which was Friday, and he would get to meet the others then.
After the scrumptious meal, Raymond drove him and Franchesca to her parents’ home on the south side of the island. The temperature was a bit more than he was used to, but he didn’t mind. There was so much to see. The scenery was beautiful with colored flowers everywhere he looked.
He was looking forward to being alone with Franchesca. He was in for a rude awakening, however, when, after almost two hours of driving, they arrived at the house. It was a two-level large sprawling villa-style building with a wraparound verandah, exactly as he’d imagined a home on a tropical island.
To his shocked surprised, he was shown to a nicely appointed room, but it was at one end of the building, and Franchesca’s was on the other end. This was not going to do at all. He needed her with him. As soon as he was able to, he took her aside and demanded an explanation.
“What’s going on, Franchesca? Why are we in separate rooms?”
“I’m sorry, darling, but until we are officially man and wife, we can’t share a room under my parents’ roof.”
“Well, we’ll take a suite at a hotel. I’m not sleeping in a room alone.”
“Damon, be reasonable. We can’t go to a hotel. My parents will be insulted, and they have all taken to you. I don’t want to undo the wonderful progress we’ve made.”
“This is not progress, Franchesca.”
“I told them they had no idea how bossy you were. If you insist on going through with this, you will only succeed in antagonizing my parents. Can you please stop and think about this?”
“No, there’s no negotiating this. The nights are torturous without you, and I intend to start the way I intend to continue. I will not be dictated to. Either you come to me, or I find a hotel.”
“Okay, I’ll come to you, and we’ll discuss this further.”
After her parents retired, Franchesca made her way to Damon’s room. Putting her finger to her lips, she signaled for him to be quiet. “You’ll have to be quiet. I don’t want my parents to hear all the shocking details of our lovemaking. You’ll have to behave yourself.”
“Me?” He laughed. “My lovemaking is always restrained. You, on the other hand, will have to control yourself.”
She went into his arms and hit him on the chin. She covered it with her opened mouth, and then she whispered, “Bully for you, I won’t behave. I’ll just go about the whole thing silently.”
“This I’ve got to see, or should I say hear?” She was a constant source of delightful pleasure to him, and he adored her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Franchesca was up before dawn, and she snuck back to her room before her parents woke. She had to agree with Damon. She felt silly doing this. They were soon to be married. She didn’t see what the fuss was about, but she was brought up to respect her parents’ home, and she had no intention of going against them.
The dawn brought all the hustle and bustle of the family. Wolfe’s and Foxx’s wives, Daphne and Therèse, came with their children. Wolfe had two and Foxx one. Her brother Brian and his wife stopped by. They were all curious about Damon and wanted to meet the man who’d brought her to heel. The funny thing was she didn’t see much of Damon. He was off for the better part of the day with Raymond, she supposed doing things for his wedding, although, for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what they could be doing.
Raymond’s wedding was in a couple of days, and she had a lot to do to get ready. She’d met his fiancée, Gabrielle, earlier today and could see why Ra
ymond fell in love with her. She was a darling girl and obviously terribly in love with him. She would make him a wonderful wife.
She was about to put a call through to Raymond to offer her help when her phone rang. It was her elusive fiancé, letting her know he’d be back shortly to take her out.
“Darling, please wear something special for me,” he said.
“How special?”
“Your best outfit. We are going somewhere special.”
Franchesca was in a frenzy. She had only one outfit. She had brought mostly casual summer clothes. It was very hot in Martinique, nothing like the temperature in Nice or France, for that matter. She’d expected to take him around the island, laze on the beach, that sort of thing. Of course, she had her wedding dress, and the dress she’d brought to attend Raymond’s wedding. If she didn’t wear that, then her next option was her wedding dress. She supposed she could leave out the veil and wear it like a strapless shift.
She did her hair in an up-swept style. She allowed a few fringes to escape, framing her face. She wore a pair of diamond dangling earrings and did her makeup to perfection. She had no idea where he was taking her, but she wanted to look good for him.
She was dressed and waiting when he arrived at 4:00 P.M. to take her to this special place. She was surprised to see him in a chauffeur-driven limousine.
“Boy, we are going in a limo. This must be some special place.”
“It is.”
The vehicle came to a stop in front of the small chapel next to the town square. He got out and helped her out. Keeping her hand in his, he led her beneath the archway of the courtyard to a small secluded walkway.
“This is a church, Damon.”
“Yes, I know.”
“What’s going on?”
“I want us to exchange vows today, here, in this chapel. Everything has been arranged. I want it to be simple and private.”