Julian rose to his feet, a scowl on his face. “Do you have a list of bad points?”
“Not really. I’m not one to make hasty decisions, but let’s just say that I don’t see any reason not to get on out of here and leave Belle Chene in your hands. Except--”
Anger darkened Julian’s face, and Nick continued in a warning voice. “--Except for the way you treat the servants and workers at times. Like they were only good for you to wipe your feet on.”
“I expect them to handle their jobs and not bother me with the details,” Julian said. “I’ve got more important things to do than follow house servants around to see if there’s any dust left behind after they perform their duties. Or walk up and down the fields to check for weeds. When Felicite moves in, she’ll want to entertain her friends, as she does at Candlemas, and she can handle an expanded household staff here herself. She’s had the necessary training.”
“I agree. For the present, Cecile can continue as she’s doing. At least, when she gets her grief under control. For now, what do you have in mind for the plantation’s fields and crops?”
They discussed Julian’s work plans, and Nick found himself in agreement with them. When Julian left to wash and change clothes before he went out to check with the overseer, Nick folded his hands and propped his chin on his fingers in contemplation.
He couldn’t fault Julian at all. His plans were adequate, even sensible, and would assure the most profit for Belle Chene’s crops this season. He even had some ambitious future intentions, which should benefit the plantation.
Nick made his decision. He’d stay here for another couple days, just to study the books and make sure he had a firm handle on the workings of the plantation after all this time away. Then he’d get the hell out of here and go back to California.
Blue eyes, strawberry curls and delectable body be damned.
The delectable body walked into the study just then, carrying a china cup in her hand.
“Miz Thibedeau said you were in here. How does your leg feel?”
His leg felt fine, but another part of him sprang into an ache immediately. Thank God for the heavy desk between them.
“The leg is better than it has been in a long while,” he admitted. “Thank you.”
She sat the cup on the desk, where steam rose from it.
“Willow tea,” she said. “Miz Thibedeau said to tell you she warmed it up again.”
He grimaced. “That damned stuff works, but it sure tastes like sh--crap.”
Wendi giggled. “The only thing I know tree bark tastes good to is some animals. I imagine, had man not discovered fire and meat, we might be extinct right now.”
He glanced at her in surprise, then shook his head. “You amaze me at times, especially when you mention stuff like that.”
“Why? Because I’ve read books and educated myself?”
“Well, yes. I’ve met very few women who know the things you do. Few men, either, for that matter.”
She ran a finger across the desk surface, the motion drawing his eyes and making him recall how those same, slender fingers had soothed him with massage. How those same, slender fingers had shot fire the night the two men had attacked him. How those same, slender finger could probably make another sort of fire shoot through him.
Suddenly her words penetrated his jumbled thoughts.
“You want to do what?” he asked.
“Have a seance in the barn,” she repeated. “We’ll do it late at night, after all your workers are gone and in bed. I--”
“We? Who is this ‘we’ you intend to have with you?”
A tiny smile curved her delectable lips, and she shot him a mischievous glance from deep blue eyes beneath silky lashes.
“My aunt, of course. And maybe a couple others, who would have a stake in the outcome.”
“Like me, I suppose.”
“Like you,” she agreed.
“It’s impossible.” He hardened his heart at the disappointment in her eyes. “All it would take would be one restless person walking around the plantation at night. If they stumbled onto that ceremony, every worker on Belle Chene would leave as soon as they could find another job, fearing that voodoo was being practiced here. Julian would be left without fieldhands. I can’t allow it.”
“Allow it?” she murmured, her eyes narrowing. “All right.”
Before he could rise from his chair and detain her, she swept out of the room. Halfway to his feet, Nick reversed direction and sat back in the chair. Dropping his head onto his chest, he shook it back and forth. He had no doubt she would go through with her ceremony, with or without his permission. He could post a guard in the barn, but how would he explain that to Julian? Or the guard, for that matter? And he’d be damned if he’d spend his remaining nights at Belle Chene sleeping out in that barn.
That left talking Wendi into moving her ceremony somewhere she wouldn’t get caught, and taking part in it himself, to keep an eye on her. But this damned sure didn’t mean he believed for one bit that her blasted ceremony would work!
Chapter 14
“Do you get naked at this ceremony?” Nick asked.
Wendi whirled on him, certain she caught a quickly-masked teasing glint in his eye. Glancing around to make sure no one could overhear them, she saw Sybilla and Miz Thibedeau across the small clearing, although her aunt could tune in to their conversation psychically, should she desire.
“No, we don’t get naked!” she said in a harsh whisper. “And for future reference, you will never see me naked at any of the ceremonies you participate in.”
“Does that mean other men have seen you naked at other ceremonies?”
By the Goddess, if she were younger and less mature, she’d stamp her foot at him!
“None of your business!” His face darkened into a scowl as she continued, “However, we don’t consider the body something ugly, which should be kept covered up with clothing.”
“Oh, I don’t believe for one minute your body is ugly, Wendi.” He barely breathed the words, bending close to her and snaking one hand around her waist. “And if you hadn’t run out of the garconniere this morning, I’d have shown you just how beautiful I believe your body is.”
He bent his head closer, moonlight gleaming in his eyes mesmerizing her as though he were a demon appearing from its lair. A demon ready to match its magic with hers. Not that she’d ever seen a demon, but she’d heard tales. And each and every story reiterated that the antithesis to her magic had the ability to make itself stunningly handsome in an effort to sneak beneath a witch’s defenses.
Somehow, some way, she managed a step back from this potential demon. Her retreat only fueled his blasted conceit, and his full lips curled into a satisfied smirk. In a fit of pique, she lifted her hand, pointed her finger--then dropped her arm as Sybilla’s voice whispered in her mind.
Been me, I’d have let him kiss me.
A giggle bubbled in her chest, and she turned toward her aunt, meeting her gaze across the distance as clearly as though it were daylight. Want me to ask him if he’ll kiss you?
Sybilla laughed and walked toward her with Miz Thibedeau following. Nick had only shaken his head in defeat when he saw his housekeeper arrive with Aunt Sybilla and climb into the buggy carrying them to this isolated portion of Belle Chene.
“I think we’re wasting our time here tonight,” Sybilla said. “I don’t feel any receptive atmosphere for our magic at all. It’s bad enough that White Lotus Day is only a minor holiday, so there won’t be any push on the other side to make contact with us like on more important days. If there aren’t any vibrations here, we can do a ceremony, but it won’t do us a bit of good.”
“We’ve got to at least try, Aunt.”
“Let me remind you,” Nick put in bluntly, “that I won’t have the two of you trying your so-called magic anywhere Belle Chene’s workers might see you.”
“For your information,” Sybilla said, the warning note plain in her voice, “we don’t need yo
ur permission. I can turn you into some innocuous little pest and continue on with what I need to do.”
Wendi gasped and took Sybilla’s arm. “Aunt! Let’s go over here and talk.”
“No.” Sybilla shook off her hold. “I believe it’s time Nick realized the seriousness of this situation on our side of the coin. It’s our lives as witches at stake, but the only reason he’s even abiding us being on Belle Chene is because he thinks he might convince you to lift your skirts for him at some point.”
“Aunt!”
“Hush, Wendi.” Sybilla’s stare challenged Nick. “Isn’t that right?”
Nick actually sputtered, and Wendi felt sorry for him. Her aunt didn’t pull her stern act very often, but when she did, there was no doubt she’d once been a powerful witch. The last time Wendi recalled seeing this side of Aunt Sybilla was when they’d run across a man beating his poor old horse in one of the New Orleans alleyways a couple years ago. Sybilla had let the man run around in his state as a sewer rat until his squeals convinced her that he’d never raise a whip to the horse again.
“Well?” Sybilla prodded when Nick didn’t reply.
“I’m going back to Belle Chene.”
Wendi’s heart fell even further. He hadn’t denied it, and until that moment, she hadn’t even realized it mattered to her. Yes, he’d kissed her. Yes, she’d enjoyed it. And yes, she’d told herself the only attraction she felt toward him was a bodily one also. He was too dark--too injured--for her to ever consider anything more than maybe a night in his bed.
Besides, he might be her mother’s killer. At the very least, he was a bad seed from her past, part of what kept both hers and Sybilla’s magic from working. Part of the disrupted karma, his disbelief in their magic a further complication.
Still, she’d lied to herself without realizing it. More than anything else at the moment, she wanted to be able to join forces with Nick and find the answers to the karmic disruption. Perhaps work out the problems between them, too. And perhaps--a big perhaps, but still it lingered irrepressibly in her mind--perhaps see if there was something between them over and above this fiery desire to make love together.
Nick didn’t even reach his stallion before Wendi knew what was going to happen. Horrified, she glanced at Sybilla, who had her arm lifted. The warning glare in her aunt’s eyes told Wendi to keep her bloody magic to herself, even if the whisper in her mind hadn’t confirmed it. She obeyed.
The stallion disappeared in a huge poof of smoke. Nick stumbled but caught himself, and Wendi felt the pain in his leg as though it were her own. She knew better than to interfere, however, but perhaps Sybilla had a touch of compassion left within her anger. Nick’s cane, which had been in the saddle scabbard, danced out of the smoke and into his hand.
He leaned on it, staring back and forth from the smoke to the trio of women. Miz Thibedeau had joined Wendi and Sybilla, but she didn’t appear a bit surprised at the horse disappearing. Nor did she appear shocked when the smoke cleared and a brown, fluffy puppy sat on the ground, a red ribbon on its neck and a pink tongue peeking out in a pant.
Nick’s shock and anger thundered around them, though, an almost discernible force in the air. His aura darkened to scarlet as the deep rage filled him. Had he been a warlock, Wendi knew without doubt all three of them would have been in trouble enough to threaten their very existence.
Nick faced Sybilla. “Turn that goddamned dog back into my horse!”
“Oh,” Sybilla said coolly, “so you admit it was my magic that turned your horse into a puppy?”
“I’m not admitting one damned thing! Do what I said, or get your ass off Belle Chene. Along with your niece.”
Sybilla propped her hands on her hips. “And just how do you think you’ll enforce that dictate, should I decide to disregard your orders, Monsieur?”
“That’s enough, both of you!” Wendi stepped between the two of them, although they weren’t close enough to actually have a physical confrontation. “Aunt, turn the horse back. Nick, we’ll leave here in the morning.”
“Wendi--” Sybilla began.
“You might be older than me, Aunt,” Wendi interrupted her, “but I can tell this is useless. All that’s happening here at Belle Chene is we’re stirring up more disruption to the karma with this fighting between us.”
“You’re wrong, Wendi,” Sybilla replied. “Back in New Orleans, my magic had weakened to the point where it would never have done what I just did. It’s been strengthening ever since I got here. Yours has, too, but you haven’t used it enough to realize it.”
She overrode Wendi when she began to speak. “And the reason you’re not using it is standing beside that puppy. You’re thinking that if you weren’t a witch--if you didn’t have magical powers--you might have a chance with Nick. A chance to have a relationship with him.”
A flush of embarrassment heated Wendi’s cheeks and she hissed at her aunt, “Hush! You’ve no right to say things like that to me!”
“I’ve every right, my girl. Both as a fill-in for your mother all these years, and as someone who loves you and doesn’t want to see you hurt again.”
“Your love doesn’t give you the right to make my decisions for me. Or hurt me like this yourself.”
Nick moved, limping around her and facing Sybilla. “You can do what you want to me, you. . . you witch! But you keep your nose out of whatever happens between Wendi and me. And your vicious tongue off her.”
He turned and took Wendi’s arm. “Come on. We’ll talk at Belle Chene. We’ll take the buggy, and these two can walk back.” He tossed a sneer at Sybilla. “Or your aunt can fly on her broom.”
Wendi sniffed and wiped a hand against her cheek. The wetness there indicated a tear had escaped the confines of her lashes, and her aunt’s image blurred before her. Perhaps that was why she thought she saw a brief, satisfied twist to Sybilla’s lips.
She followed Nick’s urging and walked to the buggy, which the three women had used to get out to the site Nick had suggested they use for their ceremony. It had been a tight fit for them in the one seat, but when Nick climbed in after her, there was adequate room for only the two of them. He picked up the reins and turned the horse. As soon as they were out of sight of the other two, he reached over and pulled her closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I don’t know what came over Aunt Sybilla,” she said with a repressed sob. “She’s never treated me like that before--said those sorts of things to me.”
Nick tightened his hold, and she laid her head on his shoulder, the sobs breaking free.
* * * *
Sybilla’s stance wilted, and Thalia Thibedeau put a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulders. “You had to do it,” Thalia said. “Much as it hurts, you had to drive her closer into his arms. Otherwise, he’d have run us off and we couldn’t continue our search.”
“I know.” Sybilla straightened and faced her. “This has been a long time in coming about, Thalia. You couldn’t even allow Wendi to know you were a witch all those times you came to visit me before you moved to California.”
“Well, I was afraid Nick would figure it out when I repaired Sabine’s protrait, but he didn’t. And I’ll tell you one thing. I’m sure glad to be back in New Orleans. I thought those years out in California would never pass!” She patted one less-than-slender hip. “The only good thing about them was that the way to keep Nick Bardou under control was through his stomach, so I got to use my cooking skills to make food I enjoyed also. His businesses prospered, although I’ll admit I didn’t have all that much to do with that part of it. And I kept him away from here until it was time for him to return. Until the planets were in the right configuration.”
“We aren’t even positive we have chosen the right time, Thalia. Darn that Sabine! She hasn’t contacted me even once! You’d think she’d check on Wendi at least. Let her know she loves her and is watching over her.”
“There may be some reason. In fact, I’m sure there is. N
ow let’s get started. Unless you want to fly and play swoop the loop in front of our Nickie boy and see his face.”
“It’s a lovely night for a stroll,” Sybilla said with a laugh as the pain she felt at hurting Wendi subsided a little. Thalia always could make her see the sense of things. “And I have this feeling Nick and Wendi are supposed to be alone for a while. Besides, maybe we’ll both lose an inch or so walking back to the plantation
“Why don’t you just turn the puppy back into a stallion and we’ll ride?” Thalia asked logically.
“I thought I’d keep him around as a companion for Alphie.” She gave Thalia a wink. “And also as a reminder to Nick Bardou of just how strong my magic is.”
“Good idea,” Thalia said.
Chapter 15
After they dropped the buggy off at the stable, Nick steered Wendi toward the garconniere. She balked as soon as she realized the direction he was taking.
“I better go on in the house. I need to wash my face.”
“There’s a wash room in the garconniere,” Nick said. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now. You’re still upset.”
Reluctantly, Wendi responded to his hand in the small of her back, urging her toward his bachelor’s quarters. She knew she must look a mess. She wasn’t a pretty crier, ending up with a swollen, red nose, streaky eyes and clumpy lashes. The knowledge of what she must look like and knowing he would light the wall sconces in his quarters were as much a part of her reluctance as anything else.
Had she looked her best, she would have no compunction about being alone with him. After all, she wasn’t some simpering virgin, both curious and apprehensive about what happened between a man and woman. And she could handle Nick Bardou. She’d done it before.
Of course, that was before she’d started to get to know the more sensitive man beneath that angry aura. Started to think maybe she was beginning to fall for him. Knew as soon as she felt his solicitude a while ago that she was already well into the plummet.
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