Sweet Revenge (Full-length romantic suspense novel, New Orleans Trilogy book 2)

by Nina Bruhns

  He blinked back, hating that he was the reason for her tears. "What?"

  "Do you want to have children?"

  He swallowed, focusing. Children? Hell, what kind of a question was that? "I … well… " Dieu. "I've never— I guess so. Yeah. Dozens."

  Slowly her pretty mouth curved into another brilliant smile. His pulse started up again after flat-lining for the past few moments. She squeezed his hands. "Good. Because I'm having our baby."

  Every molecule of air disappeared from his lungs, leaving him fighting for a breath.

  Baby?

  Suddenly something happened with his eyes and he couldn't see worth a damn.

  Baby?

  She reached out and cupped his cheek with a wet hand. Or was it his cheek that was wet?

  "I want a real wedding."

  Blindly he nodded.

  "With a white dress and bridesmaids and a big party."

  He was still paralyzed back at— "You're having a baby?"

  "We're having a baby."

  "But how?"

  She let out a watery laugh. "The usual way. It must have been that time with the feather. I guess we both forgot—"

  "Merci, Dieu." he murmured, and pulled her down off the chair and into his arms. "Thank You, God."

  He didn't know why he was shaking so hard. He could barely stay upright on his knees. She sighed and wound her arms around him and held him tightly, so tightly he could finally suck in an inadequate breath, secure that she would catch him if he fell.

  "I swear I'll always be there for you and our baby," he managed to squeeze out past his heart, which had lodged in his throat—just behind the giant lump that had been there ever since she'd said she loved him that long, painful week ago. "Always. For as long as you want me, I swear I'll be there for you. Do you really love me?"

  "Forever," she whispered back, and kissed him. A sweet, perfect kiss, filled with the promise of a future that held love and warmth and respect and everything he'd ever yearned for, and much, much more. "I love you, Auri Levalois, and I'll never, ever let you go. So you just may as well unpack your bags and plan on staying forever."

  He was so happy he just couldn't understand why there were tears streaming down his face. He looked up to the ceiling and laughed. "Mais, non. Me, I don' have no bags. What you see's what you get, chère. Sure you want me?"

  He lowered his gaze to hers, his heart aching in his chest at the look of love and adoration he saw there.

  "Oh, yes. I want you. Every last, wonderful, gorgeous inch of you."

  That fragile, tender place in his soul slowly filled with her, clear to the trembling brim, filled with this strong, loving, capable woman who had taken him so easily into her arms and into her heart.

  And for the first time ever, he was complete and whole.

  He smiled, knowing he was the luckiest man in the universe. He put his lips to hers and whispered, "That can be arranged."

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later…

  Grace leaned back in the warm, white beach sand and luxuriated in the feel of the sun on her skin, the wind in her hair and the love in her heart. Just two short years ago she wouldn't have believed it was possible to be as happy as she was at this moment.

  The air smelled of salt, summer breezes and suntan lotion. Folding her hands under her head, she squinted out at her husband, frolicking in the sparkling blue ocean with their son, Luke.

  "Quite a sight, isn't it?"

  On a blanket next to her, Muse watched her own husband charge through the surf at full tilt toward the pair, snatching a squealing Luke from his daddy's arms and skimming him over the water like a dive-bomber.

  Grace chuckled. "I'll say. Who'da ever thought?" She glanced at her sister and grinned. "The two of us, married with families and living within spitting distance of each other."

  Muse grinned back. "Mom's in hog heaven."

  Grace gazed fondly at her sister. "Me, too. I was so glad you two decided to settle here in Charleston." She looked back toward the waves. "And so's Creole. He loves having a big family around him. Especially his brother-in-law."

  She and Muse watched as the two handsomest men in the world played together in the warm ocean with Luke. It did Grace's heart good to see her husband so carefree, like the kid he had never been allowed to be. He'd come far from that first week in New Orleans when they'd fallen in love.

  Luke shrieked with laughter, reaching for his dad. Creole scooped him out of the other man's hands, giving the little guy a bear hug. Just then, a huge wave swamped over them, plunging the three of them into one tumbling mass of arms and legs and flailing bodies. Luke surfaced above the water, suspended in Creole's steady hands, laughing and shaking the water from his eyes. The two grown men floated in the receding wave, giggling like toddlers. Then as one, they rose from the sea, slung their arms around each other's shoulders and charged to shore, carrying Luke in front of them like a squirmy figurehead.

  Grace scrambled backward as they made a beeline for the blankets, mischief twinkling in three naughty pairs of eyes.

  "No!" She screeched with delight as several hundred pounds of streaming wet male flopped down, rolling on top of her and Muse. "Careful of the baby!"

  There was a short pause as the men assessed whether she meant Luke or the baby still nestled inside Muse's seven-month belly. But just then Luke launched himself onto Creole's back, throwing his tiny arms around his daddy's neck.

  "Dadadadadadada!" he shouted at the top of his considerable lungs, and the adults broke into laughter. Grasping handfuls of Creole's hair to hang on to, Grace's baby boy peeked around his dad's neck and grinned down at her, his innocent eyes brimming with trust and merriment.

  Grace thought she would simply burst with love for father and son, whose faces were so alike it made her heart twist.

  "Hey, T-Luke," Creole said, using the Cajun nickname meaning Little Luke, and turned his head to give him a big smooch. "Why don' you grab your bucket and finish our sand castle? I'll be along in a flash. Jus' gotta tell Mama somethin'," he added.

  "'Kay. San-cass." Luke slid from Creole's back, already absorbed in the project as he toddled on plump legs for his shovel and pail.

  Together they watched their son for a moment, then looked at each other and smiled. She slid her arms around Creole's neck and burrowed herself deeper into his embrace, loving the feel of being sandwiched between the wet softness of the sand and the warm, sensual hardness of her husband's body. She would never tire of feeling his skin against hers.

  "I love you," she whispered, gazing up into his soulful eyes. Life just couldn't get better than this.

  "I love you, too," he said, and put his lips to hers. "More and more each day."

  She savored the taste of him as he kissed her, long and tender. Humming in contentment, she ran her fingers through his hair and over his shoulders. Well, maybe one other thing would make their lives together even more perfect.

  "Je suis en feu. I feel like I'm burnin' up." He winked, leaned down and nipped at her ear. "How 'bout spreadin' some sunblock on me?"

  That would be a good start. "Mmm. How 'bout waiting till tonight? Baby oil, a bucket of ice, a bottle of wine…"

  His brow lifted, and he gazed at her, eyes filling with languid anticipation. "Feathers?"

  She laughed throatily. He'd grown inordinately fond of ice and feathers over the past two years. "And feathers," she promised. He was so easy.

  "You tryin' to seduce me, wife?" He didn't look as though he objected one bit.

  "Absolutely."

  He grinned down at her. "What are you after this time?"

  "A girl."

  His mouth parted in surprise, then rebounded into a glowing smile. "Now, that's a fine idea, chère. Purely fine."

  He gathered her in his arms and covered her mouth with his, surrounding her, filling her with his love. A precious love that had given her more happiness and fulfillment than she'd ever imagined.

  She melted into him, rejoicing in
the knowledge that this incredible man was hers, only hers, for all time. A man she was exhilarated to spend her days with, adoring him, keeping him safe and treasured. And thrilled to share her nights with, reveling in his cherished devotion and his sweet, loving touch.

  * * The End * *

  Back to table of contents

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed reading about Creole and Grace. This is book 2 in my New Orleans trilogy. The prequel to this story is, CATCH ME IF YOU CAN. The companion book to this one is SWEET SUSPICION, which takes place during the same time-frame and features Grace's sister Muse along with her hero Remi Beaulieux. Both are available as ebooks. Even though I've written many novels since, these three stories and their characters remain some of my personal favorites to this day. There's nothing like a sweet-talkin' Louisiana gentleman (or not!) to warm a girl's heart.

  Well, almost nothing... I have to admit, I also have a special place in my heart for Native American heroes. One of my first books, WARRIOR'S BRIDE, was a story inspired by a real-life friend. See below for a sneak peek at this emotional, heart-tugging novel.

  Good Reading!

  Nina

  Click here for a SNEAK PEEK at WARRIOR'S BRIDE

  More exciting novels by Nina Bruhns

  For details and excerpts please visit

  NinaBruhns.com

  Red Heat

  Vampire Sheikh

  Shadow Of The Sheikh

  Lord Of The Desert

  A Kiss To Kill

  If Looks Could Chill

  Shoot To Thrill

  Prince Charming For 1 Night

  Killer Temptation

  The Rebel Prince

  Night Mischief

  Top-Secret Bride

  The Forbidden Enchantment

  Royal Betrayal

  Enemy Husband

  Hard Case Cowboy

  Blue Jeans and a Badge

  Ghost of a Chance

  Sweet Suspicion

  Sins of the Father

  Sweet Revenge

  Warrior's Bride

  Catch Me If You Can

  Writing as Nikita Black

  Wedding Favors (anthology)

  Slave To Love

  Cajun Hot

  The Renegade's Woman

  Back to table of contents

  SNEAK PEEK at WARRIOR'S BRIDE

  Chapter 1

  Santa Susana Hills , California

  Present day

  Suddenly, Katarina Herelius was completely surrounded by Indian warriors. Big ones. With fierce expressions on their painted faces and feathered headdresses flying in the wind. It was as if she had somehow dropped back in time.

  Her carefree mood slipped precariously.

  With a gnarled hand, the Indians' ancient leader lowered the tall staff he carried and pointed it right at her. A tingle of panic skittered up Katarina's spine.

  She edged backward, out of the gang of wild-looking men, but her back bumped firmly up against a solid wall. Then the wall moved. It reached out and grasped her bare arms with warm, strong hands.

  Letting out a gasp, she spun around, and was greeted by the sight of a porcupine-quill chest plate covering a male torso so broad it nearly blocked out the hot California sun. The man it belonged to was tall and lean, his ample muscles oiled and rippling under his sparse clothing. All the man wore was the chest plate, a long fringed breechclout, moccasins and a few bells.

  Oh, Lord.

  She shivered, tore her eyes away from the warrior's body and looked up into his face. His obsidian hair hung long, shiny and loose, braided on one side with beads and leather thongs, and topped with a small headdress bearing two upright feathers. A pipe-beaded choker graced the man's powerful neck below his Adam's apple. Black stripes and dots adorned his high cheekbones and square chin. Deep, brooding eyes peered back at her from behind a solid black painted mask.

  The stranger was just about the most intriguing, sensual man Katarina had ever seen in her life. He had the body of a dangerous warrior, but, oh, those eyes—he had the dark, fathomless eyes of a passionate lover.

  Not that Katarina'd know anything about lovers, passionate or not. But this man—he stirred something deep and hidden in her. Something she'd never felt before, something almost elemental. Senses whirling, she held on to her hat and took a calming breath.

  "Hey, bro, no terrorizing the tourists," an amused voice called out from behind her.

  Her warrior's somber face split into a saucy grin that did the oddest things to her pulse. He looked her up and down, as if considering whether or not to fling her over his shoulder and carry her off to an uncertain fate. Nervously, she took a step back.

  He glanced past her and, in a voice too gravelly to suit his finely chiseled features, he inquired, "No scalping or flaming arrows?.

  The solemn answer came from behind her. "Nope..

  "No tying them to anthills?.

  "Sorry, bro..

  The warrior folded his arms over his chest and slid a leisurely, flutter-inducing gaze down her body, all the way to the tips of her sandaled toes, and then slowly back up again. "No doing unspeakable things to their womenfolk?.

  Her eyes widened and a small sound escaped her throat. The short, puffed sleeve of her calico dress slid off her shoulder. Swallowing, she tugged it up.

  "Especially not that..

  The warrior let out a sigh. "Hell, things are getting way too civilized these days..

  Just then a loudspeaker directly overhead blared out the announcement that the grand procession was about to begin from the east side of the dance ring. Katarina clapped her hand over her mouth as she realized she was standing right in the middle of the queued-up dancers. Oh, brother. How did she always manage to do these things? She sidled past the warrior toward the crowd of tourists behind him.

  A gust of wind lifted her straw hat, and before it could fall to the ground he snagged it and returned it to her. "Well, darlin', looks like I'll have to spare you this time." Then he winked.

  Her body tingled as a thousand tiny fireworks went off in her bloodstream. She bit her bottom lip to give herself a much-needed jolt back to reality.

  What was with her? Here she was, barely weeks out of the ego-numbing relationship with her ex-fiancé, David, and already she was practically swooning at another man's feet! It was totally unlike her. Katarina did not swoon over strange men. Katarina did not swoon over men at all. At least not these days.

  "Go on," the warrior urged, smiling. "Your boyfriend will be looking for you..

  Her gaze flew up, narrowed, and she frowned. "No." Thoughts of swooning vanished, and she shook her head determinedly. "No boyfriend..

  A question played in his eyes. "Husband, then?.

  Inexplicably, her vision blurred. She shook her head again, turned and fled into the crowd. She didn't stop running until she passed the booth farthest from the dance circle, then leaned against a wooden fence post. She gulped down several steadying breaths. The beat of drums kicked up over the loudspeaker, the nasal wail of the singers joining in. Exhaling slowly, she forced her heart to resume its normal cadence.

  She swiped at her eyes. Damn that warrior, anyway. She did not want to think about David now. Not today.

  Today was a celebration! She had come to the Cardinal Ranch Powwow to lose herself in the bright colors, the haunting music and the beautiful dancing. In the wonderful diversity the world had to offer. To revel in life. A life that was finally her own.

  She was free!

  Running unsteady fingers along the brim of her hat, she repeated the word firmly to herself, hardly able to believe it. Free. Liberated, after two long years of trying to be someone she couldn't—wouldn't—ever be. Free to follow her dreams and rebuild the fragile self-esteem that had been so soundly shattered.

  Lord, how could she have stayed so long with a man who obviously didn't love her anymore? A man who had taken every opportunity to belittle her opinions and crush her hopes? A man who cheated on her, because he
claimed she wasn't woman enough for him.

  How naive she had been! To think she'd honestly believed David would change, that her love could transform him from the cold, domineering womanizer he'd become, back to the person she'd thought he was in the beginning—a person worthy of her devotion.

  But she'd finally realized that had been an impossible dream. One she had no intention of repeating in this lifetime. She was so grateful for the courage she had somehow managed to scrape together to leave him.

  To start over. And this time, to do it right.

  Now she would do with her life what she had dreamed of for as long as she could remember—finishing the course work for her nursing degree. She would slowly put her life and her self-esteem back together. And most importantly, she would make her own choices. Choices neither David nor her mother would ever again be able to mock.

  Closing her eyes, she let out a long breath that ended in a smile. No, she wouldn't let David ruin today. She wouldn't allow him to ruin another day ever again.

  No man, especially one who didn't love and respect her, she promised herself, would ever ruin a single solitary day of her life.

  Katarina lifted her gaze to the glittering heavens. It was truly a glorious morning. In more ways than one. Yesterday she had gotten a letter from UCLA confirming her reacceptance to the nursing program. And a few minutes ago, a sexy, intriguing man had actually flirted with her.

  Life was good.

  The weather matched her buoyant spirits. A sparkling bright sun shone in a brilliant blue, cloudless sky. A breeze whispered through the fragrant wildflowers on the rolling Santa Susana hilltop where the powwow grounds were located, stirring the canopied booths that were filled with silver and turquoise jewelry, antique reproductions, souvenirs and T-shirts sporting political and decorative logos.

  She pushed off the fence post, fueled by her happiness at finally being in control of her own fate.