A Haunting Desire

by Julie Mulhern

  “Never better.” An obvious lie.

  Zeke stood behind him with a murderous look on his face.

  Her father lingered in the doorway, his eyes appraising her. Apparently he’d decided she wasn’t in any immediate danger, his lips twitched. “Trula, perhaps you’d care to introduce us to this gentleman.”

  “Forgive him,” the ghost whispered.

  She ignored the ghost. “Father, this is Mr. Zeke Barnes. Zeke, this is my father, His Grace, the Duke of Aberdeen.”

  “Your father?” The triangles of Zeke’s eyebrows met his hairline.

  “And my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Zeke’s jaw dropped.

  She’d laugh except her ribs hurt. “Edward St. John. Who did you think he was?” She allowed herself a moment to silently enjoy his discomfiture. After all, not two days ago he’d asked her to be his mistress. She might not be a lady, but she was a duke’s daughter.

  “Forgive him.”

  Trula glared at the single-minded, interfering spook. Had the boy been this annoying in life?

  “Zeke saved me,” she said.

  “Then I owe you my gratitude.” The duke extended his hand and Zeke took it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Your Grace.”

  Ned loosed her fingers and shook Zeke’s hand as well.

  “Trula, did a little old lady really do this to you?” her brother asked. Obviously, he didn’t believe someone like Eulie could have inflicted such damage.

  Possessed by an evil spirit, the little old lady had stood straight and tall, her milky eyes blazing scarlet with blood lust. Talons, maybe even claws, had tipped her fingers instead of yellowed fingernails. “Yes.”

  William traipsed over to Zeke and pulled on his coat. He leaned down and the interfering apparition whispered in his ear. He listened for a moment then said, “Gentleman, would you please give me a few moments to talk with Trula?”

  Her father nodded, grabbed Ned’s arm, and pulled her objecting brother from the room, leaving her alone with the man who’d broken her heart then saved her life.

  Trula scowled. This was just fine and dandy. The last thing she wanted was a painful conversation with Zeke. Damn the ghost. Damn her traitorous father. And, most especially, damn Zeke Barnes. Couldn’t he at least wait to say good-bye until tomorrow?

  With Ned and her father gone, Zeke shifted his weight, scanned the titles of the books on her bedside table, and eyed a painting by Toulouse-Lautrec she’d bought over John’s objections. His hands clenched then spread, clenched then spread. Could Zeke Barnes be at a loss for words?

  She should at least thank him. “Thank you for saving me.”

  He dragged a chair next to her bed and sat down.

  “I’m very tired.” She turned her head away.

  “Forgive him.”

  Zeke caught her chin and turned her gaze back to his handsome face. His dark eyes burned. “You’d prefer to have this conversation when you can walk away?”

  She harrumphed. He was the one who was leaving.

  He raised a devilish brow.

  “You sent my family away.”

  He nodded.

  “Then it’s only fair that William goes, too.”

  The boy rolled his eyes, mouthed, “Forgive him,” then faded away.

  Zeke reached for her hand. Her shoulder hurt too much to snatch it back. Fine. Let him hold it. She made her fingers go limp as day-old catfish. She stared at the ceiling. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t let herself think about how good his fingers felt as they clasped hers. Certainly wouldn’t let herself imagine that it meant anything. The murderer was gone. Soon Zeke would be too.

  “We need to talk.” Zeke said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  …

  Zeke swallowed a growl. Trula Boudreaux was the most maddening woman he’d ever met. He held her hand gently. The alternative was wrapping his fingers around her pretty neck. His lips thinned. “Do you want to tell me why you took it upon yourself to confront a loa by yourself?”

  She tried to pull her fingers loose.

  He tightened his grip on her hand, unwilling to let her go.

  “I didn’t know Marinette rode Eulie. Who would have imagined that? I guessed Eulie knew who was calling her and went to ask her about it.”

  “I see.” He was having a hard time not shouting at her. How could she have been so careless?

  “Obviously I wouldn’t have gone if I knew Eulie was going to hurt me.”

  Zeke closed his eyes against the red haze fogging his vision. Her ridiculous rose garden of a hat had saved her. That and a shot through Eulie’s heart. His world would end without Trula. She couldn’t take such risks. He simply couldn’t live without her sharp tongue and soft heart. “It was reckless.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m allowed to save Laurelie, but not you?”

  Her turquoise eyes widened and a becoming pink stained her cheeks.

  “Why is that?” he asked.

  She turned her face away. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

  “You’re afraid.” The girl who’d dreamed of someone to depend upon depended only on herself. He’d let her down once and now she believed he’d do it again.

  “Go away.” She didn’t look at him.

  “No. I know a little something about fear.”

  Her head shifted on the pillow so that the angles of her face were hidden by a cloud of hair.

  “My wife, Bess, was murdered in Haiti. It was my fault. I explained the dangers in Port au Prince. She didn’t listen. Her death nearly killed me. I…I couldn’t afford to feel that way again. Ever.” But he had. Just an hour ago, when Trula lay lifeless in his arms. Was that a sniffle? “I didn’t want to depend on anyone, either. I couldn’t risk losing someone I loved.” He swallowed. “Then, a beautiful, maddening, stubborn woman left fifty dollars on my dresser and I realized how alone I was.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  He looked at the ceiling, the floor, the painting of a couple lost in a passionate embrace, then the back of her head. “Because I love you.” He wished she’d turn her head. He wished he could read something, anything, in the depths of her turquoise eyes.

  “Why should I believe you?” Her voice sounded thick. With tears?

  She’d asked a fair question. Why should she believe him? He’d pursued her, taken her to bed, and then insulted her. He’d treated her like a whore. “Because I’ve never known a woman like you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

  She turned her head. Tears glistened in her eyes. “And when you tire of me? What then? I find a new protector?”

  “As if anyone could ever get tired of you. I love you. I want you by my side forever.”

  Trula’s head moved back and forth. “I won’t be your mistress.”

  She didn’t understand.

  William had told him. “Go to Marie Leveau’s tomb. Find the woman who can tell you about voodoo. She has what you need.”

  Trula held the key to his soul, to everything he’d ever need. Zeke couldn’t lose her.

  His hand tightened around her fingers. “Trula, will you forgive me for being such an unmitigated ass and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  The sheet covering her chest rose and fell in fits and starts. He prayed to the saints and the spirits and God. He cursed himself for the pain he’d caused her.

  Slowly she turned her head toward him. He could hardly breathe. No question, no answer, had ever been so important.

  “I forgive you.”

  It wasn’t enough. He had to have her with him. Forever. “But will you marry me?”

  She rubbed at her eyes with her free hand, gnawed at the corner of her lip. She was going to tell him no. He could tell.

  “My house…”

  “Sell it. Split the money up among the girls. Hattie and her family can come with us.”

  “Where?�
��

  Was she considering coming with him? His tongue tripped over a list of possible cities. “Washington, New York, Boston…wherever you want.”

  “My father—”

  “Will give you away. We’ll visit him in London.”

  “But—”

  He held up a hand to stop the flow of objections. “Trula, you’re a brilliant, kind, beautiful woman who deserves a man who can make you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life trying. Please, give me the chance.”

  “Not a toy?” Her voice was so soft he barely heard it.

  “Never.”

  She smiled then. His heart thudded in his chest.

  “I love you, too.”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  The smile she gave him was pure Trula—knowing and honeyed and sharp all at the same time. “My answer is yes.”

  Epilogue

  Granny grinned at her from her rocking chair on the porch. “I reckon it’s ‘bout time you got here.”

  Trula’s lips curled into a smile; of course Granny knew she was coming. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Cora James stepped through the front door and Trula’s smile grew bigger. “At least you’re not pining for company. How are you, Cora?”

  “Fine, Miz Trula. Thank you kindly for askin’.”

  “You come for a reading?” Granny asked.

  Trula glanced back at the carriage where Zeke waited. “No, ma’am. I came to ask you two questions.”

  “I’m listenin’.” Granny’s rocker creaked on the uneven porch boards.

  “Did you know it was Eulie?”

  The old woman stared at the lake so long Trula thought she might not answer. Finally, she said, “I guessed.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Warn me?”

  “There’s miles of road between guessin’ and knowin’.”

  Granny was right. Besides, even if the older woman had told her that Eulie was committing the murders, Trula wouldn’t have believed her.

  “What’s your other question?”

  “Will you come to my wedding? You too, Cora.”

  “When is it?” Granny’s eyes twinkled.

  “This Saturday at Saint Louis Cathedral. My father is giving me away.”

  “About time you got married.”

  “You’ll come?” Trula asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it, chére. You want to borrow the cabin for yo’ honeymoon?” Granny’s cackling laugh made the birds take flight.

  “Thank you for the offer.” Trula pretended to consider.

  Granny’s laughter died on her lips.

  “But, I can’t accept. We’ll be leaving for Washington.”

  “What’s gonna happen to your house?” Cora asked.

  “Gilcie will take over.”

  Granny’s wrinkled chin nodded. “I’m sure enough glad you had the good sense to grab happiness when it knocked you upside the head.”

  “Thank you, Granny, for everything.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want a reading?”

  “I don’t need cards to tell me the future.” Trula smiled at the man in the carriage. “We’re going to live happily ever after.”

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  About the Author

  Julie Mulhern always wanted to be a writer. She spent her childhood creating pen names and dreaming of exotic, romantic places. To that end, she went to Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia (because, when you’re from the Midwest, the South is both exotic and romantic). There she earned a degree in French. She even spent a year living in Paris. But the Midwest beckoned and she returned home. Now she lives with her husband, two daughters and a dastardly dog. It might not be exotic but it is romantic.

  Julie is an award-winning author and a 2014 Golden Heart® Finalist. A Haunting Desire is her first romance. It’s set in New Orleans, a place that meets Julie’s exotic and romantic criteria and requires frequent field trips for research.

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