Forbidden Entchantment

by Nina Bruhns

  “What reason?” he demanded quietly.

  “Only time will tell,” she said. “But, Sully, I’ve no doubt you’ll know it when you find it.”

  Revenge.

  That was the real reason Sully had come back.

  Tyree believed it was because of the same curse that had kept Tyree spirit-bound to his earthly existence for so long. But Sully knew better.

  Sully was here because of a different, more powerful curse, taught to him by Jeantout, the voudou prince himself.

  He was here to witness the obliteration of the line of his nemesis, Lord Henry Sullivan. Nothing less than that would have had the power to recall him from the grave.

  But of course he couldn’t tell that to Elizabeth. She would never understand about Lord Henry and the terrible evils he’d wrought upon Sully’s family.

  So as they lay there side by side in her bed, he asked her about her world. Under the guise of filling in the blanks left by his loss of memory, they talked late into the night.

  He felt such an ease of exchange with her it was as though their relationship had not been interrupted by two hundred years of silence.

  And his hunger for her grew by the minute.

  He’d wanted her badly, since first seeing her again in the garden. Since that amazing kiss. Being close to her, lying in bed with her like this, made him want her with a yearning that threatened to undo him. But every time he made a move to touch her, she shifted out of reach.

  It was making him crazy.

  He needed to hold his lover, needed to feel her arms around him and her skin next to his. Needed to taste her and thrust himself deep into her sweet flesh, driving out the lingering spectre of death that still hovered over his psyche.

  Couldn’t she see, couldn’t she sense, that he was her true love, back to reclaim her?

  But she thought he was Andre Sullivan. And Sully had begun to discern that Andre Sullivan was not a very nice man. At least when it concerned women. What was it Lisa had called him? A philandering womanizer. Ouch. That had always been Tyree’s reputation before, not Sully’s.

  Alors, he just needed to be patient. He must woo Elizabeth to trust him by showing her he wasn’t the same old Andre anymore. That he had changed since the accident. More profoundly than anyone would ever suspect.

  “Elizabeth?” he whispered after several minutes of silence.

  “Hmm?” she answered sleepily.

  His blood raced. “May I kiss you good night?”

  After a moment she said, “Not a good idea.”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “Why? Because of this afternoon?”

  “Because we hardly know each other.”

  “We know each other a lot better now than this afternoon,” he pointed out. “And you let me kiss you, then.”

  Another pause. “You caught me by surprise.”

  “So, if I catch you by surprise again…”

  She chuckled softly and turned on her side to face him. “In the garden you said you mistook me for someone else. Who?”

  He blinked. God’s teeth. This was not what he wanted to talk about. Hell, at the moment he didn’t want to talk at all. “She was a woman I knew…a long time ago.”

  “You remember her?”

  “I could never forget her.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s…She died.”

  The curiosity in her eyes dissolved to sympathy. “Oh, Sully. I’m so sorry.”

  “It was your scent that reminded me of her.”

  Her lips parted. “My scent?”

  Unable to help himself, he slid his hand behind her neck and drew her closer. So they were nearly nose to nose.

  “Sweet like spring flowers,” he whispered. “Spicy like Christmas grog. Warm and alluring like a beautiful woman.”

  Her nostrils flared and he could sense her skittishness. He wanted to taste her again so badly he was almost willing to take first and ask afterward.

  Almost.

  “Kiss me, Elizabeth. Kiss me and I swear to you I’ll take it no further.”

  She swallowed and her tongue peeked out and swiped over her lips. He almost groaned aloud.

  “Sully, I can’t,” she whispered. “There’s something…someone I need to tell you ab—”

  His heart roared in protest. “Shh,” he swiftly admonished, sorely provoked. He didn’t want to hear it. He pulled her to his chest. “You have another man. I should have known.”

  A woman as desirable as she would have men flocking after her. He tamped down his immense frustration, kissed her forehead and forced himself to let her go.

  “No, Sully, it’s not what you—”

  He slid awkwardly out of bed. “C’est bon. I should go. We can talk about it tomorrow, non?”

  Right now he had to get out of there. He was feeling too volatile and she was too tempting.

  “Promise?” she asked.

  What was he supposed to say? That her being with another man was the last thing he wanted to hear about? “I’m supposed to go into the fire station, but maybe after.”

  She sat up and hugged her knees. “You’re going back to work so soon?”

  “They’re just having a little welcome home party for me. Though God knows how I’m going to get there. I’m told I own a car, but…” He ground his teeth and reached for the doorknob.

  “I’ll drive you,” she offered.

  He turned to regard her. He hated that she was seeing him like this, weak and pathetically helpless. He was used to being strong and in charge, captain of his ship and master of his world. Invincible.

  But he knew pride had its limits, especially around women. Sometimes they even enjoyed taking care of a man.

  “I’d be grateful,” he said, and he was. “Maybe you can teach me to run the damn contraption.”

  A grin curved her lips. “I can try.”

  “All right. See you at breakfast, then.”

  “I look forward to your first lesson,” she said.

  And amazingly, so did he.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Elizabeth stared at the fire-engine red Corvette convertible sitting in the Magnolia Cove Fire Department parking lot, then at the keys in her hand. She and Sully had walked there after breakfast, to pick up his car.

  And what a car it turned out to be.

  “What’s wrong?” Sully asked, glancing from her to the line of grinning men behind them.

  “You expect to learn to drive again in that?” she asked incredulously.

  Sully looked confused. “Is there a problem?”

  She muttered an oath under her breath regarding the vanity of the male species, then plastered a smile on her face. “Okay, then. Hop in.”

  With a nod, he headed for the passenger seat.

  “Whoa, there! Aren’t you driving?”

  “I’d prefer not to. If you don’t mind.”

  She balked. She drove a Prius. Economical. Responsible. Reliable. But she knew all about men and their machines. Obsessive. A fire chief and his red ’Vette had to be among the worst. “Sully, have you ever let anyone else on the planet even sit in the driver’s seat?”

  “I, um…”

  She checked with the half-dozen firefighters watching them from the sidelines. To a man—including the one woman—they all shook their heads, grins firmly in place.

  “Hey, if you don’t feel like driving the ’Vette anymore,” one of the firemen called. “I’ll trade you for my Chevy!”

  The others laughed. “Yeah,” another said, “or my old truck.”

  To her surprise, Sully called back, “I might take you up on that, Jeremy Swift!” as they awkwardly slid into the low-slung sports car. “What color is it?”

  “Blue,” the man yelled as she turned the key and brought the engine to life with a roar. “What’s left of the paint.”

  Sully waved to the guys, and she could swear his teeth were clenched. “Always hated red,” he muttered through them.

  Nervo
usly she let the clutch out. The ’Vette leaped from the parking lot onto the main street. Sully’s eyes were squeezed shut.

  Despite herself, she laughed. “Come on, I’m not that bad a driver,” she said.

  He cracked them open and peered at her. “Sorry. Don’t really care for—God’s Bones!” She had stopped at a light and he was staring at a road sign behind her. “Fouquet Street? They named a blasted street after—” His words halted abruptly as his gaze collided with hers. He smiled self-consciously.

  “Tricks again?” she asked, smiling back.

  That cute chagrin swept over his face. “Lizzie—”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind you being a pirate. It can be our little secret.” Hell, she didn’t even mind him calling her Lizzie, a name she’d always disliked.

  He studied her with his dark, bedroom eyes, his beautiful lips turned down at the corners. “You must think me a raving lunatic.”

  Frankly it was probably her who was the lunatic. Because suddenly all she could think about was kissing those lips again.

  “Heavens, no,” she said, and turned resolutely forward. The light blinked green and the car jumped to life. “Which way?” she asked. The welcome home party was at the number one station house of the Old Fort Mystic Fire Department, on the mainland, where Sully was chief, not the tiny local and mostly volunteer fire station where the car had been parked.

  “No clue. I was hoping you knew.”

  She chuckled. “We could go back and ask.”

  He looked pained.

  “Or not. Maybe there’s a map in the glove compartment.”

  He blinked.

  Wow. The man wasn’t kidding. He really did have amnesia.

  Briefly she wondered how he’d remembered how to kiss so well. She glanced at him and smiled. Some things must come naturally.

  She pointed at the glove compartment and guided him to the correct map, coaching him how to unfold and read it.

  Luckily he was a fast learner.

  But she wasn’t going to think about that.

  “Chief!”

  As soon as they arrived at the Old Fort Mystic FD, the men and women all descended on Sully, gingerly slapping his back, giving him hugs, punching him lightly in the arm in a ritual of genuine happiness over his recovery and return. Elizabeth was touched by how much everyone had missed their chief and how glad they were to have him back.

  In Sully’s honor they had prepared a sumptuous barbecue, complete with chicken, corn on the cob, grill-baked potatoes and a multitude of salads brought in by spouses, who were also in attendance.

  No one was particularly surprised that he had Elizabeth in tow. She felt a little out of place as she ate and talked and wandered around with him, especially given the looks she was getting from the men—as though one and all assumed they were sleeping together, and not one was surprised or asked about Lisa Grosvenor. Good grief. If driving a Corvette weren’t a big enough clue, this clinched it. Andre Sullivan was a certified lady’s man.

  She didn’t know why that bothered her so much. After all, she was just here for a few days and had no intention of even kissing him again, let alone sleeping with the man. She wanted only one thing from Sully—a blood test for bone marrow compatibility with Caleb. Nothing more.

  There was no logical reason for the pique she was feeling. What he did with other women was absolutely none of her business. He certainly wouldn’t be doing it with her.

  When he walked up and put his hand on her shoulder and asked, “Lizzie, would you like—” She shot to her feet.

  “No!” she snapped. “And don’t call me Lizzie!”

  At his look of surprised rebuff, she shut her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again, she gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. Blame it on PMS.”

  He raised his brow uncomprehendingly. “PM…?”

  She wasn’t about to go there. “Never mind. I was thinking I should probably—”

  “How about a drive?”

  Surprised, she asked, “You’re ready to go home so soon?”

  They’d been at the station nearly two hours, but she’d gotten the impression that other than being called to a fire, the guys who worked here weren’t in a hurry about much of anything.

  “Non. To a friend’s house. There’s someone I need to talk to.”

  After saying their goodbyes, he settled into the ’Vette with a long sigh.

  “What?” she asked, turning the car back toward Frenchman’s Island.

  “I feel like such a fraud,” he said. “I don’t remember any of them. Or my job. Or…”

  She glanced over sympathetically as he fell silent. What must that be like? Not to remember anything about one’s life. Not that she personally would miss all that much about her own—other than her family and the few friends she still had. After high school most of them had gone off to college and not returned to their small village. But she had stayed behind to help Don and Gilda with the farm. The Sullivan estate was large and they were getting older. Until Caleb grew up—

  She banished her thoughts about herself and determinedly returned them to Sully. Regardless of the emptiness of one’s life it would be awful not to remember any of it.

  “It’ll all come back to you,” she said. “I’m sure it will.”

  He rolled his head on the seat back and gave her a dry smile, but didn’t comment. “Have you ever been sailing?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “A time or two.” Growing up close to the Connecticut coast, she’d spent most summers on the deck of the family cabin cruiser. But several of her childhood friends had owned sailboats.

  “We should go sailing. I haven’t been in…ages.”

  “You own a Corvette and a boat? Not bad, Sullivan.”

  “Actually I don’t. But my friend does. We can borrow his.”

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about being stuck with Sully on a tiny vessel, wearing a tiny bathing suit and being surrounded by nothing but ocean. Probably not a great idea. So it was particularly maddening when she found herself saying, “That sounds fun.”

  “Good. I’ll ask Mrs. Yates when we get there. Turn here,” he said, pointing out a narrow oyster shell path leading into the dense junglelike forest. The vegetation on Frenchman’s Island was lush, green and wild. Palmettos mingled with giant oaks and other hardwoods, thick bushes and flowering vines. Waist-high grasses grew near the meandering shoreline and down into the water.

  “Who’s Mrs. Yates?”

  “My friend Tyree’s housekeeper. He and his new wife are off on their honeymoon. Mrs. Yates is taking care of Rose Cottage while they’re gone.”

  In Elizabeth’s eyes, Rose Cottage was more like Rose Manor.

  “Wow, it’s beautiful,” she said as she climbed out.

  The three-story historic mansion had flowing lines with an abundance of floor-to ceiling bays and mullioned windows, sweeping porches and grand galleries. A widow’s walk skimmed along the roofline overlooking the inlet behind the house. There was even a small mother-in-law cottage out back, surrounded by an overflowing English garden.

  “Give us a hand, chère,” Sully said. He was still in the ’Vette, struggling to stand.

  She hurried around the car to help him. He was tall, very tall, and it was a long way up from the bucket seat. She took his hands and tugged, eventually getting him up, but sending him right into her arms.

  He didn’t seem to object. His arms came arou nd her and he drew her close.

  Her pulse kicked up. “Sully,” she whispered, loathe to pull away but knowing she had no business staying in his embrace. He felt so good. So hard and lean and strong.

  But so wrong.

  She took a deep breath and tried to step back. But he wouldn’t let go.

  “What’s his name?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

  “Who?”

  “Your man.”

  Her heart beat faster. “I don’t have a man,” she admitted. “No boyfriend.”<
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  She’d always been too busy with school, the farm and her job for more than casual dates. And then when Caleb got sick, there was no time for men. Every spare minute she had she’d spent with her brother.

  Caleb.

  Sully leaned back and looked into her eyes. “But last night, you said…”

  She swallowed. This was her chance. “There is someone I want to tell you about. But it’s not a man. He’s my brother.”

  “Your—” Sully’s eyes widened, and his mouth curved into a dazzling smile. “Mon Dieu, Lizzie! Here I thought…” He pulled her tight to his chest. “Thank God.”

  “Sully, listen. There’s something I need to—”

  But suddenly, the front door of Rose Cottage opened wide and a plump, gray-haired lady scooted out onto the porch.

  “As I live and breathe!” she declared with a cheerful laugh. “Why, it’s none other than Captain Sullivan Fouquet!”

  Chapter 3

  T he look on Elizabeth’s face was priceless.

  Sully grinned at old Mrs. Yates. Having worked as Tyree’s caretaker going on twenty years now—nearly all while he was still a ghost—she knew exactly what was going on. And exactly who Sully was. She’d even met Andre Sullivan a few days before he died, and was in fact present at the fiery accident where Sully’s spirit had somehow reanimated Andre’s lifeless body.

  Mrs. Yates had long ago accepted that the impossible was possible. Sully, a bit more recently.

  Elizabeth was obviously still working on the concept.

  At her look, Mrs. Yates gave another laugh and said, “Dear me, did I say Captain Fouquet? Naturally I meant Chief Sullivan. Come in, come in! I’ll put on some tea.”

  Once inside, Sully introduced Elizabeth. At her name, Mrs. Yates’s eyebrows rose and she shot him a quick glance. She knew the details of his past life, including his fiancée, Elizabeth Hayden, the accidental shooting of whom had led to his and Tyree’s infamous fatal duel two hundred years ago.