“Did he bury the cross under there?” Emily asked, panting as she caught up to Michelle.
Lana wasn’t in much better shape, the perspiration chilling her beneath her clothes. It wasn’t a good idea to sweat in the winter, no matter how mild the temperatures. Dangerous even.
Michelle didn’t respond as she kept pushing at the rounded stones, trying to free them from the frozen pile.
“Michelle!” Lana took her arm, gently, stopping her futile attack on the ruins. “This is stupid. It’s dark and it’s cold and there’s no way for you to get into that without tools. Let’s try again tomorrow.” She shook her gently for emphasis. “At least you know it’s there. There’s someplace to look.”
“Assuming that’s even the well from the original homestead,” Emily pointed out in a practical tone. “It could be just a pile of rocks.”
Michelle looked at her with pure dislike before shaking off Lana’s hand and stomping away. Lana let out her breath, a frosty cloud in the night air as she stared after her, too surprised to move.
“Well,” Emily said after a moment. “I can’t say you don’t take me interesting places.”
Chapter Nineteen
Over a plate of snow crab, potatoes, and grilled vegetables, Emily watched Lana covertly. She was seated across from her in the booth, beside Michelle, who was sullenly eating her dinner rather than attacking it like she normally did. Emily didn’t know if she liked this aspect of Michelle, but unlike all the other demeanors she’d presented, this one felt honest, at least. They were in a restaurant located at the bottom of the lane leading to the rented cabins, a charming little establishment with checkered tablecloths, candles, and a nautical décor.
“So I talked to the clerk,” Emily said, forking up a generous chunk of crab and dipping it into the garlic butter. “We can rent some snowshoes. I have a crowbar in the trunk. Do you think we’ll need anything else?”
“There’s a stone in the well,” Michelle said. “And a passage in Father Beauséjour’s journal where he described carving a symbol on it, how it took him some time because the stone was made of granite and hard to work.”
“And the significance of this stone?”
“I don’t know,” Michelle admitted, with a flash of what might be anger in those emerald eyes. “But it was the only unusual action mentioned in his journals during his time in Cheticamp. Initially, I didn’t pay attention to it because I was so sure the cross was in Grand-Pré. Now we know he retrieved it and brought it here.”
“And hid it in a well?” Emily was skeptical.
“It’s possible,” Michelle said. “He had to hide his identity, not only as an ex-priest, but also as a French prince. Bastard or otherwise, it wouldn’t be good for someone living on British territory to have such strong ties to the French throne. After his death, his oldest son came all the way here from Louisiana to gather up all his papers and journals, which is why I found them at Tulane. They were passed down in his family before being donated to the university, where they moldered in their archives until I came across them.”
“And just exactly how and why did you come across them, again?” Emily asked pointedly.
Michelle shot her a baleful look. “I’m going back to the cabin,” she said flatly. “Don’t worry. I can walk from here.”
Emily was conscious of Lana’s stern expression as Michelle rose from the table, threw on her coat that had been hanging nearby, and stomped out of the restaurant. Leaving them, of course, with the bill.
“You don’t have to be so mean to her,” Lana said quietly.
Emily spread out her hands, stung. “I’m not being mean to her. I just want to get to the bottom of things,” she said. “Haven’t you noticed that she talks a lot but doesn’t really say anything and half of what she does say isn’t always true?”
“I do think she’s young for an associate professor,” Lana said.
“There! Right there!” Emily interrupted her, jumping all over the remark. “She told me she was an unemployed grad student, not a professor. And even if she is a student, I’m not sure she goes to Tulane. But you’re right. She is young, younger than she’s been presenting herself. I think there’s a whole lot more going on here than just finding some long-lost Acadian cross, Lana. That’s why I’m worried.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lana said, her tone gentling.
“I’m not worried about you,” Emily blurted. “I’m worried about her. I’m worried about what she’s hiding.”
“So you’re concerned that there isn’t a cross?”
“No, I think that part’s true,” Emily said. “She did pull that box out of the tree, after all. But this whole bit about Duperies and the two men? That’s murky as hell. That’s the part she’s covering up. And I don’t know why, if she has all this documentation, even if she did lift it from some shady character, she doesn’t just go to the authorities here in Nova Scotia. They’d be thrilled to find out where the church in Grand-Pré is really located and who Father Beauséjour really was. Probably thrilled enough to give her a job while they search for it with a lot more resources than we have.” She paused. “By the way, isn’t there a fort named Beauséjour?”
Lana blinked and reached into her purse, pulling out the book she’d bought in New Minas. Flipping to the back, she ran her finger down the index, found the page, and went to it.
“Fort Beauséjour was built by the French during Father Le Loutre’s War, which took place from 1751 to 1755,” Lana read aloud.
“Great, another Catholic priest getting mixed up in politics,” Emily said dryly. “A whole war named after him.”
Lana shot her a quelling glance before continuing. “It was also known as the Micmac War, and it was a religious war started when the British tried to settle Protestants in the region and establish military control over Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. Anyway, the fort is located in Aulac, New Brunswick and was named for the ridge it was built on. The British destroyed it, and according to this, it’s notable because it signaled the conclusion of hostilities between the two European superpowers of England and France and determined which empire would control Acadia and, ultimately, North America. The area was later known as Fort Cumberland and is a historic site today, but I don’t think it has anything to do with our Beauséjour.”
“No?” Emily poked at her potatoes. “You could be right. He may have just taken the name when he came to Canada from France. Especially if he was hiding from enemies of the French king. God knows what his real name was.”
“That’s possible,” Lana said and suddenly smiled. “I never thought I’d be sitting in Cheticamp discussing the history of Nova Scotia with you.”
“Especially since history wasn’t my best subject in school,” Emily admitted. “All of this is new to me. I guess I’m learning a lot, whether I want to or not.”
“It has been educational.” Lana took a bite of her scallops, chewing slowly before swallowing and fixing her gaze on Emily. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I am, too, even if it doesn’t sound like that sometimes,” Emily said. “There are worse ways to spend my weekend, and I have to admit, I might even be having a little fun.”
“I’m glad.” Lana peered at her from beneath her lashes. “What do you normally do for fun?”
Emily shrugged. “Nothing much. I read, of course. I like to run. I rock climb. I play tennis with my friend, Joanna. I play pickup women’s hockey at the rink.”
“What do you mean, you ‘read, of course’?”
“Well, I’ve read your stuff,” Emily said. “After I met you, it didn’t take long before I discovered you were an author.”
Lana shook her head. “I didn’t realize. You never told me.”
“Why would I?”
“It would have let me know you were probably playing for my team.”
“And that would have made a difference?”
Lana took a second to think about it. “Maybe not,” Pushing her plate a
side, she put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “So, it sounds like you’re very athletic.”
“I don’t know how athletic I am,” Emily said modestly. “I never said I do any of those things well.”
“Oh, I bet you do them all very well indeed,” Lana said, and it seemed her voice grew deeper.
Emily suddenly found it hard to swallow. “What about you?” she managed to say. “I know you haven’t found much joy in anything lately, but what do you like to do?”
“I fly-fish,” Lana said, her gaze smoky. “It’s very good for working out story ideas. The tranquillity of being on the water allows a lot of time to think. I also like to hike.” She paused. “And I ride.”
“Horses?” Emily was embarrassed that her voice sounded squeaky.
Lana let out a throaty laugh. “Yes, horses. Not women, though I’ve done plenty of that, too, in my bad old days.”
“I was actually thinking motorcycles, but okay,” Emily said, joining in her laughter. “Honestly, I’ve learned more about you in the past two days than I have in the past three years.”
Lana sobered a little. “And do you like what you’re learning?”
“Very much.” Emily tilted her head, and took a chance. “So, would you like to go for a drive?”
“Now?”
“Well, Michelle’s back at the cottage, and I’d like to spend a little more time with you,” Emily said honestly. “Alone.”
Lana reached for her purse. “I’ll get my coat.”
“And I’ll get the bill.”
This time of night, there weren’t very many places to go in Cheticamp for the sake of the view, but Emily did find a back road that led upward, stopping on a bluff overlooking the lights of the village. She left the car running for the heat and the radio, which was playing some of her favorite songs, slow and romantic.
“I can’t imagine what you intend, bringing me all the way up here,” Lana said dryly.
Emily took a long, slow breath. “I just wanted to kiss you, without threat of interruption.” She glanced over at her. “If that’s all right.”
Lana lifted a brow. “And if it isn’t?”
“Then I guess we’ll sit here, listen to music, and admire the view,” Emily said without hesitation.
“I see.” Lana’s crooked grin and the decided lilt in her voice made Emily’s stomach clench. How could she have ever thought the pale imitation she’d known the past three years was the woman sitting beside her? “And is this your type of music? Country?”
Emily shrugged, trying to keep it light. “I like classic rock, 70s, 80s, that sort of thing,” she admitted. “Current country hearkens back to that in a lot of ways. I don’t like rap or hip-hop at all.”
“Jazz?”
Emily tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t say it’s a favorite, but I’ll listen to it,” she said. She looked at her again. “I’m going to kiss you, now.”
“Could you stop with the threats and actually do it?”
That made Emily laugh, and she had to abort her motion toward Lana.
“Oh, please,” Lana said and leaned over, putting her hand on Emily’s cheek and pulled her head to her.
Her lips were amazing, soft and yielding, tasting of scallops and beer, and Emily thought if she could survive the sheer heaven of it, she could survive anything. She kissed her back, lips parting to allow access to her tongue, allowing the kiss to deepen as she slipped her arms around Lana, hugging her close. The feeling of her lush body against her own nearly made her weep. It was all she could have expected and nothing at all like she’d dreamed, just so much better.
She only drew back when she felt Lana’s hand worm its way beneath her jacket and fasten on her breast through her shirt. “Uh, not in a car,” she said softly. “It should be someplace better. Our first time, I mean.”
“Ah, a romantic,” Lana murmured as she removed her hand, though she kept her lips mere millimeters away from Emily, her breath warm and flowing over her lips. “I just knew you would be. So what? We make out like a couple of kids before going back to the cabin with the female equivalent of blue balls? Go to sleep in separate beds just because Michelle is there?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Emily told her. “There’s something to be said for anticipating the moment.” She paused, sobering as she drew back even more. “I’m not in this for a quickie, Lana, or a one-night stand. You mean too much to me. And no, I don’t want someone else hanging around when the time comes, especially the Devereaux woman.”
Lana nodded. “All right, that’s fair.” She drew her fingers lightly down Emily’s cheek, her thumb moving gently over her lip as she gazed at her, her eyes limpid, dark pools in the dim illumination of the dashboard lights. “You really do know how to turn a girl’s head, Constable Stone.”
“I just want you to know where I stand,” Emily said, scared but also aware that if there was to be anything between them, she had to be honest from the beginning. The sensation of Lana’s thumb tracing a delicate pattern over her bottom lip made her close her eyes, trembling from the sheer power of her touch.
Lana leaned closer and replaced her thumb with her mouth, kissing Emily and nibbling at her lip before kissing her again. “Okay, for you, I’ll try to remember what it’s like to make out.”
She sighed. “With my clothes on.”
Chapter Twenty
Lana shifted uncomfortably in her seat as they drove back to the cabins, feeling the moisture at the juncture of her legs and knowing her panties were soaked through. It was insane how turned on she was, not just from kissing Emily, but by the restraint she was expected to display. It occurred to Lana that perhaps Emily wasn’t as much pursuing her as she was skillfully playing her like a trout on a line, letting her think she was swimming free even as she was well and truly hooked, all the while being pulled ever closer to the ensnaring net.
She rested her fingers against her lips, her heart thudding pleasantly, though when she glanced over at Emily and saw that small smile playing about her lips, she wanted to smack her. Or tear her clothes off and have her right there in the driver’s seat. She imagined what Emily would be like in bed, what her body would look like, how she would taste and respond to her touch.
That only made things worse, of course, and she squirmed a bit as the desire raked through her lower belly like a dagger. Her nipples were painfully sensitive against the cups of her bra, and she felt as if she might orgasm just from the motion of the car pulling into the parking lot.
When they were parked and the engine was turned off, before Emily could unfasten her seat belt, Lana seized her head, holding it in place as she kissed her until they were both breathless. She was damned if she was the only one going to bed tonight unsatisfied.
She was the first one out of the car and Emily followed her, walking somewhat unsteadily as they went into the cabin. It was dark, the only light coming from the glass door of the stove from the flickering fire. Emily snapped on the overhead light, chasing away the romantic dimness with a flood of harsh brilliance. Lana blinked as she went to check on Michelle, worried she might have actually ditched them.
But Michelle was there and had taken the room with the double bed, leaving the other with the two single beds for them. Lana growled deep in her throat, swallowed it back, and turned back to look at Emily, forcing a pleasant expression. “Do you want the bathroom first?”
Emily smiled. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I want to take a shower.” Lana bared her teeth at her. “A cold one.”
Looking far too smug for her own good, Emily retrieved her toothbrush and T-shirt from the bag and disappeared behind the door of the lavatory located between the two small bedrooms. Lana went over to the stove, added some wood, and stoked it for the night. She remained there, watching the flames rippling over the wood and wondering how she could feel so aroused, amused, and annoyed all at the same time.
“Hey.” Emily poked her head o
ut of the small hallway leading to the bedrooms. “It’s all yours.” She offered a slightly lascivious smile. “Good night, Lana.”
“Good night, Emily,” Lana said with clenched jaw.
After retrieving her own toothbrush and nightclothes from her duffle bag, Lana went in the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her and locking it for good measure. She undressed and turned on the shower, making it hot rather than cold. As the water cascaded over her, she used the motel soap to lather herself, hands roaming over her body, imagining it was Emily’s touch on her rather than her own.
“Damn her,” she muttered quietly, rubbing her fingertips over her nipples, squeezing them harder than a lover might, and then she reached between her legs. There was no way she would be able to lie in that single bed a few feet away from Emily feeling like this. She needed a release of some kind, even if it might not be as satisfying as it would have had she some company in the shower with her.
It briefly occurred to her that Michelle would readily welcome her into the double bed, but that would be such a terrible idea all around, Lana entertained it only for the sake of the fantasy. The thought of two beautiful women sharing the cabin with her, neither of which she could touch the way she wanted, gave Lana’s self-stimulation a piquant edge that masturbation usually couldn’t provide.
As she caressed her breasts roughly with her left hand, she imagined Michelle standing in front of her, touching and kissing her. As her fingers dipped and fondled and rubbed against her clit, she imagined that Emily was standing behind her, soft curves pressed against her back, her strong arm wrapped around her, her firm hand granting such skilled delight.
Lana cried out when she came, a sort of helpless groan that ripped from her throat and one she dearly hoped that the sound of the shower and the thickness of the walls obscured. Her knees buckled, and without the steadfast support of the tub surround, she’d have fallen down.
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