CultOfTheBlackVirgin (33 page)

Of course, she then burst into tears.

She didn’t know what she felt most—humiliation or thrill—at what had just happened. Her pride was crushed, her insides felt smashed, her hand hurt like hell, but the rest of her was glowing. And, at the same time as feeling amazed and humbled at the power unleashed within her own body, she was furious. Furious at his manipulation, his exploitation of her needs.

“You bastard! You fucking son-of-a-bitch
bastard
!” she sobbed. “How can you be so fucking unfair? That was
so
unfair. It was cruel.”

As she rolled herself into a ball and cried, he kneeled over her in silence, collecting his clothes.

She kept up her sobbing.

Then he spoke, icily. “What is unfair, what is truly cruel, is what I am going to do to Simone and my son. I am going to go back to Cahors tonight, and tell a woman who loves me the truth. I’ll tell her I’m in love with an American woman. Her heart will break, and she’ll likely hate me. Then, there’s my son. He’ll notice the missing ring. I’ll have to tell him the truth about the divorce, and I don’t want to.”

He finished dressing himself as Jo sniveled, curled in a fetal position.

How could this be happening to me?
I always thought I was my own person, but now I’ve become Luc’s woman. Not James’. Not my own. But Luc’s.

There was an irony here somewhere, she knew. But it didn’t bear thinking about just now.

Eventually, she stopped crying, uncurled herself and shook out her wrinkled skirt. Luc watched her silently, carefully, handing her the bra and panties she’d flung onto the grass. Fresh blood smeared her thighs.

“Why are you bleeding? Did I do that to you?”

Jo noticed with satisfaction the contrition in his voice.

“No. No. I just didn’t expect my period to start so soon, that’s all. I’m fine.” She sighed as she felt the familiar dull ache of cramps adding to her misery.

She went to her purse, took out a bottle of water, and drank half of it down without stopping. She offered the rest to Luc, then limped off behind the trees to pee, and try to clean herself with the few tissues she found. She looked a mess, she knew, and so did he.

There was a small cut on his temple, probably from her ring. It was bleeding a little. His clothing and hair were as rumpled as hers.

Then she looked with horror at her white top. There was a large grass stain on the front, complemented by a swipe of blood. She groaned as she pulled it over her head. How was she going to get back into her shared room without being seen?

Her hair was all over the place, and she couldn’t find her barrette. Of course her eyes and face were red and puffy from crying. She no longer felt sexy. She felt guilty. Covered in sweat and blood and come, she felt dirty. Poisonous.

“Oh, look at us—we’re both bleeding and I’m a mess. We’re going to look so guilty when we get back into town.” She managed a little laugh. But she felt like breaking into tears again.

She knew she’d have to tell her roommates and the others the truth—and it would have to be today. There was no other option. She was Luc’s woman now. The lies had to come to an end.

Once she was cleaned up, Luc gently wrapped her in his arms, and she began to feel a little better. It was somehow right to be surrounded by his strength. At that thought, she felt a calmness overtake her. Maybe it
was
more than lust. Maybe she
did
love this man. Perhaps he really did love her. Or, more realistically, perhaps they would come to love each other. And would be able to make a go of being together. A flicker of optimism worked its way through her pain.

They lay down together, entwined on the blanket. Speaking only a few words, kissing each other tenderly and sweetly, breathing in each other’s breath, they enjoyed the heady sensations of their nearness to one another, until the slant of the light told them it was time to be heading back to the others, and the difficult next few days.

On the drive back to the
gîte
, they both became practical, discussing what to do next.

“We’ll get a room in another hotel. Then we can spend the next two nights together and help each other through this while I finish up the tour.”

“Okay. Fine.”

Whatever he wants.

He was right, Jo knew, because tomorrow would be a problem. There was the matter of another group walk of about eight miles back to Souillac. Then there was the much-anticipated farewell dinner.

She said, “Yes, a hotel room will be a life-saver. I can’t be with those people any longer. It would be too weird and awful. No one can pretend nothing’s happened, especially not at the last dinner.”

He agreed. “I’ll get us a room, first. Then I’ll go home and pack some bags and visit with my son. And pick up my own car. I can join you later tonight.”

“Yes.” She spoke numbly, trusting he would make the best decisions for both of them. “I don’t want to see anyone else. I just want to sleep.”

“You can sleep for as long as you like while I finish off the tour tomorrow. Then, as soon as I put the group on the train on Monday morning, we’ll leave for Nice.”

Her head was aching. She didn’t know what to say, so she merely nodded.

She looked at him, hair wild, driving too fast, talking too fast as he plotted the course of the rest of her life. He was astoundingly attractive to her. She realized she really would do anything he asked.

And she also realized, with surprise, that with him she had come full circle. In so many ways he was just like the dangerous, exciting and unpredictable men she’d loved before she met James.

Now she saw what a mistake she’d made, foolishly thinking that she’d grown up and was ready for a grown-up marriage! What a fool she was! What a complete fool! Yes—it was true that the leopard never changed its spots. She didn’t feel fully alive unless she was in danger of being hurt. Unless there was an enormous risk. And certainly this was the biggest risk she’d faced in her life.

She wasn’t amused by this new knowledge. Merely exhausted. Fed up with herself.

Aren’t I getting too old for this sort of thing, for Christ’s sake?

Heaving a sigh, she looked again at her French lover. If she weren’t so sore and exhausted and bloody, she would have wanted to make love again.

Clearly, he’d awakened something in her. Something primal and beyond the niceties of her relationship with James, beyond manners and morals, and everything she valued back home. Her stomach fluttered as she thought of what they’d just done. It was true—she was in pain from the sheer physical stresses placed on her body, but she still wanted him. Already.

Although her cramps were growing in intensity, she thought about what it would feel like to fuck him again while she was bleeding. He probably wouldn’t be put off by a little menstrual blood, like so many men were. She wanted to fuck him until they were both slimy with her blood. She wanted to ruin some pristine white bed sheets in a hotel room somewhere.

Later. You’ll have plenty of time for that later.

Right now she had to gather her things and move. One look at her and even the least astute members of the group would know everything anyway. She could hardly wait to get away from them. Let them all go on their merry way without her to gossip about.

All of a sudden, fatigue overcame her. Her head was throbbing. She leaned it against the passenger window of the van as they drove the last few miles to the town center.

Luc parked near the
gîte,
and cut the motor. “There’s a hotel over on the corner of the next street. I’m going to check us in as a couple. Wait here.”

She was too exhausted to do more than nod and give him a small smile.

“Yes. Whatever you think best.” Again, she marveled at how effortlessly she was able to hand herself over to this man, a virtual stranger.

He leaned over to kiss her briefly before he slipped out of the van. “I think you might want to comb your hair before you get out,” he said in a teasing voice.

Appreciating his attempt to lighten their mood, she smiled. But nothing could relieve the anxiety she felt at the thought of seeing Sarah and Iris as she packed her bags. And then she had to cancel her flight. Call her boss.

And, worst of all, she had to tell James she wasn’t coming home just yet…

But for the moment she sat still, pounding head resting on the back of the seat, eyes closed, willing herself to feel nothing. Although the worst was ahead of her, a numbing calmness slowly settled over her, pushing the dread aside. It was as if she had conceded the constant battle that she’d been waging inside herself for a week now.

Luc is the victor, and I’ve both lost and won something dear
.

Then, she found a comb in her bag and as she rhythmically began to tug it through her tangled hair she managed to empty her mind completely for a short while.

Ten minutes later, Luc climbed back into the driver’s seat with an athlete’s grace. His face was serious. “It’s done—we have a room.” He handed her a small envelope containing a key. “You can move your things there any time. I probably won’t be back until late. But I will be back, I promise.”

She nodded silently.

“I’m going to go now. First I have to find Marc so he can drive the van back for me tonight. Once I find him, I’ll leave right away.”

She nodded again.

Before she opened her door, he leaned over and kissed her again, not caring if they were seen. The damage had already been done.

“Here’s my cell phone number. Call if you need me. I’ll see you very soon.”

She took the card he held out, nodded again and climbed awkwardly out of the van, aching and completely spent. Then she just stood there on the stone curb, watching him drive away, astounded at what she was about to do. Finally, she steeled herself, pressed her purse tightly across her chest to cover the stains on her shirt, and crossed the street to the
gîte.

Luc’s kiss still warm on her lips, she held her throbbing head high as she walked through the door and across the lobby to the stairs. Happy Hour was in full swing, and every single member of the group saw her as she strode past the bar, still wearing Luc’s bandana around her neck, and resolutely climbed the staircase.

And then everyone watched James as he got up silently from his seat at the bar and followed her up the stairs.

Jo was rooting through her suitcase when she heard someone enter the room. She turned, assuming it was one of her nosey roommates, but then let out a little cry as she saw James standing in the doorway. Her body froze.

“James! You’re here,” she said stupidly, uncomprehending.

His eyes widened as he took in the details of her appearance. She’d been right—one look at her and he knew exactly what she’d been up to.

“Joanna?” he managed to croak out. “Joanna—what does this mean?”

Exhaustion and fear had beaten her, and as she looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. They ran down her red face and dropped onto her filthy shirt. She placed her hands over her face and turned away.

Summoning some sort of power, she forced herself to turn around and look at the man she once thought she would be with for the rest of her life. She uncovered her face and walked over to her bed, dropping onto it heavily.

Then, looking into his astonished eyes through her tears, she told him.

“James, I’m so sorry, but it’s bad. Very bad. I’m in l-l-love with another man. A Frenchman. I’m n-n-not coming home. That’s it.” She was sobbing so hard she could barely get the words out. “I’m s-s-sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t want it. But there it is.”

James’ first reaction was one of anger. “Are you out of your mind? Are you crazy? You look awful. What’s happened to you?” And then, in a lower voice, “Did he hurt you?” He was standing close to her but made no move to touch her.

He had to think someone had taken advantage of her. Seduced her and forced her to agree to run off with him. Her face blotchy and swollen, clothes wrinkled and dirty, bloody even, and that ridiculous red bandana—all this would convince anyone that his sweetheart was a victim of some sort.

“If he hurt you I’ll fucking well kill him! Where is he?” His voice grew high-pitched and very loud. She winced. James had never spoken to her like this before.

She had to set him straight. This was not a time for more lies. “He’s gone. Home. Making preparations. We’ll meet again tonight and after the tour we’ll go away together.”

The expression on James’ face told her he didn’t believe a word she said. So she steadied her voice enough to tell him carefully, slowly, over and over, that she had fallen in love with a man named Lucien. Deeply, unwillingly, and regretfully. She
had
to go to him. That much was clear. And she
would
go, of her own free will. It was not negotiable, she said firmly.

James would accept none of it. He accused her of being drunk. Of being a victim of Luc’s brutality. Of being ridiculous. Stupid, even. She heard him trying to keep his voice steady and quiet as she fingered the bandana around her neck. It was still damp with her sweat, and she worried the knot with her fingers instead of rubbing the stone in her ring.