CultOfTheBlackVirgin (7 page)

She seemed to be popular this evening. Almost everyone wanted to talk to her, and she was happy to comply. She loosened up enough to enjoy them all—except Iris.

Again, Iris was seated to her right, and again Jo tried to engage the English bulldog in conversation.

“Have you been to this part of France before?” Jo inquired politely.

“No.”

“What made you choose this particular trip?”

Iris just shrugged, avoiding her eyes.

“I managed to book at the last minute and I’m so glad I did, because I just love it here,” Jo offered as she looked around the property. “And everyone’s so
friendly
,” she added with just the slightest trace of sarcasm.

Jo wondered why this strange woman was obstinately sealed oyster-tight, unwilling to soften to any attempt at camaraderie on the part of a friendly American tourist.

Many of the English she’d met over the years seemed aloof, disinterested in her as a foreigner. But Iris was by far the most difficult she had ever run into. Her character exuded an element of obvious unfriendliness.

All Jo knew about her was that she was an engineer at an electronics company. Large, thirty-something and slow moving, Iris seemed non-communicative in general, and was the only one of the group who had been routinely walking with earbuds stuck into her head, effectively shutting out conversation.

Jo suspected that Iris hated her on principle—she was younger, livelier, prettier, with a much better figure. And, Jo was, above—or beneath—all, an American.

But Iris’s rebuff couldn’t dampen Jo’s spirits for long. A second glass of wine began to go down as easily as the first, and a surge of pure joy moved through her tired body.

Here I am,
in this most beautifully scenic corner of France, with these witty and charming fellow travelers, the woman seated to my right an obvious exception, soon to enjoy a fine meal after a lovely day. And tomorrow we’re going to explore caves before walking through more beautiful countryside—what could be better?

Oh, yes. Something even better could be added to this marvelous list of marvelous things to see and do, and eat and drink, and these marvelous, beautiful people. All I have to do is turn my head fifteen or twenty degrees to the left to see the best thing I’ve seen in my entire life. There he is!

Oh my God
,
could I really be getting looped on only one and a half glasses of wine?

She stared at Luc. He was deep in conversation with Ron and Edward, but he picked up her look and held it. She smiled, genuinely, joyfully, directly at him, for no good reason. He paused in mid-sentence and gave her the sweetest of smiles in return before turning his attention back to the men. She felt a familiar little flutter in her stomach, the one that told her she was indeed, and with great pleasure, going into a dangerous place. A vain, silly, happy woman, she was thrilled. So she drained her glass and poured herself another.

Had anyone seen that?

No one, unless he was unconscious, could miss the electricity flowing between Luc and herself—she was sure. But as she looked around the table, she saw that everyone was intent on other things. True, Peter was occasionally looking down her cleavage, but what the hell, who could blame him? She knew she looked good, and her cleavage looked particularly good tonight.

Marcie and Carol were showing each other photos of their children. The Arnolds, heads bent together over a book, were reading up on the caves they would be exploring the next day. Glenda and Sarah were talking exercise. Pilates or aerobics—which was best? And Peter, when he wasn’t looking at Jo’s breasts, was telling her about the best varieties of grape for the Western Washington climate. Iris, straining towards Luc, was hanging on to every word of his conversation with Ron and Edward. Duncan had left the table and was standing at the bar, talking to the bartender in a halting French with a Scottish accent.

Jo drank deeply and smiled to herself.
Good—everyone’s too busy to notice I’ve gone into heat like a common alley cat.

Except Luc. He knows.

* * * *

Luc knew, alright. The moment he looked down the table and saw Joanna smiling at him, looking at him with those beautiful shining eyes, he knew there was no way out of this.

He’d been talking to Ron and Edward. “I haven’t done this walk for awhile,” he was explaining. “I’m the company’s mountain guide, normally. I prefer the challenging tours, packing in all our gear and sleeping rough.

“But the guide you were supposed to get is sick, so here I am.”

“Babysitting us softies, eh?” Joked Ron.

“
Non, non.
It’s not going to be that bad, is it”? Luc laughed and took a large drink of his
pastis.

That
was when he chanced to look at Jo. She was staring at him, her lips parted in a way that gave him an instant hard on. Then she smiled that joyous smile of hers, as if she knew the effect she was having on his body. And his cock told him that it was right and good that he wasn’t halfway up Mount Blanc, or driving to Carcassonne with Simone. It was right and good that he was exactly where he was.

* * * *

After drinks, dinner was served on the same outdoor patio. Like the night before, the meal was very good, with local specialties accompanied by red and white wines of the region. But different from the night before, Jo was now happy and confident. The full day’s walk and several glasses of wine made her feel hungry, and she relished every mouthful. She ate everything on her plate, all three courses, without her stomach twisting itself in knots.

As the evening skies turned from mauve and pink to a reddish glow, and then, finally, to darkness, patio lanterns, strung from branch to branch in the tall trees overtop the tables, began to glimmer. The festive lighting complemented the light of the bright stars, and Jo wondered if her eyes were sparkling too. She was very happy.

Luc was sitting at the opposite end of the table, so Jo couldn’t talk to him during the meal. But she could see him, she could hear him, and the very fact of his existence at this time and place caused so much joy and excitement to pulse through her that she positively beamed. Each time she met his eyes with a smile, he smiled back with such pleasure on his face that she wanted to laugh out loud. She ceased to care if people saw him smiling too much at her, or if she was seen smiling too hard in his direction. Everyone was smiling at everyone else, for everyone was tired and had had too much wine to drink.

Like the night before, she thought about what it would feel like to climb onto Luc’s lap. To wrap her arms and legs around his big, hard body. To press her most intimate parts into every square inch of him. And to feel his excitement in return.

Everyone but Luc was unaccustomed to walking all day, and that meant fatigue set in early. Despite her adrenalin high, Jo wasn’t immune to it either, and by eleven she was happy to go upstairs to bed.

It was a perfect day,
she thought, as she drifted off.

How could tomorrow possibly top this?

Chapter Three

Jo woke to birdsong and sunlight streaming through open balcony doors that overlooked acres of hay fields. The air was moist with the scent of growing things. She stretched her stiff body, taking pleasure in the pull of well-used walking muscles.

She was elated at the prospects of the day. Touring caves once the home of ancient tribes, with Luc. Walking through gloriously picturesque landscapes, with Luc. Eating fabulous crusty bread, rich creamy cheeses, and obscenely succulent
fois gras
, with Luc. Drinking scalding dark coffee and fragrant heady local wines, with Luc and Sarah, and Duncan, and the Evans, and all the rest, of course.

From her bed she could see the impressive
château
of
Belcastel
reflecting the clear morning light as it stood guard over the river far below. Yesterday she’d made several sketches of the view from her windows. It was so lovely, everything infused with a golden glow that defied her best attempts with both camera and pencil.

She sighed and stretched again.
What a beautiful part of the world. I’m so glad I decided to come here.

Racing to get ready for the day, she was surprised to find she was the first down to breakfast. As a flirtatious waiter served her coffee, the rest of the group trickled in. Luc came in last, wearing damp jogging clothes. It seemed that walking all day wasn’t activity enough for him so he went for a run early in the morning. Jo was impressed.

He sat down beside her, which pleased her—which excited her—because of the closeness of his body and the promise of its animal smell of fresh sweat. She wanted to smell the man who had already captured her eyes and ears.

Refreshed and alert and still confident she could play this flirting game without penalty, now she untied her tongue enough to talk to him. No one else seemed to have much to say. The group was much more subdued than it had been the night before. Jo suspected that Ron was severely hung over. Even the Stewarts were quiet, for a change.

So, trying to avoid staring at the damp patches on his t-shirt, over croissants and coffee she asked Luc all kinds of questions about the caves they’d be touring that morning.

“How big is this cave?” she asked, and watched his face carefully as he answered her, no longer afraid of the power in his dark blue gaze.

“Well, it’s really not a single cave, but a series of twelve or so. We’ll walk through a mile of galleries.”

“How deep is it? Who discovered it? Are there any paintings inside?”

Her questions kept coming. They gave her a legitimate reason to look into his eyes and watch his luscious mouth form the words, watch his eyebrows arch and relax and arch again as he described the details. After all, wasn’t he somewhat of an authority? Let the Arnolds get their information from a stupid book—she was getting a private briefing from the guide.

No one could know that she heard barely a word he said.

After he’d dutifully and thoroughly answered her questions, he said, with a light in his eyes, “So many questions, Joanna. But let me tell you this. The commercial caves we’re visiting today are merely that—a business catering to tourists. The best caves, the most archaeologically important caves, are, of course,
Lascaux
and dozens of others in this area.
Lascaux
isn’t open to the public, but other caves are worth a visit. If you’re interested in seeing them, I’ve arranged something.”

“Oh? When?” She asked coyly.
What does he have in mind?

“Tomorrow afternoon, when we have some free time, I’ve offered to take a small group into the closest of these caves. My friend Armand will lead us. He’s a local expert. Would you like to join us?” he asked, with a look on his face that she couldn’t read. It seemed purely professional, but she wanted it to be more.

“Well, maybe. I’ve never been inside a cave before. I’ll see how I enjoy the
tourist
cave before I commit. Is that all right with you?”

“Whatever you wish,
madam,
” he answered with an inquiring look in an equally coy tone. “Whatever you wish. Let me know what you decide. I’m at your service.”

His smile set off the now familiar quivering in her belly, but she quelled it, returned his smile tenfold, and then smiled at the friendly waiter as he set a plate of perfectly poached eggs in front of her.

Others at the table might have been a little quiet, but Jo felt wonderful, and found herself smiling at everyone, and at everything they said. Especially at Luc. She smiled and nodded and laughed, and she didn’t care if she looked and sounded like a fool. No one seemed to be paying much attention to her, or to anyone else, she thought, as they nursed their coffee.

* * * *

Glenda was paying attention, however. She made a mental note to tell her husband about the surprising change in Jo’s behavior to Luc. She’d transformed herself from almost rude yesterday to coquettish schoolgirl this morning. How odd.

Maybe Edward was right, she thought. It had taken Joanna a few days to relax and feel comfortable in her new surroundings.

Glenda saw that Iris, too, was well aware of Joanna’s flirtatious manner. The sullen young woman was listening to the banter between Luc and Jo, a look of disgust animating her blank features.

Glenda felt sorry for her, guessing that she wouldn’t look so unattractive if she’d only smile once in awhile.

* * * *

Luc was more than paying attention to Joanna’s behavior. When he caught her asking the same question a second time, he arched an eyebrow quizzically and gave her a little half smile that cause her to laugh with flustered joy. Her response was contagious—while he laughed he felt his body respond so strongly he couldn’t stand up for fear of his track pants giving everything away.

* * * *

As Luc laughed with her, Jo looked at his wet lips and his strong white teeth—one of them a little crooked and crossed over the other in a most charming way—and she saw the light in his eyes growing brighter.