Savage Nature (16 page)

“Where are your brothers?” Pauline asked. “I bet they weren’t home.”

Saria laughed. “It wouldn’t have mattered if they had been. I do what I want. Remy has some big case he’s workin’ on. I think Mahieu is smitten with your niece, Charisse—he’s been courtin’ her recently—and the rest left to go give a hand on the river.”

Pauline looked pleased. “I would like that match, although Charisse seems a little frivolous for a man like Mahieu. I love her and she’s very intelligent, but she’s a little . . .” She trailed off and then laughed. “Kooky.”

“Bossy,” Saria said at the same time. She laughed too. “Don’ worry, Miss Pauline, Mahieu is bossy too. They might make a terrific match. Besides, she’s a genius, isn’t she? No one makes perfume, the exact right blend, like she does.”

Pauline beamed at her. “She does have a gift, doesn’t she?”

Exact blends of perfumes didn’t interest Drake at all, but Saria’s penchant for traipsing around in the swamp alone was of paramount interest. “So your brothers just left you alone?” Drake couldn’t get over the fact that she had five brothers and none of them were looking out for her. “And you went out into the swamp to take pictures.”

“Well, Lojos might have been around, but I didn’t see him,” Saria said, obviously unconcerned. “And they aren’t just
any
pictures.”

Drake had the urge to reach across the table and shake Saria. She didn’t understand how much danger she was in with a leopard killing people. The killer was most likely watching her every movement. “You put yourself at risk for
pictures
?”

The marks on her back meant a male leopard was already staking a claim—a male she wasn’t interested in. Saria wasn’t the type of woman to lead a man on and she was definitely attracted to Drake. He wasn’t misreading signals. Her brothers should have been protecting her. They had to know she was close to the Han Vol Dan, yet none of them were guarding her and they just allowed her to run around at night alone where anything could happen to her. He was beginning to form a very low opinion of her brothers.

“I attended this lecture once, a woman who photographs the swamps and gets paid for it. I showed her some of my photographs and she gave me a couple of connections, places to sell my photographs.” Saria lifted her chin and gave him a look that basically said he could go to hell if he didn’t like it.

He studied her stubborn chin. Yeah. That chin was going to be a problem in the coming years. She lifted it just so and his heart melted. The woman was going to get just about anything she wanted from him if he was ever stupid enough to let her know how much she affected him. He was going to have to work very hard to keep a balance between her wild spirit and his need to protect her.

Saria ignored him and leaned toward Pauline. “When I contacted them, they both said they would pay for my photographs. I’ve made quite a bit of money. A lot is ridin’ on these photographs and I want to get them just right. One of the places wants a year-round pictorial of the swamp and if I can get it the way they want, it means a lot of money for me. I won’ have to hunt gators.”

Drake groaned and put his head on the table. The thought of her hunting alligators was beyond his imagination. What the hell was wrong with the men in her family?

“Can I see the pictures you took last night?” Pauline asked.

The innkeeper was smooth, Drake decided. He sat up straight and speared another rice cake, looking casual, not letting on that he was considering shaking Saria and accusing the innkeeper of being a blatant liar. Pauline hadn’t missed a beat, but she wanted to know if Saria had been taking pictures in the swamp during the leopard fight. He would bet everything he had that Pauline would insist on seeing the photographs and she’d take care to examine the time stamp.

Saria looked pleased. “Really? My brothers never want to see them. I wait for hours to get the right shot and when I do I’m so excited, but it’s kind of a letdown with no one wantin’ to see them. If you mean it, I’ll show them to you when we get back this evenin’.”

“I’d love to see them too,” Drake said. “Since you grew up on the edge of the swamp, you probably have seen some very unusual things others have never had the privilege of seeing.” He leaned toward her. “You’re a very fascinating woman, Saria. How did you get into photography?”

The warm admiration in his voice caused Saria to blush and Pauline to look at him again with open speculation, but he didn’t care. Everything about Saria fascinated him and he wanted to know more. The fact was, he was feeling very possessive of her and he didn’t much care who knew, not when she was managing to be so blasé.

Saria sent him another mischievous smile. “I wasn’t exactly the type of child who loved school. I wasn’t used to anyone tellin’ me what to do and on beautiful days, I wanted to be in the swamp, not in a stuffy school room. Photography was the only thing that kept me there.”

“You were a wild childthe,” Pauline confirmed. “No one knew what to do with you. Your
pere
paid no attention to business after your
mere
died. We all despaired of you comin’ to your senses.”

Saria laughed. “You know what she means by that, don’ you, Drake? Every good Cajun girl should get married and have babies. Lots of babies. And they should cook and clean and do whatever their man tells them.”

“What else do you want, Saria?” Pauline asked, genuinely confused. “Gettin’ married is a good thing. Your
pere
definitely needed to talk some sense to you.”

“Too late now,” Saria said with a strained smile. “He didn’t have anything to say before he died and he sure doesn’t now.”

Drake glanced at her. Her lashes were lowered, veiling her eyes. Her tone had been even enough, but there had definitely been an estrangement between Saria and her father.

“He should have tanned your hide every now and then,” Pauline stated.

Saria smirked, her good humor instantly restored. “I wouldn’ cook for him if he’d done that and he liked to eat every once in a while.”

“She was tendin’ bar when she was thirteen,” Pauline sniffed. “And runnin’ the family store. It wasn’ right.”

“So you all told me—and
mon pere.
” Saria’s laughter spilled out. “Not that it did you much good. Even Father Gallagher was upset about the bar.”

“Thirteen.”
Drake was shocked. “How is that possible? There must be a drinking age.”

“Of course, there is,” Pauline said. “The bar is out in the swamp. No tourists or police.”

“I thought you had brothers.” Drake was outraged on Saria’s behalf. He couldn’t imagine a young girl surrounded by drunk men. Her absent brothers had a lot to answer for. He might just teach them a lesson himself.

Saria shrugged. “They were gone most of the time. And I grew up around the various men who were regulars at the bar. They looked out for me.”

Pauline gave a dramatic sniff. “No one looked out for you. You didn’ like somethin’ you just disappeared into the swamp and no one could get you out.”

Drake raised his eyebrow. The accents were getting thicker as the women grew more animated. “You really were a wild child.”

“I didn’t like anyone tellin’ me what to do.” Saria made it a statement of fact, without apology.

“Oh, she worked, that one did,” Pauline said. “She did all the cookin’ and cleanin’ in that house. She was a little thing, barely able to stand up to the stove.”

“I used a stool,” Saria explained.

Pauline gave another sniff. “And she did the fishin’ and trappin’ as well.”

“You make it sound terrible, Pauline. I
loved
my life. It was my house and my swamp, my world. And it still is.”

“See?” Pauline appealed to Drake. “She’s always been like this. It never mattered what anyone said to her, she did what she wanted. We all got together to try to talk to her
pere,
but he wouldn’t listen. Told us to mind our own business.”

Saria blew her a kiss. “I appreciated it.”

“Is that why every single one of the women who tried to intervene ended up with a baby alligator after they interceded on your behalf?” Pauline demanded. “She snuck into their homes and left them all a present—a very pointed present. I received one as well.”

Saria threw back her head and laughed. Drake had the sudden vision of a precocious child with gleaming white-gold hair, mischievous and running wild. He found her more fascinating than ever. His Saria had to have a backbone of steel if she was standing up to an entire community at such an early age.

“Did you really sneak into houses . . .”

“
Eight
houses,” Pauline pointed out. “All in one night and no one caught her.”

Drake shook his head, unable to keep from laughing. “You broke into eight homes and left each one a baby alligator?”

Pauline nodded, beginning to laugh at the memory. “She’s very inventive, this one. She tied a bow around the necks of the alligators with a little rolled-up note, like a scroll, and left one in each bathroom, either in the tub or shower. All women of the church and very proper.”

“I’ll bet that went over well.”

“Mind you,” Pauline added, “these were town women. They lived on the river, but they weren’t like those of us in the swamp. Can you imagine the ruckus those ladies made findin’ gators in their fancy bathrooms? I think everyone heard the screams up and down the Mississippi.”

Saria burst out laughing again and Pauline, shaking her head, joined with her.

“What did the note say?” Drake asked.

“Wait, I still have mine,” Pauline jumped up so fast the chair wavered for a moment.

Drake steadied the chair while Pauline left the room to retrieve the note.

“Remind me not to get you upset with me,” Drake whispered. “You believe in revenge.”

“Good thing to know about me,” Saria said. “I don’ like people pushin’ me into anything, even
ma famille.
I had to be an adult and no one was goin’ to come into my home and tell me what I could or couldn’t do.”

“We were tryin’ to give you a childhood,” Pauline pointed out as she plunked the note down on the table in front of Drake.

“I know that now, Miss Pauline,” Saria said. “That’s why I said I appreciated the intervention. Later, when my temper cooled, I sorted it out and realized it was done because you all cared. I left an apology at each house a few weeks later.”

Drake glanced down at the note expecting to see a childish, angry scrawl. He was shocked that the note was done in calligraphy. He looked up and met Pauline’s eyes.

“Do you see why I kept it? That note was such a work of art. She gave us all a baby to take care of because we had too much time on our hands and she didn’t need our concern. She said to pour our lonely feelings out to the new baby.” Pauline ped herself another cup of coffee and took a beignet. “Of course it was a baby alligator, but so clever to think of it.”

“And what did you do for an apology?” Drake asked, more fascinated than ever. Clearly there was quite a lot to learn of Saria and he wanted to know everything.

“I baked them a rare Cajun bread, a recipe that’s been in
ma famille
for years. I wrapped each loaf up with a beautiful tissue paper my mom had kept for years in case something important came up and I snuck into their houses and left it on their tables. That was much easier than putting the alligators in the bathrooms.”

Pauline beamed at her. It was obvious they had great affection for one another. Drake could understand why. Pauline had no children and Saria had no parents. Naturally they would gravitate toward one another.

“You have to remember, I had a lot of time on my hands to do anything I wanted, so the subjects that interested me, like cookin’ and art and photography, I spent a great deal of time on. Things I didn’ like . . .” She trailed off with a rueful shrug.

“Saria has hunted alligators during the season by herself. Most of the men won’t do that,” Pauline added a little slyly.

Drake knew the woman was baiting him. She had thrown that out to test his reaction. He forced down the first explosive reaction and took a quieting sip of coffee. “Why? Do you have a death wish?”

Saria shrugged. “When I was really young, I went out with
mon pere.
Everyone does it when they need money. You get so many tags and they buy them by the size. I happen to be a good shot and you don’ have a big target on an alligator. It’s about the size of a quarter. The gator is usually rollin’ and fightin’ and you have to have good reflexes.
Mon pere
took me when my brothers were in the service or workin’ on the river. When he got sick and couldn’t go out, there was no one else.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I rigged a pulley to help me pull in the gator after I killed it.”

Drake closed his eyes briefly, drawing in his breath. Saria was matter-of-factly detailing her childhood. To her, it was a way of life, not a bad thing at all. She did what had to be done and she didn’t waste time wishing things were different. More, she was proud of things she had accomplished and he—or anyone else—could go to hell if they didn’t like it.

Saria took life head on and refused to be intimidated by it. The more he knew of her, the more he found her courage both terrifying and alluring. A woman like Saria would stand beside her man, fight for her children and for the relationship, no matter how tough it got.

“Of course you rigged a pulley,” he said and took another bite of the trout. He had to admit the dish was incredible. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you walked on water, Miss Boudreaux.”

Pauline burst out laughing. “You aren’t the first to say that. The Lanoux boys are intimidated by her. I was talkin’ to them at the post office and they said courtin’ her is like grabbing a gator by the tail.” She leaned her chin into her hand. “And didn’ you run off Elie, Amos Jeanmard’s boy? He looked like a broken man when he left to join the service.”

“I was fifteen, Miss Pauline,” Saria said, rolling her eyes. “I hardly broke his heart. I hit him over the head with a flower pot and told him if ed to put his hand down my shirt again, I’d shoot him with my gun. He was such a dog. He was always feeling up poor Charisse as well.”