Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (45 page)

“Very much, thank you.”

“Do you need anything?” He glanced at her clothes, perhaps to hint that she should change from her academic outfit. “It will probably be dark before I bring you back.”

“
D’accord
. I want to fetch some things from my room.”

She ran up the stairs to her room, unlocked the door, went inside, and rummaged through her backpack. She pulled out a cotton summer housedress and flat shoes, and put them on. She found her cardigan, and slid her papers into a leather binder. Then she locked her room and hurried downstairs.

“I am ready.”

Louis said goodbye to the sisters, and accompanied her out the door. Once in the car, he turned to her and said, “
Tu es très jolie
.” His tone was familiar and personal.

“
Merci
.”

“You should have nice shoes, and a sundress,” he said. “Perhaps we will buy those before you leave the island.”

“Perhaps,” she said.

He smiled and started the car. They were driving down a grassy, green jungle road when he spoke again. “I told Etien I was not bringing you over for dinner at their place, that we were dining at my house.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he affirmed. “I wanted a chance to speak to you without ten thousand interruptions.”

Bishou smiled. “Those boys were lively, weren’t they?”

“Their parents were just as bad. Denise kept repeating herself, and Etien kept interrupting.” Louis shifted gears. “I was stunned enough, without their interference. You never did explain why you came here. Except to say that you wanted to see how I was doing.”

She leaned back, and closed her eyes. “Well, that was the truth.”

He reached over with one hand, and touched two fingers to her cheek — a kiss of sorts. “And what else?”

“The freedom of travel, I suppose. Bat said, just get out of here for a while, and this was a good destination.”

“His letter said he did not know your forwarding address.”

“He merely meant I hadn’t sent him a timetable. I just took things as they came.”

“Did he know you were coming here?”

“Yes, he did.” She sat up as they left the city and entered the greenness of the countryside. She smelled vegetation. Jungle foliage hung down at the sides of the road. Unknown animals called to each other. Beautiful birds sang in the trees. The island’s two great volcanoes, covered with greenery almost to the peaks, could be seen in the distance. The sky was summery blue. “It is spring here, isn’t it — well, as much spring as it becomes?”

“
Oui
.” He turned down another road, and then a third one. They drove toward a beautiful, three-story white house with elegant brass and wrought-iron railings on its balconies, and open windows everywhere. Under a large shade tree sat a table with chairs. It was a fairyland home. Louis pulled up in front of it, stopped, and shut off the engine.

“
Chez toi
?” she asked in wonder. Your home?

“
Chez moi
,” he affirmed with a smile.

“How beautiful!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He got out of the car, came around to open her door, and held out a hand. She took it, and they walked hand in hand to the house.

Two ladies waited inside the front door. Louis introduced them. “My housekeeper, Bettina — ”

“ — and Madeleine,” Bishou finished, holding out a hand to each of them. “The Campard boys told me your names. I am pleased to meet you.”

Both women brightened, although they had already looked happy. “
Bienvenue
, Mademoiselle,” said Bettina. Madeleine repeated the welcome.

Louis took Bishou into his salon, while the women returned to the kitchen. The furniture was a mixture of French Provincial and basket chair. Louis squatted down by a small cabinet and removed a wine bottle.

As he stood, he said, “In America, we would have cocktails. Do you think you could stand the taste of genuine French Chardonnay instead?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s been so long.”

Louis laughed, opened the bottle, and poured wine into two dainty wineglasses. They touched glasses. “To your health,” he toasted her.

“And yours,” she replied, taking a sip.

He motioned her to an ivory-colored stuffed chair near the matching couch. He sat on the couch.

“So. Tell me what happened with Bat.”

“His fiancée was killed,” said Bishou. “Her helicopter crashed.”

“Her helicopter?” He was puzzled for a moment. “She was a pilot?” Then the answer struck him. “In the military.”

“Yes. He had said nothing to my parents about his plans to marry, so he said nothing about her death. But his plans became dust, to use your phrase.”

Louis winced. “I am sorry. And any expression of sympathy would be worse than saying nothing, so I say nothing.”

“That’s about it.” Bishou sipped her wine. “I felt pretty helpless myself. I could only do what he wanted me to do — get out, travel, see things, take my turn now. He will take care of things at home, he told me.”

“He gave you freedom, then,” said Louis.

“
Oui
.”

“For how long?”

“That is the part that bothers me. We set no end date for this freedom.” She set her glass on a little lamp table. A smile started to form on her lips. “I just figured out what is wrong here.”

“Here?” He stared as she squatted down and slipped off his shoes. Hurriedly he set his glass beside hers and laughed as she grasped his legs and lifted them onto the couch. Now he sprawled on his own couch as he’d done on hers back in Virginia. She pulled up a footstool and sat beside him.

“There,” she said. “This is how I am used to seeing you.”

He was still laughing. “I have tried so hard to be correct, and you are blowing my good intentions to pieces.” Louis pointed toward the floor. “Regarde, I even picked up my books from the place I usually drop them.”

“I am glad to hear that you get comfortable in this salon. It is a nice room.”

“I don’t relax much, you know,” Louis admitted. He sat up a little bit, and his smile vanished. His entire attitude changed. Louis held out his arms. “Bishou —
embrace-moi
.”

It didn’t require much effort for them to wrap their arms around each other and kiss. His lips were soft and warm. To Bishou, his kiss was electric. When it ended, Bishou kissed his cheek, and then kissed his lips again.

“Ah,
oui
,” he said softly, eyes closed.

“I have wanted to do this for so long,” she said.

“
Aussi
. Just to touch you, not to be
très
correct all the time. I will not lie, though, Bishou — I don’t know what I want out of your friendship.”

“You are honest enough to say so, Louis. I am still finding my way, too. And there is plenty of time.”

Louis shook his head, and looked down at their clasped hands. “Most men my age have settled their lives by now. Me, I have dragged my name through the dirt and broken half the commandments, and come back to my cage like a whipped dog.”

“There is nothing to settle tonight. This is a nice dinner, between friends.”

He looked into her eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

“I hope you do, but that is not what women say. They say, ‘Oh Louis, in your heart you have already made your decision.’ And I almost must …”

He made a pushing motion with his hands, and she found herself laughing.

“Bail out,” she supplied.

“
Oui
, bail out, run away. You, Bishou, you don’t act like that. You say, ‘Tell me more about Carola, she must have been a sketch,’ and you laugh, and you mean it. You are honest with me. So I can speak of you comfortably, and my friends say, ‘Oh, Louis loves this
Americaine
,’ whether I do or not — because I can say your name.”

Louis stroked her hands, focusing upon them. She clasped his rough hands, and said nothing.

A discreet throat-clearing from Bettina made them look up. “Dinner is served, Monsieur, Mademoiselle.”

Louis slipped on his shoes, and they got to their feet.

“Oh, by the way,” Bishou said in French. “Did I tell you I went to North Carolina and visited Vig and Sukey?”

Louis brightened. “
Non
! How are they? What is his place like?”

“His place is as big and cheerful as Vig and Sukey. Their children are as big and cheerful as the place.”

Louis laughed as she described the enormous plantation. Bettina ducked in and out, serving the meal and refreshing their drinks. Bishou described staying overnight at their home, and how they had shown her the town.

“Oh, that meant drinks with them, and
biftek
somewhere,” he laughed.

“Oh, yes, gigantic steaks, the size of an entire ox. And they conjured up a date for me, too.” She raised an eyebrow.

Louis frowned. “Not Gray Jackson.”

“How did you guess that?”

“He said you were a good-looking woman. He was warm for you from the start,” Louis replied. “He mentioned you to me several times.”

“I think he was trying to judge your reaction, because I was your interpreter and he wanted to cut in,” said Bishou.

“Excuse me — ‘cut in’?”

“I will explain later. This is food is too good to explain now,” Bishou said, taking a mouthful of chicken. “Mmm. I haven’t dined this well since I left America.”

“Well, thank you. I will make sure my staff knows, too.”

A cloud still hung over him, though. Apparently, Louis hadn’t been as oblivious as Gray Jackson thought he was. It looked as though it might have taken an effort for him to pick up his fork and continue. Bishou glanced at his face. She took another bite.

“You should come back to the United States sometime, and see other parts of it,” she continued. “I admit, Virginia was a good introduction. I would enjoy showing you some of the other places I’ve visited. The Grand Canyon. The Mississippi River. New England. Florida. Amish country. There is so much to see in America.”

“It would be nice,” Louis said, “and I am a little curious. However, the tobacco business takes much of my time, and I am grateful to have it. And, if I were away, Etien — you know?”

“As if you said, Guess what, Etien you are going to the dentist daily for two weeks.”

Louis laughed again. “Exactly. For Etien, it would be agony prolonged.”

For dessert they had mangoes with ice cream. In France, it would have been an apple, no ice cream.
Little things change with climate
, she mused. They talked about where the ice cream was made locally, the mangoes, even the sugar syrup, while they ate.

Bettina filled their coffee cups, and they took them to the salon so she could clear the table. Louis sat again on the couch, Bishou on the ottoman. It was more intimate than the easy chair. Louis was comfortable with it, too. She hadn’t realized how tense he had been until she wrestled his legs up onto the couch. Now, he was smiling and relaxed. His dark eyes danced as he recollected dining out with Vig and Sukey, and things various tobacco-men said.

“We were all like children,” Louis said, “having fun together.”

“All meetings should be that way,” Bishou agreed.

“
Oui
. More people would come to meetings if they were that pleasant. But I should have warned you that Gray Jackson had designs on you, except that how were you to know I was not trying to take you, myself? It was an awkwardness for me.”

“I understand. He said the same about you.”

“
Moi
?” Louis sat up on the couch indignantly. “He is a gangster, Bishou. All this organizing? It is organized crime. He got his roots in — what you call — rumrunning, ‘revenooing’ — and there are still shady dealings with the American law.” It was the plainest indication how Louis saw himself, not as a career criminal, but as a loner who made stupid mistakes.

“One expects that in a Southerner. It goes almost without saying.”

“Does it? Now you surprise me.”

“There’s no Southerner who doesn’t know who and where the law is, and how to get around it. That’s why they are always cautious of us Yankees. We usually represent the law, or are at least very familiar with it.”

“He was not cautious of you, Bishou. He spoke of your nice skin and your warm shoulders, and wondered how you would be …” Louis reddened.

“All right, you don’t have to finish that sentence,” she said, her face reddening too.

“I should hope not. But he was someone for you to guard against, Bishou, and I only hope you gave him nothing to lead him on.”

Bishou regarded Louis with surprise. “You’re jealous.
Mon Dieu
, Louis Dessant, you’re jealous of Gray Jackson!”

“I am not jealous,” said Louis defensively, the emptiest protest since time began.

“Listen to you!” she exclaimed incredulously. “What has Gray Jackson got that you haven’t got? You are as jealous of him as he was of you. He couldn’t wait for the bus to leave to ask me over to his hotel room.”

“What?” Louis sat up. Both feet hit the floor. He uttered an expletive Bishou didn’t bother translating, followed by, “He wanted you to go to bed with him?”

“Sure. Fact. Now that the ‘poor little rich boy’ was on his way to the airport, why couldn’t I give him what I’d given you?” Bishou heard that familiar growl, and added, “And, I admit, he got slightly more than you — because when we went to the bar, I paid for his drink. You haven’t let me buy you a drink yet.”

“Nor will I.” His cheeks were still flushed. “The idea.”

“And we were both lucky neither of us yet knew that you’d purchased my cap and gown for me, Louis, or I would have had no defense against him.”

He bowed his head. “I had not thought of it like that.” Louis swallowed, and dropped his gaze. “Anyone would have thought you were
ma maîtresse
.” My mistress. “I meant it only as a kindness.”

“I knew, Louis. I understood. And damn the rest of them.” His gaze came back up to her face, and she sighed, “And there are the puppy-dog eyes he spoke of, that melt all the women’s hearts.”

The puppy-dog look vanished immediately, replaced by one of sheer mischief. “Gray Jackson said that?”