Page 24 of Frankly, My Dear

He shrugged. “You can break our betrothal once we get to Bayou Noir.”

“For what reason?”

“Alors! You ask a lot of questions. How should I know? Perhaps you could say I forced my beastly attentions on you.”

“Would you?” she asked stiffly.

“What?” he asked with exasperation. “Force myself on you? Or be beastly?”

“Oh, never mind,” she said huffily.

“Just don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”

“I won’t,” she promised, “but…” Selene’s words trailed off as she noticed a small cottage with a number of people coming and going—mostly women, whose eyes lowered furtively before entering. Some even wore black veils over their faces. Selene felt an ethereal sensation pass over her, like an invisible vapor. She shivered apprehensively and pulled James to a stop. “What is this place?”

“Marie Laveau’s home,” he snarled, “though I would describe it more as Satan’s lair.”

Selene’s eyes widened in surprise at his vehemence, but before she had a chance to study him closer, she felt something warm and furry rub against her ankle. With a soft shriek, she jumped and moved closer to James, almost knocking him over. It was only a large tabby cat. Actually, as she looked around with disbelief, she counted dozens of cats, at least fifty of them, of all sizes and colors, roaming the front yard, over the porch, even on the roof of the pastel blue bungalow.

Shuddering with revulsion, Selene suddenly remembered Lilith claiming to be a descendant of this woman. “Marie Laveau…wasn’t she a voodoo something or other?”

“‘Something or other’ describes her very well.” James clamped his jaw, and his eyes flashed angrily. “She fashions herself the Mamoloi, the high priestess of Damballa.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think she’s a shrewd, evil woman who manipulates people for her own gain.” His lips tightened into a thin line of barely controlled fury, and he looked at the house with such loathing, Selene suspected he would tear it to the ground with his hands if he could.

“Can I go in and talk to her?”

“What?”

“Don’t panic,” Selene said quickly. “I told you before I’m not involved in voodoo. I don’t believe in it any more than you do, but…well, there was this curse put on me. Maybe this woman can help remove it…if it’s really there…and I could—”

“—go back to your own time,” James finished for her on a groan. “Why don’t you just admit who you are and stop this time-travel foolishness?”

“Listen, it’s my last chance. I’ve got to give it a shot, at least try to return to my own time. I suspect that once I go to your plantation, I won’t be able to go home from there.”

A look of dismay flashed across his face, which James immediately covered with disdain. Was he upset that she might leave him, or at the idea that she might not ever be able to leave? He soon set her straight…the brute.

“Well, I must admit, the prospect of being rid of you does appeal, but I refuse to step inside that cesspit of intrigue.”

Selene wasn’t too happy about his wanting her gone. No woman relished rejection…in any form. But she wished to leave him just as badly. Didn’t she? “Why don’t you wait for me in that restaurant over there? Give me fifteen minutes. C’mon, James, maybe this is your chance to get me out of your life.”

“What makes you think you’re in my life?” he reminded her rudely, then seemed to consider the significance of her words. “So if you don’t come out in fifteen minutes, am I to assume that Marie put you on a broom and you’ve flown off to the twentieth century?” He stood with his legs spread slightly and his hands on his hips, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Something like that,” she muttered and turned to walk away. She’d gone only a few steps when she stopped and did an about-face. He still stood in the same place, watching her with what almost seemed like longing. The silent sadness of his face pulled at Selene, and she walked back.

“Did you forget something?” he asked softly, his husky voice belying his testy words.

She licked her lips nervously and felt an electric current of desire shoot through her when his eyes, his glittering blue eyes, followed the action of her tongue. Shuffling uneasily from foot to foot, she tried to come up with the right words.

“I just wanted to say…well, thank you.”

He arched a brow, but said nothing.

“I mean, if for some reason I don’t return…not that I really think Marie Laveau can help me…but if I do go back to my own time, I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your help. I would have been lost without you.” Her last words came out on a heartfelt whisper, and she reached up, putting her hands on his shoulders, to kiss his lips lightly.

It was meant to be a kiss of thanks, and good-bye.