Page 45 of Frankly, My Dear

Selene’s chin jerked up defensively at Reba’s criticism, but, in all honesty, she had become quite the shrew. And most of her barbs were directed at James. “You’re wrong to think that James cares about me.”

Reba looked skeptical. “Maybe.”

“He doesn’t even think I’m attractive. He says I look like a warthog.”

Reba’s mouth formed a soft “O” of surprise. “A warthog? Oh, he never said that!”

“Yes, he did. And he said he wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole.”

Reba put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Oh, I daresay he would like to touch you with a pole, but not a wooden one.”

When the meaning of Reba’s words and her bright red face sank in, Selene teased her, “Reba! A shady remark from a shy little thing like you?”

Reba ducked her head sheepishly. “Well, it’s your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes, I’ve been watching you and learning to be more…what did you call it? Assertive. Fergus says you’re a bad influence on me.”

“Oh, great! That’s just what I need. Another man who—”

Her sentence was broken off by a loud shrieking noise as a little boy no more than five came barreling down the hill. “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

The child’s too-short trousers barely reached his bony ankles, and his cotton shirt was buttoned wrong, with several buttons missing. His unkempt hair was probably as black as his father’s under all the dirt that covered his grubby body from head to bare toes. And the pale blue eyes that sparkled with joyful tears were an exact replica of James’s.

He came to a screeching halt, halfway up the incline, in front of James, stared up at him soulfully for a minute, then swung his skinny arm in a wide arc and punched his father in the stomach. “There!”

“Oomph!” James exclaimed on a loud exhale.

The rascal followed with a kick to James’s shin, then hobbled about on one bare foot, having hurt himself more than his father. “Damn it all! That hurt.”

James narrowed his eyes at the boy’s swearing and advanced on him with outstretched arms. He scooped up his son’s flailing body, no easy feat since the boy was kicking and clawing wildly.

“You shoulda taken me with you, Papa. You shoulda,” he cried. “And you promised to be back two days ago. I been waitin’ and waitin’.”

James held the boy tightly against his chest with one hand under his buttocks and the other stroking the back of his filthy head. “Shush, Etienne. Shush, now, mon fils,” he soothed. With a sniffle, the boy quieted and burrowed his head into the crook of his father’s neck, sobbing.

Tears welled in Selene’s eyes at the poignant scene, and her heart expanded in her chest almost to bursting. When James closed his eyes, still embracing his son, it was hard to tell which one was holding on tighter, the father or the son.

In that moment, Selene knew she was lost. It was one thing to be attracted to the man’s physical appearance, or to be touched by the painful vulnerability he sometimes failed to hide, or to see how gently he treated those who worked for him. But to witness the open love he showed for his son caused Selene’s world to tilt on its axis, spinning her off into a galaxy of new emotions she’d never experienced before.

She loved the man. She really did. Hopelessly, breathlessly, totally.

For some time, she’d been fighting her attraction for the infuriating planter, but there was no way she could deny her feelings now. Her heart soared. Her blood sang. She wanted to shout with joy, and scream with frustration.

In a flash of clarity, she realized this was the love she’d been searching for all her life. She didn’t understand how fate had accomplished what she never could in her failed relationships. She certainly hadn’t come looking for love…at least, not knowingly. It was just there.

While her future loomed uncertain and perilous before her, Selene’s troubled spirits quieted under the unquestionable knowledge that she loved James.

James set Etienne on his feet and hunkered down in front of him. With both hands holding the child’s upper arms, James spoke to him intently in a soft voice. Intermittently the boy would nod his head. The tears had stopped, leaving white tracks down his dirty face.

Finally James rumpled the boy’s hair affectionately and stood, noticing Selene for the first time. Reba had gone off to the home she shared with Fergus, a small cottage behind the main house. He motioned for her to come closer.

“Etienne, this is Mademoiselle Selene. She will be your new governess.”

“Don’t want no governess. You and Grandmère can teach me.”

“Non. We cannot. I am too busy with the sugar, and your grandmother is not…well,” James asserted firmly. “You need to study your books every day, Etienne.”