by Nina Bruhns
Her jaw dropped and she smacked him on the arm. "Funny. And don't even try to scare me, Beaulieux. I don't believe in ghosts and I won't be responsible if Terrebeau burns down."
"Oh, I disagree." He caught her up in his arms and gave her a long kiss. "It'll be all your fault for getting me so hot I spontaneously combust. Come here."
He laid her down and canted his body over hers. "On second thought, who cares if you get pregnant and we fulfill the legend. You want kids, don't you? I want a whole bunch of them, running around gettin' into mischief. Grandmère will… What?"
She had suddenly stilled and was staring up at him wide-eyed. "Beau, I…"
"I know we haven't really talked about a wedding. Hell, I didn't even ask you properly, but—"
"Wedding?"
"You can quit your job and move in to Terrebeau right away. We'll get married just as soon as—"
"Quit my job?"
"Well, of course. I asked you to stay and you said yes. You promised me forever, Kit. Surely you didn't think—"
Suddenly, he wasn't so sure of anything. The look on her face was not one of a blushing bride-to-be. It was more like the horror of someone who was caught in something she had no idea how to get out of.
"You will marry me, won't you, Kit darlin'?"
Her fingers curled around his neck and pulled him down on top of her. She held him silently, but he could feel trembling in her hands and thighs as she cradled him and stroked his hair.
"I know this has all been kind of fast … but chère, I love you. I want you to be my wife." His heart sank when she still didn't speak. "Say something, kitten." He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes.
"Please don't do this to me. I said I'd be yours, and I will. But I can't just pick up and—what about my job? My life?"
Hurt clenched his chest into a solid knot. She didn't want him. She didn't want Terrebeau or his children, or any of what he had to offer in this lifetime. He should have known it was too good to be true—that she'd give up her career just to be with him. What a delusional fool he'd been.
"No. Of course you can't," he choked out, then swiftly leaped to his feet and offered her a hand up. "My mistake."
"Beau, wait," she said, wringing her hands as he gathered up their clothes and sorted them out.
"It's all right. It was my fault for making assumptions when I hadn't even asked properly. I'm sorry."
He could hardly make himself listen when she scrambled after him to the car, hopping into her clothes as they went. "Please, Beau. You don't understand."
"Oh, I understand, all right."
Yep, he understood perfectly. He knew the brush-off when he heard it. Why prolong the agony when they both knew what was in store for them down the road? He should have listened to himself back in Vegas. Hell, he should have listened to her back in Vegas. She'd never made it a secret. Any of it.
But never let it be said that Simon Beaulieux wasn't calm and collected—always the perfect gentleman. He smiled and kissed Kit's forehead, opening the car door for her. He didn't begrudge her when she slipped into his four-poster bed and curled up beside him when they got home. He didn't even protest when she woke him in the early dawn and pulled him close, quietly asking to be loved. He just swallowed the huge lump in his throat and loved her.
God, how he loved her.
But did he love her enough to let her go? To send her away, back to New Orleans and the life she preferred?
That was the question he kept asking himself as he held her tight, the rosy sunlight creeping stealthily in through the French doors until his room was bright with the sounds and smells of a country morning.
Did he love her that much?
* * *
Kit woke the next morning to the sight of Delia's beaming face over the coffee tray.
"Mornin', Mr. Simon. Miss Colfax. I'll just set the coffee on the table here for y'all."
Kit drew up the sheet in embarrassment while Beau just calmly said thanks and reached over to help with the tray.
"There's a note come for you, Mr. Simon. Right here." It was a small brown envelope that had seen better days.
Beau accepted the envelope from the housekeeper and scrutinized it closely, frowning. "When?"
"It was slipped under the kitchen door this morning."
After Delia left, he slid out of bed, tore the letter open, quickly read it, and then strode to the bathroom.
Kit poured coffee for them both and nervously waited until he emerged. When he did, he was fully dressed. "Beau?"
"I have to go out. You go ahead and have breakfast with the others. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"What is it?" She handed him his cup and watched as he inhaled its contents.
"It's just something I have to do."
He wouldn't look at her. She bit her lip. Despite his courtesy last night, he was obviously still furious at her for turning down his proposal. It had not escaped her attention that he hadn't fallen asleep after his almost melancholy lovemaking earlier. She slid off the bed and walked over to him, snaking her arms around his chest. "Can't it wait?"
She felt him sigh. "I'm sorry."
Something about the way he said the words made her glance up. His eyes were dead serious, their usual spark gone. He raised a hand to push a strand of hair out of her eyes.
"Let me come with you," she said, suddenly worried.
He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, chère."
When he backed away from her, she grasped his wrist, at once certain they weren't talking about police work. "Beau, we'll see each other, I swear. New Orleans isn't that far away. I'm not saying no. Please. Just give me more time…"
He smiled, but his sad eyes didn't cheer up. "I'm not up for all that, kitten. Unless you're interested in a life here with me, what's the point? Why fight the inevitable?" He shook his head wistfully. "I've got to go." He waited until she released him, then walked out the door without looking back.
Oh, Lord, what had she gone and done? She paced back and forth for a few minutes, agonized with indecision. She loved the man, for crying out loud! Why couldn't she just admit that she would sacrifice almost anything to be able to wake up beside him every morning for the rest of her life?
It had been a knee-jerk reaction last night when she'd rejected his marriage proposal. For so long she'd been afraid he would make those very demands to leave her job and dedicate her life to his world that when he actually did so, she couldn't see past the dreaded words to the meaning behind them.
She marched to the French doors and flung them wide. Would it really make her so unhappy to quit her job and marry Beau?
How could she ever be unhappy with him? When you loved a person, you gladly sacrificed and compromised. So you could be together always and in all ways. With all her heart she wanted to stay with Beau and make it work. Give him those children and help build Terrebeau into something even finer than it was.
She had to tell him!
Running to the bathroom, she threw on her clothes, then flew down the stairs, determined to head him off before he drove away. When she reached the garage, she found all the cars there, but no Beau. She looked around. Where could he have gone?
The sound of a winch drew her attention to the boathouse out on the river. There! He was putting a boat in the water and turning it toward the bayou where they had searched for Remi.
She caught her breath. Remi!
That was what the note had been about. Someone had located his cousin and Beau was going after him. Without her. But why?
Because he'd never intended to give him up to her at all.
The stunning, searing pain of betrayal tore through her.
He'd been leading her on all along. Making her think he was on her side, when he'd really planned all along to warn Remi of her intent to trap him. And she'd just handed him one more reason to do it. If she botched the case and lost her job, maybe he thought she'd accept his proposal.
Her hand flew to her mouth and she b
linked back tears that threatened to break through the dam of self-control she desperately grabbed for. No! Please, no. Not again.
She drew herself up and battled the hurt invading her soul. No way. Not this time. This time, she had no intention of letting a man sabotage her life.
Too late to catch him, she quickly ran back to the house for her cell phone and bug repellent. At the last minute she tucked the small derringer he'd lent her into her purse, too.
The larger boat they'd used the other day was still moored at the jetty, so she hopped in and started after Beau. It didn't take long for her more powerful craft to gain on his small one, enough to catch glimpses of him and carefully follow his wake trail in the still water. She didn't want to alert him to her presence until he'd led her all the way to Remi, but as they traveled deeper into the web of narrow waterways, the distance between them lengthened as he was able to maneuver more easily through the tangled overgrowth and shallow swamps.
Suddenly, she found herself chugging through a dead-calm lake of reeds, dripping with moss and teeming with birds that took wing as soon as she approached.
Obviously she'd made a wrong turn somewhere.
She glanced around nervously. No alligators peered back at her from the water. That she saw. Although that log over there did look just the teensiest bit suspicious. She quickly turned the boat and hightailed it back the way she'd come. At least, she thought it was the way she'd come.
It didn't take much cruising around for her to figure out she was hopelessly lost. Not to worry. This lady came prepared, thank you very much. She pulled out the cell phone. Doug wouldn't be exactly thrilled to hear from her, but she figured he'd rescue her just the same. After all, he didn't know yet that Beau would probably prefer her to be eaten by alligators at the moment.
The battery was dead.
For the first time, she started to get worried. Back at the boathouse it had all seemed so simple. Follow Beau to Remi and make him arrest the blackguard—Remi, that is. Brilliant plan.
When the boat's motor slowly sputtered to a stop, out of gas, she felt the blood drain from her face. This wasn't funny anymore. How would she find her way out of there?
Suddenly, the blast of a gunshot echoed through the swamp. She straightened, staring in the direction from where the noise originated. Another shot rang out. Unconsciously, she put her hand over the wound still bandaged on her arm. Beau! She quickly untied the oars and rowed like a madwoman in search of Beau. Behind a huge tree she spotted his boat, which was tied to a rickety landing. She pulled up next to the jetty, which led to a small cabin on stilts.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
Tying up her own craft, she hoisted herself onto the wooden dock and dug in her purse for Jolene's gun. As she glanced down toward the house, sheer terror grabbed her by the throat. Two fat alligators guarded the end of the pier.
She stared at them and they stared back, but didn't move.
She had to find a way past them! Beau needed her. The certainty of that screamed from every cell in her body. He might have betrayed her, but she still loved him. And maybe he'd come here to arrest Remi, after all…
She looked at the peashooter in her hand, then leaned over the edge of the dock and fished up the wooden paddle from the boat. Wasn't there something about hitting an alligator on the snout with a blunt instrument? Or was that sharks?
Panic flooded her. She couldn't do this.
Yes, she could. She had to. Beau could be dying, even now.
She grabbed her purse and dumped the contents willy-nilly into the boat. Standing, she inched toward the house—and the alligators. They started to move and she tossed the empty purse into the water beside them. One slid into the bayou, chasing what it thought was a tasty morsel. She didn't want to be around when it found out it had been cheated.
That left the other one. With thundering heart she realized it was still heading right for her, its mouth gaping sickeningly. With a sob she raised the oar over her head and brought it crashing down on its nose as hard as she could. The paddle broke and the reptile tumbled into the water.
Running like the devil, she dropped the jagged handle and sprinted to the front door. She paused for a second to take a big breath, lifted the gun and burst through the door.
* * *
Beau lay in a heap on the floor, bleeding, Remi bent over him, a nasty-looking gun tucked in the back of his waistband. He reached out to touch Beau's face.
"Don't even think about it!" she shouted, pointing her measly weapon at Beau's cousin with both hands. "Get away from him!"
Remi looked up in surprise. "Kit! Thank—"
"Get back, I said!" she warned. "Or I'll shoot!"
Seeing she was serious, he slowly raised his hands. "Don't be ridiculous, Kit. This isn't what it seems. He needs medical attention. I can give it. For God's sake, it wasn't me who shot him! It was Hunter. He must have followed me here. I'm—"
Beau moaned, and lightning fast, Remi lowered his hand to grasp Beau's. "It's all right, old man. I'm here. I'll take care of you. Just hold on. Please, Kit, let me help him."
Beau's other hand sought his cousin's arm, and he gripped it, mumbling something Kit couldn't hear. Her own hands wavered, a rush of nausea crashing through her. Blood had pooled under Beau's body; his shirt was a sea of crimson. But obviously, he trusted Remi with his life. She had to, also. She had no choice.
"All right." She lowered the gun. "What can I do?"
Remi jerked his head toward the kitchen area. "First aid kit's in the drawer."
Flinging open a drawer, she was stunned by the sight of sparkling jewelry resting in the filthy space. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds. She saw her own sapphire necklace winking back at her, and recognized the pearl-and-diamond choker from Ellie Wilton's portrait. She slammed the drawer shut again in utter disbelief. The nerve of the man!
But this wasn't the time to worry about such things. Beau's life was at stake. She searched the other drawers until she found the first aid kit and ran back with it to Remi.
She knelt on the other side of Beau and watched Remi's hands move expertly over his cousin, tending him as quickly and efficiently as any doctor. He never ceased talking to Beau. About their boyhood, Terrebeau, about their family. All the while Beau drifted in and out of consciousness, slackly gripping Remi's hand, speaking an incoherent word now and then to his cousin. Their great bond of love, friendship and trust was evident even to her eyes.
She swallowed, feeling completely helpless and in the way. She dared not touch Beau, fearing she'd hurt him by accident. Her fingers hovered by his matted hair, his blood-smeared chest, his splayed leg. Why would Hunter do this to him? Even given their feud, this seemed extreme. Tears blurred her vision, and she nearly gave in to her anguish.
"Please don't die. I love you so much," she whispered. "I'll leave my job, anything you want. Just live, damn you."
Suddenly, Beau's eyes cleared for a moment and he grasped Remi's arm. "Kit…" he said, clear as day.
"I'm here, Beau," she said with a sob, but he didn't hear her. He never even looked her way.
He labored to swallow, then whispered, "Kit…" He cleared his ragged throat. "Need to stop Kit…" His head lolled and he fell deep into unconsciousness.
"I know, old man." Remi glanced up at her.
She swiped at her tears. "He told you?" she asked, her heart tearing in two, hoping against hope she was wrong. Praying the man she loved hadn't sold her out.
"Yeah. Just now. But—"
A piercing scream shrilled through the air.
Remi jumped to his feet and ran to the door. Kit reached for her gun and stayed with Beau, a fierce protectiveness seizing her, despite her badly shredded heart.
"Oh, my God," Remi exclaimed. He raised his weapon and shot from where he stood. "The alligators've got Hunter!"
* * *
Luckily, Remi had a cell phone with him that worked. Within minutes a pair of helicopters arrived to take Beau and Hunter away.
<
br /> But what about the jewels? The clear evidence of Remi's guilt was right there in a drawer in the shack. Should Kit run back and grab them? Remi might know about her job, but she could still nail him. Already Doug and the state and county law were arriving, swarming over the crime scene. She could point out the evidence and have them arrest the man, as she had been planning to do for over a month.
If she didn't, she would lose her job. That much was a certainty.
Conflicted and heartbroken, she watched the paramedics strap Beau into a shallow mummy basket and stow it under one of the copters. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't. She wouldn't be responsible for putting the person who had just saved Beau's life in jail. Let Doug find the jewels and figure it out. Beau had believed so firmly in the goodness and innocence of his cousin. She wasn't about to be the one to tell him he was wrong, now that she knew how much Remi really meant to him. Maybe Beau would feel a moment or two of guilt over her when he found out the truth.
She turned and Remi hustled her under the whirling copter blades, handing her up to the paramedic onboard. "Let her use the radio to contact the family," he shouted.
"Sure thing, Agent Beaulieux," the medic shouted back.
Stunned, Kit whipped around. "Agent Beaulieux?"
"I'm with the FBI, Kit. Undercover. That's what I was trying to tell you just now. Don't worry, I'll take care of the jewels," he yelled back.
For a moment she was speechless, then it hit her like a slap in the face. "Does Beau know?" she forced herself to call down as the paramedic pulled her into the copter. She had to know the true extent of Beau's deception.
"Yeah, I told him. Stay with him for me, Kit. He needs you, and I have to stick with Hunter."
Nodding mutely, she allowed herself to be strapped into the jump seat next to the medic. Completely numb, she leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Everything had happened so quickly. Could what she was thinking really be true? She took several deep breaths to still the spinning in her head.
The paramedic yelled to her that Beau would be okay. "The bullets in his chest and leg just missed doing some major damage, and he's lost a lot of blood, but he'll live."
