by Cherrie Mack
Giselle wore a short black dress with knee-high boots, her hair cascading down her back in subtle waves. Her lavender eyes sparkled as she batted her long, dark lashes. Desiree stood behind her, smoothing out Giselle’s dress. Simon gave Desiree a nod, knowing she was responsible for Giselle’s womanly appearance. He also could see that Giselle’s beauty was more than skin deep, and if Julien were truly destined to fall in love with her, he already would have.
Worry creased his brow. Maybe there was more going on with Julien Beaumont than the man cared to admit. He watched Giselle smile at Julien. It was an insecure, shy smile.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, I am, Little Witch. I was ready on time.”
Simon shook his head at Julien’s insensitive comment. Subtle. Real subtle. He concentrated, sending Julien a mental message. Comment on her beauty, fool.
As Julien escorted Giselle to his truck, Simon heard him say, “You look beautiful, Little Witch.” And he turned to grin at Simon.
“Will you look at him, Desiree? He acts like a clumsy fool.”
“She doesn’t know the difference. Let’s just hope her rose-colored glasses remain intact tonight.”
“If they do, maybe you could borrow them, my angel.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“Not on your best day, Mr. Granvil. Not on your best day.”
Chapter Eighteen
Giselle was anxious. When they pulled to a stop in front of the Hilton Baton Rouge, her nerves got the best of her. She fidgeted in her seat. Why are we at a hotel? She admitted there were certain experiences she wanted before traveling to Cottonwood Landing, but this? Now? Tonight? Did he think she was up to doing—it—tonight? She squirmed when he threw the truck in park and draped his arm over the back of her seat. With his body turned, he chuckled. “Take it easy. This hotel happens to have one of the best restaurants this side of the Mississippi. Since it was last minute, I couldn’t make a reservation. But I can easily get our name moved up the list.” He winked at her.
“Oh, no you don’t, no magic. We agreed.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
Her mouth felt dry, watching him stare at her, his eyes looking as though he could read her secrets. All she wanted was for him to kiss her. It was all she thought about. And today they came so close to a kiss, it had her imagination running wild. She watched his eyes travel to her mouth. She licked her lips.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Uh huh.” She fumbled around for the door handle when Julien leaned his body over hers, bringing them face-to-face. The feel of his broad chest grazing her breasts, the heat of his breath lightly brushing her cheek, and the glorious smell of his freshly scrubbed skin caused Giselle to stiffen.
Reaching for her handle he pushed the door open. “Like this,” he whispered.
His lips aligned with hers. Giselle’s breathing sped up and her body tingled with expectancy. Please. Kiss. Me.
He pulled back and gave her a wink.
Disappointment ransacked her mind when he exited the truck and came around to her side. He held the door open, reaching for her hand. “Let me help you, Little Witch.”
His teasing was deliberate, almost mocking. Was he trying to anger her? She smacked his hand away. “I can do it myself.”
“Ooh. Someone is angry tonight. Is something wrong?”
“You know very well what is wrong, Mr. Beaumont.”
“What’s that?”
“Teasing me by dangling a kiss in front of me is not very nice. And if I wasn’t so limited on time, I’d find someone else to satisfy my curiosity.”
His eyes darkened and his features hardened as he grabbed her by the arm. Slamming the truck door shut with force, he pushed her back against the truck and placed his hands on either side of her body. His menacing stare thrilled her, making her heart beat faster. Longing shot through her body, stinging her eyes. Yes. He’s going to kiss me now. Finally.
Julien stared at her, desire unleashed in his eyes. Abruptly, he shoved her away and walked toward the restaurant. “Let’s go. Bring your sweater.”
His order made her defiant. “I don’t need it. I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
The Kingfish Grill was not only rumored to have great food and service, it was popular. So popular, it was too crowded to wait indoors. Giselle crossed her arms over her chest and ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm up. Immediately, she regretted her decision to leave her sweater behind. She glanced at Julien, whose arrogant expression, made her lip tremble. Why do I want him so bad?
He held open his leather jacket. “Come on in.”
“No, thank you.”
“You said no magic. This is one way I can think to warm you up.”
“One way?”
“Well, there are other ways, ya know. But, can you handle it?”
She knew by his tone what he meant. “You know a true gentleman would offer a lady his coat.”
He continued to hold it open. “Uh huh.”
The patrons, mostly the women, were staring. Why wouldn’t they? He was beautiful. And his body was magnificent. Giselle seemed to gravitate toward him until she found her arms wrapped around his waist. She closed her eyes as the warmth of his embrace spread throughout her body when he closed the coat over her.
Touching Julien made her knees falter, and her imagination churned out intimate scenes by the dozens. When she felt his body respond, her breath hitched in her throat. The yearning was brutal, bringing with it an onslaught of emotional pain. Looking up, her mouth lined up perfectly with his chin. She lightly ran her lips over the rough unshaven surface. Choking on her breath, her boldness came in a whisper, kiss him. Giselle slowly took her hands from his waist. Running them up the center of his chest, she looked him in the eye. “Julien I... I....”
A hoarse female voice interrupted their fleeting connection. “Beaumont. Your table is ready.” The hostess batted her eyes at him, completely ignoring Giselle.
After they were seated, Giselle sipped her water. “This is a nice place.”
Julien nodded in agreement, hardly lifting his eyes. He looked far away, making conversation a struggle. She sighed loudly, snapping him into the present.
He looked at her, his gaze remorseful. “Sorry, Little Witch. I think the gods have played a cruel joke on us both.”
“How so?”
Julien rested his elbow on the table, fisting his hand under his chin. “I am not worthy of your love.” He took his hand from under his chin and reached out to touch her arm.
“Don’t get me wrong, I want very much to give you the experience you desire, but you should be with someone who loves you, especially for the first time.”
This was the worst news possible. She looked down at the table, the light of hope slowly extinguished by his honesty. Without lifting her eyes, she spoke. “I thought the feeling was mutual.”
He pulled his hand away, the absence of his touch making her want to cry. “I want you to have what you’re looking for. Being with the queen would be my greatest honor, but it doesn’t change the facts. You deserve love.”
Giselle looked at him, offering only a tight smile. Although she didn’t know how, she managed to gather enough strength to end the conversation. “Thank you for telling me.”
He narrowed his eyes and gave her a regretful smile.
The rest of dinner was strained. Giselle carried the heaviness of disappointment in her heart. With her dream of a romantic and loving interlude crushed, she pushed through dinner. After agreeing to be friends, she talked about the beauty of Beaumont Plantation. It seemed to be the only thing keeping her mind off of his rejection. “So, your sister Chantilly enchanted the gardens after her lover was murdered?”
“Yes, my sister, like most witches, has an affinity for nature.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”
****
Julien looked off, grappling with his an
swer. A few seconds later, he took a deep breath, and explained. “It happened six years ago, during the summer solstice. Every year my family gathered at Beaumont Plantation for the festivities. It was the final night of celebration. My sister’s long-time love, Thomas Montclair, announced he would marry another.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. The problem was, the witch he was to marry, wanted to marry me.”
She tilted her head. “Uh huh. Go on.”
“It was my fault. I brought Selena Lovell into our coven knowing she had an evil streak. I was young, foolish, and I played with fire. She couldn’t have me, so she hurt me by snatching my sister’s man. It had to be a spell, but I couldn’t prove it.”
“Did you call a council?”
“I was afraid.”
“Why?”
“Thomas Montclair was murdered on the grounds of Beaumont Plantation. It wasn’t a warlock who killed him, it was a witch.”
Giselle’s mouth dropped open. “You must have some idea as to who could have done such a thing.”
Julien cast his eyes away. “All I know is, that night, my sister Chantilly vowed to never love again. She denounced her origins, her gifts, and the coven, leaving Beaumont Plantation. I haven’t seen or heard from her in six years.”
“So—you never called a council because you think the murderer is Chantilly?”
He pursed his lips. “I knew if I called the council, they would think that. I just couldn’t take that chance. And with Chantilly gone, I guess I’ll never know.”
The night air was cold. Julien slipped his leather jacket over Giselle’s shoulders as they headed toward the truck.
“Thanks for not using magic tonight,” Giselle said.
“You’re welcome, Little Witch.”
Helping her inside, he smiled. “So? How would you rate our date?”
“Good.” He closed the door and walked around to the other side. Climbing into the driver’s side, he laughed. “Good? I must be slacking.”
“Well, it wasn’t everything I’d hoped for, but for my first date, it was really nice. Thanks.”
“Boy, you’ve really been sheltered, haven’t you? I didn’t realize this was a first date.”
“I haven’t had a whole lot of experiences.”
“And kissing? You haven’t had your first real kiss yet, either?”
“I’m embarrassed to say no. But I can still dream, can’t I?” She let out a nervous giggle.
He pulled away from the curb, and glanced at her. “Yes. And don’t ever stop.”
****
The only noise came from the radio on their way back. Giselle smiled a phony smile, while slowly dying inside. Love or no love, I still want you.
They arrived at Beaumont Plantation a little after ten. Although she tried hard, sadness overwhelmed her. Julien escorted her to the door of the cottage. Their date was over and it certainly didn’t turn out the way she’d hoped. She turned to face him. “Thanks. I had a really great time.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning?”
She nodded and watched him turn around and walk the path toward the house. Giselle didn’t know why she stood there to watch him go, but she did. Her chest felt the burden of a weight so heavy, she couldn’t catch her breath. Giselle sucked in her bottom lip when she saw him stop halfway down the path. Slowly he turned around, looking back at her. She was surprised when he turned back.
While he came closer, the yearning for his touch taunted her body. Trying to remain aloof, she furrowed her brow. “Did you forget something?”
“The goodnight kiss. I forgot the kiss. It’s always the best part of a date.”
“You don’t have to pretend—”
He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her off her feet. “Ever since you wrapped your arms around my waist before dinner, it’s all I could think about.”
“But I thought you said—”
“I said you deserve love. I am not capable of such emotion, but I am quite capable of a kiss.” Leaning in, he smiled just before their lips met. The soft brush of his plump lips was sweet at first, then he lingered, running his tongue over her top lip. Lowering her to her feet, he readjusted his body. Something in his eyes told her he wasn’t finished.
He held her face in his hands, dipping his head to meet her lips once more. Seconds passed, and the tender moment was replaced by a mutual, passionate enthusiasm to explore. Julien’s tongue was gentle, yet demanding. Holding her in his grip, he silently orchestrated her movements to give him better access to her mouth. Their lips were in perfect symmetry as Giselle felt all her senses awaken for the first time. Desire, pure and unassuming, pulsed through her blood leaving her wanting more of him.
With regret in his eyes, he sighed and pulled away. She felt an undeniable tug on her body as she fought to stay still, and her heart pounded. She yearned to be touched, longed to be loved. Loved. Knowing her reality, the thrill of the moment escaped her grasp and spiraled away like a leaf in the wind.
“Goodnight, Giselle,” he whispered.
The mention of her name made her tremble. Oh Julien, please love me. Won’t you try? I could love you enough for both of us. The words wouldn’t come, and she watched him walk away yet again. This time, knowing he wouldn’t stop, a tear rolled down her cheek. Giselle went inside the cottage and cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Under a dark sky filled with the orange glow of a lover’s moon, Desiree walked the grounds of Beaumont Plantation. Shivering from the chill of the night air, she pulled her sweater tightly around her body. She came upon the hammock that sent Simon toppling over earlier that day, and giggled.
She sat down and pushed off with her feet sending the hammock swinging. For once, Desiree enjoyed the peacefulness of the bayou. It was quite the opposite of what New Orleans offered, with its constant buzz of life. Unable to recall if she ever experienced a place so quiet before, she concentrated on the stillness. When a tingling heat crept along the tips of her ears, she stopped the hammock from swinging. And when voices could be heard surrounding her, she stood up and looked around.
Suddenly dizzy with confusion, she grappled with the hammock and sat back down. All at once, she felt as though she were in the midst of a party. The celebratory sounds and joyous laughter could be heard, but not seen. Feeling her equilibrium shift, she held tight to the hammock. Her mind struggled to listen without seeing. Closing her eyes helped.
As the voices grew distant, a male voice grew louder. “Chantilly,” he said. “Please understand. I love you, but I cannot leave her. She is pregnant.”
Desiree turned her head in the direction of the voice, scared to open her eyes, to invite the nausea back in. When another voice, female this time, came out of nowhere, Desire listened. “You lied to me. You asked me to love you and I did. I gave you love. This is how you repay me? By showing up here, at my brother’s home, with news of your engagement? To her? To Selena Lovell of all people? That witch has had it in for Julien ever since her attentions went denied.”
“Chantilly, you don’t understand.”
The voices faded away.
Feeling the power inside her head hum and her ears burn with energy, the strange sensation had Desiree reaching with cool hands to provide relief to her fiery ears. Dizzy, as the humming heat spread out and rushed to her head, she opened her eyes. Trying desperately to steady herself and focus, she spied a hand reach out for her. A startled Desiree yelped, threw a punch and connected with someone’s jaw.
Simon held his chin, backing up. “Merde, you hit hard. What’s happened, Desiree?”
She put her hand over her mouth, surprised by her own actions, and shook her head. Dropping her hand, she spoke. “You—you startled me Simon.”
“No, my angel, do not lie to me.” Simon put his hands on her arms, helping her stay upright.
Desiree couldn’t think straight, and when she felt him invade her mind, it was too late. Simon got in
to her head, reading her thoughts. All of them.
He stared at her. “I had no idea how you felt.” Averting his eyes, she shook loose of his grip. He took a step closer. She took a step back. “I didn’t invite you into my head. It’s rude. Us modern-day witches don’t like uninvited guests, but I’m glad you got your cheap thrill for the night.”
“Desiree, do you think I would abuse my gift in such a way? I had no idea of your ... your feelings. I was worried for you.”
“Worried for me? You’re not worried for me. You’re worried for you. Ever since that first night when we—when we almost fucked each other. Every damn time I get near you, you jump back like a scared rabbit.”
“Aimee—I mean Desiree, please.”
“Aimee? I don’t know who this Aimee is, but I’m not her.”
“She was the love of my life, my wife. I know that you are not her.”
“Apparently not.” Struggling to come to terms with his slip up, Desiree tried her best to hold back the tears. “Leave me alone, Simon. Just leave me alone.”
****
After hours of lying awake, unable to sleep, Desiree slipped out of her bed and into her shoes. Outside, she went in search of an answer. If tonight’s experience was her true calling, she had a long road ahead. Not knowing any witches who possessed the ancient gift, she was anxious to learn more. Seeking knowledge from an elder would be her only course of genuine understanding.
She spent the next thirty minutes trying to concentrate on her newfound talent. Flustered, she paced, wearing a path in the grass. Trying to recall what she’d been doing when she first heard the voices, Desiree listened to the sounds of the night. Concentrating on the quiet, she closed her eyes and focused on the stillness. Nature’s sounds served as a backdrop, no longer in the forefront, and the voices returned along with the familiar warm tingling sensation in her ears.
Desiree listened intently to the dialogue between a male and female. There was a familiarity about the voice of the male. With its baritone quality and inflection, she believed it to be Julien.
“It’s over, Selena. I’m sorry. I don’t love you. I’ve always known there was someone out there for me, but it’s not you. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
