Emilie (The Cajun Series Book 1)

by Claire, Cherie

  They were so young then, seventeen, eighteen years ago, their daily concerns merely which willow tree to climb or tracking the tides so they could collect crystals when the waters receded. She and Lorenz had been inseparable, even when they grew older and their peers encouraged them to dislike the other gender. And their parents were always present, a steady light in the darkness to guide them home.

  An intense despondency overtook Emilie and she again searched the crowd for Lorenz. She had to find him, to hold him close, to relish in the comfort that only his embrace could offer.

  She looked at the spot where Lorenz had stood, but he had disappeared. She glanced around the campfire but he was nowhere to be found. A panic commenced in Emilie’s stomach and grew outward, threatening to rob her of her breath. Her chest constricted like the morning in the warehouse at New Orleans. He couldn’t leave her. She couldn’t live without him.

  Dear God, she thought, she did love Lorenz. Not a young girl’s adoration or a friend’s esteem, but a passionate, soul-encompassing love. Like soul mates, they were two people destined to be together.

  Emilie hurried through the crowd searching for his face, but found nothing but strangers. Where was he?

  Off to the side of the campfire, Emilie noticed several laughing men moving toward a grouping of trees. Upon closer scrutiny, she realized they were enjoying un petite coup, or a taste of some sort of alcohol. Lorenz had more than likely accompanied them into the woods, sampling whatever it was that they had distilled in the swamplands of Louisiana.

  She couldn’t follow him there and her heart was too heavy to return to the dance. Thankful for the solitude of her cabin, Emilie wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and headed for bed, the image of happier times in Grand Pré still vivid in her mind.

  Tomorrow she would talk to Lorenz, she vowed. Talk sense into his impulsive, hard head. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Lorenz Dugas, for all his passionate confessions of love, couldn’t be that eager to replace her with another woman. Not after a lifetime of companionship.

  The prospects of the coming day failed to lighten her melancholy. As she entered the meager cabin, her eyes downcast from the weight of her dark mood, she didn’t comprehend at first the lighted candle on the floor or the man’s boots by its side. By the time the items registered and she raised her eyes to his, Lorenz had captured her hand and pulled her solidly into his embrace.

  Emilie

  Chapter Nine

  She should have questioned why he was there alone in her cabin or at least inquire about the haunting sadness lingering in his eyes before he pulled her into his arms, but Emilie didn’t want to speak. She only wanted Lorenz.

  He was sitting on the edge of her bed, his hair tangled as if he had disturbed it with his nervous hands. His thick, luscious hair always got the brunt of his agitated moods. As his arms encircled her waist, Emilie ran her fingers through his tousled hair and pressed her cheek against the top of his head, reveling in the masculine scent that was all Lorenz.

  “Oh Em,” Lorenz moaned as his face leaned into the warmth of her body.

  Emilie pressed his head against her bosom while Lorenz made a larger space for her between his legs. He then wrapped his arms so tightly around her, she could barely breathe and it was difficult to determine where one person began and the other ended. But she didn’t care. It felt so good to be held, to be back in the safe confines of Lorenz’s embrace, to be near the man she so dearly loved.

  Lorenz relinquished his tight hold on her, sighed and caressed the length of her back. When he looked up, she knew his mother’s song was the reason he disappeared from the group, much like she had. He looked as he had that day on the beach when his mother had slipped through consciousness or the night on the ship when his father was buried at sea, his covered form disappearing beneath the dark ocean surface within a heartbeat.

  Emilie ran her knuckles against Lorenz’s cheek and kissed his forehead. She wanted so very much to erase his suffering. And she wanted to ease the pain plaguing her own soul.

  Staring down into Lorenz’s face, she noticed his gaze shifting, the midnight irises now emitting a hungry, determined stare. Lorenz moved his legs further apart, and pulled Emilie forward until their bodies were completely united. Emilie knew Lorenz’s desires; she could feel it pressed against her. They were nearing dangerous territory, like so many times before at the Frédérics when their kisses left them unsatisfied and wanting.

  But tonight, Emilie vowed, she wouldn’t say goodnight.

  Lorenz must have read her thoughts for he slipped his fingers into her braid hanging across her shoulder and set her hair free, the flowers Celestine had woven between her strands floating to the floor like petals on the wind. Then Lorenz leaned back while cupping her face and brought it forward until they kissed.

  There was nothing chaste or exploratory about Lorenz’s kiss. It spoke of insistent passion. Emilie wound her fingers through his hair until she had a good grip and matched his wild kisses with equal fervor. Someone moaned — she wasn’t sure who — and Lorenz deepened the kiss, his tongue relishing the soft reaches of her mouth. When Lorenz drew away and alternated between kissing and nipping her lips, stopping to place her lower lip between his teeth and savoring the length of it with his tongue, Emilie knew the next moan was hers. She began her own line of kisses along his jawline, taking a playful bite on his earlobe.

  Lorenz leaned his head forward and buried his face within her chest, while he slid a hand underneath her skirt and savored the curve of her calf. When his hand reached the back of her knee, then her thigh and the top of her woolen stockings, Lorenz slipped his fingers under cloth until he met with bare skin. Emilie gasped as his immense hands slid even further beneath her undergarments and captured the roundness of her bottom.

  She had to have more, she thought as his fingers traced her curves. She wanted his hands everywhere.

  Emilie leaned back, her breathing labored as she gazed into eyes that mirrored her desire. There was something else looking back, worry perhaps? She almost smiled thinking that dear Lorenz would be concerned about her virginity, even though their union would assure their marriage. He had the power to force her hand, to bring her to the altar with kisses and sultry caresses, yet she knew he would never want her consent that way. And with the fire raging inside her, he didn’t have to.

  Emilie lowered her hands from Lorenz’s hair, stroking his newly shaved face and delivering a kiss before moving to the buttons of her vest. She slowly released each button, then removed the garment and let it fall on to the floor.

  Lorenz comprehended her meaning instantly, his hands quickly freeing her legs of her stockings. As he reached her ankles, however, his face exploded in a smile.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said as his fingers grasped the leather moccasins and slid them off her feet. Emilie punched him in the arm, knowing well he got the best of her, but she returned the smile.

  “Stubborn woman,” he muttered.

  “Stubborn man,” she answered before he claimed her lips once more.

  This time, while their kisses brought them back together, Lorenz flattened his hands against the soft material of her blouse and cupped the sides of her breasts, his thumbs circling the now taunt nipples. Free of the tight-fitting vest, her abundant bosom rose with each arduous breath as if aching to fill his palms. Lorenz’s hands eagerly responded by squeezing the nubs between his forefingers and thumbs, then massaging each breast first soft and delicately then roughly as if he would burst from the contact.

  Emilie had to breathe, to emit the sigh building inside her. She straightened, exhaled the pent-up steam and leaned her head back to allow Lorenz more room to work. Much to her surprise and delight, Lorenz lifted her shirt and raised it over her head. Before Emilie could address what had taken place, his lips were on a breast, his tongue teasing a nipple, biting, sucking.

  Emilie felt her knees weakening from the waves of exultation breaking over her. One hand on her bare back, his m
outh on her breast, another hand caressing her thigh beneath her skirt — Emilie thought she would burst from the sensations. When Lorenz cupped both breasts and began to alternately devour each one with his tongue, she knew for sure her legs would not support her.

  “Lorenz.”

  His name emerged more as a moan than a whisper, and Lorenz instantly caught its meaning. He undid the ties at her waist, but glanced up to make sure she was prepared for what was to come. When she slid her hands through his hair and caressed his cheek, leaning into his embrace to feel the warmth of his chest against her bare skin, she felt her skirt loosen and fall to the floor. With a deft movement, her undergarments followed suit.

  She stood naked before him, but felt neither embarrassment nor shame. Instead, the pose seemed natural, as if being united with Lorenz was as planned as their births. How could she have doubted this union, believed that their lives, so intertwined, would not have led to this moment?

  Lorenz moved his hands along her body delicately, as if savoring the feel of her skin, the soft curves of her hips, thighs and breasts. When his eyes met hers, they were filled with wonderment and gratitude.

  Emilie would have giggled from the serious look on his face had not the stimulation of his fingers caused a myriad reactions throughout her body, beginning with the hot, fiery sensation burning at her core. When his fingers moved lower toward the fire’s center, stroking a hidden nub lying in its midst, Emilie felt a shiver of pleasure overtake her and her knees weaken once again.

  “Lorenz,” she said more commanding this time. “The bed.”

  He smiled so seductively she wondered if she would melt in his embrace. When he rose from the bed and carried her up into his arms, she gasped. How he managed to kiss her while turning to place them both on to the bed, she would never understand. But his kiss sucked the air from her lungs and made her giddy with anticipation. As he placed her on the freshly cleaned sheets and pulled the cotton blanket over her, he rubbed his lips against hers.

  “Now tell me you don’t love me,” he dared her, his black eyes glowing in the darkness of the moonless night.

  The candle remained on the floor but Emilie could still read the heightened passion in the depth of those eyes. “You know I do,” she whispered.

  Lorenz straightened and unbuttoned his vest, then removed both it and his shirt. Emilie wasted no time reveling in the dark hairs covering his broad, strong chest. “Tell me,” Lorenz said as he began to unbutton the clapet of his breeches. “I want to hear you say it.”

  Emilie didn’t doubt her feelings, but her mind concentrated on his fingers circling the buttons of his pants. She wondered if it was true what the married women said about tall men with large hands. She wondered if there would be pain.

  She felt a gentle hand on her chin, lifting her face upward. When her eyes met his, she blushed at being exposed. But Lorenz wasn’t thinking of her curiosity. “Tell me,” he insisted.

  Not caring that the blanket fell away, Emilie slid into his lap and hugged her body to his. Amazed at how wonderful his thick chest hair felt against her breasts, she wiggled into his embrace and began to nuzzle his neck.

  “Tell you what,” she answered teasingly, while he moaned and grabbed her bottom, pulling her tighter against him. “That you’re the most incorrigible man I have ever met in my life?”

  Lorenz pulled back and met her lips with a heated kiss, his tongue dancing inside her mouth before he released her and led a wild path of bites along her cheek and neck. His massive hands fondled her breasts, capturing them in their palms as if their size was created specifically for them. Emilie slid her legs around his waist, her fiery center tingling with the close contact of his desire.

  “Tell you that your head is as hard as the rocks of Cape Blomidon back home?” she continued, taking a piece of skin at his nape between her teeth.

  Emilie wiggled some more and the clapet loosened. She could feel his manhood set free, bulging at the entrance to her own desire. She could sense his hands raising her bottom at the same time his tongue encircled a nipple. She knew their union was upon them and she closed her eyes bracing herself for the impact.

  Lorenz looked up and took her face in his hands, then kissed her gently.

  “Are you ready my love?” he asked her, wild desire burning in his dark eyes. She knew his restraint was taking every ounce of his strength. But Lorenz would never take more than she was willing to give.

  Emilie nodded and lowered herself on to him. The intrusion was painful at first, but Lorenz entered slowly, one hand at her waist guiding her down, the other at her face, always caressing. He passed his lips once more against hers. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

  Emilie exhaled and tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her. A roar like the sound of the tide returning to Minas Basin pounded in her head as they moved to a synchronized rhythm. The fire that had begun at the center of her body now reached outward and she could feel the licks of the flames singeing her skin, stealing her breath.

  Lorenz slid his hands against the small of her back and thrust her down upon him. As the fire threatened to consume her, Emilie wiggled once more, rubbing her breasts against his rock solid chest. The fire burst forth, sending sparks throughout her body. Emilie leaned her head back and savored the savage emotions surging through her.

  This was it, she thought. Everything she had ever dreamed of with Lorenz. And it was better than anything she could have imagined. For that one blissful moment, when the world exploded in light, Emilie let her defenses down. There were no painful memories here. Only Lorenz and the promise of a bright future.

  “I do so love you,” she said as Lorenz joined her on her way to heaven.

  They lay in silence, tight within each other’s arms, until Lorenz noticed the candle’s light flickering. He kissed Emilie’s forehead, then left the warmth of their bed to find a replacement for the now spent candle.

  “Shall I find another candle or do you wish to sleep?” he asked, hoping she was as eager to remain awake as he.

  Emilie propped herself on to an elbow, her eyes glistening in the weak light. “Are you tired?” she asked, and Lorenz thought he heard a thread of disappointment in the words.

  Lorenz searched the sparse cabin for a candle, determined to make the night last forever. He found one on the night table, which he lit and placed in its holder. “No, I’m not tired,” Lorenz said, watching the candle’s glow reflect off the red highlights in Emilie’s hair and her shoulders bask in the golden light. He grew hard at the sight of her. “I’m not tired at all,” he reiterated firmly.

  “Marie Bergeron says all men go to sleep afterwards,” Emilie said. “That Pierre falls asleep on top of her.”

  Lorenz slipped back under the sheets, hoping Emilie wouldn’t notice just how awake he was. He bolstered his face on an elbow so that they were eye to eye. “I’m not most men,” he said with a sly smile. “And I doubt you and I are the kind to waste time sleeping.”

  Emilie smiled broadly and raised a hand to his cheek. Her long, elegant fingers caressing his skin nearly undid him. He wanted her to touch him everywhere and he wanted to resume what they had started. But right now, he wanted answers.

  “Emilie,” he began and her smile faded at the tone of his voice. “Emilie, I need to know...”

  She pulled her hand away and lay on her back, her eyes staring heavenward. Damn, but the woman wasn’t infuriating, even after all they had just experienced.

  “Why won’t you tell me why you won’t marry me?”

  Emilie refused to answer, so Lorenz sighed and moved on to his back, his eyes staring at the same spot in the ceiling as she. Strange, he thought, how two people could stare ahead in the same direction, yet maintain a wall of silence and ignorance between them.

  “You’re too impetuous,” she finally said.

  “Impetuous?”

  “Yes, impetuous and impulsive.”

  Now, this was something new, Lorenz thought. “I thought
that was what you liked in me.”

  Emilie sat up, clinging the sheet to her breasts, but she still refused to look at him. “Perhaps when we were children. It’s hardly an admirable trait as an adult.”

  His anger returning, Lorenz sat up and folded his arms across his chest, their tense shoulders touching. “I apologized for my action with the soldiers. I was wrong and I admitted it. But that was days ago. You have refused me before then and if I remember correctly, your reasons had nothing to do with my impetuousness.”

  Emilie looked at him then, her eyes filled with emotion. “You stole apples from our English neighbors in Port Tobacco and nearly got thrown into jail. The Jesuits were always furious with you over skipping church. You were so insistent over deck privileges on the boat from Maryland the captain considered confining you to quarters. You lost your rations three times.”

  “What did you expect me to do?” Lorenz answered, his own heated emotions getting the best of him. “We were starving in Maryland. We were too congested on that blasted ship. And who gives a damn about going to church when God has forsaken us.”

  The fire burned in his temple and Lorenz could feel the familiar thumping in his chest. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and leaned his forehead in his hands, brusquely threading his fingers through his hair. Like so many times before, their circumstances brought his blood to the boiling point.

  Someone had to stand up to the relentless injustices, the constant denials of their personal freedoms. Never having had the opportunity to fight for his home or his family, Lorenz was only too willing to offer his services. Still, the way his body shook with anger made him wonder if Emilie had a point.

  “I’m raked with fury,” he said, his voice quivering, amazed to be admitting his secret aloud. “You can’t imagine what it’s like to witness your parents slip away in your hands and be powerless to do anything about it.”