Cursed (Decorah Security #21) - Rebecca York Page 0,51
was Janet, and the woman’s eyes widened as she stared at Morgan’s defensive stance.
“Don’t . . .hurt me, child,” she quavered. “I didn’t mean anything . . . bad.”
“Why did you grab me?”
“You were going out. Like that woman wanted you to do.”
“The priestess?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still going out,” Morgan corrected.
“You can’t.”
“Andre’s out there. She may be after him.”
“He can take care of himself,” Janet snapped.
“But . . .”
“Andre can take care of himself,” Janet repeated. “It’s important for you to stay inside—where you’re safe.”
“Why?”
The housekeeper gave her a long look and answered with what she had said before. “Because he needs you.”
“For what?”
Janet continued to stare at her. “You have to figure that out for yourself.”
The woman’s words were spoken in a low, quiet voice. But they hit Morgan with a staggering force. The chanting from outside wrapped itself around her. “What are you doing to me? All of you?” she gasped.
“You have to be strong,” Janet said softly.
“I thought I was strong. Now . . .”
“Go back to your room. Get some rest. You have a lot to face in the morning.”
“How do you know?”
Janet hesitated, then said, “I have the sight.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s in my blood. Not like my cousins, but I know things.”
“What things?”
“That you should be in bed now.”
Maybe it was the firm way Janet said it, but Morgan turned around and went back to her room.
With fingers that felt thick and clumsy, she pulled off her shoes and pants. She was feeling strange and muzzy headed as she started for bed. Then a thought crept into her mind and lodged there. The robe was in the closet. She should put on the robe.
The robe? She had told herself she was never going to wear it again. Now a strange sense of purpose gripped her as she walked to the closet and fumbled through the hangers. When her fingers closed over the shoulder of the garment, she sighed with relief and pleasure. Pulling it off the hanger, she shoved her arms through the sleeves, then quickly fastened the buttons.
The robe seemed to hold her in an embrace, heating her skin, soothing her soul in a way that she was at a loss to explain. She felt like she had come home, come back to herself.
Gratefully, she tottered to the bed, crawled in and pulled the covers up to her chin. Within moments, she was sleeping soundly.
The fates let her rest for a while. Then she awoke. Not in the here and now. In another woman’s life—the woman she had visited twice before. She was Linette again, standing in the garden patch outside her cabin, looking toward the bayou, watching the rain fall, waiting for her love.
She knew he had been in New Orleans, making arrangements. He had said he would come back for her. But he had been gone for days, and now she was worried about him.
She had secretly packed some of her belongings. Her fate was out of her hands now. All she could do was wait.
She had a little of the second sight her aunt possessed. And sometimes it told her that it was better if he simply went away and left her here. She kept thinking that something terrible was going to happen if she went away with Andre. To her. To him. In the future.
But if he came, she knew she would be helpless to do anything besides follow her heart. She loved him. She wanted to make a home for him. Do all the things a wife could do for her husband. Have his children. Grow old with him.
She was heading back inside when the sound of horses’ hooves outside made her go rigid.
Looking out the window, she saw a stallion come out of the bayou. She knew the animal, knew the rider. It was Andre on Richelieu.
She flew toward him. By the time she reached him, he had dismounted and tied the reins to the branch of a pine tree. Turning he caught her in his arms. She melted against him as he gathered her close. The rain was falling on them, and he moved her under the shelter of the branches.
“I’m sorry, angel. I’m sorry I took so long. But I wanted to make sure we could leave New Orleans as soon as we arrived in town. There’s a ship down at the docks waiting for us. We’re going to San Francisco. We can live there.”
“San Francisco. That’s so far away. Are you sure?” she whispered.