Cursed (Decorah Security #21) - Rebecca York Page 0,52
hold on her, then set her away from him so he could look into her eyes. “Yes. I’ve made all the arrangements. I sent inquiries to several cities. One of the universities offered me a job. So, we don’t have to worry about that. And I have some good ideas for books I want to write.” He dragged in a breath and let it out in a rush. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“I want to be with you,” she breathed. “I haven’t changed my mind about that.”
“But?” he pressed.
“I’m frightened,” she said in a small voice.
“Of what? Your family? My father? I’m taking you where they can never touch us. And we’ll be free to love each other.”
“I know. You’re so smart. I could never have planned something like this in secret.”
He laughed. “No. You’re too honest. Too straightforward.”
She was hardly listening. “I don’t know what you see in me.”
“I love you. I look at you, and I see all the good, warm, gentle things that I never had in my life—until I met you.”
“Oh Andre.” She lifted her arms, bringing his head down to hers. As soon as his lips met hers, she felt a profound sense of relief. How could she be worried? He was holding her and kissing her as though he had been starving for the taste of her, and she felt the same.
She opened for him, feasting from him, thinking that no one was home, and she could take him into the house, into her bedroom. She wanted him. They would be married soon. But there was no reason to wait for the joy of making love with him.
But before she had drunk her fill, he lifted his lips, leaving her light-headed. “We have to go,” he said, his voice thick.
She knew he was right.
“Are you ready? Or do you need some time to get your things together?”
“I’m almost ready.” She went back into the cabin and brought out the small bag she had already packed. She had known she couldn’t take much on horseback, so she had chosen carefully. Her robe lay across the chair, and she stroked her fingers over the silky fabric. She loved the robe, and she would have liked to take it, but she needed other things more.
A step behind her made her turn. Andre had come into the room. He walked to her, touched the robe. “You must be a sexy sight wearing that. I’d like to see it.”
She flushed.
“I’ll get you one you’ll love even more.”
“You don’t have to buy me things.”
“It will be my pleasure to buy you things. You’re going to be my wife. But we must go.”
“Yes,” she answered, her fear leaping up inside her again. But she ignored the bad feelings. She was just nervous about leaving everything she had ever known to go off with Andre Gascon. And feeling bad about her parents. They would be sad and angry. But maybe later when she wrote to them and told them how happy she was, they would forgive her.
Maybe they would understand how much Andre meant to her. She trusted him with her life. When he was with her, she couldn’t believe that anything bad would happen.
So, she put a few more things into her bag, took her rain slicker from the peg by the door, then followed him out of the house. He helped her up onto the broad back of Richelieu before climbing up behind her, holding her in his arm as he started down the road that led first to St. Germaine and then to New Orleans.
She leaned against him, reassured by his strong arm looped around her waist. When she snuggled into his embrace, he bent to stroke his lips against the side of her face.
“Soon we won’t have to sneak around. We won’t have to run away. We’ll be together always.”
“Oui,” she answered, closing her eyes, letting his soothing words lull her.
They were several miles from her house when she heard a roaring noise. She knew what it was. A sudden flood cannonballing through the bayou.
Behind her Andre cursed, then kicked his heels into the horse’s sides. “Come on, boy. Get us out of this,” he shouted as he flicked the reins.
But it was already too late. She saw a wall of water rushing toward them. Her scream was drowned out as the water hit Richelieu, sweeping both of them off the horse’s broad back and into the current.