Cursed (Decorah Security #21) - Rebecca York Page 0,56

had felt like they’d had a lot in common. They liked the same music. They both liked good food. They both loved the natural environment. And they were both down to earth in a very fundamental way. And their values matched so well.

He’d been delighted to discover all those things and more. He’d pictured the two of them sitting in the sunroom or on the patio, talking for hours, then reaching for each other.

But when she’d arrived, everything had changed. He’d been terrified that she would turn away from Andre Gascon—the man in person. And worse, he knew that he’d dragged her into a situation more dangerous than he’d imagined.

He hadn’t known how to deal with her—or with his fears. But she hadn’t allowed him to shut himself away from her. And for that he was profoundly grateful.

She’d forced him to tell her about the curse. Some of it. But there was more he had to reveal. And things he must ask of her. But not now. Not until she knew him better.

When she did, would she run screaming from him? Fear leaped inside him. The idea of losing her was too much to bear.

Closing his eyes, he held her in his arms, profoundly grateful for these hours of intimacy, but praying that she would stay with him even when she knew the worst about him.

He had never spent the night with a woman. Never slept with a lover in his arms. But he was glad to do it now, overwhelmed by the luxury of sharing a bed with Morgan Kirkland—not just to make love but to sleep beside her.

He drifted into the most peaceful slumber he could remember, his shoulder touching Morgan’s. His leg pressed to hers.

A few hours later, the sound of a car engine and angry shouting outside made his eyes snap open.

Oh Lord, not again.

Chapter Twelve

Looking to his right Andre saw Morgan staring wide-eyed at him as men’s angry voices shattered the warm mood of the bedroom.

She sat up, exposing her beautiful breasts. When she saw him staring at her, she dragged up the sheet, and he marveled that she was thinking of modesty. Or maybe she was right. Maybe the uninvited guests in the front hall would come pounding up the stairs and burst into the bedroom. That thought had him scrambling out of bed and searching for the clothing that he’d left scattered around the room.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered, as he thrust one foot into a pants leg, then the other. Still, he had a good idea of what he was going to hear, if he made it downstairs. Someone had found another body out in the bayou. Another man killed by a large cat.

The front door rattled. Then footsteps hurried across the hall. The door opened, and Janet was speaking to someone.

He had pulled on his jeans and tee shirt. He saw Morgan doing the same.

“Stay here,” he tossed over his shoulder as he scuffed his feet into his shoes. He was thinking that he was probably wasting his breath by giving Morgan Kirkland orders. One of the basic things he’d learned about her was that she did what she thought was best. He could only thank the Lord that she’d had sense enough to stay out of the bayou last night.

As he dashed from the room, she followed a few paces behind. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, He found Janet standing against the wall, pushed to the side by a whole crowd of men—Sheriff Jarvis, Dwight Rivers, Bob Mansard. And Rick Brevard. Relief flooded through Andre when he saw Rick standing there. He was one of the missing men, apparently alive and well.

The feeling of relief evaporated like water on a scalding griddle as Jarvis got right to the point. “Where were you last night?” he demanded.

“Why do you want to know?” Andre asked.

“Because Henri Dauphin is dead,” Jarvis said, his voice flat.

Morgan stepped up beside Andre and put a hand on his arm. “If you’re here, I suppose you suspect Andre. He was here all night,” she said in a firm voice. “With me.”

All eyes shot to her. From the way the crowd was looking at her, it was pretty clear that they knew Morgan Kirkland and Andre Gascon had just climbed out of bed. The question was—how long had they been there?

Apparently, Jarvis’ had already considered that line of inquiry. “All night?” he asked, tipping his head to one side, looking her