Dark Secrets, Deep Bayous by Meg Hennessy

Author:Meg Hennessy [Hennessy, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781622662616
Google: bTcoAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00H0UT6KS
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2014-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

After what seemed like endless hours of men talking war and politics in the salle principale and enduring senseless prattle with the women in the salon—who hadn’t sent a kind word Aurèlie’s way—the evening finally ended. The guests strolled upstairs to the rooms for the night. Only the consulate and his wife left the premises. Aurèlie checked on Maisie once more before making her way back to the dining hall to supervise the clean up.

Monsieur Clement had remained on the back loggia drawing on a cigar. Aurèlie watched him from the window.

“Hattie,” Aurèlie caught the woman as she walked by her, “who is that man?”

Hattie shrugged her shoulders. “He’s no one I know, nor should you. I’ll make the dinin’ hall clean, ya might retire for the night.”

Retire for the night? Aurèlie had no intention of making a docile retreat to her room until she had some idea of exactly what it was that Jordan was involved in. As far as she knew, her father had not reported a theft, and that was odd.

She pulled the panels closed after she slipped into Jordan’s study behind the library. A place he always returned to at night before retiring, if he ever slept.

She waited in the dark until finally, she heard his foot falls on the wooden flooring. He swung the door open, fumbled with a dip-match, then lit a lamp. He halted.

“Aurèlie,” he lifted the lamp and placed it on the table next to her. “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

“Waiting for you.” Her voice sounded far sultrier than she wanted.

“Really.” He placed his hands on each arm of her chair. Boxing her in, he leaned into her. “Hungry for me, are you?”

He smiled, a deep resonant smile that indeed made her heart skip a beat, but he had had too much to drink, having celebrated the end of the dinner with Monsieur Clement. She wondered at her own wisdom in speaking with him tonight. But he was here and she had his attention.

“I wish to speak with you,” she replied.

“Oh, what a disappointment. I wish to do other things.”

As he walked behind her, he dragged his fingers lightly along her hairline and dipped to her nape. He brushed her skin with his lips, warm breath fluttered down her back. She closed her eyes, taking a long deep breath.

“Monsieur…”

“Oh, how I tire of that.” He kissed her earlobe, gently nudging it with his tongue. Her earring rocked back and forth against her neck. She tried for another deep breath but sucked in small irregular gasps.

“Jourdain, I wish to speak with you.”

“I’m listening.” He traced his fingers again over her nape, nuzzled her other earlobe, leaving a heated patch against her skin that spread like warm rum swallowed on a cold night.

She sighed, realizing her error in trying to have a logical conversation. Instead, closing her eyes, she allowed him to explore. He pulled the combs from her hair and let the length of it fall down her back and over her shoulder.

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