Page 25 of Frankly, My Dear

But a low hissing sound came from James’s parted lips at her feathery kiss and he put both his hands on her elbows, pulling her closer. Then, with his right arm wrapped around her waist and his left hand at the nape of her neck, he pulled her flush with his body. “Not much of a farewell, to my way of thinking, or a proper display of gratitude,” he murmured against her lips, and took control of the kiss.

Selene’s knees turned to butter at the first touch of his warm lips on hers, and she moved her hands up around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. Expertly, he molded her lips to fit his, nipping at her bottom lip until she parted for him. Then his tongue seared her with its molten heat, and Selene’s world tilted on its axis. Shock waves of passion ricocheted through her body, and Selene knew her life would never be the same again.

Almost as quickly as the kiss began, it was over. James pulled away from her slightly. Tracing the moistness on her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, he gazed at her with unquestionable desire, and a puzzled frown.

Finally he stepped back completely, his arms at his sides. He no longer touched her, though his eyes still embraced her with soulful yearning.

“That was a proper good-bye.” Only then did he turn and walk away toward the restaurant.

Selene just stood there, watching his departing back. And, for the first time since she’d left the twentieth century, she wondered if she really wanted to return.

Chapter Five

When Selene entered the low-ceilinged shop, her senses were assailed by the myriad smells of dried herbs hanging about. Some of them she recognized, like lavender, verbena, coriander, and sweet basil. Others, exotic and repellent, spoke of secrets and danger and illicit thrills.

Dust motes danced in the streams of sunlight that filtered through the small windows, casting narrow, shifting patterns on the counter and cluttered shelves. Two ladies whispered, heads together, on the other side of the room as they examined amulets and little packets of potpourri.

“Ah, finally you have arrived,” a petite black woman said in a sultry, low voice, coming up behind Selene. “I have been expecting you for weeks.”

Selene almost jumped out of her skin. “Me?”

“Certainement! You are Selene. Lilith, my granddaughter many times removed, first began casting her spells weeks ago. You must be strong to have withstood them for so long.”

Selene studied the woman closely. She had to be about fifty, but her skin was almost ageless. Supremely beautiful, she carried her small body in a majestic manner. Although she was shorter and her skin much darker than Lilith’s, the resemblance was remarkable.

“What can I do for you, Mam’zelle Selene?”

Selene’s brows furrowed in surprise at the woman’s knowing her name, and Lilith’s. “Ah…well…I was wondering if you could help me—”

“Non.”

“No?”

“I can do nothing to break the spell. ’Tis a powerful gris-gris that Lilith put on you.”

“Listen, I don’t really believe all this voodoo stuff, but—”

“You’d best believe, missie. How else do you explain your…predicament?”

“A dream?” Selene asked hopefully.

“Please, chérie, let us be honest with each other. You have traveled from another time. Now, you may credit voodoo, or le bon Dieu, or dreams, or whatever,” she said with a shrug, “but the fact remains that you are here.”

Selene sighed woefully. “But what can I do?”

“The time is not right. For now.”

“And later?”

“Oui, later, certainement. The spirits will tell when your time is right. I do know this, only one person will be permitted to go forward through the time door. And you must be wearing the same gown you came in.”

Selene made a mental note to get the dress back from the dressmaker as soon as possible and guard it with her life.

“The choice will be yours, Selene—whether to go or stay.”

“Why ever would I want to stay here?” she asked incredulously.

Ms. Laveau’s full lips turned up slightly in a secretive smile.