Page 66 of Frankly, My Dear

If she belonged to him…if he were free to take another woman into his life…if he had met her long ago, before Giselle…If! If! If!, he chastised himself. This dreaming has to stop. Truly, the woman must have placed a spell on me. Perhaps she is involved in voodoo, after all. Thank the Lord, she will be gone soon.

“Why are you looking at Selene’s mouth?” Etienne asked. “Did she dribble soup on her chin?”

Selene ducked her head with embarrassment and dabbed at her chin with a table linen.

James laughed. Leave it to his son to bring him back to reality with a jolt. “No, E.T., she did not dribble. I was just watching to see that she eats her soup, like a good girl. She must keep up her strength if she is to do a good job teaching you.” Even if it’s only for a few days. He winked at Selene and was pleased at her quick blush. “And you must show your new teacher more respect. She is Mademoiselle Selene to you.”

Etienne took several noisy slurps of his soup before narrowing his eyes craftily. “Is it respectful for a teacher to use the word pizzle, Papa?”

All four adults at the table gasped, looking at Etienne with horror.

The scamp blinked back at them with the innocence of a fox caught in the henhouse.

“Exactly what do you mean by that outrageous remark?” James asked, throwing his napkin to the table.

“What outrageous word? Oh. Pizzle.” He waved his hand loftily. “I think Mam’zelle Selene said somethin’ today about voodoo curses and makin’ my pizzle fall off.”

“Why, you little brat,” Selene exclaimed, starting to stand. She looked as if she might leap over the table and throttle his son. Frankly, the prospect appealed to him, too. Still, he placed a restraining hand on her arm.

She calmed herself down with visible effort, digging her nails into her palms. Soon she was sending dagger looks at Etienne, with her elbows propped on the table, her cupped hands holding up her defiant chin. Etienne flushed and shifted uncomfortably, seeming to realize belatedly the extent of Selene’s seething anger.

“Would you care to change your mind about what you just said, E.T.?” Selene asked with exaggerated sweetness. She made her eyes go extra wide with question, and the scamp’s eyes looked as if they might just pop out with fright.

“Well, maybe it wasn’t Selene…Mam’zelle Selene, I mean,” Etienne stammered out, gulping. His eyes darted guiltily, looking everywhere but at Selene. “Oui, I think it was Cain…or maybe it was Abel who said that word. And I told ’em it was a bad word, just like you told me, Papa.”

Two small voices gasped with outrage from the corner. Cain and Abel were pulling the cords of the punkah, the maharajah-style fan that hung over the dining-room table to shoo away flies and provide a cool breeze. The twins glared indignantly at Etienne for his obvious lie.

James was developing a horrible headache.

And he still had to check on the mare, repair the extra boiler, and review the yard-work schedule with Rufus. Plus he really should disclose to Selene the plans he’d made for her departure.

“Hmmm. I think we can discuss this matter further away from the dinner table,” Selene offered to Etienne in a conciliatory manner. “Perhaps in the morning when we begin your first lessons.”

Etienne nodded enthusiastically, no doubt figuring he’d escaped her wrath. But then Selene added, “I wonder what subject we should study first.” She tapped her fingertips on the table thoughtfully.

Etienne avoided her scrutiny, his eyes riveted with odd concentration on her short, blunt fingernails. Then his shoulders slumped with resignation. “Numbers. You’re gonna make me do numbers, aintja?”

“Exactly.”

Etienne made a rude, blowing sound of disgust with his tongue and asked to be excused, rushing off before James could correct him again. Fergus and Reba left, as well, and James didn’t have the heart to remind Fergus that he was supposed to meet him in the barn later. Somehow he didn’t think he’d be seeing Fergus again tonight.

Selene stood, too, about to help Hyacinth clear the table.

“Wait. I need to talk to you a moment.”

She swerved suddenly and her newly cut hair swirled about her shoulders in a cascade of brown silk waves. It was still long and very curly, despite her haircut. He couldn’t help picturing it spread out on his pillow, framing the clear skin of her face, staring up at him expectantly, surrendering to him, demanding his surrender in return…. Merde! My brain is melting.

“James, don’t.”

“What?” So lost had he been in his fantasy that he hadn’t realized she’d moved back to the table and was proceeding to sit back down next to him. He felt confused and disoriented. “Don’t…what?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s hard enough for me to resist you without you…” She let her words trail off.

She has trouble resisting me? Mon Dieu! I am lost. “How was I looking at you, Selene?” he asked softly. Then, shrugging with resignation, he allowed his pent-up passions to spill out, like dammed-up water through a broken levee. “Like I want to run my fingers through your hair to see if it feels as silky as it looks?” He reached out a hand and tugged on one curl near the curve of her neck, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

He felt her pulse jump against the back of his knuckles. His pulse jumped, too, in a not-so-obvious place.

“Or was I looking at your smooth skin, wondering how it would taste…all over?”