Page 17 of Undo Me

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Blue Eyes.”

She shrugged carelessly. “I suppose I’ll have to forgive your arrogance since Michelle keeps mentioning you saving her life. But I’m still mad about you screwing with my dreams, so let’s agree that you’ll lay off the cheesy pick-up lines until my babysitting shift is over. Deal?”

He wasn’t sure what to address first. She knew a lot about him, and seemed to believe it without requiring proof. But she’d mentioned those dreams again.

Still. “I don’t require a babysitter. Shall I prove it to you?”

“Only if you want to end up on the floor for the second time.”

His chuckle was rueful. “I’m assuming by your threats of violence and your accent that you’re a friend of Michelle’s from New York, yes?”

“I don’t make threats.” Bethany leaned closer, curiosity making her careless. “Anyway, don’t you know? You’ve already been in my mind.”

“Alas, I haven’t had that pleasure. And unfortunately, for today at least, I’m without any of my regular abilities. What exactly are you accusing me of?”

Now she looked uncomfortable. “I think you know.”

“I really don’t. Was I in your dreams? If so, I’d love to know what I did to cause this kind of reaction.”

“You’re really going to sit there after the things we’ve done and lie to my face?”

“I’ll never lie to you.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he held her startled stare, willing her to move closer. To kiss him. He wanted, rather desperately, to feel her lips against his own. Those unusual lips. “You are a fiery one, aren’t you?”

She stared into his eyes, her curiosity turning to wonder. “Marcel?”

She pressed her lips to his and he moaned, so intent on his need for the kiss that it took him a moment to register what she’d called him.

Marcel?

1827

New Orleans

He should never have allowed it, but when she’d shown up at his door, a cloak covering her tear-stained face from the curious women he’d lived beside for years, he couldn’t find it in him to turn her away.

Shame filled him. This hotel-cum-brothel was no place for a young lady of social standing to know about, let alone visit. The place he’d defiantly made his home wasn’t fit for her. Neither was he. Not yet.

Fear for her added ice to his tone. “What were you thinking, Isabel? I told you I’d meet you at the park tomorrow. I told you never to come here. Do you know what could happen if anyone found you? What they would do to me—to you for allowing me to touch you?”

Isabel’s face was pale, her eyes wide and beautiful and heartbroken. “Don’t be angry, please. I had to come. Catherine said she saw you with one of the Devereaux sisters. She saw you, Marcel. Tell me she was being hysterical, that you wouldn’t—”

He gripped her by her shoulders and shook her, frustration making him rougher than he needed to be. “And I saw you at my father’s soiree last eve, Isabel. Dancing every dance with my half-brother, Antoine.” The man who was determined to run him out of New Orleans and steal Isabel merely because he knew Marcel wanted her. “His hands were on you as if he had the right, yet, I trusted you. Knew you were acting according to expectations. I trusted that you were faithful to me. Will you never trust me in return?”

She struggled in his arms, not to push away but to pull him closer. “Nothing happened,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I knew that she was wrong, but I’ve been so afraid, Marcel. If you knew…”

His jaw worked as he sought to restrain himself. “Your father?”

Her nod was miserable. “He’s barely let me out of his sight lately and he’s getting worse. The things he says, Marcel. I’m nothing to him if he can’t use me to enhance his standing. He’s told me so himself. I’ll marry or I’ll be sent away from my brother. From you. I’m scared he’ll force my hand before you and I can—I couldn’t survive it. Another man touching me. You not loving me anymore. I’d rather die.”

“Never say that.”

“Then tell me you’ve found a way. Tell me it will be soon, my love. Please.”

He wrapped her in his embrace, pushing off her cloak to bury his face in her sweetly scented hair. He had done this to them. He’d taken advantage of her innocence and ruined her future, because he followed his heart.

He’d spoken to his mother, knowing if anyone could understand, it would be her. She knew love was a power that couldn’t be dissuaded by logic or prejudice. It had a magic that defied all rules.

Instead of support, she’d given him a hard dose of reality. “If you love her the way you say you do, you let her go.”

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