Page 80 of Cursed
“What?”
The woman shuffled her feet. “I came to live here a long time ago.”
“I gathered that.”
“Yvonne and I are cousins.”
“What?” Morgan gasped. This time the question came out high and surprised.
“I guess you can say I started out as a spy for my family. They urged me to apply for a job at Belle Vista. At first, I told them what was going on around the house. I never did care much for the old man. I could see why his wife left him. He was harsh. And angry. He thought he’d gotten a raw deal in life. He couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to his son. That little boy needed somebody to care about him. And that person turned out to beme. I stayed on. It was easy to love him. Easy to help him grow and thrive. My family feels like I switched sides.” She sighed. “Maybe you could call it that. I call it giving him a chance.”
“And you want me to give him a chance, too?” Morgan asked.
“Yes.”
“That would be easier if he’d meet me halfway.”
“He’s trying. But he’s been in a difficult situation for a long time. There was nobody he could trust—except me. He’s had to rely on himself.”
They stared at each other for long moments. Then the housekeeper turned and left.
Morgan sat with the ice pack on her ankle, thinking about what she’d just learned and wondering if it made any difference.
After twenty minutes, she took a quick shower, then dressed in tee shirt and slacks and returned to the chair and the ice pack.
When she looked across at the bed, her chest tightened. She and Andre had made love there. And it had been wonderful, if she dared to be honest. But maybe that was because it had been so long since she’d been in a man’s arms. And great sex wasn’t enough for a great relationship, she told herself. He had to trust her—in person, not just long distance. He had to share his fears and his joys with her.
Maybe she would just sit here all night. Early in the morning, she was going to pack and leave—and go back to her life with Decorah Security. And she and Andre could start corresponding again. She couldn’t hold back a sardonic laugh. Right, they could be pen pals, since that had worked out better than face-to- face lovers.
She forced herself away from the edge of hysteria. Janet had given her some insights. But that didn’t make it easier to deal with a man who had so many secrets. And she couldn’t cope with her own confusion, either. It was almost impossible to judgewhat she was feeling for Andre—especially when everything was so muddled up.
She might not have planned to go to bed, but she was too exhausted to stay awake. Her head lolled against the chair back, and she slept. Sometime in the early hours of the morning the sound of chanting and drumming woke her. The voodoo priestess was out there—at it again.
And it was impossible to ignore the performance. Cautiously, Morgan stood, relieved that the ankle felt much better than it had a few hours ago. Walking to the window, she peered out into the darkness.
She told herself that the woman couldn’t hurt her. Still, she felt her heart pounding. The reaction made her angry at herself.
Ever since she’d come here, outside forces had been manipulating her. It wasn’t just the priestess. Linette Sonnier, a woman who had died almost a hundred years ago was forcing emotions on her. She was dragging the new arrival at Belle Vista into dreams that were none of her business.
“Linette, you’re not playing fair with me,” she muttered. “And neither are you, Andre. You’ve been omitting information every time it’s not convenient for you to tell me something important.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “And we won’t leave you out, Janet. You’ve been in on the fun and games, too. Including that last little meaningful conversation.”
Suddenly Morgan had had enough. Sitting around and brooding had never been her style. And since her husband’s death, she had taken refuge in action. Feeling like she was finally taking control of something, she charged down the hall.
Janet came out of her room, looking alarmed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going out.”
“But Yvonne …”
“Yeah, right. How could you miss her?” As she spoke, she kept moving toward the stairs.
“Stay away from her,” Janet warned. “Her magic is strong.”
“So is mine,” Morgan growled. “And I’m tired of everybody telling me to stay in the house at night,” she tossed over her shoulder as she hurried down the staircase. Before she could change her mind, she stepped out the back door.
The night had been dark as black velvet. But Janet must have switched on the exterior lights, because suddenly the gardens around the house were flooded with yellow illumination.
Still, the priestess was beyond their range. Morgan descended to ground level and walked away from the house, into the darkness—toward the woman who wanted her out of the picture.
