Page 8 of Home Is Where the Witch Is
“Bonjourladies,” he said smoothly. “I don’t think we ‘ave been properly introduced.”
“Hella,” the feisty little drag queen answered immediately, holding out her manicured hand with outrageous presumption. “South American Line.”
“Bien sûr,” he said, his unique gaze flitting across Hella’s face as he bent while lifting her hand obligingly to his lips. “Alain D’Louncrais—the French candidate. Per’aps you are my new colleague, no?”
“May be,” Hella smirked, lifting a shoulder in a girlish fashion before reluctantly claiming back her hand. There was something about Alain D’Louncrais that was dark, delectable, and dangerous. Rosie couldn’t blame Hella for not wanting to end their interaction.
“And you,ma belle fleur?”
Suddenly finding herself the subject of his arresting green and blue gaze, Rosie felt heat flush her cheeks. It was silly to be blushing like a school girl just for talking to a beautiful man. Besides, she was a happily married—and very pregnant—woman. There was no way in the world anyone but her husband could find her attractive in her current state.
Yet there was a spark of something in Alain’s eyes that said otherwise, and that made her feel nervous.
“Rosemary Forrest,” she said, reaching for the hand he had offered and giving it two quick pumps of an awkward handshake. “North America. That’s my husband over there—Declan.”
“You are very beautiful, Rosemary. There is nothing more exquisite than a woman in the bloom of motherhood. It suits you.” He shook his hand, as though trying to recover feeling in his fingers. “And you have a very strong grip.”
“If you thinkhergrip is strong, you should try mine,” Declan said, arriving to join the group. He slid his left arm around his wife, the action equal parts protection and concern. His free hand, he thrust in the direction of the French witch. “Declan Forrest.”
“Alain—the pleasure is mine,monsieur.” Alain’s gaze flicked back to Rosie, but out of nowhere a beefy shoulder clashed forcefully with his. A bear-like man with dark tribal tattoos up both of his arms turned to glare at the Frenchman.
“Been walking long?” he snarled in a broad New Zealand accent.
“Long enough to know I should watch where I’m going when I do it,” Alain replied calmly, maintaining eye contact with the guy who'd smashed into him. The man muttered something under his breath, shot a look at Rosie and Declan, and then kept walking.
“What a doll,” Hella remarked sarcastically.
Declan turned to his wife. “Alright, love? Can I get y’anythin’?”
“I think I’ll sit down for a bit actually,” Rosie admitted. Her back was already starting to twinge, and she didn’t want to use all her energy fighting off flirty French political hopefuls. “Was lovely to meet you, Mr. D’Louncrais,” she added.
He brushed her formality aside with a swipe of his beautifully tanned hand.
“Maisno—Alain,sil’vous plais—please,” he added in heavily accented English.
“See ya later, Alain,” Hella answered, never skipping a beat as the three of them moved away.
“Oh,” Declan said then, perking up a little. “There’s Ma ’n' Da.”
Rosie looked in the direction her husband had pointed in and waved to her parents-in-law. “Why don’t you go and say hi? Hella’ll make sure that I’m taken care of, won’t you?”
Hella quirked a brow that spoke volumes. “Of course.”
“You sure?” Declan looked torn, but soon relaxed when Hella nodded.
“I’m sure I can find her a chair and some water,” the little drag queen grinned, throwing a sideways glance at Rosie over her husband’s hesitation to leave her side.
“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll be back soon, love.”
“Okay!” Rosie waited until he was just out of earshot before slapping her friend lightly on the arm. “You are so bad!”
“I gots no clue what you’re takin’ ‘bout, honey,” Hella replied with aplomb. “But I’ll bedamnedif I’m ever washin’ this hand again!”
“Uhuh,” Rosie teased with a grin as the paid of them made their way through the crowd toward the platform where their chairs were set out. “So how does this all work, exactly?”
“The candidates’ll all be introduced soon,” Hella explained, nodding here and there to acknowledge people in the crowd. “Then there’s a mixer where they can introduce themselves to their constituents and try drum up a little good will.” She smirked. “Although in Alain’s case, he can drum up more thanthatwhere I’m concerned.”
Rosie snickered. “Hella!”
