When Love Came to Town

“And now she runs a French restaurant out back and cooks good old Cajun, Creole and American food for the houseguests,” Lacey explained with pride.

“She’s a bona fide chef,” Lucas replied with a wink.

Mick raised his tea goblet toward her in a salute. So she wasn’t just a country bumpkin, all tucked away here on the bayou. He wondered why he’d even thought that. Lorna was as sophisticated as any French woman, and she could definitely speak the language—very colorfully. Lifting his glass high, he said, “And I thought all the great chefs were men.”

“No, men just like to believe that,” she replied, her expression smug.

Mick decided there was probably much more to her travels, but he didn’t press for the details. Yet.

When they’d finished their dessert, Lorna, Lacey and Lucas all helped with the dishes, while Aunt Hilda went up to bed on the third floor where their living quarters were located. Rosie Lee and Tobbie had eaten in the kitchen with Emily and Tobias. Emily also worked at Bayou le Jardin, but now they all chipped in to get the work done. Mick was amazed at the sense of family here, and the way the Dorsettes seemed to think of the Babineaux family as part of their own, even down to Little Tobbie running and playing throughout the vast mansion.

He’d never had that. He’d always been an outsider.

And soon, he’d be gone from Bayou le Jardin. Gone from the mystery and secrets of the swamp. Gone from the scent of azalea blossoms and wisteria sprigs on the night wind. Gone from the green-velvet gaze of a red-haired woman with a heart full of fire and a soul full of secrets.

Mick liked traveling around, liked being on the road. Liked running, always running from his past. But tonight, tonight, he felt a stirring that was as unfamiliar to him as crystal goblets and crisp linen napkins, as unfamiliar to him as polished wood and freshly cut flowers.

For the first time since he’d left that trailer park, Mick Love wanted to stay right where he was. Just for a little while.

Just long enough to find out all the secrets Lorna Dorsette kept hidden so well behind all that feminine fire.

He waited until everyone else had bid him goodnight, then he turned to Lorna. They stood on the back gallery, where the moonlight played hide-and-seek with the Spanish moss in the great oaks, where the wisteria blossoms entwined around the stout gallery columns, showering them with delicate purple rain every time the wind lifted.

He didn’t want to be away from her just yet.

“Show me the river,” he said, reaching out a hand to her as he stepped out into the shadows of the damaged garden.

He watched as moonbeams hit her face, watched as tiny violet-colored wisteria flowers caught and held to her long hair. And again, he saw that distant, disturbing fear in her eyes.

But she took his hand and followed him.

Chapter Four

The big trees cast mushroom-shaped shadows in the moonlight. Lorna walked with Mick through the long front gardens, following the path she’d taken so many times over the years. The dirt and gravel lane was now littered with broken branches and split tree limbs. Thank goodness the storm hadn’t taken any of the ancient oak trees completely down. With Mick’s help, and their own landscaper, they should be able to reshape those that had been damaged.

Lorna shuddered in spite of the mild spring night. She should have gone in to get her flashlight. Or better yet, she should have stayed inside tidying up the kitchen, making sure everything was set for breakfast. But then, she reminded herself, all the guests had checked out due to the storm, and she was turning away any reservations until things were back in tiptop shape. It was going to be a long week.

“You okay?” Mick asked. His words echoed over the silent countryside.

Lorna wouldn’t tell him that she never came out here at night. That she never walked around the grounds alone at night, or that she always, always carried her powerful flashlight, even when someone was with her.

She took a deep breath. “Fine. Just tired. We’re almost there.”

The river was across the narrow country road, behind a dirt-and-grass levee that cows grazed on now and then. At this time of year, red clover bloomed profusely along the levee. Lorna could see the clover dancing in the moonlight. It looked like a flowing red scarf winding around the river.

Not wanting Mick to see her apprehension, she held tightly to his hand as he guided her over the cluttered pathway. She managed to let him go long enough to open the black wrought-iron gate that kept uninvited curiosity seekers away from the secluded mansion.

“Looks like the storm clouds are all gone,” Mick said, as their footfalls sounded on the paved road.

“Yes, but the levee will be muddy still. So watch your step.”

With a spurt of determination, Lorna pushed up the soft loam of the levee to distance herself from Mick, then stood on the crest to stare down at the black, swirling waters of the Mississippi River. “Maybe the spring rains will hold off for a while now. The river is just about overflowing as it is.”

Lorna had never realized how beautiful the river was at night. The soft gurgling sound of the tide sang a timeless song, while the buzz of mosquitoes hummed in perfect harmony. She could see fireflies lifting all around them, their flickering iridescent greenish glows like tiny lanterns in the dark.

Which only reminded her that she did not have her own lantern. But she held the panic at bay, determined not to show Mick her humiliating weakness.

Instead, she watched gladly as he trudged up the small incline, right behind her. He stood there a minute with his hands on his hips, then lifted his head to the sky. His silhouette was highlighted by grayish-blue moonlight, casting him in a dreamlike state.

Maybe she was dreaming. She still couldn’t understand why she’d taken Mick’s hand and allowed him to guide her out into the darkness. She’d only met this man early this morning, under the strangest circumstances, and now she’d walked through the moonlight with him. It had been a while since she’d been alone with a man. And she’d never brought anyone other than family out here to the river—and even then only in broad daylight. Usually their guests wandered around on their own, leaving Lorna to do her work.

What’s wrong with me? she wondered now as she watched Mick through the veil of moonlight and shadows.

Her emotions were raw from the storm, her nerves were like stretched, tangled wires curling tightly through her body, and yet, for some obscure reason, she almost felt safe with Mick Love.

Even in the dark.

“Listen to the water,” he said, his head down. “All that undercurrent, all that power. I’ve always been fascinated by nature.”

“Is that why you decided to become a tree expert?”

“Probably. As I told you earlier, I loved getting lost in the woods when I was a child. There wasn’t much else to do around the house, so I’d take off for hours on end, just roaming around, exploring, playing make-believe.”

Lorna could understand that. “When we first came here, I did the same thing. Lacey and I would wander around the house, pretending we were princesses lost in a castle. When I saw this house and the land surrounding it, I thought I’d found a secret garden. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.”

Mick turned then, to look back at the big house looming in the distance. “It’s a beautiful spot.”

“A safe haven,” she replied without thinking.

The image of the great house glowing with yellow lights beckoned her, reminding her that she was safe here. It was an image that caused motorists to slow down and stop, inspired artists to keep painting, enticed photographers to take one more picture. From the narrow road, the house came into view around a winding curve, always catching admirers by surprise.

Lorna still slowed down herself to glance over at the panoramic view of the square, pink-walled house with the massive white columns sitting back behind the oak-lined driveway. And it still took her breath away.