Page 32 of Cursed (Decorah Security 2.0, #14)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Morgan!”

She sprawled on the ground, trying to catch her breath, hearing his footsteps reversing their course.

He came down beside her, gathering her to himself, holding her tightly as he looked at her leg and ankle. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

He helped her to her feet. “See if you can walk. Put some weight on it.”

She did, and the ankle hurt, but not too badly.

“Can you make it to the house?” he asked.

She half turned, seeing how far she’d come. “I don’t know.”

He moved away from her, took a knife out of his pocket and cut a small branch, which he stripped down to a smooth pole. “Use this.”

“You’re not going to help me back inside?”

He looked torn. “I can’t.”

She had been through so much in the short time she’d been at Belle Vista. Somehow his refusal was the last straw.

“If you go off into the swamp now, I’m leaving tomorrow,” she heard herself say.

His face turned stark. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that all along. If that’s the way it has to be—then leave and stop torturing both of us.”

She raised her chin. I’m torturing both of us. All you have to do is help me walk—and while you’re at it, tell me what the hell is really going on here.”

He made a frustrated sound. “I told you, because of the curse, I have to spend the night in the bayou.”

“Or what?”

“Stay around here, and you’ll find out,” he grated and took a step back.

She tangled her fingers in his shirt. “Andre, please trust me. Start by telling me how you got out of the handcuffs.”

Pain suffused his features. “If you’re still here in the morning—I’ll tell you everything.” Then he detached her fingers from his shirt and walked into the gathering dark.

For long moments she stared at the spot where Andre had disappeared into the darkness.

Then she realized that she could be in serious trouble.

Heart in her throat, she looked back the way she’d come and was relieved to see the lights of the house shining in the darkness.

But still, she had to cross uneven ground to get to safety.

Leaning heavily on the pole Andre had cut for her, she started toward the lights.

She wanted to turn her brain off, but thoughts kept whirling around inside her head like spiny little creatures—the spines stabbing at her.

Alone in the darkness, she considered her own life. For two years she had thought that no other man besides Trevor Kirkland would ever matter to her. Then Andre Gascon had started corresponding with her, and everything had begun to change.

It was as though he’d woken her from an emotional sleep. And when he’d taken her in his arms, she’d come instantly alive. But it had started before that. He’d made her care about him, even before they met. Even when she’d tried to keep the barriers around her heart intact, he’d broken through.

Yet were her feelings for Andre really hers? Or were her emotions all twisted up with those of another woman—Linette Sonnier? Linette had risked everything when she’d let herself fall in love with a man named Andre Gascon. She’d gone off with him—and lost her life.

Morgan would have liked to think that Linette had nothing to do with her. But somehow the dead woman had reached out across the years and dragged Morgan into her life. Which was why her feelings for this Andre were so intense, she told herself.

She stopped at the edge of the garden, then made her slow way across the lawn.

Janet was standing rigidly on the back balcony staring into the darkness. When she spotted Morgan, she ran down the steps and toward her.

“Are you all right, child?” she gasped.

“I hurt my ankle. It’s not too bad.”

“You need ice.”

“Yes.”

“Can I help you walk?”

“I’m fine.”

Janet kept pace beside her. “Did you talk to him?” she finally asked in a strained voice.

“Some.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s afraid to tell me the truth.”

“Because it’s taking a tremendous risk to talk about it.”

“What’s your stake in this?” Morgan demanded.

The woman answered at once. “I love him like a son. I want to see him happy.”

“Well, he’ll have to be happy by himself!” Morgan muttered as she pulled herself carefully up the steps.

“You’re leaving?” the housekeeper asked.

“Yes.”

Janet made a distressed noise. “I was so sure …,” she swallowed, then went on, “You can’t just walk away from him.”

“I think I have to.”

“You’ll feel better when you have some dinner in you,” Janet said hopefully.

Apparently, food was Janet’s solution to every problem. But the thought of eating anything now made Morgan’s stomach knot. “I’m not hungry. Just fix me a bag with some ice.”

The older woman sighed. “All right.”

Morgan took the ice pack up to her room and wrapped it in a towel. Sitting in the chair, she propped her leg on the footstool and draped the ice over the ankle. The cold felt wonderful.

When she looked up, Janet was standing there.

“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 be me. 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 judge what 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.