Page 21 of The Unseen

R ACHEL LISTENED AS THE WIND PICKED UP. S HE HAD BEEN TOSSING and turning, unable to sleep, when the headlights of a car coming up the driveway flashed through the windows.

She always worried when her niece went out in the evenings, but knowing she was with Lucas eased her mind. There was something about Lucas Devereaux that earned people’s trust. She wondered if Nicole felt it, too.

She shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable.

A storm was coming in, a light rain pelting the windows.

The temperature had risen that afternoon, making the wet wind humid.

The ceiling fan slowly rotated, stirring a cooling breeze.

Staring up at the satin canopy, she listened to the soft, slow whir of the wooden blades.

The light caress of air against her skin made her think of Francois, and her eyes welled with tears. She wasn’t supposed to care about a man who wasn’t really there, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She yearned to see his beautiful eyes, to feel his touch and the pleasure only he could bring.

The tears in her eyes spilled over onto her cheeks as she thought of the terrible fate he had suffered. She imagined his beautiful, dark angel face. Night after night, she had silently called out to him, but he had never come.

She told herself it was impossible to feel an ache in her heart for a man who didn’t exist in her world. Closing her eyes, she listened to the soft patter of the rain and finally drifted to sleep.

It was dark and silent when she awakened, disoriented, though she was in her own bed. She blinked, then blinked again as something moved toward her in the darkness. Something as light and invisible as the air stirred by the ceiling fan. Something that made her heart beat faster.

Time seemed to slow. The blades stopped spinning.

“Francois?” She should have been afraid. She shouldn’t be feeling this desperate need for him to touch her. She spoke to him and prayed he could hear her. Prayed, as she had every night.

A featherlight touch caressed her cheek.

Rachel’s throat closed up. “Francois … I’ve been hoping … I’ve been waiting for you.”

The air swirled gently around her. I hurt you. I’m sorry.

She remembered that he had thought she was someone else, and an unexpected rush of jealousy burned through her. “Who was she?”

She could sense him struggling to recall, but he made no reply.

“It’s all right,” she said softly. “I’m here … and I … I want you to stay.”

When only silence filled her mind, she thought that he had gone, returned to wherever he had come from.

Instead, the air stirred as he moved closer, and she looked into the beautiful face Nicole had painted. His face and his brilliant blue eyes, nothing more. The mattress dipped beside her.

She reminded herself he wasn’t really there. It was impossible. Francois had been dead for close to 150 years. And yet she could feel him lying next to her on the mattress, feel him moving closer until he was curled around her.

She felt the press of his lips against the top of her head and closed her eyes. She wanted him to take her, make her feel the things she had felt before, but she was just so weak and tired. So very tired.

His warmth surrounded her. Whether he was real or not, Rachel had never felt more at peace. Her eyes slowly closed. Little by little, she drifted into a deep, untroubled sleep.

In the morning when she awakened, the rain had stopped, and Francois was gone.

Loneliness swept over her. Rachel curled into herself and began to weep.

Lucas awoke to an overcast sky and Nicole curled asleep against him. It was early, plenty of time to get back to his condo in Baton Rouge, change clothes, and get to the center on time.

He glanced down at the woman whose fiery hair spread over his chest. Though they had made love for hours last night, he was hard for her again this morning.

In his early years, his wild days, he’d been with an endless stream of women, none of whom meant more than a means of sexual release. Years later, there was Marie. He’d fallen in love for the first time in his life, but he’d only been a curiosity to Marie.

After the pain of her betrayal, he’d learned to keep his emotions locked down. It hadn’t been difficult until now. None of the few women he’d been involved with since he’d left the priesthood had moved him as Nicole had.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her. He just knew he was on the path God meant for him to follow—exactly what he intended to do—though he was fairly certain Nicole wasn’t ready to hear that news.

He almost smiled.

As quietly as possible, he slid out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He considered just leaving her a note, but somehow that didn’t feel right. Instead, he went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee.

The rich aroma drifting through the house must have awakened her. Nicole padded barefoot into the kitchen in a white terry robe, her soft curls around her shoulders. She looked well-tumbled, and so tempting he wanted to take her again, right there on the kitchen counter.

He’d always been a man of considerable passions, a problem that had been part of the reason he had left the Church.

“I thought you were gone,” she said, surprise in her voice.

“I thought I’d fix you a cup of coffee before I took off.”

The smile that broke over her face tightened something in his chest. He filled a mug and handed it over.

Nicole cradled the mug in both hands. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” The night they’d shared flashed through his head. Lucas forced down a surge of hunger.

Nicole walked toward him, her eyes on the unbuttoned opening at the top of his wrinkled white dress shirt. She lifted out the medal the size of a quarter he wore on a gold chain around his neck.

“What’s this? I noticed it last night.”

“St. Michael’s medallion.” On the front of the circle of gold, a huge, winged angel wielded a massive sword against Satan.

“‘St. Michael Protect Us, ’” she read aloud. She looked up at him. “The Archangel Michael.”

“That’s right. The defender of humankind against evil.”

Her gaze caught on the quarter-size scar underneath the medallion. Nicole ran her fingers over it, studied it for several long moments. “The image of St. Michael is burned into your skin. How could that happen?”

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Long story. I promise to tell you sometime soon. Right now, I’ve got to get back to Baton Rouge.”

He looked down at Nicole, wanted to see her again, and mentally ran over his options. He didn’t want to scare her away. But she didn’t need another man in her life who had no idea how to handle a strong woman like her.

“Unless you have an objection, I’ll be back tonight. We can eat here, or we can go out. Your choice.”

He didn’t miss the trapped-animal look that flashed in her pretty green eyes. “I know you have a lot to do,” she said. “Running two youth centers, as well as coaching the boys, takes up a lot of your time.”

“True enough.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Does that mean you have plans for tonight?”

She worried her full bottom lip, and he felt a tug in his groin. Going slow wasn’t going to be easy.

Nicole sipped her coffee, giving herself time to think. A knock at the door interrupted her reply.

Saved by the bell was the look on her face. Lucas turned and walked into the living room to see who was there. Nicole raced up beside him as he peered out the window.

He arched a brow in question. “It’s your aunt. You want me to disappear into the bedroom?”

She made a sound of frustration in her throat. “By now, Aunt Rachel has seen your car. We might as well let her in.”

Lucas inwardly smiled. Pulling open the door, he stepped back as Rachel walked into the living room, her heavy black hair pulled into a single long braid down her back.

“I saw your car,” she said to him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Nicole’s glance went from Lucas to Rachel and back. “You are?”

“Yes.”

“You want a cup of coffee?” Lucas asked.

“You aren’t supposed to have caffeine,” Nicole reminded her.

Rachel ignored her. “Yes, please.”

Lucas poured her a cup and handed it over as Nicole sat down on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter.

“Okay, Aunt Rachel, what’s going on?”

Rachel sat down on the stool beside her. “I’m afraid it’s Francois. He … umm … came to me last night. It was late, well after midnight. This time, I … umm … saw his face.”

“You saw his face?” Nicole responded.

“Yes. As I guessed, he looks exactly like the black-haired man in your painting.”

“You don’t think what you saw in the painting could have influenced your thinking?”

“I don’t believe so. I think it’s more likely Francois came into your mind, and you painted his portrait.”

For a moment, Nicole fell silent. “So … when Francois came to you last night, did he speak to you?”

“Not exactly. I hear him in my head.”

“Like when you were working in the cemetery.”

“That’s right. Francois needs our help and you both promised to help him.”

“Yes, we did,” Lucas agreed. “It’s been a week, past time we got started. I’ll get on the computer as soon as I get back to Baton Rouge and see what I can turn up.”

Nicole looked resigned. “You two are an impossible combination to resist. You know that, right?”

Lucas just smiled.

Nicole took a sip of coffee. “I have more free time than you do, Lucas. I’ll start here in town. We have lots of historical information in St. Francisville. Maybe I can find something that will help.”

For an instant, Rachel’s eyes glistened. “Thank you. Thank you, both of you. I’m not very good at this sort of thing or I would try to do it myself.”

Nicole leaned over and hugged her. “Don’t worry, Aunt Rachel. We’re going to do the very best we can.”

“If you need to talk to someone,” Lucas said to Rachel, “I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before. Nothing you tell me will come as a surprise.”

Rachel’s cheeks flushed. “I’m not so sure of that.”

Though she had piqued his curiosity, he didn’t press for more. “Do you have your phone with you?”

“Yes.” She pulled it out of the pocket of her jeans, and Lucas took it from her hand. He added his number to her contacts.

“If you need me, I’m just a phone call away. Call me anytime.”

Rachel took the phone back. “Thank you, Lucas.”

He turned to Nicole. “I’ve got to go.” He bent and gave her a brief kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Nicole’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word. He had expected uncertainty, maybe even anger, but he could swear he caught a hint of fear. He’d deal with it. In the meantime, hoping she wanted to see him again as much as he wanted to see her, Lucas headed for the door.

One thing for sure. His life was never boring.