his gaze changing with mercurial speed from teasing to intense. “Do you know that, really? Can I be trusted?”
Lorna tightened her hand in his. “Yes, you can. I’ve always trusted you, Lucas. And I know what you’re thinking. But…I’m fine. I’m great. Mick is taking good care of me, and we’re very happy. So stop worrying.”
Confused by the exchange, Willa felt uncomfortable. As if she’d stepped into an intimate setting where she didn’t belong. But then, she’d never been so close to another person that she could share a sort of language, the way Lorna and Lucas seemed to talk to each other. Almost in riddles, but they both seemed to understand each other exactly.
She’d noticed that about them, and Lacey, too. She knew they’d survived a terrible horror only to grow up secure in their faith and to become closer as a family. Sharing that kind of bond had held them together, but as Lorna had told her months ago when she’d called Willa to invite her to the wedding, perhaps that bond had also held them captive.
And yet, Willa wished she’d had some sort of bond to make her closer to her parents. They’d never really been a family, the three of them. They’d coexisted in a big, rambling house. That is, whenever they were there together.
Family. The word always made Willa flinch. Oh, she had a family. A mother and father who adored her but who also wanted to control her. But she’d never really felt loved, for some strange reason. Not in the way Lorna seemed loved, at least.
She envied her friend. And longed to get to know the intriguing Lucas Dorsette.
“Me, worry?” Lucas shrugged and lifted his dark brows, bringing Willa’s thoughts to the present. “Never.”
“I have to get to the restaurant and start things for the lunch crowd,” Lorna said to Willa. “Will you be okay?”
“I think I’m going to wander around in the gardens,” Willa told her, intensely aware that Lucas was watching her. “Maybe finally read that thick romance novel I’ve been carting around for months now.”
“We’re still recovering from the flood,” Lucas said, his hand lifting in an arc. “But I’d be happy to show you some of the more beautiful spots.”
“That sounds nice.” She glanced at Lorna, saw no censure in her friend’s eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
She’d been warned about Lucas Dorsette too many times to care. She didn’t understand why his sisters seemed so concerned that he’d break her heart. She’d turned down suitors from all over the world, after all. Playboys, a prince or two, politicians, they’d all courted her and some had tried to corrupt her. But luckily, the one thing her distant, worldly parents had instilled in her was a sense of caution and integrity—an O’Connor could never bring shame or scandal to the family honor. It simply wasn’t permitted.
And because Ambassador Eugene O’Connor and his lovely wife, Candace, had frowned on their daughter’s choice of careers, Willa had at least tried to stay out of trouble and stay away from the many temptations lurking in the world of high fashion.
Would her parents approve of Lucas Dorsette? Hardly. But she was only going to be here for a short time, and her parents were far away, traveling yet again. Willa was an adult, after all. She could take care of herself; she’d been doing it for most of her life. So she wasn’t afraid of spending a few mindless days with Lucas Dorsette.
He seemed harmless enough.
As long as they both kept their perspective, of course. As long as she remembered Lucas liked to keep things light.
Well, so did she.
She wouldn’t let the legendary gardens of Bayou le Jardin mess with her head.
And she wouldn’t let the legendary Lucas Dorsette mess with her heart.
But when he took her hand and pulled her down a cool, shaded path dripping with ancient hot-pink crape myrtle trees, Willa had a feeling it was already too late to turn back.
Chapter Three
He was taking her off the beaten path.
“Where are we going?” Willa asked Lucas as they moved away from the house and closer to the bayou.
Here the vegetation grew more lush, green and rich, thriving in spite of the summer heat. The smell of wet earth and brackish water mingled with the scent of honeysuckle and wild-blooming jasmine. The mid-morning sun played a game of chance as it tried to pierce the cool shadows cast by the tall, moss-draped cypress trees.
“You’ll see,” he told her, his hand in hers as he pulled her down the winding path.
“At least it’s cooler here.”
“One of the many beautiful things about Bayou le Jardin. There’s plenty of cool spots, even in the middle of summer. And I happen to know where they all are.”
Willa noticed the creepers surrounding the narrowing path—the English ivy that grew wild and free, the ancient camellia bushes and sweet-smelling lilies. She could hear bees buzzing hungrily in the dense garden. She could hear a child’s laughter ringing out from the house. Probably that cute little Tobias—the little boy Lucas had rescued during the flood.
Lorna had told her all about that, too. And how Lucas had berated himself for not getting back to the mansion to help Lorna, who had been deathly afraid of the dark, after the electricity had gone off and left Lorna stranded alone in the dark and the flood. Lorna explained that Lucas blamed himself, but no one else saw it that way. He’d saved a child’s life. That had to count for something.
She watched his face, wondering what lay behind that square jaw and those lush, full lips. And those dark, mysterious eyes.
The agencies in New York would love a portfolio of pictures of Lucas Dorsette, she figured. His face rivaled those of any of the overpaid male models she knew and worked with on a daily basis. But Lucas had one trait that many of her co-workers didn’t possess. He looked completely real, completely male. Not prettied up for the cameras.
And he looked very dangerous.
“I suppose the other guests don’t know about this path,” she said, hoping Lucas would tell her where he was taking her.
She wasn’t afraid of being alone with him, but she had this thing about always knowing about what might lie ahead. No surprises. No room for any mistakes.
“Non. I keep this one to myself.”
“Is it special?”
“I think it is.”
So, he was going to be tight-mouthed about this. Willa watched him as he moved in front of her, his feet steady and sure, his steps silent. With his dark good looks and intense concentration, he reminded her of some ancient warrior stalking through a jungle.
Was she his quarry, then?
“Lucas, where are we going?”
He stopped, whirled to stare at her.
His nearness confused her, enticed her, made her want to turn and go back to civilization. Or give up being civilized
