CultOfTheBlackVirgin (22 page)

She understood that the real issue here was
her
attention to Luc. Even today the double standard permitted a married man to flirt, but a woman couldn’t respond without being branded as loose. She sighed as she felt a cold nausea growing in her stomach.

Then, after a minute or two, she began to get angry.

Fuck
them!
What I do is absolutely none of their business!
Who the hell were they to get between me and the best thing that’s ever happened to me?

But
is
Luc the best thing that’s ever happened to me?
She countered in panic.
Isn’t that exactly what I’ve been saying about James this past year? What James and I have, that’s what I would call real love. What I have with Luc will destroy that love. What I’m doing can’t be good for anybody!

What’s happening to me?

She bit down, hard, on her lip, and let Edward change the subject. The rest of the ride was uneventful. Although the river was very beautiful, she could appreciate almost nothing of the sweet smells, sparkling clear water, and birdsong.

The defiance she felt when she was accused—oh so gently—of impropriety, surprised her. She pushed on, automatically lifting and dipping the paddle, confused and angry. She wasn’t sure whom she was angrier with—herself or the gossipers who would have her exposed. Clearly she and Luc had gone too far—further than anyone knew—and she would have to do some backpedaling. She had to restore her and Luc’s reputation, and her self-respect.

But how? When all she really wanted was to get Luc back into bed?

The bus ride back to St. Sozy was made mostly in silence. Everyone was tired. Again, Luc wasn’t there, and Jo was glad. Dinner was to be at eight, as usual, and Happy Hour, also as usual, would start as soon as possible. But this time she didn’t go down for a pre-dinner drink. She was still fuming, but she was also embarrassed and frightened. She wondered how much the others really knew.

Even if no one knew about last Tuesday—and who could possibly—did they really think she was out to seduce a married man? She didn’t think her public behavior with Luc was any different from that of the other women. All of them were flattered by his attention, and a few called for it repeatedly.

Carol was dead obvious. Marcie was coy, but persistent. Even Sarah sought out his company as they walked along the trail. Glenda, too, smiled a little more broadly than usual whenever Luc was around, and enjoyed a playful banter with him. And Iris’s gaze seemed to follow him constantly—just like her own—Jo realized with a little jolt of awareness. She could hear all of them now, sitting outside on the patio, as their laughter drifted up to her room through the open windows.

So maybe I’m not being so subtle after all. Maybe my flirting with Luc is as obvious as his flirting with me. But so is Carol’s. Why am I being singled out? It’s not fair!

And then she realized that Edward was probably quite right—some of the women were jealous.

These people needed to get a life, and keep their noses out of mine. Marcie’s harmless, but that moronic Carol is dangerous. And so is Iris, certainly. Iris, who hates me.

Iris was beginning to give Jo the creeps. She hated to think what it would mean to have the brooding girl for an enemy.

She didn’t know whether to be grateful to Edward—he was very gentle with her—or to be offended at his presumption that her personal business was a topic open for discussion. Both Edward and Glenda were lovely people. Nonjudgmental, as far as she could tell. Maybe they were genuinely concerned for her, and in a kindhearted way just wanted to raise a warning flag that things could begin to get dangerous.

And then it dawned on her that the Edward didn’t ask to ride with her that morning for only the one reason. He and his wife had likely discussed Jo and Luc’s behavior and decided to
help
by issuing a warning. Fear began to creep up her spine.

For the first time since she fell under Luc’s spell, she thought of the other people on the walk. This was their holiday, too. What she did might affect their vacation. She was astounded she hadn’t thought of this before. Then horrified at how simple logic seemed to have abandoned her. She grew even more embarrassed at the thought that her indiscretion could impact more than herself.

Every single one of the walkers would have his or her vacation come to a sour end if she behaved badly with the tour guide. Shame and an ugly fear continued to grow deep inside her. What a selfish bitch she was! Not only immoral, but stupidly selfish, in her lust. Sinful, even.

Let’s see—how many of the Seven Deadly Sins have I committed this week? Lust—certainly. Greed—oh yes. Anger—yes, today. Envy—yes, also today. Gluttony—in a manner of speaking. And I’d be slothful, too, if I could get away with it, I’m so tired. But the worst sin—pride—isn’t that what started all of this? Didn’t Luc’s flattering attention turn my head around completely?

For a woman who professed no religious beliefs of any kind, Jo was beginning to feel very uncomfortable.

She was not thinking very highly of herself as she got ready to go down for dinner. This time she didn’t take extra care in dressing. Washed, but not made up, she put on a clean white t-shirt and a pair of grey yoga pants. Then she pulled back her hair and fashioned a severe ponytail. If she didn’t feel asexual and plain, the least she could do was try to look the part.

But the funny thing was, when she looked in the mirror before going downstairs she saw a confident, sexy woman gazing back at her. She was glowing. And it wasn’t just the outdoor exercise that put the gleam in her dark eyes, she knew. Sin seemed to agree with her.

Oh, I’m just being silly,
she tried to rationalize
. I can’t hide my appeal to Luc, and I don’t want to. But, obviously, I haven’t been very good at hiding his appeal to me. I’ve been wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

That, she resolved, was exactly what she would work on—undoing her wrongs, undoing the damage she’d done by distracting the tour guide from his job. She would do her best to see that, at the end of the tour, a dozen foreign tourists would each go home happy with their Dordogne experience. And that meant she had to leave Luc alone. She could not go to him tonight, nor any other time. Nor could she pay any special attention to him. From now on she would treat him no differently than she treated any of the others.

Yes—it should be a no-brainer. She had to stop this dangerous and immoral fascination with their tour guide. It wasn’t just the others in the group she had on her mind right now. There was also James, she thought, looking at her ring—he certainly didn’t deserve what she was doing to him, even though he would never know. And lastly, there was herself. For the sake of her own self-respect, and dignity in the eyes of the others, she knew she had to stop this madness.

I’m not a bad person. Not. And I
will
end this dreadful and dangerous game before anyone gets hurt. It’s gone as far as it can go.

With this resolution planted firmly in her mind, she hobbled down to dinner.

By the time she entered the dining room at just after eight, everyone was already seated at the table, their first glasses of wine almost emptied. She immediately felt Luc watching her. Fortunately for her resolve, he was sitting at the other end of the table, so she could keep from being distracted by him as she took a seat beside Peter and prepared to be strong.

“Ah, here’s the beautiful Joanna, quite possibly the worst canoe paddler in the entire USA!” Peter bellowed in his strong accent. “Welcome, darlin’.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Edward, raising his glass, beaming a giant smile her way.

Jo laughed, grateful to be the subject of ridicule rather than censor.

Peter leaned towards his wife and put his arm around her, as Carol appraised Jo boldly.

“Luc’s chosen all of tonight’s wines himself,” Peter said to Jo. “He says we’re to start with a taste of
Pecharmant
, made near here from a
Bordeaux
grape. It’s been opened to breathe, but I think it’s ready to pour. I’m ready for it, darlin’. Are you?”

“Yes, thank you, Peter. I’d love some.” She smiled sweetly at Carol’s husband, at the same time detesting that he called her
darling
. But she was determined to be sociable, and keep her attention away from Luc.

It was clear to Jo that Peter and Carol had downed more than a few already. Both seemed to be having an excellent time, and expecting more. Carol’s loud laugh interrupted the flow of conversation at regular intervals as she leaned in to talk to Marcie and Ron. As Jo waited for her wine, she made merry small talk with Duncan and Sarah, again ignoring the defiant-looking Iris sitting next to her.

Then everyone settled down when Luc stood up and began to serve the red. Jo tried not to look at him. She really did try. But…

His tanned face looked relaxed and happy. His thick hair was still wet, as if he’d just come out of the shower.

Just like it was when he came to my room. Now I know what it smells like when it’s damp like that
.

Stop it!

She deliberately looked away. But he’d begun to move about to fill glasses, and, as if hypnotized, she had to watch him. She absolutely had to. He was wearing a white shirt, which emphasized his dark skin. As before, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. And again, she stared at the large veins running along the inside of his forearms. Full of hot salty blood.

Now I know what his blood tastes like
.

Stop It!

Oh why did he have to look so very delicious tonight? She tried to look away but again her gaze flew back, beyond her control. Just like the moment she met him, it was impossible to look away for more than a few seconds. Her powerlessness was frightening and exhilarating at the same time, like a rush of narcotics swirling through her veins. She became vaguely aware that Edward was watching her. And Iris, too.

That sobered her for a few minutes. She began to distract herself by wondering why she was so strongly attracted to this man. Why him, out of the thousands she had met in her life? And she thought about how little control she had over her feelings. Then she began to wonder why so many of the old clichés describing the way one person is attracted to another were scientific or mathematical.

It was chemistry, it was magnetic, it was two halves fusing to form a whole. It was one plus one equals one. She smiled when she realized that once she started living clichés like this, incorporating them into her way of thinking, her feelings became not only commonplace—after all, millions of others have felt them too—but, in some odd way, validated.

Yes—her lust was real. And lust was part of the human experience. Real lust, like what she felt for Luc, was a part of life she hadn’t fully called her own before now. All her past attractions paled beside this one.

Yes—this is it. This is real life. A really scary part. I understand this part of it now. Crimes of passion—I understand how they could happen, too.

As she was thinking these things, she looked up again at her lover, certain she could feel the forces of biology, chemistry, physics, and the magic of numbers all working in harmony to bring the two of them together.

Just one more time!

No!

This was not what she’d intended at all! Jo shrugged off her fantasy and turned her attention back to Peter. He was animated, laughing with Glenda and Edward over their retelling of the canoe trip. Jo and Edward would have made poor pioneers, they all agreed.

Luc made his way around the table, and when he reached Jo he startled her by placing his hand briefly on her shoulder as he filled her glass. In itself, this action was not unusual—he often placed his hand on an arm or shoulder as he spoke to a person. But this was the first time he’d touched her like this in public, and her skin burned under her shirt where his fingers rested.

Politely, he asked if her back was sore from the paddling. She swiveled around to smile oh-so-slightly and replied, coolly, that she was fine, thank you. She then turned away from him and tasted the red. It was lush.

As he filled Iris’s glass, he began to explain the wine’s characteristics. Jo felt immediate relief that his attention had turned elsewhere and took a large drink. As she savored the mouthful slowly, she could feel it begin to relieve her anxiety and relax her stiff shoulders. Unfortunately, after a few minutes the wine also began to relax her resolve. Again.

Still oblivious to Iris beside her, Jo watched Luc as he moved over to Peter and Carol. He looked so amazingly beautiful to her that she wanted to cry. A wave of longing—deep, desperate longing—dissolved her resolution to be a good girl and hide her obsession.

The Stewarts’ loud laughter broke her reverie. They were the real wine snobs in the group. Carol’s family had been in the Australian wine exporting business for decades. These people knew their way around some of the finest grapes in the world. Luc served them last, asking their opinion of the
Pecharmant—
it was one of his favorites. After much sniffing and swilling, they both gave it an excellent grade, and smiling, Luc took his empty bottles and went back to his seat.

As he moved, Jo couldn’t help but notice how perfectly his clothes fit him, showing the lines of his muscles and tendons as he bent, straightened, and bent again. His large arms were as beautiful as before, but now she thought about how strong he was, how effortlessly he’d been able to lift her body to fit it more closely to his own. She knew how soft the skin on the inside of his forearms felt, how smooth the skin of his biceps, one of them tattooed, and how hard the muscles beneath the skin. And she knew the smell of his skin now—its warm, deeply arousing layers of sweetness and salty musk.