Praise for Lenora Worth and her novels

“Lacey’s Retreat by Lenora Worth is rich in characterization and romance with an endearing hero.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Lenora Worth’s A Perfect Love is a beautiful testimony to the true meaning of family and forgiveness. The romantic pacing is just perfect, and the faith message is subtle but heartfelt.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Lenora Worth creates a character with a Heart of Stone that will have readers longing to melt it. Her best story yet, it is filled with spiritual depth and hidden meaning, including an interesting bit of history.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Easter Blessings: The Lily Field by Lenora Worth is perhaps the most beautiful and moving Love Inspired book I’ve read.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

Something Beautiful & Lacey's Retreat
Lenora Worth

CONTENTS

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

LACEY’S RETREAT

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

LENORA WORTH

has written more than thirty books, most of those for the Steeple Hill line. In addition, she works freelance for a local magazine, where she has written monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for five years for the local paper. Married to her high school sweetheart for thirty-two years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks and sit in her garden.

Something Beautiful

So we do not lose heart….

For this slight momentary affliction

is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory

beyond all measure, because we look at what

cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary,

but what cannot be seen is eternal.

—2 Corinthians 4:16–18

In memory of my mother-in-law, Patsy.

And to all the breast cancer survivors out there.

Chapter One

She was a vision in the mist.

Lucas Dorsette quietly eased his pirogue through the dark, brackish swamp waters, maneuvering the long paddle pole around blue-blossomed water hyacinths and gnarled gray cypress stumps until he reached the boathouse nestled between the back garden and the bayou. But he stopped before anchoring the small canoelike boat against the weathered dock.

He looked again through the low mist, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining the woman who stood under the ancient weeping willow tree on the shore, her head turned so he could see her profile as she looked over the dark, chocolate waters of the bayou.

No, he wasn’t seeing things. This vision was real.

And she was exactly his type.

She was tall and slender, with a classic face that spoke of strong bone structure. She held her arms wrapped against her midsection, as if to ward off the humid chill the rising dawn had left. Long blond hair that changed from white-gold to rich yellow in the growing light hung down her back almost to her waist. She was wearing white—a long, flowing cotton dress that made Lucas think of other, more simple times. The woman looked as if she’d just stepped out of another century.

Curious, Lucas kept his eyes on her while he roped the pirogue to the dock. Then he hopped on the planked boards, his actions quick and quiet, so as not to startle the woman who stood only a few feet away, her eyes centered on the water, her body turned away from the summer gardens of Bayou le Jardin.

Lucas stood there in amazement, his gaze taking in the woman with the old southern mansion behind her. He had to swallow, blink his eyes. It was the way the rays of first light shot down from the sky to touch the woman’s face there in the soft mist, as if the very hand of God was reaching out to this fascinating stranger.

Which certainly made for a breathtaking picture. One Lucas would surely never forget.

In her long white dress with the early morning breeze lifting her thick, lush hair from her shoulders, she looked as if she belonged right there in that spot under the willow tree. Especially with the backdrop of his beloved home behind her.

The stark, classic beauty of the mansion always left Lucas a bit awestruck, even though he’d lived here since he was nine years old. He respected the quiet dignity of the old house, though he rarely stayed in his bedroom on the third floor.

Lucas preferred the swamp to the house, preferred the gardens to the parlor, preferred to be left to his own devices whenever time and duty permitted. He had a nice, cozy cabin deep in the swamp, a cabin he’d salvaged and renovated with his own hands, along with the help of some good, hardworking people. He had ample food from the gardens, the fields and the bayou; he had good books to read at night and good tunes to play on his saxophone when the mood struck him. He had his plane to fly when he wanted to be up above it all, his horse to ride when he wanted to feel the wind on his face, and he had several lucrative ventures going, enough to bring in plenty of cash for a man of simple means. And he had friends to find on a lonely Saturday night and church to attend on any given Sunday. Aunt Hilda would remind him that he had the blessed assurance of Jesus Christ, too, of course. If he ever stood still long enough to listen for it.

Lucas was content to travel through the bayou, content to watch over his aunt Hilda and his sisters, Lorna and Lacey. Content to flirt shamelessly with all the local belles while never seriously getting involved with any of them. He’d never wanted for anything else.

Until now.

Now, Lucas saw the home he loved, the home he respected and had vowed to watch over, in a different light.

Now he saw her there in the picture—this mysterious, lovely creature who’d somehow appeared, like a vibrant flower sprung to life, in the dew-kissed gardens.

Lucas didn’t know who the woman was.

But he certainly intended to find out.

His sisters accused him of falling in love too easily and too often, and he supposed that was right.

‘Cause it was about to happen again. In a very big way.

Lucas grinned, then started walking toward the woman, instinct telling him this time things might be different. Because this time, he knew in his heart he’d just stumbled across…something beautiful.

And then the cameras started flashing.

Lucas blinked twice, watched as the tranquil woman whirled and with a loud groan took off in a mad dash toward the house, her long hair and long dress flying around her as if she were a runaway bride.

The cameras followed her. Two of them with big zoom lenses, carried by two rather burly-looking men who’d popped out from behind a cluster of camellia bushes.

“Willa?” one of the men shouted. “Just one picture, Willa. C’mon, people want to know why you backed out of that runway show in New York!”

“Go away,” the woman shouted in a voice that was as cultured and gleaming as the single strand of pearls she wore around her neck. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

But the two determined photographers kept right on coming. Like a set of hound dogs chasing a rabbit into the swamp, they practically fell over each other in their haste to get to the elusive woman.

Lucas watched, angered and amazed, as one of the overstuffed men stomped right through Aunt Hilda’s prized miniature rose garden then almost tripped over his own feet as he sprinted to get a close-up of the woman he’d called Willa.

“Get away from me,” the woman said, her hands on her hips, her stare full of anger and defiance.

The cameras took it all in, clicking with a constant whine. One of the men laughed. “Good shot. That’ll make the cover.”

“I’ll get a better one for my cover,” the other one snarled.

Lucas took two long strides and stepped between the beauty and the beasts.

“You heard the woman,” he said on a low growl, one hand shoving at the first man while he held his other hand in warning toward the second photographer. “Get away from her now.”

“And who are you?” Burly Number One asked, his double chin jutting over his cheap navy and red striped tie.

Lucas grinned, then shifted his gaze from one man to the other. Slapping a hand across the rough denim of his jeans, he turned and winked at the beauty who’d automatically taken up a position behind his protective back. “Who am I? Moi?” He chuckled low, then shook his head. “I’ll tell you who I am. I’m Lucas Dorsette. I live here. And you two seem to be pestering this lovely lady, not to mention trespassing on private property.”

Burly Number Two looked at Number One, rolled his eyes, then adjusted his heavy camera. “Let’s go, man.”

“We weren’t talking to him,” Number One replied, frowning at Lucas. “And I just wanted a minute with you, Willa. Just a couple of pictures for this week’s issue.”

“Me, too,” Number Two added, glaring at the other photographer. “We have a much bigger circulation than that rag he works for.”

Lucas turned to smile at the woman and felt the up-close essence of her beauty in a gut punch right to his stomach. It was hard to speak, but he managed to keep his cool so he could continue defending that beauty and look good in her eyes. “Willa, do you have anything to say to these two…gentlemen?”

“Not a word,” she replied, gratitude sparkling like rainwater in her breathtaking crystal-blue gaze. “I’d really like them to just go away,” she added through a perfect row of clenched gleaming white teeth.

Lucas shrugged, then dropped his hands to his sides. “Then I guess that settles it, hein?” Taking a step toward the two photographers, he said, “Get off my property right now or I will call the sheriff.”

“Let’s go,” Number Two told Number One, backing away. “We got enough pictures, anyway.”

“Speak for yourself,” Number One retorted, posing his camera toward Willa. Until he saw the look in Lucas’s eyes. Then he shrugged and brushed past the apparent competition. “Okay, guess I do need to get back to my hotel room and get these developed—so I can beat you to the scoop.”

The race was on as the two jostled each other.

“Hey, hold on there, fellows,” Lucas said, surprising the entire group. Then he turned to the woman. “Do you want these two to have pictures of you?”

“No,” she said, her incredible eyes burning holes through the two motley, perspiring men.

Lucas held his hand up, motioning to the two. “Let’s have it, please.”

“Have what?” It was a whining chorus.

“The film,” Lucas replied, a smile forming on his lips. “Now.”

“You can’t take our film,” Burly Number One protested, sweat popping on his pale forehead.

“Watch me, mon ami.” Lucas grabbed the man’s camera, opened it and took the film out, inch by inch.

“Hey, you just ruined that!”

“Yes, I did.” Then he turned to the other man, his hand outstretched. “Hand it over, unless you want me to report you to the authorities.”

Reluctantly, and with great disgust, the man handed over the roll of film from his camera. “That belongs to me, you know. To Famous Faces magazine.”

“Yeah, well, now it belongs to me,” Lucas stated as he dropped the ruined film on the ground and rubbed his suede hiking boot across it, disdain evident in his actions. “Now, leave the way you came in—which was probably over the side fence.” He’d have to remember to have Tobbie check that broken fence again.

“Can’t you let us out the gate?” Number One whined.

Lucas turned his head in a gesture of disbelief. “Since I didn’t invite you in, why should I be gracious in letting you out?” Then he motioned toward the driveway that wound around the gardens. “Dig a trench, for all I care, but get out of here, and don’t let me catch you back again. Ever. Or mine will be the only famous face you remember.”

“You’ll be hearing from my publisher,” one of the men called as they trudged away, both huffing and puffing.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Lucas replied, chuckling.

He pulled a walkie-talkie off his leather belt.

“Tobbie, you there?” At Tobbie’s crisp answer, Lucas said, “Two men are approaching the side fence, that place near the tulip gardens where the fence needs repairing. Would you kindly escort them off the property?”

“With pleasure, for true,” Tobbie said, his hoot of laughter echoing over the static.

Satisfied that the oversize Tobbie Babineaux would scare the living daylights out of the two and send them packing, Lucas grinned.

And then her turned to her. “Fans of yours?”

Willa O’Connor looked at the man who’d come to her rescue and wished she knew how to answer his question.

“Not exactly,” she replied, still in shock after being ambushed in what she’d taken to be an isolated, secluded spot. “They work for some of those supermarket tabloids. Celebrity Exposé and, as you heard, Famous Faces. They like to travel in packs so they can attack from several different angles, then fight each other for the best shots.”

“So you’re a celebrity, then?”

“Somewhat,” she replied, not wanting to reveal too much.

She waited as the man took his time letting that little tidbit settle in. While he did that, he looked her over, his dark eyes full of doubt and mirth, his olive skin alive with a fine sheen of sweat in spite of the early morning breezes. He was certainly a handsome thing, with his long, curling brown-black hair and those chocolate-colored eyes that seemed to take in everything around him with a careless, lazy observation.

“Lucas,” she said, recognition making her gasp as she remembered the name he’d given the two reporters. “You’re Lorna’s brother, right?”

“Oui, and her favorite brother, at that,” he said, his grin full of promise and trouble as he reached a hand toward hers. “And from what I gathered from those two camera-toting clowns, your name is Willa?”

Willa tentatively took his hand, shaking it as she nodded then tried to pull away. But he held her. His hand was warm and work-callused, with long, artistic fingers that seemed to cling to her palm a bit too much for comfort. Lucas Dorsette didn’t just shake her hand; he held it as if it were a treasure. And then he did something even more unexpected. He bent his head and kissed her hand.

“Hello, Willa,” he said as he lifted his head, those dark, mischievous eyes sparkling with way too much charm. “Where on earth did you come from?”

“She came from New York,” Lorna said from behind him. “And she’d probably like her hand back, big brother.”

Willa watched as Lucas shrugged, then turned his head toward his sister and her husband, Mick, as they strolled down the garden path from the house. But he didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he kept it tucked in his then brought it down, holding it as if they’d been lifelong friends. “I’ll give it back…in a little bit.”

Willa didn’t wait for him to decide when. She gave him a slight smile, then pulled her hand away so she could wave to Lorna, glad for the distraction and glad to have her tingling hand away from his overly warm fingers. “Hello there. I was just about to explain to your brother what I’m doing here.”

“Let me,” Lorna said, giving Willa a light hug. Then she turned to Lucas. “Lucas, this is my friend Willa O’Connor. She arrived late last night. I met Willa in Paris a few years ago, and we’ve kept in touch since then. She needed a few days to herself, so I invited her to come down here to Bayou le Jardin. And I expect you to give her some much-needed space.” Then she yanked playfully on a silky strand of her brother’s unkempt hair. “And I expect you to behave yourself.”

“Don’t I always now?” Lucas said, his gaze zooming in on Willa with all the bright-eyed intent of someone who never, ever behaved himself.

Oh, she loved his accent—part southern gentleman, part backwoods Cajun, slow and easy and downright irresistible. Lucas Dorsette was everything his sister had described and more. A true contradiction—fierce and gentle, mysterious and gallant. Handsome and fun-loving.

A lethal combination of charm and rebellion.

Lorna had warned her.

But he had come to her rescue like some gallant knight from a romance novel. Only who was she kidding? Willa knew she needed another man in her life like she needed another pair of designer shoes. She’d had way too many of both.

And she’d come down to Louisiana to clean her closet, get the cobwebs out of the attic, so to speak. Decide what to do about her crumbling life. She didn’t need Lorna’s handsome brother complicating her already complicated existence.

And yet, she could still feel the warmth of his lips on the back of her hand.

“Your brother has behaved perfectly this morning,” she told Lorna. “He helped me out of a very sticky situation.”

“What happened?” Lorna asked as she leaned against her good-looking husband’s chest. Mick automatically wrapped his arms around Lorna, holding her close as they waited for Willa to answer.

Willa envied the happiness her friend had found in the spring, envied Lorna’s glowing face and contented newlywed smile. She was glad Lorna had found some peace at last. She’d come to Lorna’s beloved gardens hoping to find some peace of her own.

But apparently, it wasn’t to be.

“I’m afraid I’ve been found,” she said. “The press—two goons from the tabloids.”

“They were hiding in the bushes like possums,” Lucas said, his dark brows lifting as he watched Willa. “And hey, jolie fille, mind telling me what that was all about? Why did those two want pictures of you so bad, besides the fact that you’re beautiful and so obviously photogenic, and as you said, somewhat of a celebrity?”

Willa had to smile at the innocence of his question. A man who didn’t know her face? A man who really didn’t follow every aspect of her career? She found that hard to believe, but it was a refreshing change, at least.

Lorna gave her brother a gentle slap on the arm. “You dolt, don’t you know who she is?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes, she’s Willa O’Connor, fair maiden and friend of Lorna. Isn’t that all I need to know?”

“Yes,” Willa said.

“No,” Lorna replied, rolling her eyes. Then she took her brother by the face, holding a hand to his jaw. “Willa is a supermodel. Her face is famous all over the world. And right now, she’s supposed to be resting—away from all the cameras and the spotlights. So you did the right thing by sending those two away.”

“They’ll be back, and they’ll bring others with them,” Willa stated, her head down. “Which means I probably should leave soon. I don’t want to disrupt your home or bother any of your other guests.”

“Nonsense,” Lucas said before Lorna could reply, his dark eyes gleaming with new knowledge. “If you came here to find rest and relaxation, then that’s exactly what you’ll get. And I’ll put myself personally in charge—just to make sure.”

Lorna’s husband, Mick, spoke up. “How, uh, noble of you, Lucas.”

“Ain’t it, though?” Lucas replied, clearly unaffected by his brother-in-law’s teasing. “Personal detail—I’m good at that. I can be your tour guide, your bodyguard, whatever you need me to be.” He held his hand over his heart, then gave Willa a besotted, lopsided grin that had her laughing in spite of herself.

But the way he’d spoken left her wondering exactly what his many talents entailed. Probably heartbreaker, rake, charmer, just to name a few.

“Easy, brother,” Lorna cautioned. “She needs to rest. And if I know you, that word translates more into restless. Don’t drag her out into the swamp for any ‘gator sightings just yet.”

Lucas looked affronted. “The swamp can be a very restful spot. And highly romantic.”

Willa had to smile again. “Rest I need. And as for romance, I’m afraid I’ve given up on that forever.”

“Forever is a long time, suga’,” Lucas countered. “Me, personally, I couldn’t survive without a little romance now and then.”

His dark, unwavering gaze washed over her, telling her that neither could she—if he had his way.

“I warned you,” Lorna reminded Willa, taking her husband’s hand to head to the house. “Breakfast is ready, if you can tear yourself away from my poetic brother.”

“I’ll escort you,” Lucas told Willa, tucking his arm around hers before she could take a step. “According to our aunt Hilda, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“Willa’s already met Aunt Hilda,” Lorna called over her shoulder. “She had an early meeting in town so she couldn’t stay for breakfast with our guests, but she did urge Willa to eat a good meal.”

“See?” Lucas ducked his head low, his words coming in a warm rush near Willa’s ear. “And she always let’s me say grace.”

Grace. Willa wondered what that word meant, exactly. She’d been told she had a natural grace. She was in demand because of that, at the top of her career. And she’d just walked out on one of the most important fashion shows in the industry. How was that for having grace? How was that for saving grace?

She knew Lorna’s family was devout. Lorna had never made any secret of her Christianity, nor of her strong faith. Was that what real grace was all about? And could this beautiful, timeless garden really bring Willa the spiritual and physical healing her doctor and her friend had told her she needed?

Not if her first morning here was any indication. Two photographers in the bushes and a handsome Cajun on her arm, and all before breakfast.

“I’ve been up since before dawn. I’m stark, raving starving, and beating off thugs only added to my appetite,” Lucas said, bringing her out of her tormented, confused thoughts.

Willa had to wonder how he stayed in such good shape if he ate like a madman all the time. But she decided it’d be better to put such thoughts out of her mind. “Thanks for your help back there,” she told him, meaning it. “I was hoping no one would find me here.”

“They won’t again—not with me on the case, I guarantee.”

He’d stretched out that last word, his Cajun accent every bit as teasing as his merry grin. Obviously, he wasn’t as concerned about intrusive reporters as she was.

“I don’t expect you to be my protector, Lucas. I’m capable of handling them myself. After all, I’m used to it.”

He looked at her, those dark, dancing eyes touching her as closely as his arm holding hers. And making her feel extremely warm in the morning sunshine. “So you’re a model. That figures. You’ve got the face and figure for it.”

Willa looked away, toward the house where the few other guests had gathered around the long buffet table set on the downstairs gallery. “That’s what they tell me. Always in demand.”

If Lucas noticed the sarcasm in her tone, he didn’t let on. “But you didn’t come down here to be in demand, so you don’t have to handle it while you’re here. I’ll beef up security and make sure we watch everyone who comes in and out the gate. If you came here to rest, then that’s what we want you to do.”

Rest. The word made Willa want to sit down on that lovely old swing behind the big house and rock back and forth all day. Maybe with Lucas there to tease her and make her smile. Quickly shaking off that particular image, she told him, “This is certainly a perfect spot for rest and relaxation. I don’t know why I waited so long to accept Lorna’s invitation.”

Lucas pulled her close, his dark head almost touching hers as he whispered in her ear. “I sure wish you’d come sooner, and that’s a fact. We’re still recovering from the spring floods, but the gardens are coming along fine.”

The warmth of him was just too much. Willa managed to extract herself from him as they reached the back gallery, where Lorna had a full breakfast set up on the wrought-iron buffet table. “Well, I have a fact for you,” she told Lucas as she pretended to be interested in the food. “I need coffee.”

“That we’ve got. Hot and strong.”

“Then I’ll be perfectly content.”

“What about all this food? I reckon even supermodels need to eat,” he said, his arm somehow linked once again through hers. “Aren’t you hungry?”

His closeness seemed like a natural thing. Lucas was probably used to touching, hugging, being close to people.

She wasn’t.

“Maybe a little,” she replied, feeling sick to her stomach as she scanned the fresh banana bread and strawberry muffins, grits, eggs, bacon and fruit the other guests seemed to be devouring.

Lucas shoved a gleaming white plate at her. “Well, Lorna’s probably made a big production—brunch with an old friend and all. You’ll find we love to eat around here.”

Willa swallowed, thinking she probably wouldn’t be able to eat a bite. After her encounter with those photographers, she was too keyed up, too worried, too nervous to eat. She had a lot of things to work through in her time here. A lot of decisions to make. She couldn’t let Lucas Dorsette’s charming, easy ways sidetrack her. Even if he did smell so good—like water and trees, like fresh air after a slow, soft country rain.

Once again, Willa reminded herself she’d better keep such thoughts out of her head. Way too dangerous.

But she certainly could allow Lucas to show her around a little bit, act as swamp guide, maybe. That couldn’t hurt.

Unless he kept looking at her the way he was looking at her right now.

Willa couldn’t allow Lucas to get too close.

Because she knew in her heart that would be the worst thing that could happen. For both of them.

Chapter Two

“Do you have any of those fashion magazines lying around?” Lucas asked Lacey when they were alone in the kitchen.

He’d excused himself from Willa and Lorna so he could follow Lacey inside. He wanted to see for himself that Willa O’Connor was truly a fashion model. Not that he doubted it. She was the perfect example of high fashion. He wanted to be able to stare at her without anyone noticing, and he figured finding a glossy picture of her in a magazine would do the trick until he could figure out how to be around her twenty-four hours a day and still get his work done.

Lacey shot her brother a quizzical look, then grinned. “I see you’ve met Willa.”

Lucas nodded, grabbed a fresh sweet-potato roll, then chewed thoughtfully before answering. “I didn’t just meet her. I saw her standing in the morning mist on the banks of the bayou and lost my heart to her forever.”

Lacey nodded, then went right on placing fresh fruit on a tray for the breakfast guests gathered on the back gallery. “Uh-huh. How many times have I heard you say something such as that, only to find some poor brokenhearted woman at church the next Sunday, glaring at you across the pew because you suddenly found you wanted to keep your fickle heart intact, after all?”

“Ouch, that hurts. You’re cruel, Lacey, love. Very cruel.”

“And you wouldn’t know real love if it bit you on your adorable nose,” his older sister countered as she headed out the open French doors. Then she turned to face him, all seriousness and as prim and proper as ever in her pearls and lace. “Lucas, be careful with this one, will you please? From what Lorna’s told me, Willa O’Connor is dealing with some major issues right now. She doesn’t need you pestering her with one of your obsessive but rather short-lived infatuations.”

Lucas didn’t answer her. He stood, leaning against the counter, his eyes scanning the small crowd to make sure the object of this discussion was still chatting with Lorna and Mick. And wondered what issues lay behind Willa’s incredible blue-eyed million-dollar smile.

But Lacey wasn’t finished. “Besides, I don’t think Willa is the type to fall for your irresistible charms. She’s way too smart for the likes of you. She went to school at some fancy college up north, graduated with honors.”

Leave it to Lacey to drop a zinger like that with a sweet, serene smile plastered across her classic face. Lucas let out an aggravated sigh as he watched his sister play hostess with all the ingrained manners of a true Southern lady. And wished he could do something really childish like put a lizard down her starched collar.

“Do you have a magazine?” he asked Rosie Lee Babineaux, their longtime housekeeper and cook, as she passed him on her way to the industrial-size refrigerator.

“Lucas, Lucas,” Rosie Lee replied, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “You need to put your eyeballs back in your head, hein?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“You got the look,” Rosie Lee told him, wagging a finger at him, her Cajun accent twice as distinctive as his.

“And what look would that be, chère?”

“That Lucas look,” Rosie Lee explained, rolling her eyes. “The one you get whenever a pretty woman is anywhere within five miles of you.”

Lucas knew she was right. But, hey, he was having fun with it, so why couldn’t everyone lay off? “I just want to investigate things a bit further,” he explained. “Maybe hang a picture of her near my pillow, so I can gaze at her with adoration….”

Rosie Lee’s burst of laughter stopped him. She had to wipe her eyes, but she lifted a hand toward a set of swinging doors. “I think Em left a few fancy magazines in our sitting room. Go see.”

Lucas took off like a rocket, heading into the small family room tucked off the kitchen, a place where he’d spent many happy hours with the Babineaux clan since he’d arrived, nine years old and scared to death, at Bayou le Jardin. Falling across a worn plaid couch that had been salvaged and cleaned since the spring floods, he remembered feeling safe here in this little room that had at one time been servants’ quarters. He’d naturally blended right in with the six Babineaux children. To the point that they’d included him as one of their own—just like another son, even though he was a few years older than their four boys and two girls.

Glancing around, Lucas remembered Tobias Babineaux, or Big Tobbie, as everyone called him, teaching him all about the dark, mysterious swamp waters that ran behind the grounds of Bayou le Jardin. Tobbie had taken Lucas under his wing, teaching him how to hunt and fish and track, teaching him how to show respect to Mother Nature and how to stand up for what he believed in, teaching him how to survive.

And Lucas had drunk it all in, wanting very much to survive, but always, always challenging life in the midst of learning his lessons well.

A daredevil. That’s what they’d called him.

Reckless. Juvenile. Too full of life for his own good. That’s what he’d always heard about himself.

Too full of life. So full of life that he dared anyone or anything to change that fact.

Even God.

And because of that reckless, careless streak, Lucas had come close, so close to getting into serious trouble over the years, that he’d reached the point where everyone just left him to it—as if they’d all given up on changing him.

But that didn’t stop his loving sisters from reminding him on a daily basis of his shortcomings.

“Why start worrying about that now?” he said with a shrug as he looked around for the much-coveted magazine. Right now, he wouldn’t dwell on how lousy he’d felt since the spring night all those months ago when he’d left Lorna alone in the mansion, in the dark.

He wouldn’t stop to think about what she must have suffered before Mick had found her there. And saved her from herself.

“It should have been me,” Lucas said as he reached into a cabinet and grabbed a handful of tattered fashion magazines.

But then again, Lucas knew in his heart it had to be Mick. Mick Love had fallen in love with his sister in spite of her fears and her self-doubts. And Lucas had accepted that, welcomed it. It was only fitting that Mick be the one to come to Lorna’s aid, to bring her such strength in her faith and herself again. But still…Lucas couldn’t get past that night.

And the promise he had made to his sisters so long ago, on another dark, storm-tossed night.

“Did you find it?”

Lucas looked up to see Rosie Lee’s round, olive-skinned face smiling at him, her long black, silver-streaked braid swinging over one shoulder. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, a teasing light in her dark eyes.

“I hope so,” Lucas said, winking at her as he made a point of lazily flipping through the pages of a thick magazine. Then more to himself than her, he repeated his wish. “I certainly hope so.”

“So, now you’ve heard all the news about us,” Lorna said to Willa. “It’s your turn.”

Willa sank back against the soft floral cushions of her chair, a fork in one hand while she pretended to eat more breakfast. True, she had managed to down some fresh strawberries and cantaloupe and a freshly baked, grain-rich roll. But she couldn’t force herself to eat anything more, in spite of her friend’s best efforts.

Hoping to keep the focus of the conversation off herself, Willa glanced across the table at Lorna and Mick. “Even though I missed your wedding because of that shoot in Spain, I’m so happy for both of you. Surviving a tornado and then a flood, only to find each other…that’s a remarkable story.”

Lorna looked at her husband. “Yes, very remarkable, considering how I resisted Mick from the first day.”

“But it was love at first sight for me, I think,” Mick replied, his hand reaching for his wife. “We’ve been through a lot together, that’s for sure. My whole life changed once I set foot on this old plantation.”

Willa was amazed that Mick Love had been willing to pick up and move to be with the woman he loved. She’d never known a man with that type of commitment, a man willing to give up everything, change his whole lifestyle because of being in love. Her mother had done that all these years, followed the man she loved, but Willa had to wonder, if it were the other way around, would her father have done the same? She doubted it, so she had to question Mick further. “And you didn’t mind—moving here, relocating your business?”

“Why should I?” Mick said, his hand trailing through Lorna’s hair. “I didn’t really have anything to lose. Business is better than ever, I’ve got a wonderful wife to come home to each night, and hey, my best friend even relocated here with me and married the woman of his dreams, too. He’s training to be a fireman.”

“It must be the coffee,” Willa said, laughing. Maybe that would explain why she kept looking for Lucas to come to the table. He’d hopped up a few minutes ago, excused himself with a flourish, then disappeared inside the kitchen. And why did she care?

“There is something about Bayou le Jardin,” Mick agreed, finishing his brew. “It…can heal all wounds.”

Lorna nodded. “Aunt Hilda—you met her earlier, before she headed off to work—firmly believes that we are all closer to Christ here in this garden. She takes her troubles to Him and she’s taught us to do the same.”

Mick shrugged. “But it took a tornado and a flood for me to understand that concept.”

“You really believe that?” Willa asked, wishing with all her heart that Mick was right. She needed to be healed, both physically and spiritually. “That God somehow had a hand in bringing you here?”

Mick got up, looked at Lorna, then nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m a believer now.” With that, he kissed his wife. “And…I’ve gotta get to work. Justin needs some help with a little pruning, then I have to ride into Kenner to do an estimate on that remodeling work we’ve been discussing.” He lifted a hand. “We’re still trying to get this place back the way it was before the storms. And that is going to take some doing, considering we still have some water damage.” He touched Lorna’s hair again. “I probably won’t be back in my office in town for a few hours, so I’ll see you later this afternoon, okay?”

“Okay,” Lorna replied, her gaze filled with love as she kissed her husband. “Don’t work too hard.”

Mick grinned, then waved to Willa. “Hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” Willa told him. After he left, she sighed long and hard. “Lorna, he’s…”

“Perfect?” Lorna asked, her expression dreamy and serene. “Mick has helped me in more ways than I ever dreamed possible. He’s brought me peace, made me feel secure, helped me get over my fear of the dark. He still has to travel a good bit, but I’m okay with that—it’s part of his job. And sometimes I take off and head out with him.”

“I’m so glad,” Willa told her, meaning it. “I envy you.”

“Don’t,” Lorna replied, concern bringing a frown to her face. “You can find happiness, too, Willa. I know it. I believe that now—I didn’t believe in happily ever after before.”

“But you’re in love, married to the perfect man. That tends to change one’s perspective on these things.”

“Actually, Mick is far from perfect, but he’s a good, decent man and…just like Mick, I truly believe God brought us together here in this old garden.”

Willa was much too cynical and jaded to believe that. She’d seen too many broken relationships, been a part of too many herself, to ever believe there was such a thing as a lifetime love between two destined people. Fate was way too fickle for that to happen.

Then she looked up to find Lucas Dorsette leaning against a rounded white column, his eyes centered on her, his expression a mixture of curious charm and conquering hero. He gave her a soul-searing smile, then lowered his head, appearing to be completely engrossed in a magazine.

“What’s the story with your adorable brother?” she asked Lorna. “Does he break hearts by the week, or only on a monthly installment?”

Lorna shot her hovering brother a long look. “Oh, Lucas breaks hearts on a daily basis. I think every single woman at church has tried to win him over to matrimony, but our Lucas is a sly one. He can see them coming a mile away, so he flirts with them, teases them, makes them think they are the only one, and then he moves on. He treats women like flowers, picking them and enjoying them until they wilt away, then he discards them for another fresh bloom.”

Willa studied Lucas, glad she was immune to charming, shallow men, but somehow disappointed to hear that Lucas might be that way. “You certainly don’t paint him in a very pretty light.”

“Just being honest with you,” Lorna replied. “Lucas is a wonderful person, the best brother in the world, and I love him dearly. But…he doesn’t take life very seriously.”

“Maybe we could all learn a lesson from that,” Willa replied, thinking she took everything far too seriously for her own good. Which was why she was in such turmoil right now.

Lorna nodded. “As long as you remember, with Lucas, it’s all a big game. Enjoy it while you’re here, Willa, but just be forewarned. My brother will never settle down.”

Willa groaned, then shrugged. “I’m not looking to settle down. You of all people should know I’m not here looking for love, and I certainly have no intention of trying to snare your elusive brother.”

Lorna reached out a hand to her. “I know. You need to find some peace and quiet, and you really need to rest…and take care of yourself. We can’t forget your reasons for coming here. I just don’t want my beautiful brother interfering with that process.”

“Why can’t I be part of the process?” Lucas said from behind them, making both of them jump.

Willa sat bolt upright. She’d only looked away for a minute. How had he moved so quickly and so quietly?

Another thing to remember about Lucas Dorsette, she supposed.

Lorna didn’t bat an eye as she got up. “You can be a lot of things while Willa is here,” she told her brother. “A companion, a tour guide, a security guard. But Willa needs to—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Willa needs her rest. Willa needs to be left alone. Willa needs to know that Lucas is walking trouble and not worth a minute of her time. Did I leave anything out?”

Lorna reached out a hand to touch his face. “That just about covers it.” Then she kissed him on the cheek. “I know I can trust you, so be nice.”

Lucas grabbed his sister’s hand, 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 altogether.

“Are you all right? Tired?”

“I’m fine, just wondering what you’re doing.”

“I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots.”

“Okay.”

She decided to stay quiet. He took her hand, guiding her through hanging vines and wild dogwood trees. They moved downward, toward the marsh, then up until they were on a grassy little incline.

“Look,” he said, pointing.

Willa followed the direction of his gaze, then laughed. “Oh, my. Well, this was certainly worth the trip.”

He’d brought her to a pagoda sitting on top of a moss-covered mound. The pagoda was rustic and ancient, but the wood and stone blending together on the high walls looked solid, and the shingled, slanted roof seemed to be holding up. Or at least, the English ivy was holding the building together. It covered the entire structure and ran down over the mossy rocks that formed the walls of what looked like a walk-through grotto.

A playful morning breeze rustled the nearby tupelo trees, bringing with it the tinkling sound of bells. The almost melancholy melody seemed to be coming from inside the pagoda.

“Chimes,” Lucas told her, his keen gaze centering on her face. “I like chimes.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her breath coming hard and heavy, whether from the long walk or the sheer beauty of this place, she couldn’t say. “So this is your secret garden?”

“You could call it that,” Lucas told her as he led her up a narrow stone footpath toward the rectangular structure. “Aunt Hilda discovered it in her younger years, when she could get around more. She showed it to me when I first came here.” He smiled, then closed his eyes. “I can still remember what she told me. She said, ‘Now, Lucas, most would tell you that this is a temple, a shrine. But we only have one temple—and that is our little chapel where we worship the Lord. This is not a place of worship, but it can be a place of retreat, if you ever need it. God will hear you here in this place, if you need to get away and talk to Him.’”

“She sounds like a fascinating, wise woman.”

He opened his eyes, gave Willa one of those heart-stopping looks. “She is. She’s traveled all over the world, seen all sorts of shrines and temples, cathedrals and churches, but she loves the Chapel in the Garden more than anything she’s ever seen. And that’s where she expects us to be each Sunday.”

Willa thought that was quaint and sweet and again felt that distant tug of longing in her own heart. “And yet, you come here sometimes, to find your peace, talk to God?”

He nodded. “No one else bothers with this place. Not even Justin, our landscaper. I try to keep the swamp from taking it over completely.”

“So you weed it and clear it out, prune the bramble and sweep away the spiders and snakes?” She hoped.

He nodded, as silent as the still, waiting wind and trees. Then he said, “I don’t like spiders and snakes, but I respect them. If I find any, I usually send them in the other direction.”

Somewhat comforted, she asked, “Even the poisonous ones?”

“Even those, unless of course they attack first. Then I don’t ask any questions.”

Willa imagined that was probably how he handled life, too. Since he seemed used to being attacked a lot, based on what Lorna had told her.

She could envision him standing here, the hunter in him alert and wary, willing to kill to survive. But she could also see him bending to nudge an innocent creature in the right direction so he wouldn’t be forced to harm it. It was that image, rather than the more macho one of him as a hunter and a scrapper, that endeared him to her.

“Well, you’ve done a good job. It looks well-kept and completely snake free,” she told him, her gaze taking in the antique sundial centered near the entryway. “But I have to admit, this place looks a little lost and sad.”

“It is,” he replied. “It was once a garden spot, centuries ago. It wasn’t part of our land then, but the family that owned the neighboring plantation suffered through a yellow fever epidemic, probably brought here from New Orleans. The landowner lost his entire family—his wife, his son and daughter—they all died. He let the place go to ruin during the Civil War, then he died many years later, a lonely, reclusive old man. I’m not sure how my family wound up owning the land—Lacey could tell you all about that—” He stopped, looked at the winding stream that flowed from the Mississippi River to the bayou from the other side of the small, slanting hill. “The story goes that he used to come here and grieve his loss in this hushed, decaying garden. I come here when I’m feeling lost and sad myself. Sometimes I get in that kind of mood. Aunt Hilda says, c’est l’heure solennelle.”

“The solemn hour.” Willa knew enough French to translate what he’d told her. And wondered why he’d brought her here. Did Lucas sense that she was sad and lost underneath all her fame and fortune?

Just the thought that he might, coupled with the tragic tale he’d told her, brought tears to her eyes. But she quickly dashed them away, not willing to explore the underlying turmoil of her problems right now. She didn’t want pity, refused to wallow in self-doubt and despair.

And yet, this place seemed to be beckoning her to do just that. Or maybe it was telling her to let go and let her inner torment boil to the surface in a cleansing purge. So she could get on with her life. If she had a life to get on with, that is.

Wanting to change her somber thoughts, Willa said, “You don’t strike me as the type to wander around moping. From everything Lorna has told me and from what I’ve seen of you, I wouldn’t have imagined you’d have such a place, so beautiful yet so melancholy, tucked away from the world.”

He looked at her, his dark eyes locked on hers in a heated black gaze, his secrets as tangled and overgrown as the swamp around them. “’The beauty remains; the pain passes.’”

“What a lovely thing to say.”

“You can thank Renoir for that one,” he told her, looking away briefly.

“The painter?”

“The very one. He knew a thing or two about pain.”

“And it sounds as if you know a thing or two about art,” she replied, her opinion of him rapidly changing.

“I know enough to get by. But then, that’s how I am about most things in life—whatever it takes to get by.” He shifted, ran a hand over his long, curly bangs. “But I didn’t bring you here to get you down or talk about art.”

She wanted to ask him exactly why he had brought her here, but then the smile was back, taking her breath up and away. The tiny bells hanging on a silvery chain just inside the open pagoda door tinkled and laughed along with him, but to Willa, the sound changed in the wind.

It almost sounded like weeping.

“Well, this is a strange and mysterious place,” she said, her voice low. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Depends,” he said, pulling her into the cool darkness of the rustic structure. “Look over that way.” He pointed through one of the open windows toward the path they’d traveled.

Through a gap in the trees and brush, Willa saw the mansion. From this spot atop the small mound, Bayou le Jardin could be seen in all its splendor just to the west. The great evergreen oaks and ever-changing gardens cascaded from the house like colorful lace on a belle’s ball gown, while the mansion stood brilliant and sparkling with its Doric columns and classic Greek Revival design.

“How lovely.”

“Oui. I like to come here and look back at it. I’m close enough to watch over things, but far enough away that I can’t be bothered if I don’t want to be found.”

If I don’t want to be found.

Willa watched him, knowing that there was much more to Lucas Dorsette than he wanted the world to see. He was witty, flirty, a charmer, no doubt. But there was a serious side to him that she could see clearly, in spite of the shaded, secluded garden where he’d brought her. Or maybe because of it.

“Do you bring all your conquests here?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Actually, you’re the first,” Lucas told her, his mood as dark and hard to see into as the swamp below them. “Conquest, that is.”

And that’s when Willa knew she was treading on very dangerous ground. Lorna had warned her about Lucas’s lighthearted, carefree nature.

But her friend had failed to warn her about the other qualities that made up Lucas Dorsette. He was obviously a very complex, interesting man. A man who had a deeper, more spiritual side that he hid from the world with a nonchalant shrug and a breathtaking smile.

But then, maybe he didn’t want the rest of the world to see that side of him. The side that cared enough to set God’s creatures free when he could just as easily destroy them. The side that tended and nurtured a secret, tragic place, finding beauty hidden in the midst of pain. The side that didn’t want to be found.

Taking all that into consideration, Willa stopped asking questions and quit worrying about being his next conquest. Instead, she sat next to him on the carved bench inside the pagoda. Sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the swamp, the starlings fussing as they flew overhead, the bullfrogs singing in the marsh. Listening to the soft, sweet melody of hundreds of tiny chiming bells.

Across the shore, a blue heron posed on a toppled branch from a bald cypress tree, listening and watching right along with them. And somewhere in the coolness of the swamp, a mourning dove cooed a forlorn song of longing.

“Thank you for showing me this place, Lucas,” she told him after a few minutes.

“Thank you for letting me bring you here,” he replied, his tone neither carefree nor careless. Instead, his husky voice held a reverent longing of its own.

Which made her wonder all over again.

Why had he opened up to her, let her see the real Lucas Dorsette, here in this ancient, tragic spot, of all places on God’s green earth?

“Set another place for dinner,” Lorna told Rosie Lee that afternoon. “Willa O’Connor will be joining us.”

Lucas walked in the kitchen in time to hear this bit of news. “Willa? Well, I think the dinner hour just got more interesting. Glad I actually dressed.”

He’d never admit that he’d taken great pains to get cleaned up in hopes of seeing her here tonight. Crisp button-up shirt, pressed and pleated khaki trousers. Shoes that didn’t have scuff marks and caked mud all over them. He’d even found a belt.

“And where have you been since breakfast?” Lorna asked him as she opened the oven to check on Rosie Lee’s baked turkey cutlets. “Willa came back to the house without you. Did you do something to upset her?”

“Which question would you like me to answer first?” he asked, perturbed that his baby sister had automatically jumped to the wrong conclusion. And she hadn’t even noticed that he’d tried to clean up nicely.

“You did do something, didn’t you?”

Giving Lorna a direct look that matched her own assumptions, he nodded. “Yes, I sure did. I kidnapped her and took her deep into the swamp and then—”

“Oh, hush up,” Aunt Hilda said, coming into the kitchen at a slow pace, one hand leaning heavily on her cane. “I can tell you where Lucas was today, Lorna. He spent most of the afternoon with me at the office, handing out school supplies to the area children.”

“School supplies?” Lorna adjusted her chef’s hat, then shrugged. “Will wonders never cease.”

“I even went into Kenner to that big superstore and bought them, too,” Lucas told her. “Can you believe Aunt Hilda assigned me such a monumental chore?”

Lorna stuck out her tongue at him. “Yes, I can believe it. And I’m well aware of the local effort to help our children with their supplies this year. Between the tornado and then the flood, we all know everyone around here is tapped out, both emotionally and financially.”

“That’s right,” Aunt Hilda said, placing an arm around Lucas’s shoulder. “School will be starting in a few weeks, and we need to do everything we can to make it a normal transition, in spite of all the havoc nature has created this year.”

“Okay,” Lorna said. “But that still doesn’t explain why Willa came back to the house by herself.”

“I escorted her to the garden—the official garden,” Lucas explained. “She wanted to go to her room, so I bid her good day, then I went on my merry way.”

And wished he could have stayed in his secret garden with Willa for, oh, maybe the rest of his life.

He couldn’t explain what had happened this morning. He only knew he’d needed to take Willa to that particular spot. Call it instinct, call it a need to let her into his secret hopes and dreams. Or call it a coward’s plea for someone to see inside his soul, but Lucas had been sure and solid in his decision.

And…she’d understood.

Willa hadn’t questioned him. She hadn’t condemned him. She’d sat there with him, in the quiet of the summer morning, with the bayou and the birds and bees all around them. And she’d…accepted.

Lucas had been around many beautiful women, too many, when he really stopped to think about it. But none of them had ever accepted him for what he was. They’d all wanted to dig too deep, wanted more than he could give. They’d all tried to corner him, change him, rearrange him into fitting husband material. Which only made him bolt right out the door.

Maybe it was because she was worldly and world-weary, but Willa didn’t seem to expect a whole lot from him. He supposed that could be good or bad, depending on how you looked at things. Maybe Willa didn’t expect too much because she’d hardened herself to men in general.

Or maybe she knew he couldn’t possibly live up to her expectations.

Lorna brought that point home with her next statement. “Well, I thought you were going to keep an eye on Willa, watch over her while she’s here.”

“I would gladly do that,” he responded, reaching into Rosie Lee’s spinach salad to snare a fat slice of green pepper. “But Willa said she was tired and she was going back to her room to rest and make a few phone calls. So I left her to it.”

And wondered why she’d looked so sad as she’d walked away.

Lorna frowned, then nodded. “Okay, then. I know she didn’t let anyone know where she’d be, not even her agent. And I think she’s turned off her cell phone. I hope she did get some rest today.” Glancing at the clock, she added, “Oh, I’ve got to get to the restaurant before Mick gets home. Just as soon as I gauge the crowd and make sure my assistant and Em can handle things, I’ll be back for dinner.”

“We’ll be honored by your presence,” Lucas teased.

Lorna gave him a mock-nasty glare, then reached to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m sorry I jumped on you, brother.”

“What else is new?”

“You’re still my favorite brother, you know.”

“Maybe because I’m your only brother.”

She smiled at him, all trace of doubt gone. “I want you to be happy, Lucas.”

“But just not with your fair friend Willa.”

“I didn’t say that. Actually, it would be nice if—”

Willa came into the room then, her crystal-blue eyes bright and red-rimmed, her expression bordering on frantic. In spite of that, she looked glorious in a long, straight blue cotton sundress etched with embroidered daisies on its wide crisscrossed straps.

Lucas started to question her but glanced at his sister and saw the warning look in Lorna’s worried eyes.

He turned to Willa, hoping to lighten her mood. “I hear you’re joining us for dinner. Most of the guests eat in the restaurant, so we’re glad to have you at our table.”

“Thank you,” she said, her words just above a whisper. “I hope I won’t be intruding on a family gathering.”

“Not at all,” Aunt Hilda told Willa, her sharp gaze taking in everything. “As Lucas said, we don’t provide dinner for our guests—just breakfast. But Lorna figured out a way around that with her booming restaurant.”

Lucas grinned, then took his aunt by one arm as he extended the other to Willa. “But we never turn down a beautiful face at the dinner table, either, when the occasion presents itself.”

He waited, saw Willa hesitate, wondering. He wanted to pull his hands through her haphazardly upswept hair.

Then she put her arm around his, lifted her head and gave him a brilliant smile that would probably sell lots of lipstick in a magazine shot. “How can I refuse, then?”

How, indeed, Lucas wondered. She seemed anything but eager to have dinner with his family. She seemed sad and forlorn, just like his lost, forgotten garden in the bayou.

Lucas wanted to wipe away her tears, make her smile again, from the heart. But first he had to find out what had brought her here and why she seemed so fragile.

As he walked with his aunt and Willa up the central hallway of Bayou le Jardin, Lucas knew one thing for sure.

God had brought Willa to him. And Lucas had been right to take her to his private garden.

It was the place where he kept his fears and sadness intact, nurturing them as if they were cherished blossoms lost deep inside the swamp.

He looked at Willa and knew that beneath her pain, the beauty was still there, just as with his garden. He felt an acute need to clear away the bramble and entanglements surrounding Willa’s smile and bring that beauty into the light.

Chapter Four

Lucas flipped on the light by his favorite armchair in the little den off the kitchen. “Well, well. Would you look at that?”

“I knew you’d want to see it,” Rosie Lee told him, shaking her head. “Dem fellows might be back, Lucas.”

“Yeap, they just might. And I just might be waiting for them.”

Lucas focused on the supermarket tabloid Rosie Lee had handed him. The supermarket tabloid that had a picture of Willa O’Connor, standing on the bayou, plastered across its front cover, complete with the headline “Supermodel flees New York for bed-and-breakfast retreat in Louisiana.” Then, in a subhead, “Why did Willa O’Connor cancel her appearance in benefit fashion show? Details inside.”

Lucas wanted the details. But not this way. He wanted Willa to tell him what was going on. If she saw this, she’d probably pack up and head for parts unknown.

Because she was obviously running from something.

Lucas knew this because, hey, it took one to know one. He’d certainly run away a few times in his life. To the swamp. To New Orleans. To his garden pagoda. He could see all the signs.

But why had Willa come here?

Maybe because she needed to be here; God wanted her to be here right now. Last night at dinner, she’d been polite—her manners were impeccable. She’d also been aloof and withdrawn, traits expected of a haughty model, but they didn’t fit the Willa he’d seen when they’d been alone in the garden. There she’d been more open, more down to earth. Lucas wished he could figure out the real Willa O’Connor, not the glossy image she’d managed to project both on paper and in the flesh.

He put down the tabloid, telling himself he wouldn’t read the disgusting and obviously untrue article inside. Then he pulled out the worn picture he’d found of Willa in the fashion magazine the other morning, comparing it to the blurry headshot from the tabloid.

There was no comparison.

In the glossy magazine shot, Willa looked picture-perfect as she stood smiling on a bridge in Venice, wearing a shimmering baby blue satin evening gown and dazzling jewels. It was an ad for a very expensive designer perfume. It worked for him.

In the tabloid picture, Willa looked lovely, but she had that same lost, worried look on her face Lucas had noticed so many times in the past two days. She was staring at the water as if hoping to find answers there. The intrusive photographers had captured her in a very private moment. And they’d obviously had more than one roll of film, since Lucas had destroyed the rolls in their cameras.

That didn’t work for Lucas.

He wanted to find those two clowns and grind them both to pulp. But Aunt Hilda would tell him that wasn’t the way a Dorsette resolved conflict.

So did he pray for their rotten, misguided souls instead?

Better to pray for Willa. To pray that he could find a way to get closer to her, help her through whatever problem she’d come here to solve.

Rosie Lee stuck her head in the doorway. “Want more coffee, Lucas?”

“Non.” He got up, threw the trashy tabloid on the worn coffee table. “I’m going out to find the rest of the breakfast crowd. Then I’ve got a busy day—got to check the dip nets and trotlines so Lorna will have fresh seafood for dinner tonight. Then I’m supposed to get with Mick and Justin to go over the renovation plans for later this fall. But first I need to see—”

“Willa O’Connor is out on the gallery,” Rosie Lee told him with a grin.

It was uncanny the way Rosie Lee could read his mind, Lucas thought as he grabbed his cup of now cold coffee and headed through the kitchen to the back gardens. Glancing over the clusters of people eating their morning meal, Lucas saw a couple of new faces.

And the one face he’d been searching for.

They were booked solid for the summer, in spite of the damage from the storms earlier in the spring. Of course, Justin and the whole clan had worked around the clock to get the house and gardens in order, but there was still a lot that needed to be done, which was why they would probably have to shut down for a couple weeks in the less busy late fall.

Upkeep on the place was a never-ending battle, but one they gladly accepted. Lucas had pitched in, too. He loved these gardens and their home as much as his aunt and sisters did.

And right now, he especially loved having Willa O’Connor sitting at a wrought-iron table in beige linen pleated slacks and a stark black sleeveless summer sweater, her long hair pulled from her classic face with an exotic metal and wooden clip, her face devoid of any makeup. She looked as if she belonged in a country garden.

As always, her natural beauty assaulted Lucas with the same force as the many flowers blooming around them. It slammed into his gut with a gentle rendering, making him inhale then exhale in one quick breath. He didn’t understand this attraction, had never had to deal with anything quite so strong and sure before. He’d been attracted to other women, but he’d never felt a jolt that went all the way from his stomach to his toes.

And he’d never felt such a fierce longing, a mixture of wanting to protect her and nurture her coupled with a need to know everything about her.

“Staring is quite rude,” Aunt Hilda said under her breath as she walked past him. She took the time to stop and rap his leg with her cane before she moved on, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m going to work. And you, try to stay out of trouble.”

Lucas snapped to attention, then realized he wasn’t the only one staring at Willa. An older couple sitting at the next table—the Gilberts from East Texas—were whispering and staring. And Mrs. Gilbert had a copy of that annoying tabloid in her plump little hand.

Lucas saw the ambush coming before he could take a step to warn Willa.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Mrs. Gilbert chirped as she fluttered to her feet and rushed to Willa’s table. “See. It says so right here.” She pointed to the picture, then looked at Willa, smug and proud of her discovery. “I told William I thought this was you. The story says you didn’t show up at an important fashion event. Says you’re having personal problems.”

Lucas watched as Willa’s smile turned to stony surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Honey, it’s okay, really,” Mrs. Gilbert said, leaning close. “I can understand why you’d want a little downtime. I mean, traveling to all those exotic places, wearing all those beautiful, costly clothes at fashion shows.” She made a shushing sound, then rolled her eyes. “I wish I had it so hard.” She beamed a smile at Willa. “Did you really walk away from a cancer benefit fashion show in New York last week?”

Willa looked at the tabloid picture, then turned as pale as the ice in her freshly squeezed orange juice. “Where did you get this?”

“The drugstore in town,” Mrs. Gilbert replied, nodding. “Went in for some sunscreen and just had to have this, too. I love catching up on all the gossip.” She pulled a pen from the pocket of her cotton tunic. “Will you sign it for me?”

Willa got up so fast, she knocked over the juice. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking around. “I…”

“I think Miss O’Connor isn’t in the mood to sign any autographs right now,” Lucas said, coming to stand by Willa, his arm gently nudging her so she could lean against him. “She didn’t give permission for that picture to be published, and the article is a complete fabrication. Well, you understand, of course, Mrs. Gilbert. There’s no big story here. Miss O’Connor just wants some privacy.” He flashed the older woman one of his best smiles. “Isn’t that the very reason you and Dr. Gilbert keep coming back to Bayou le Jardin year after year—just to get away from all the stress of running a private practice and those fussy patients? You know how we pride ourselves on keeping our guests happy.”

Mrs. Gilbert looked embarrassed, then she smiled at Lucas. “Of course, Mr. Dorsette. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” She shrugged. “It’s just that, well, a supermodel, right here at breakfast. It’s not every day you find that.”

“I agree,” Lucas said, his hand squeezing Willa’s arm. Her skin felt silky soft, but cold in spite of the heat. “Miss O’Connor, have you met Mrs. Gilbert? Margaret Ann Gilbert and her husband, Dr. William Gilbert. They’ve been coming to Bayou le Jardin every summer for several years now. Two of our favorite guests.”

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Gilbert said, playfully slapping Lucas on the arm as she batted her eyelashes at him. “It’s so very nice to meet you, Miss O’Connor. My, you’re so tall.”

Willa gave Lucas a grateful look, then reached out to shake Mrs. Gilbert’s hand. “I’m sorry if I acted rudely, Mrs. Gilbert. It’s just that I thought I’d have some privacy here, and seeing that picture—”

“It’s not a very clear shot, is it?” Mrs. Gilbert replied, obviously enjoying Willa’s discomfort.

Dr. Gilbert, a tall man with a tuft of white hair, came ambling over to take his petite wife by the arm. “Margaret Ann, I declare, can’t you see the woman doesn’t want to be bothered? Now stop gawking and come on back to our table and eat your breakfast. Lorna made these cinnamon rolls especially for you, dear.”

“Yes, I certainly did,” Lorna said, getting up to find more of the freshly baked concoctions. Emily came rushing out of the kitchen with a steaming batch. “Look, here’s Em with more. Have another, then take a nice stroll around the gardens. The butterfly garden is especially pretty this time of year.”

Mrs. Gilbert gave Lorna and Willa an envious stare. “Well, I shouldn’t have any more, but I suppose I’ll never be supermodel thin like the two of you. Might as well enjoy myself in my old age, huh?”

“Exactly,” Lucas told her as he let go of Willa to escort Mrs. Gilbert to her table. Then he leaned low to whisper in the captivated woman’s ear. “And thank you for understanding about our special guest. You are such a discreet person, I hope I can count on you to know exactly the right thing to say—if anyone asks about Willa being here, that is.”

“Oh, my, of course,” Mrs. Gilbert said as Lucas gently pushed her into her chair. “William, pass me another roll, sweetheart.”

“Of course, honey,” Dr. Gilbert said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Think I’ll have another myself, too.”

Lucas left them smiling and cooing over Lorna’s fluffy iced cinnamon rolls, their coffee cups filled to the brim with a fresh brew, thanks to Emily. Lorna gave Lucas a thankful look, then headed over to entertain and distract the Gilberts.

“Thank you,” Willa said as he drew near. “I appreciate that.”

She still looked pale and shaken.

“Why don’t you sit back down,” Lucas told her. He indicated her chair. “Do you want something else? Some more juice?”

She sank into her chair. “No, no. I’m fine, really. Seeing that picture just startled me. I didn’t want anyone to know—”

“That you’re here.”

She nodded, then looked at him. “And that I didn’t live up to a commitment. I’ve never backed out of a show in my life, especially when it’s a charity event.”

Lucas snagged a crisp piece of bacon Lorna had left on her plate. “Couldn’t be helped, I reckon.”

“I should have gone through with it, but I did have my reasons for being a no-show,” Willa replied, more to herself than to him. “I’d hate to think—I don’t want people to believe—”

“People will believe what they want to believe,” Lucas interjected, his hand on hers. “You’ve obviously got a good reason for deciding to cancel out on the show.”

She looked up. “But you don’t believe me, either, do you? I can see it in your eyes. You’re wondering exactly what the rest of the world is wondering—how could I be so shallow and self-centered?”

She jumped up to stare down at him.

Lucas caught her before she could bolt for the house. “Hey, now, slow down. Yes, I’m wondering what happened. But I refuse to believe gossip or half-truths. What I’d really like is for you to talk to me, tell me what’s bothering you.”

She lowered her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not? You can trust me.”

Willa pulled her arm away. “It’s not about trust. This is something I have to deal with on my own, in my own way. I just need some time to think things through, make a decision.”

“And you’d rather be left alone?”

Her expression told him one thing, but her eyes told him that she needed someone to help her through whatever crisis she was dealing with.

“I have to resolve this on my own terms, Lucas,” she replied. She reached a hand up to absently scratch a bright red spot on her arm. Then she turned to leave.

Lucas moved like lightning to catch up with her. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

She shrugged, refusing to look at him. “Nothing. Just a few bug bites from our excursion into the swamp the other day. I’ve got some lotion in my room.”

“Oh, no,” he said, pulling her toward the French doors. “Rosie Lee has this stuff she makes up herself with herbs and witch hazel. It’ll take the sting out. C’mon, we’ll find it. These Louisiana mosquitoes can be fierce.”

She smiled. “It does itch.”

“We’ll fix it,” Lucas told her, taking her into the kitchen.

Rosie Lee glanced up from the industrial-size dishwasher. “Can I get you anything, Lucas?”

“Nah. We’re just gonna head into the sitting room to doctor Willa’s bug bites.”

Rosie Lee nodded, then turned to her work. “Poor bébé. You’re sure too pretty for da mosquitoes to tote off, for true.”

“Thank you,” Willa said, smiling at the other woman.

Emily came in and glanced shyly at Willa. “Miss O’Connor, I just love…I love seeing you in all the magazines. I can’t believe you’re really here.”

Willa gave the teenager a soft smile. “Thanks, Emily. Just remember, what you see in the magazines is the product of a whole team of people—makeup artists and hairstylists, not to mention the marketing and advertising gurus. I know it might sound trite, but real beauty comes from within. And your pretty smile shows me that you have an inner beauty all your own.”

Emily blushed, looked at her mother, then shook her head. “But I’ll never look like you.”

“You weren’t meant to,” Willa replied. “Just be yourself. You have beautiful olive skin and glorious dark hair. Would you believe, I used to wish I had dark hair like yours?”

“Non,” Emily said, laughing. Then she touched her rich brown locks. “It is natural.”

“Keep it that way, suga’,” Lucas interjected with a wink. “Em, you know you’re the belle of Bayou le Jardin, don’t you, now?”

“Lucas, you’re teasing me,” Emily said, grinning.

But Lucas saw the way she held her head high. Willa’s praise had given the young woman some much-needed confidence.

“Em, get back to your chores,” her mother said softly, a look of pride on her face.

Emily rolled her eyes, then grinned again. “I’ll see you later.”

“Medicine’s on the shelf in the pantry,” Rosie Lee told Lucas. Then she glanced at Willa. “Thanks for talking to her. She’s at that age where she thinks she’s ugly. Me, I think she’s the prettiest thing in the world, but I’m just her mamma, hein?”

“She is pretty,” Willa replied. “She’ll blossom into a beauty soon.”

“Oui, her papa is worried about that very thing.”

While Rosie Lee went back to work, Lucas tugged Willa into the little sitting room. “There,” he indicated, placing her on the couch, his gaze holding hers. “That was a very nice thing you just did.”

Willa shrugged, then looked away. “What? Talking to Emily? I was telling her the truth. She’s at such a hard age—caught between baby fat and hormones. I certainly can remember those days.”

Lucas let his gaze move over her slender frame. “Did you actually ever have any baby fat?”

“Yes, I sure did. But I was all arms and legs, so awkward and gangly. I felt like an ugly duckling.”

“And turned into a beautiful swan.”

He saw the sadness falling across her like a cloud over the sun.

“Where’s this soothing medicine?” she asked, her eyes on her itching bite. She rubbed it with obvious nervousness. To avoid looking at him, he guessed.

After rummaging through the first aid kit in the pantry that connected the sitting room with the kitchen, Lucas found the antiseptic lotion that Rosie Lee kept handy for just such purposes.

“Ah, here it is,” he told Willa, coming to sit on the footstool in front of her. Noticing the tabloid on the table, he quickly shoved it to the floor before she had a chance to see it.

Then he took her arm in his hand and began to rub creamy, fresh-scented medicine on the swollen bite. “That ol’ skeeter got you bad, love. Does it still sting and itch?”

Willa looked at him, her big blue eyes filled with gratitude and resolve. “It’s not that bad. I’ve got a couple of others, mostly on my legs. I’ll doctor those with Rosie Lee’s medicine later, if you don’t mind.”

“I could do those, too,” he teased, glad to see a smile tugging at her beautiful lips. “I guess in your profession, you have to be extra careful about bug bites and scrapes—the camera probably isn’t too kind to injuries.”

She nodded, her thick ponytail falling over her shoulder. “I have to be careful, but we have the magic of airbrushing and touching up the photos to help us look perfect—even when we’re not.”

“You’re as close to perfect as any woman I’ve ever met,” Lucas said, his hand going still on her arm. “I just need to take better care of you next time we venture out.”

“I can take care of myself,” she reminded him. “You need to stop coming to my rescue all the time. And you also need to understand that I’m far from perfect.”

Lucas sat back, his fingers touching her arm, his other hand still holding her steady. “Okay, I’ll accept that you probably have your failings, whatever they might be, but I like rescuing you. And besides, I’m a highly trained professional. I took a six-week course at Tulane University on how to handle damsels in distress.”

“Funny, I didn’t know Tulane offered such a course.”

“They only let certain people go through it.” He winked, grinned, then continued to rub her arm. “And they prepare us for lovely, long-limbed models. They warn us that we might lose our hearts, so we have to be strong and prove our worth. It’s a tough challenge—only for the very brave. But we take our job very seriously.”

“You’re completely crazy,” she told him, scoffing. “How many women have you told that tall tale, anyway?”

“I don’t go around rescuing every woman who comes around that big curve in the road,” he told her, serious. “But…you’re different, Willa. It seems as if I’m just supposed to be here for you.”

She abruptly pulled her arm away. “I don’t need anyone to be here for me, Lucas. I’ve been on my own for a very long time.”

“And why is that?” he countered, ignoring the way she’d successfully cut off any shred of intimacy between them.

“I’m adopted,” she blurted. Then she lowered her head, as if ashamed.

Lucas lifted her chin with his thumb. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Looking up, she said, “My parents were older than most when they decided to adopt a child. My father is an ambassador—to a small country halfway around the world. And my mother…she always followed my father around, clinging to him, hoping to be the best possible wife she could be. But she couldn’t have children, and my father wanted a child more than anything. I think that’s the only reason she agreed to an adoption, because he wanted it so much. They both needed a child for appearances’ sake.”

Lucas thought that was a terrible thing to think about your own parents, and especially about yourself. That brought thoughts of his dead mother and father and how much they had treasured their three children. Pushing bittersweet memories away, he held Willa, his hand cupping her face. “Why do you think that, chère?”

Willa didn’t try to twist away. Instead, she leaned into his touch. “They were so distant, so formal when I was growing up. They still are. And they expected so very much, more than I was ever able to give.”

“Do you see them now? I mean, are they still alive?”

“Oh, yes, I see them during holidays—the obligatory visit. But they travel here and there with the social set, their image intact in spite of their daughter’s disgraceful antics.”

“I don’t see anything disgraceful in this face,” he told her, inching closer.

“I was supposed to be just like my mother,” she explained, her expression grim. “I went through boarding school, prep school, college. Then I was supposed to marry some Ivy Leaguer with plenty of old money and settle down to charity events and committee work.”

“I guess that didn’t happen.”

“No. I was ‘discovered’ when a modeling scout came to our campus to do some photo shoots. A friend talked me into going to the shoot just for fun. Well, the agency rep seemed to like me, but at first, I resisted the offer. I’m not one to be impulsive, you see. But the scout and the agency were very persistent. Signed me up on the spot a week before graduation.

“I think I agreed just to spite my parents and their latest catch, a very eligible bachelor who met all their credentials. It was a way to run away, get away. When I turned down his marriage proposal and told my parents I was heading to France for my first modeling assignment, they practically disowned me.”

“But you’re famous, rich, accomplished. What’s the matter with these people?”

“I’ve asked my therapist that many times,” she said, her smile warming his hand. “And I’ve longed to know what’s wrong with me just the way I am.” She stopped smiling. “Then, after I informed them I wanted to find my real mother—”

Lucas watched as she became silent again. He saw the pain marring her face, felt it in the touch of his fingers to her skin. “Did you—find her, I mean?”

Willa put her hand over his, pulling it away from her face. “I’ve been searching for so long. I had just about given up. But about a month ago, the private investigator I hired came up with a family name and a location. Now I’m trying to get up the courage to go and see if this family might be my family.”

“Wow.” He held her hand in his. “So…what’s holding you back?”

Her eyes misted over, but she held the tears at bay.

“I’m afraid,” she finally admitted. “I’m so afraid of what I might find if I do go to see my real mother. What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

“That would be tough,” he said, nodding. “But if this is something you have to do—”

“It is.” She got up, the aloof nature intact once again. “Thanks for the medicine. The itching’s stopped now.”

“Willa, wait.” He rose to go after her. But she was already in the hall, heading up the winding stairs. “Willa, do you want to talk about this?”

“No,” she told him, turning to stare at him. “Thanks, Lucas. But there’s so much more to the story. And I really can’t explain all of it right now.”

“When?” he asked, his heart hurting for her. “When, Willa?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “And I don’t think I should stay here too much longer. It’s only going to get worse if I do.” With that, she turned and fled up the stairs to the second floor, shutting her bedroom door behind her.

Lucas turned from the stairs to look out the French doors, his gaze scanning the great oaks surrounding the front of the house. “How could it get any worse?” he wondered out loud.

After all, he’d already lost his heart.

He could be persistent. He would find out what Willa was so worried about, what secrets she’d brought to Bayou le Jardin with her.

And he’d gladly help her to find her long-lost biological mother, if she’d let him. Because he wasn’t about to let Willa leave these gardens in her current state of mind. Nor anytime soon, if he had his way.

And Lucas Dorsette always got his way.

Chapter Five

“I let you get away with this one, Willa, but if you keep pulling these stunts your career is going to be in serious jeopardy.”

Willa held the cell phone tightly to her ear, the warning words from her agent reminding her that her life was falling apart even as she sat here.

“I understand that, Samuel. But I need a little more time. I’m exhausted, worried, confused. I have to have a few more days, at least.”

She sank back on the antique white wicker chair, one hand digging into the soft, plush floral cushion as she looked from the second floor gallery to the gardens below. Contrasting the peaceful, bucolic scene spread out in front of her with the impatient sigh of her longtime agent, Samuel Frye, only made Willa more conscious of her obligations and commitments.

“If you’d just let me in on what’s going on with you,” Samuel said, his words etched with exasperation as well as concern. “Willa, you are one of my best clients. We’ve made a whole lot of money together, me and you. You’re wholesome, the girl next door, and you aren’t a prima donna. So I don’t get this—”

“You mean, I’m acting like a prima donna now,” she interjected, her gaze scanning the distant row of hot-pink and fuchsia-colored crape myrtle trees Lucas had tugged her through a couple of days ago. Putting thoughts of Lucas and their time together out of her mind, Willa tried to find a reason to give Samuel for her refusal to come back to New York. “Samuel, have I ever embarrassed you? Have I ever before backed out on any of my contracts or my commitments? Haven’t I worked hard for you?”

“Yes, of course.”

She could almost see Samuel’s distinguished, cratered face. He’d been in the business for so many years some of the younger models called him Papa Frye. Samuel didn’t mind the title one bit. In fact, he encouraged it. He had a big heart, and he took care of his clients, especially the young women who were thrust into the sophisticated world of fashion modeling at such early ages. He set high standards for himself and his clients. Willa didn’t want to let him down.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said at last. “I’m not really accomplishing anything here, and unfortunately, that tabloid story is only going to alert the rest of the media as to my whereabouts. I know I can’t stay here much longer without more questions popping up, but there is something I have to take care of before I can come home.”

“But you do plan on coming home soon, to help me try to do some damage control regarding this benefit show?”

Willa looked over the gardens toward the bayou. She’d seen Lucas heading toward the restaurant and boathouse earlier, had watched as he’d steered his pirogue into the brown-black waters of the swamp. He’d disappeared in a low mist, like some figment of her imagination.

She wanted to escape and run after him, to ask him to take her into that lush landscape so she could hide from the world, hide from her responsibilities and her doubts. She was so very tired.

But Willa knew that would be a mistake.

“I just need until the weekend,” she told Samuel. “That’s three more days. I don’t have anything pressing anyway for a couple of weeks.”

Samuel sighed again. “Okay. I’ll hold off any bookings other than the ones we already have scheduled until I hear from you on Monday. But I expect you to be back in New York by then. And…I expect you to tell me what this is all about. You know I’m only here to help, Willa. If you need anything…”

“You’re a sweetheart,” Willa replied, wishing she could explain things to him. “Listen, I’ll be here through the weekend, but I know I’ve got to move on to avoid the press. And I’ve got some personal things to take care of. So…you have my cell number. You can track me down if something urgent comes up. But, Samuel, I’d really appreciate it if you could just back off for a while.”

“Okay, all right. I’ve sent out a press release explaining why you had to pull out of the benefit show—exhaustion, fatigue, the usual. I only hope people don’t think—”

“That I’m sick, that I’m hooked on drugs or alcohol?” She shook her head even though Samuel couldn’t see her. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Yes, we know that, but you have to understand how the press takes these things. Just like that two-bit tabloid, they make up what they can’t prove.”

Willa closed her eyes, letting the tiredness wash over her. “Yes, I know. But I need some privacy. I need to work through this without the press hovering around. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, she hung up, then tossed the phone on a nearby white wicker table.

How could she ever explain this to anyone?

She thought of Lucas, remembering his gentle touch this morning as he’d doctored her bug bites. He was such a kind man. So different from any man she’d ever been involved with.

Was she becoming involved with Lucas Dorsette?

Willa closed her eyes, wondered how to pray. She’d never been taught how to talk to a higher source, had never been encouraged to attend church on a regular basis. Her parents, so aloof, so worldly, had been inclined to look on religious practices as something to be tolerated, something to be used when time and circumstances called for it. As far as she knew, they didn’t even attend church.

Then Willa thought of Lucas and his sisters, of Aunt Hilda and the Babineaux family. All so devout, all so sincere and secure in their faith.

Why did she feel so safe with them? With Lucas?

She didn’t want to depend on him. She’d always depended on herself. Knowing she’d been adopted caused her to put up a shield around herself—distancing her heart from the tormenting questions that had always haunted her.

Did her real mother love her? Had she been forced to give up her child? Did her adopted parents really love her, or had they only taken her in to put up a facade of being the perfect family?

Lucas had lost his parents so long ago. Her heart went out to him. How he and his sisters must have suffered. And yet they carried on. They believed God would show them the way.

She got up to stand at the intricate iron and wood railing, a railing that had been forged and created right here on this land long ago, according to Lacey.

Tradition. Heritage. Roots. Family.

Willa longed to have those things, not a nomadic facsimile. She was plain tired of running from the truth. And she knew that healthwise, her own time might be running out.

She closed her eyes again, tried to form the words to ask the God she didn’t really know or understand to help her find her path in life.

And then she opened her eyes and looked down to find Lucas standing under a great oak tree, staring at her. Her heart stopped, lifted out in the wind to fill with a great, heavy longing.

“You look like a princess in her tower, standing there, love,” he called to her.

Willa leaned over the balcony, waving at him. “Are you my prince, come to rescue me yet again?”

“I just might be, at that.” Then he lifted himself off the tree’s ancient trunk, his head tilted back as he smiled up at her. “Or maybe that should be the other way around. Maybe you’ve come to rescue me.”

Willa wondered what he meant by that statement. He did seem in need of some sort of emotional rescue. But at other times he seemed content, living here far from the madding crowd. She could almost be content here herself.

Except I can’t stay. Except you don’t know the truth about me.

She should have shouted those words at him.

But she didn’t.

Because it suddenly occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, Lucas did need a bit of nurturing companionship, at least. It couldn’t hurt to extend the hand of friendship.

If only she had the courage to offer it to him.

Willa wasn’t accustomed to rash, impulsive decisions. But something in the mid-morning air urged her to follow her heart just this once. Just for the time she had left here.

“Stay there, my prince,” she called, laughing. “I’m coming down from my tower.”

Lucas watched as she strolled down the garden path toward him, her smile as radiant as ever. Even if she did have shadows underneath those brilliant blue eyes.

He reached a hand out to her. “Did you get your business taken care of?”

“Yes and no.”

“And none of my concern, I suppose.”

She shook her head, causing her long ponytail to loop over one shoulder, which only made Lucas want to pull her hair out of its trendy barrette and pull it through his fingers. “No, it’s not that. I talked to my agent, and he’s fussing for me to come back to New York. Obligations and all of that.”

“Ah, obligations.” Lucas gave her a quick sideways glance as he tugged her down the path. “We do have to live up to those, don’t we?”

“I’m afraid so,” she replied. “But I told him I need a few more days here. I’m staying until Sunday, at least.”

“Or until the reporters return, at least.” He gave her a direct stare, watched as her skin blushed pink. Wondered just what was going through her mind.

“Well, I don’t want to involve you and your family in my crazy lifestyle. So, yes, if the reporters return, I’ll have to leave sooner.”

He tugged her close, bringing her around so he could hold her in his arms. “Then we’d best make good use of the time we have together. Are you afraid of flying?”

She looked puzzled, then amused. “I’ve flown in airplanes all over the world, Lucas. No, I don’t think I’m afraid of flying. In fact, it’s become a way of life.”

“Oh, really now?”

“Really.”

“But you’ve never flown with me, now, have you?”

“Well, no.” She grinned, then glanced around as they neared a large white barnlike building, where vehicles and yard equipment were kept. “And I don’t recall seeing a plane in the garage.”

“Come with me, then,” he said, coaxing her toward his Jeep. He had some obligations to fulfill, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t come along with him.

“Lucas, last time I checked, that was an automobile, not an airplane,” she said, pointing toward the sleek black vehicle.

“Yep. That’s correct.” He opened the passenger side door and bowed gallantly. “Your carriage awaits, milady.” When she stood there, he said, “Last time I checked, the private airport on the other side of town had a pretty little single-engine top of the line Ag Cat with my name on it.”

“What’s an Ag Cat?”

“A crop-dusting plane.”

“You’re teasing, right?”

“Not at all. I do a little aerial application on the side. And a few loopty-loops when the mood hits me. Want to come along for a look-see ride?”

“What’s a look-see?”

“I’m going to do a pass over of a soybean field about ten miles from here. It’s located between two thickets, so I have to decide if the chemicals can be dumped in such a way as to keep the thickets environmentally sound. Don’t want to kill anything but the bad bugs.”

“So, you won’t be spraying any chemicals today?”

“Non. In fact, after I show off my Ag Cat to you in the safety of the hangar, we’ll take out another plane—a sweet old Piper Cub J-3 that belonged to Lacey’s late husband, Neil. I use the Cub for all the fun stuff.”

He stopped, remembering how touched he’d been when Lacey had given him the plane after Neil’s death. But he didn’t want to talk about death. Not today. Not with Willa. So he went back to business.

“I couldn’t take you along on a for-real spraying. It’s illegal, for one thing, and while I’d enjoy being very close to you, we’d be a bit cramped for space, since my Ag Cat is built to precision for only one person. Plus, the chemicals are nasty.” He twisted his nose, then made a face. “Gets to the old breathing system if you don’t wear protective clothing and a respirator.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “And you enjoy doing this? Inhaling chemicals in midair?”

“I adhere to all the safety precautions. That’s one reason I decided to become a crop duster—so I could keep an eye on the environment around here and try to control what chemicals are dumped and sprayed—and yes, I do enjoy it. It’s all in the calculation, you see. The weather, the wind, the lay of the land, they all play a part in the whole thing. When everything is in place, I just drop and dump.”

Willa shook her head, then glanced down. “I don’t know about this—going up in the clouds with a real barnstormer.”

Thinking she was going to turn him down and head to the seclusion of her room, Lucas tugged her ponytail. “I promise you’ll be safe—I’m a very good pilot. And you won’t be bored.”

She hopped up on the seat. “I can’t imagine ever being bored with you, Lucas.”

“Then let’s go. It’s a perfect day to see the whole view from up above.”

“I’d like that,” she said.

Lucas took that as a yes.

He was right. She wasn’t bored.

The view was breathtaking, a country canvas of square fields of rich, fluttering green and clusters of all types of houses tucked between forest thickets and lush swamps near the slinking dark ribbon of the Mississippi River. The sky was a clear, warm blue with bursts of billowing clouds here and there overhead, while the carpet of the ever-changing land lay beneath like a giant picnic quilt.

He’d also given her a view of his home in all its splendor. From this height, it looked like a beautiful dollhouse, complete with tiny flowers and trees. The double line of great oaks stretched toward them like two arms opening in welcome.

The bayou stretched and shifted beyond the gardens, its dark waters and bearded cypress trees holding their secrets close. In one quiet cove, a dense clutter of cypress knees held a nest of egrets. The birds sat on the gray-tinged limbs and moss-draped stumps, looking like white flower petals. But the roar of the big bird overhead caused the elegant birds to lift and fly en masse across the black-bottomed bayou.

Willa had been in all types of airplanes, but she’d never felt so alive, so exhilarated. Maybe that feeling of complete freedom and lightness had more to do with the highly skilled pilot at the controls than it did with being in the clouds.

Lucas was an expert, but he was also certainly a daredevil, a combination that made him that much more appealing in her eyes.

He’d promised her some loops and twists.

And he’d given her exactly that.

Lucas apparently liked to live on the edge.

Willa laughed over her shoulder at him from where she sat in the front section. He rewarded her with a brilliant grin. With his dark hair tucked beneath a vintage World War Two aviator cap, he looked even more dashing and dangerous than he did out in a pirogue.

Then her heart dropped to her shaky feet as Lucas tilted the plane into a quick spin, setting it right before she had time to be scared. Willa screamed, both delighted and relieved, as he did what he had earlier explained as a P turn, taking her right over Bayou le Jardin and the surrounding swamps and woods.

“It’s a tricky maneuver, because the plane can stall out and you’re flying about one hundred feet above the earth. You have to concentrate and have good coordination. But don’t worry. I’ve done about a thousand or so such turns and I had to do about a third of those in flight school just to get my license.”

She’d believed him when he’d told her this inside the hangar, and she believed him now. And she felt completely safe in his capable hands.

Which was amazing.

Willa knew she’d never been one to take chances. She liked everything laid out in an orderly, chronological fashion. Perhaps she’d learned that trait from her precise, carefully in-control mother. Candace didn’t make a move unless it was completely calculated. And each move had been one step up the social ladder, one more planned achievement for her mother to celebrate.

Yes, Willa had learned from the best. She’d mapped out her career as a model, grim determination making her want to become the best, to show her parents she could, for one thing, and to prove to herself that she could be self-sufficient, for another.

But in all those years of working and traveling and setting almost unreachable goals for herself, she’d never once felt like this.

Only Lucas could make her feel this way—as if each step she took was like jumping off a cliff into clear blue waters. Jumping without a parachute.

A leap of faith.

Get your head out of the clouds, Willa, she told herself as Lucas banked the purring yellow plane and brought it down for the landing. She reminded herself she’d be leaving here soon; she’d be back in New York, back to globetrotting and working long, grueling hours in what most thought was a very lucrative, glamorous job. Her work was that and more, but was it still enough? And did she have enough time to stop and enjoy living? She was the only one who could find the answers to those questions.

But being with Lucas was making her see her life in a whole different light. And from a very different view.

As her heart settled to a steady rhythm, Willa looked at the sky, of which she’d just so daringly been a part.

And suddenly, she wanted to live. Very much so.

She just didn’t know how she was ever going to face all the turmoil in her life in order to be able to do that, at long last.

About an hour later they pulled into the long drive leading to the back gardens of the mansion. After parking the Jeep, Lucas came around to Willa’s side to open the door, then leaned in through the open window, his face inches from hers. “What can you imagine with me, then?”

She hadn’t said much on the short drive home. He wondered if she was having second thoughts about hanging with him. Maybe he’d scared her off before he’d even had a chance with her.

She blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been so quiet since we came back down to earth,” he said, his need to get inside her head flaring with a liquid warmth. “Earlier, you said you couldn’t imagine being bored with me. So what are you imagining right now, chère?”

Her eyes turned a sparkling blue, as pure and wide as the Louisiana sky over their heads. Her luscious mouth parted as she took a quick breath. Then she spoke. “I imagine being with you will always be like a wild airplane ride, with lots of loops and free falls.”

He lowered his head just a notch. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No, no.” She held his gaze, then placed a hand on his arm. “It’s just that…Lucas, I came here to work through some things in my life, to make some decisions about my future—”

“A future that doesn’t include any heavy commitments and any flighty flings with a poor Cajun boy?”

She shook her head. “A future that is very unsure right now. It wouldn’t be fair to drag you into my problems.”

“If you’re talking about finding your birth mother—”

“It’s more than that. I’ve just got a lot to deal with and not much time to get it all figured out.”

“So I don’t fit into the equation?”

“I don’t want to fit you into the equation. I hope you understand. It wouldn’t be right between us, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

He leaned closer. He wanted to kiss her bad, but instinct told him that wasn’t such a good idea when she was giving him the proverbial brush-off. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that—unless of course, I’m reading all the signs wrong and you’re really not as madly in love with me as I am with you.”

She reached up then, to touch a hand to his face, to run a slender, polished nail through his wind-tossed hair. “Lorna told me you fall in love very easily.”

He grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips. “My sister should mind her own business. Just because she’s finally found her soul mate, she thinks she’s the local authority on the rest of this miserable lot.”

“She cares about you and she worries about you.”

He kissed her fingers one by one and enjoyed the way she blushed, the way she seemed to like his touch. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years.”

“Can you?” Willa watched as he touched her fingers to his mouth, her eyelashes fluttering softly against her cheeks before she looked into his eyes. Lucas saw the attraction jolt through her as it had pushed through him.

Okay, she did have a point. He was losing control. This could turn out to be more dangerous than any of the other stunts he’d tried.

“I used to think I could handle anything,” he admitted as he held her hand against his lips. “But it’s different with you. I think…I think I’m scared of you, certainly of what you do to me.”

She touched her forehead to his. “Oh, Lucas, I don’t think you’re afraid of anything. I just think you need to know…you need to be warned…I’m not right for you.”

Abruptly, he let go of her hand and backed away. “Then maybe I should be scared. At least, that’s what you’re trying to tell me.” Irritated, he opened the door and tugged her out of the Jeep and right into his waiting arms. “Am I right? Are you deliberately trying to scare me away, Willa?”

He saw the answer in the blue of her eyes. And he also saw the contradiction. She was trying to deny her feelings toward him. Lucas took that as a personal challenge to win her over.

“Answer the question, chère,” he said, his voice low.

She looked down, her expression full of regret. “Yes, I guess I am. For your own good, Lucas.”

The anger flared deep inside him, but he tried to hide it as he shifted her closer in his arms. “I really wish everyone would quit telling me what’s for my own good.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to make you mad. It’s just that—”

He didn’t let her finish that sentence. He couldn’t bear to hear the words. Instead, he gently nudged her against the Jeep so he could wrap his arms around her. Then he kissed her with all the pent-up frustration and long-held need that was raging inside his heart.

With the first touch of their lips, however, his rage turned to relief. She was sweet, soft, yielding, promising. She filled that empty place in his soul, the place he only brought out whenever he visited his lost, forlorn garden. The place he’d often prayed would be healed.

Willa was like that prayer being answered at long last.

When he lifted his head, he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. He could tell the kiss had affected her, too. It was there in the bright hope of her eyes, there in the sweet innocent flush of her skin, there in the soft sigh of her breath on his cheek. She might be able to deny her feelings, but she could never again deny the attraction between them.

Their kiss had pretty much made that a certainty and a fact.

But kisses aside, they had a lot of ground to cover before this was settled between them.

“Je regrette—I’m sorry,” he told her in a whisper. “It’s just that…I really needed to do that. For my own good.”

Chapter Six

“So my brother took you up in the Piper this morning.”

It was a statement, said with Lacey’s soft, cultured Southern drawl.

Willa nodded then glanced around the quaint Garden restaurant, wondering where Lucas had gone off to this time. They’d agreed to meet here for a quiet dinner, but instead of finding Lucas waiting for her, she’d run into his older sister, Lacey.

Sensing a hint of disapproval in Lacey’s cool gaze, she said, “Yes, he did. And I have to admit, I enjoyed it way too much.”

“Lucas has that effect on people. He thinks we all should just drop everything when the mood strikes and go off into the wild blue yonder. He’s very impulsive, I’m afraid.”

Willa got the distinct impression she was being reprimanded. Or was it yet another warning for her to stay away from Lucas? His sisters sure were protective, even if they did claim to condemn his wild ways.

Before she could respond, Lorna leaned over the table. “I’ve already warned her, Lacey.”

Wanting to defend Lucas, Willa tossed her hair off her shoulder, then placed both hands on the table. “Would you two stop hovering over me? I can take care of things with Lucas. So you both can stop worrying. I’m not sure whether you’re trying to protect me, or your brother from me. But I can assure both of you—there is nothing serious going on between Lucas and me.”

Lorna took that as her cue to sit with them. “Oh, really? Then why do you look positively dreamy every time we mention his name? And why are you sitting here, waiting for him to walk through that door?”

“Yes, she sure has all the signs,” Lacey said, her gaze as still as the quiet swamp waters that ran behind the small building.

“We were supposed to meet here tonight,” Willa said, her tone low and level in spite of her fluttering heart. She wouldn’t dare tell them that since Lucas had kissed her this morning, she’d counted the hours until she’d see him again. Even while she dreaded seeing him again. Lacey was right. He’d had an effect on her. A profound one.

She’d never been a touchy-feely person, but for some reason she couldn’t keep her hands off Lucas Dorsette. She liked the feel of his rough-shaven skin, liked the crisp, springy curls of his dark chocolate hair, liked holding his big, callused hands. Loved looking into his mysterious eyes.

But she had to remember that Lucas flirted with a lot of women. Probably took them all flying in his fancy plane. And he probably kissed all the pretty girls and made them cry, too.

“Another date?” Lacey smiled at her sister, then gave Willa the once-over. “That’s three dates with the same woman in three days. He’s right on schedule.”

Seeing the teasing gleam in both sisters’ eyes, Willa relaxed and smiled. “I get the point. Okay. And honestly, let me repeat—there is nothing going on between Lucas and me. We haven’t actually had what one would term dates. We’re just…friends. He’s been showing me around—”

“From several vantage points, I gather,” Lorna interrupted, her chef hat bobbing as she moved her head. “I wonder where he’ll take you next. There’s lots of rooms in the house, several private spots in the gardens and the whole swamp out back to explore. And he’ll probably want to take you horseback riding—on that wild animal he calls a horse and keeps on his place out in the bayou. That could turn into a lot of…what one could term dates.”

“Oh, all right, enough,” Willa replied. “I did have fun up in the plane—”

Lorna held out a hand. “Yes, we couldn’t help but notice the two of you, since Lucas made it a point to fly right over the house and grounds. Show-off.”

“I wish he hadn’t done that,” Lacey said in a rough whisper. Then, horror and embarrassment in her eyes, she looked across the table at Willa. “I’m sorry. I mean—”

Lorna put a hand on her sister’s arm, then glanced at Willa. “It’s the plane—it makes her think of Neil.”

Willa immediately felt like sinking into the polished wooden floor. “Oh, Lacey. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories—”

“No,” Lacey replied, her blue eyes bright. “I don’t have any bad memories. Neil used to take me up in that plane, just the way Lucas did you today. I loved it, loved being with him. Then today, when I heard the roar, saw the plane coming across the sky, for a minute—” She stopped, shook her head. “It was silly of me, to think that Neil—”

“Oh, I am sorry,” Willa said again, wishing she’d never left her room. “It must be hard, seeing the plane, remembering all the good times you had with your husband.”

Lacey barely lifted her chin. “It is. That vintage plane was my husband’s pride and joy. But I’m okay, really. Neil left the plane to me, and I…I wanted Lucas to have it. So I should be used to seeing it up in the clouds by now.”

Willa didn’t know how to respond. She’d never dealt with such grief. “It is a beautiful plane,” she said. “And Lucas keeps it in tip-top shape.”

“He’d better,” Lacey replied, laughing to hide the tears misting her eyes. “Now, I’d better get back down to the house. I’ve got so much work to do at the shop. I’ll probably be working into the wee hours tonight.”

“I’d love to stop by and see some of your antiques,” Willa said, glad to be off the subject of Lacey’s late husband. “I understand you have some beautiful pieces.”

Lacey smiled. “Yes, I’m proud of the shop. But I’ve been busy all summer trying to find pieces to replace some of the furnishings that got damaged in the flood. We were fortunate that only a few inches of water got into the house, but as you’ve seen, the downstairs rooms suffered some water damage. We’ve been working hard to repair it, though.”

“Lucas explained to me,” Willa said. “It’s a beautiful house, and I’m so glad Lorna invited me to come down and see it. I just hope I didn’t pick a bad time.”

“Of course not. We’ve had a light summer,” Lorna told her, waving a hand at the restaurant’s few patrons. “Because of the flooding, we’ve only booked guests who return each year. And we’re planning a full shutdown this fall, so we can get things back in proper order for the holidays and the spring season.”

Willa couldn’t help but admire the two sisters. “You really are a team, all of you—Aunt Hilda, Lucas and you two.”

“And now Mick, too,” Lorna said, her eyes going as dreamy as she’d accused Willa’s of earlier. “He’s out somewhere with Justin. Those two stay busy these days.”

“Oh, she’s about to get all sappy on us, and I think we’ve had enough of that for one night,” Lacey said, walking toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Willa said, watching as the prim blonde left. Then she turned to Lorna. “I hope I didn’t upset her.”

“It’s all right,” Lorna said, getting up to head to the kitchen. “She and Neil were very much in love, and it’s been hard these last few years. She gets this way every time Lucas takes the plane up. And she refuses to fly in it anymore.”

“I can’t imagine that kind of pain,” Willa said, a deep, nagging worry grabbing her in the stomach. “I’ve never known that kind of love. It must be so special.”

“It is,” Lorna said, holding out her hand to admire her wedding band. “I never thought I could find anyone to love, but God sent Mick, and I thank Him every day for my life with my new husband.” Then she glanced over Willa’s head to the front door. “Speaking of love and marriage, my handsome brother just walked in the door. And he’s headed for your table.” With that, she grinned, waved to Lucas, then pivoted toward the kitchen.

Love and marriage. Willa certainly hadn’t given much thought to either of those subjects. There had been no room for such notions in her carefully planned, carefully arranged career. But she wouldn’t be young and pretty forever. Would she wind up all alone, old and lonely?

If she lived to grow old at all?

The thought, coupled with Lacey’s obvious grief over losing her husband, only added to Willa’s concerns. Which was exactly why she couldn’t get involved with Lucas Dorsette, no matter how much his kisses affected her. Better to stay uninvolved and alone than to risk that kind of pain. Especially when her future was so uncertain.

She looked uncertain, sitting alone in the candlelight. She looked fragile, like a delicate blossom. She looked lovely in her shimmering blue sleeveless sheath, like a summer night full of stars.

Get a grip, Lucas. You’re a bad poet on a good day and even worse when your poor heart is filled with newfound love.

Was that what he’d been feeling since he’d kissed Willa? Was that this thing that had jolted throughout his body and kept him humming like a taut guitar string all day long? Was that why he’d stolen two of Aunt Hilda’s most beautiful salmon and pink-tinged roses to hand to the woman he planned to have dinner with and maybe spend the rest of his life with?

Now, that was surely something he’d never considered with any other woman.

He knew the odds weren’t in his favor. First of all, she was exactly his type—blond and leggy. That usually meant he’d lose interest soon enough. Second, he did have a tendency to fall and fall hard for a pretty face. And that meant this wouldn’t last too long—they never did. And last but certainly not least, she couldn’t stay here forever. She’d be gone soon, back to that world that seemed so far out of his reach. Back to that world of glamour and fame, a world he didn’t dare compete with.

And yet, he dared walk across the almost empty restaurant to hand her the two rose blossoms with a knightly flourish.

“Lucas,” she said on a breath of greeting as she took the lush flowers. “Roses. How pretty.” She sniffed them, then lifted her brows in suspicion. “And freshly cut, too.”

“Right out of my aunt’s summer garden,” he said as he unbuttoned his tan linen suit jacket and settled into a chair across from her. “Candlelight becomes you, chère.”

“Thank you.” She pointed toward his suit. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me.”

“Oui, I wanted to get all dressed up for you.”

He also wanted to tell her that she was the first. The first to see his secret garden. The first he’d invited to go up in the Piper with him. The first woman to make his heart feel both heavy and light at the same time.

In that regard, she had all the others beat.

But unlike the others, she seemed as uncertain as he felt. The kiss that had bonded them had also caused an awkward, wary distance between them.

And so they sat there, silent and uncertain, smiling and quiet, until Lorna came out of the kitchen. “Ready to order now?”

Lucas didn’t take his eyes off Willa. “Whatever the special is, love. Surprise me.”

Willa didn’t stop looking at him. “I’ll have…oh, I don’t know. Something light.”

Lorna slapped a hand on the forgotten menus, then picked them up. “Okay, then. Got it. Why don’t you two carry on with whatever you’re doing there. Be back in a few minutes.”

Lucas waved his annoying sister away, his gaze still centered on the woman across the table. “I enjoyed our plane ride today.”

“I did, too.”

“I’ve…I’ve never taken anyone up with me. It’s twice as much fun with a copilot.”

She looked shocked. “You mean, you haven’t taken all your girlfriends for a ride in the sky?”

“Only you, belle. Only you.”

He couldn’t tell from the muted light, but he had a feeling she was blushing. That only made him want to reach across the small round table and touch his hand to her heated skin. But he kept his hands to himself, along with all the crazy feelings tugging at his heart.

Lorna came back with two plates of steaming noodles piled with fat blackened shrimp. Emily followed with bread and butter. “Anything else?”

Lucas saw his sister poking Emily. Lorna seemed to enjoy watching him suffer.

Just to show her he wasn’t, he said, “Maybe some bread pudding—that one you make with the white chocolate.”

“I’ll bring it out later,” Lorna replied. “So…we’ll just leave you two to your dinner then.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks,” Lucas replied absently, his attention still on Willa. Waiting for his nosy sister to depart, he cut a slice of the piping hot bread, then buttered it before handing it to Willa. “Sorry I was a bit late. Last-minute phone calls.”

She took the bread. Was it just his imagination, or did her fingers brush his on purpose in the exchange? She took a bite, then said, “I thought I was the one with the busy schedule.”

The woman would make a great spokesperson for French bread. With her upswept hair and her three strands of pearls, she made chewing seem so classy and intriguing. In fact, she could just sit there and hold the bread, and Lucas would buy it. In spite of the air-conditioning and his lightweight suit, he was beginning to sweat.

“I might not be a fashion plate, but I do have things to get done,” he countered, hoping to take his mind off her beautiful lips. “I have all these side businesses—it’s like spinning plates. Can’t let any of them fall by the wayside.”

Willa finished her bread, leaned forward to prop her elbows on the table, then cupped her chin on her clasped hands, her food obviously forgotten. “What kind of side businesses?”

“Oh, a little of dis and dat,” he replied in an exaggerated Cajun voice. He snagged a fat, buttery shrimp with his fork and ate it with a long sigh of pleasure. “Crawfishing in the spring, fishing all summer long, shrimping, traps to mend, boats to repair and pamper. Moss gathering.”

“Moss gathering?” She twirled flat, creamy noodles onto her fork. “Is that anything like woolgathering?”

He nodded. “Kinda. Only better. We harvest the Spanish moss that grows on the cypress trees and sell it to craft shops and florists—for decorating.”

“I never would have thought—” She stopped, dropped her fork on her plate. “There is just so much about you. You continue to surprise me.”

“Well, I’m about out of surprises,” he replied with a wink and a nod. “I’m just plain ol’ Lucas Dorsette, a simple man with very simple needs.”

He saw the flicker of wonder in her vivid blue eyes. Heard the husky inflection of her tone. But he didn’t miss the confusion in her question. “What do you need, Lucas?”

He leaned forward, his hands clasped in his lap to keep from touching her. “Another kiss from you would surely be nice.”

She immediately pushed herself back in her chair. “We can’t do that again.”

“And why not?”

“I…we…”

“I’m listening.”

“No, that’s the problem.” She threw her hands in the air, then let them drop to her lap. “You haven’t been listening at all. I can’t get involved with you, Lucas.”

He figured she was arguing more with herself than with him. He could see the battle in her defiant eyes.

“Give me one good reason why not?”

She took a sip of iced tea, then sat the goblet down, one long finger moving over the condensation on the side of the tall glass. “Well, I’ll be leaving soon, probably sooner than soon. And I have no idea where I’ll be going from here.”

Leaning back in his chair, Lucas crossed his arms and lifted his brows. “I can fly a plane. I can drive a boat. I even have a horse. I’ll find you.”

He saw the effect that statement had on her. Panic. Plain and simple.

Keeping her eyes on her tea glass, she said, “Sometimes we don’t want to be found.”

“Yeah, I know all about that.”

“Then you need to understand that I have to—”

“I’ll go with you, you know.”

That brought her head up. “Go with me where?”

“To find your birth mother. I’ll go with you, help you get through the rough spots.”

She lowered her gaze again, then pushed her plate away. Staring at her hands in her lap, she said, “I haven’t decided if I want to go see her. I’m still debating.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I just want you to know I’m willing to help you through this.”

Emily came out of the kitchen to bring them their bread pudding. She sat the rich cream-colored dessert down. “Coffee, Lucas?”

Lucas lifted a brow toward Willa. When she shook her head, he took the time to give Emily a patient smile. “Non. But thanks, suga’. We’re good.”

Willa glanced at the teenager, apparently glad for the interruption. “How did the dress turn out?”

Emily giggled, then bobbed her head. “It was perfect. You were right—the pink one looked better than the red one.”

“I’m so glad. And I’m sure your mother is much more pleased about you going to the dance now that you’ve decided to wear a more demure design.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Non, it’s my papa who’s happy. He didn’t want me wearing the red—pas de tout.”

“I have to agree with him,” Willa replied. “The red was gorgeous, but a bit too old-looking for a sixteen-year-old. You’ll be the hit of the school dance, I’m sure.” Then she added in a conspiring whisper, “Especially since hot pink is the really big color on all the runways this summer.”

“I’ll start a new trend,” Emily said, her expression full of pride. “Merci, Willa.”

“You’re welcome,” Willa responded. “Let me know if I can help with your hair and makeup. And remember, Emily, less is more.”

The awestruck teen gave Willa a shy smile, then backed away. “And you let me know if you need anything else.”

Lucas gazed at the woman sitting across from him. “Apparently, you’ve been busy coaching our young Em on her wardrobe.”

Willa watched as Emily headed into the kitchen. “Just steered her in the right direction. The pink dress is a bit more tame, and it looks great on her.”

“You’re amazing,” Lucas said. “Emily will never forget you for giving her such good advice.”

“And I’ll never forget her.”

Lucas didn’t want to think about forgetting or remembering right now. He wanted to get back to the subject they’d been discussing. “Well, about your birth mother.” After making sure they were alone again, he spoke softly. “I mean it, Willa. I’ll go with you, if you’re afraid.”

She looked into his eyes. “Why would you want to do that?”

He reached out to her. He put a hand on her arm, just a brush of fingers over skin. And watched as she closed her eyes. “Because I want to take that pain out of your eyes, love. I want to see that smile. The one that’s so famous the world over.”

“That smile is strictly for the cameras,” she said, her voice raw and low. “It’s not the real me.”

He tugged her forward, his hand gentle on her arm. “Then let me see the real you, Willa. Let me…let me show you how to find the real you again, through God’s grace, through what we feel for each other.”

“I don’t know anything about God’s grace. It’s too late for me to ask Him for help.”

And she certainly wasn’t going to admit that she had any feelings for Lucas Dorsette, Lucas decided. Maybe he’d better concentrate on helping her find some peace of mind, at least.

“No, chère, it’s never too late to turn to God. He’s always here in these gardens, He’s in the very air we traveled through, the clouds we passed today. You have to know that in your heart.”

“My heart hurts, Lucas. My heart can’t take anymore pain.”

“Then let me help you. Let God help you. He can heal your hurts, Willa.”

“And has He healed yours?”

It was a cruel question. And he knew the answer could be just as cruel, if he gave in to his doubts. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m alive. I’m secure in my faith.”

She got up, dessert and roses obviously forgotten. “Are you really, Lucas? Is that why you go and sit in that sad old garden? Is that why you test yourself, push yourself to the edge in airplanes and out in the swamp? Is that why you don’t ever take anything seriously?”

Well, he was taking this conversation very seriously.

He shot up after her as she turned for the door. Seeing the surprised expressions of his sister and Emily, who stood hovering at the kitchen door, Lucas waved them away and followed Willa outside. “Hey, wait a minute. How do you know I’m not serious? What do you know about me, anyway?”

“That’s it exactly,” she said, spinning on the stone path. “I don’t know anything about you except what I’ve heard. I’ve been warned to stay away from you. Warned that you’ll break my heart.”

“And you believe those warnings?”

She held herself, her arms wrapped against her stomach. “No. I don’t believe them at all. But there is something you should believe, something you should know about me.”

He stood back, distancing himself from the need to hold her close. “Oh, and what’s that?”

“I have the power to hurt you, Lucas. That’s why I can’t let things go any further between us.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Why don’t you relax and…let things happen naturally?”

“Naturally?” She almost laughed. But it was a bitter laugh. “Like sickness and death? Like Lacey suffering through losing her husband, or you suffering through losing your parents?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he told her, anger coloring all the other emotions rolling through his mind. “I’ve learned to accept that.”

“Have you?” She turned to go, then twisted to stare at him. “Well, maybe I’m not so good at accepting the natural course of things. Maybe I still want to be the one in control.”

He reached for her, but she moved away.

“Willa, listen to me. I have my good days and my bad days and so does Lacey—and Lorna, too, for that matter. Death isn’t easy, it isn’t something you can rationalize or understand. But we’re here, we’re alive. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she asked. Then she turned and headed up the path toward the mansion.

Frustrated and completely confused, Lucas turned to stalk into the restaurant. He didn’t bother to finish eating, and he sure didn’t bother to explain anything to his obviously curious sister. He didn’t even stop to visit with the few patrons still lingering.

He went straight to the corner where the piano and saxophone had a permanent spot. Grabbing the sax, he sat down on a stool and thought about what to play. An old blues tune came to mind, but it didn’t suit his mood. Lucas needed help tonight, so he turned to the gospels for inspiration.

He played a song that seemed perfect even though it was short and sweet. It was the hymn he’d thought about the day he’d first seen Willa.

“Something Beautiful.”

Lorna came out of the kitchen to listen. A hush fell over the couples scattered here and there at the intimate tables. Lucas played on, his gaze moving toward the big window that opened to the night and the gardens.

Then he saw her.

On the path, bathed in moonlight and star shine, he could see the silhouette of a tall blond woman as she stood listening. Until the song was finished.

And then she turned and walked away.

Chapter Seven

Lucas put down his saxophone, then hopped off the stool centered by the big windows to waylay his sister before she trotted into the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

Lorna drew her brows together in a frown. “About what? Or should I say about whom?”

“Come and sit,” Lucas ordered, gently dragging her to the table he’d shared with Willa. Picking up a fork, he begin stabbing at the bread pudding he’d left.

“Well, I can see your appetite is still intact, even if your poor heart isn’t,” Lorna said, chin propped on one hand as she gave him a sympathetic smile. “You always did eat your way through misery.”

“I’m still hungry,” he said. The rich pudding, made of bread soaked in cream and eggs then smothered in rich white chocolate sauce, hit his rattled stomach like nails hitting a tin roof. “Okay, so mebbe this wasn’t such a good idea.” He pushed the pudding away, then glared at his sister. “What’s going on with Willa?”

Lorna waved to some departing customers. “Bonsoir.” Then she turned to her brother. “Lucas, that’s not for me to tell. Willa has been working hard since she was twenty-two years old—since the day she graduated from college—and that’s been at least five years. She just needs a break.” She shrugged, then removed her chef hat and tossed her tumbling braid over her shoulder. “I met her just before I came back home a little over three years ago—at a posh party in Paris. I was part of the catering team, and she sneaked into the kitchen to get another bite of this fancy chocolate dessert that everyone was raving about.”

She stopped long enough to allow Lucas a smile. He commented, “The supermodel sneaking fattening food—now there’s a tabloid tale.”

“That’s about the way it works,” Lorna said, bobbing her head. “I caught her gobbling away, and we laughed and ate chocolate cake together. She was very lonely, and I guess I was, too—I was between relationships.”

That made him grin. “Wasn’t that always the case, love?”

Lorna slapped him gently on the arm, then continued. “Anyway, we had this instant friendship. So we met a couple of days later to go shopping. I told her all about Bayou le Jardin—how I missed it, how I wanted to come home and open my own restaurant. She was so supportive, even offered to be a silent partner if I needed funding.” Lorna’s expression grew warm with the memory. “I turned her down on the loan, of course. But I did invite her to come and visit.”

Lucas leaned forward in his chair. “Why did she wait so long?”

“As I said, she’s been very busy. She’s in demand, so she’s been booked all over the world for fashion shoots and runway work. Over the years, she’d call and we’d chat, catch up, but she was always on her way to some exotic spot. You see, Willa is very disciplined and organized. She had a five-year plan, and I guess she’s reached that goal now.”

“So you think she decided to just rest a bit?”

Lorna looked at the table, a sure sign that she knew more than she wanted to tell. “I think she needed to stop and regroup.”

“And?”

She looked up. “And…that’s it.”

“Why didn’t she come to your wedding?”

“She was in Spain and then she had to go straight from there to Australia. Something about an ad for a sportswear company.”

He nodded, then pounced. “So why is she here now? I mean, why is she all of a sudden canceling bookings and not returning phone calls to her agent?”

Lorna rolled her eyes. “You know these things for true?”

“I know what I see.” He lowered his voice, his words for her ears only. “Does Willa have some sort of eating disorder?”

Lorna laughed out loud. “Oh, my, non.” Patting his hand, she added, “Willa’s eating habits are perfectly normal. She’s like any other woman in that regard. She loves food but has to watch every bite that goes in her mouth.”

Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. “Then she’s not sick or anything.”

And that’s when he saw it. The little flair of apprehension in his baby sister’s expressive green eyes.

His heart seemed to go still in his chest. “Lorna?”

Lorna got up, busied herself with clearing away the table dishes. “It’s late, brother. Go home and try to get some rest. Mick should be by any minute for a late dinner, then I’m turning in myself.”

Lucas stopped her, dishes and all. “Lorna, tell me.”

She turned to stare at him, worry coloring her face. “It’s not for me to tell, Lucas.”

He let her go, then pushed away from the table. “Then I’ll just go and ask Willa.”

Holding plates to her white jacket, Lorna tried to stop him. “Lucas, please. Don’t do that.”

But he was already out the door.

On the other side of the huge, sprawling gardens, Willa sat on a bench in a pretty white Victorian gazebo, the scent of trailing wisteria and running roses mingling around her.

Although her bedroom was lovely, she hadn’t been able to go to the isolation of that particular place. So she’d walked through the narrow footpaths, letting the moonlight guide her, until she’d found this idyllic spot.

Now, in spite of the mosquitoes buzzing hungrily around her ears and ankles, she sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the night.

Remembering the sound of Lucas playing the saxophone.

It was the song. That was what had made her cry. That was what had made her long for something she couldn’t envision, couldn’t grasp. It was a lovely song—sweet and full of a tender yearning. Willa longed to know the words to the tune that lingered in her head like a music box being wound over and over. She also longed for answers to her confusing questions.

“Child, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Whirling, Willa was surprised to find Hilda Dorsette making her way up the path to the gazebo, the doorknob tip of her trusty walking cane gleaming silver in the night.

Getting up to come and help her, Willa said, “Oh, Aunt Hilda, you startled me. I thought I really was alone out here in the dark.”

Hilda gave her a penetrating look. “Would you prefer it that way?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I’d love some company,” Willa admitted, surprising herself. Then she sniffed.

Aunt Hilda placed an aged hand on her arm. “Have you been crying?”

Willa waited as the older woman settled onto one of the cushioned box seats. Then she sank down across from Aunt Hilda. “I…yes…I was feeling sorry for myself, I guess.”

“Then you were not alone, after all.”

“What do you mean?” Willa asked, wiping her damp face.

“God was here with you, Willa.”

Willa held her breath, then let out a tired sigh. “Then I hope He was listening.”

“Oh, He was. You can be sure of that. The Lord is always in His garden. It’s here that He walks with us and listens to us—just as the old song says.”

Without thinking, Willa said, “Then maybe that was the song—the one Lucas was playing earlier on the saxophone.”

Hilda nodded. “Yes, I heard my nephew playing. Decided to take a walk myself.” Then she gave Willa another sharp-eyed stare. “The song moved you?”

“It did. It was so…pretty.”

Aunt Hilda settled, adjusting a flowing silk floral scarf around her shoulders. “I know the song he played. It wasn’t the one to which I was referring, but it is another favorite of mine,” she said, one hand on her cane as she sat on the bench. “It’s a fairly modern church hymn, written by William Gaither in 1971. It’s called ‘Something Beautiful.’”

Willa closed her eyes briefly, wondering why Lucas had picked that particular song to play tonight. And wondering why it had moved her to tears as she’d stood there in the shadows, watching him play.

Opening her eyes, she asked Aunt Hilda, “Could you tell me the words?”

Aunt Hilda nodded. “I could—it’s all about how the Lord takes us when we are broken and makes something beautiful out of our life. But I think it would be better if you came to church Sunday, as my guest, to hear the words for yourself. I’ll make a request to the choir director.”

“Church?” Willa held the one word near her heart, felt it settle there with a gentle tugging. “It’s been so long—”

“Too long, perhaps?” Aunt Hilda asked, her smile all serenity and light. “It doesn’t matter, you know. He welcomes all of us back with open arms.”

Willa lifted her head. “Aunt Hilda, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Would it be…wrong of me to begin praying to God now, after not having done it for so very long?”

“Prayer is never wrong, love. And besides, He’s always with you, even when you’re not completely with Him.”

Willa digested that, then shook her head. “It just seems as if…well, now that I’m facing some unpleasant things in my future…it just seems almost foolish to turn to Him now. I never appreciated my blessings when things were going great for me. I just went about my life, thinking I had things under control.”

“And now, you’re finding you’re not in control at all?”

“Not even a little bit. And I’m so tired. Just so tired.”

Aunt Hilda held out a plump hand. “Come here, child.”

Willa couldn’t resist that invitation. She crossed the small space between them, then settled next to Aunt Hilda on the rounded bench, tears brimming in her eyes.

Aunt Hilda took her into her arms, hugging her close. “Rest then. Rest here as long as you need. You’re safe now. You’ve come home to the Father.”

Willa couldn’t speak. So instead, she wept. Gently, with little sound, but with deep, cleansing, purging tears of relief and restoration. If only her haughty, distant adoptive mother would have ever held her in her arms. If only she could have known her real mother. Could have. Would have. There were so many things she needed to know, so many things she needed to take care of. Urgent, frightening things.

But not tonight. Tonight, in spite of her growing feelings for Lucas and her determination to curtail those feelings, she felt safe and secure, as if she truly had returned home from a very long journey.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said into Aunt Hilda’s lace collar. “I’m acting like a big baby.”

Hilda chuckled, then patted Willa on the arm. “Not a baby, dear. A child. A child who needs desperately to be held and loved.”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, me?” Hilda lifted Willa’s head, then placed a warm hand on her wet cheek. “I’m not referring to me. Our Father is holding you now, darling. And He won’t let go.”

Willa closed her eyes. “Never?”

“Ever,” Aunt Hilda told her.

“You seem so sure. How can you do that—let go and just believe?”

Hilda waved a hand in the air. “Look around us. This is my Father’s garden. He created all of this. He created you and me. And because He loved us so much that He was willing to send His son to give us everlasting life, I have to trust that no matter what happens to me, good or bad, God will be there to comfort and sustain me.”

Willa thought about her future. She might be facing some very uncomfortable, life-altering things. And what if the worst did happen? Who would she have to turn to? Who would she have to trust?

“It would be nice to know that kind of assurance and comfort, no matter what.”

Hilda sat silent for a minute, then said, “All you have to do in order to receive those gifts, those assurances, is accept. Accept that God will see you through.” Then she took Willa’s hands in hers and smiled.

By the time Lucas found them there, they were laughing and talking like old friends. It burned him to no end that Willa seemed to be having a great time with his aunt while he suffered in silent misery. But he hid that unwarranted jealousy behind his usual carefree manner.

Leaning into the open gazebo with a flourish, he asked, “Now what are you two whispering about, out here in the dark?” Fanning at his ear, he added, “With nasty mosquitoes gnawing at your heads.”

Aunt Hilda lifted up off the bench, her hand tightly encircling Willa’s. Willa stood, but Lucas noticed she looked different somehow. Almost…peaceful.

And she also looked as if she’d been crying.

“Lucas, Willa is coming to church with us Sunday,” Aunt Hilda said, beaming.

Lucas whistled low, then shot his aunt a loving but quizzical look. Then he studied Willa’s face. “She got to you, didn’t she, jolie fille?”

But before Willa could answer, Aunt Hilda shook her head. “Not me. Apparently, it was you. You and your saxophone. She liked the song you played. It touched her.” She held a hand to her heart. “It touched her here, Lucas.”

Lucas shut up his whining and stared in amazement at Willa. She did seem different. “Is that true?”

Willa’s eyes went wide. “Your music, Lucas…It was so beautiful, so perfect. I don’t know…I just walked and walked and I wound up here and then Aunt Hilda found me—”

“And we had a good heart-to-heart talk,” Aunt Hilda said, filling in the blanks. “A good soul talk.”

“Le coeur a ses raisons,” Lucas replied dryly, wondering why he couldn’t have been the one to break Willa’s code of silence.

“Yes,” Aunt Hilda said, nodding, “the heart does indeed have its reasons. And humans also have reasons for not opening our hearts to the abundant love in front of us.”

“Is this a quiz?” Lucas asked, frustration dripping like Spanish moss from each word, his gaze still on Willa.

She looked more at peace, but she also looked as if she didn’t want to talk to him.

“No,” Aunt Hilda replied, smug and proper. “But you might want to relax and figure things out for yourself. Everything comes to pass in God’s own good time, Lucas.”

He ran a hand through his tattered curls. “Oui, but I’m tired of waiting for that good time to come.”

His aunt stepped forward on tiptoes to give him a kiss. Lucas bent to receive the show of affection, his eyes moving over Willa.

“I’m going to turn in now, children,” Aunt Hilda told them. “This has been a good night. A very good night.”

She was still chuckling as she went off down the path.

“Shouldn’t you help her to the house?” Willa asked, her voice strangely quiet.

“She would refuse my help. She has her pride.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Besides, she’s walking on air from saving another lost soul.”

“She has been a tremendous help to me,” Willa replied, her head bent. “At least, she’s made me see that with God’s help, I might be able to come to some conclusions about my life.”

Lucas couldn’t be angry for that. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Willa caught his hand in hers. “I want you to be—happy, that is.”

Casse pas mon coeur. He didn’t say the words out loud, but he wanted to. He wanted to tell her, Then don’t break my heart.

He gave an eloquent shrug, then pulled his hand from hers. “I’m happy. Completely happy.” For about three seconds, he stood there, a hand on his hip. Then he pivoted toward her. “That’s not the truth. I’m not happy. I used to think I was. But that was last week, before I saw you standing in my gardens.”

Willa held her head down. “See, I’ve already made you regret—”

He pulled her close then, needing answers, wondering how she could tell his aunt things she had yet to tell him. “I don’t regret meeting you. I only regret that you can’t trust me the way you seem to trust my dear aunt. I want you to share with me the things you just told her.”

“I didn’t tell her anything, Lucas.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. We talked…about God. About me.” She stopped, sucked in a breath. “Something happened here. Something I can’t explain.”

And then she burst into tears and fell into his arms.

Chapter Eight

Lucas held Willa tightly to him, the sound of her sobs echoing like a siren’s call throughout his heart. He’d lived with three women, so he knew the effect of tears on a man. They could bring down Goliath.

But right now, he felt more like David with the slingshot. Terrified, but determined.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t hear how his voice shook.

Willa pulled away, wiping tears from her face as she stared at him. “Your aunt is such a remarkable woman.”

“Obviously,” he said on a dry note. “Since she brought you to tears.”

“She did,” Willa admitted, smiling through her anguish. “But I’m not upset.”

“Oh, really. You’re crying like a child, but you’re not upset?” Lucas scratched his head in wonder. “You’re gonna have to explain this to me.”

Willa tilted her head, then clasped her hands in front of her. “Your aunt made me feel so much better about so many things. She wants me to know the Lord, Lucas.”

He had to smile at that. Aunt Hilda was a fierce prayer warrior, a crusader for all that was good and right. It didn’t surprise him one bit that she’d gently urged Willa to find her way home again. Aunt Hilda could pick a stray out of crowd a mile away. But she could also bring that stray into the fold with love and tenderness and open arms.

“Aunt Hilda is like an angel here on earth,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “She certainly took me under her wing.”

Willa reached out a hand to touch his cheek. “It must have been so awful. Coming here to this strange, new place. Knowing your parents were gone forever.”

He closed his eyes, leaned into her warm hand. “It was tough, for true. But she made things so…soft-focused and steady. She never dwelled on the loss of my parents, but she was always willing to listen to us when we had questions or when we were frightened.” He felt a shudder running down his spine. “Lorna had nightmares—has had them all of her life. And Lacey…she just built up this wall like a shield. She’s buried it all so deeply, I don’t know if she can ever really be healed.”

“And what about you?” Willa asked, her fingers stroking his jawline.

“Moi?” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Well, we needed a black sheep, and I guess I fit the bill. I’ve acted out every rage and frustration I’ve ever had. In some ways, I guess I’m still acting.”

Willa inched closer to him, her hand going from his face to his hair. “I’ve been acting, too, Lucas. But tonight…it’s as if all the shams and facades have broken away. Somehow, I know I’m going to find the strength to do what I have to do.”

He tugged her close, needing this intimacy, needing to understand all the turmoil she seemed to be holding so tightly inside. “And what is it that you have to do, chère?”

She took a deep breath. Then she held her head away so she could look into his eyes. Lucas saw the bright light shining in her face, but he also saw a tremendous fear. A trepidation.

“Tell me,” he urged, his hands on her back. “Tell me.”

She gave a slight nod, then started talking. “Last week, during a routine self-examination, I found a small lump on my right breast.” In a calm, steady voice, she told him, “Lucas, I…I might have breast cancer.”

He had to suck in a breath. The words rang inside his head like a death toll. Breast cancer. Breast cancer. Then the anger set in. The old, easy anger that he’d held on to for so long. The anger toward God, the creator, and God, the taker of life.

“No,” he said, simply and deeply. “No. That can’t be. I won’t let it be.”

Willa ran a hand through his hair, touched her fingers to his neck. “I have to go to the doctor,” she said, as if trying to comfort him. “I have to make sure.”

The urgency of her situation tore through him. “You didn’t do that already? Why haven’t you done that already?”

She looked down. “My doctor in New York did a physical exam, then scheduled a mammogram. The mammogram showed a small lump about the size of a pea.”

Lucas held up a hand to interrupt her. “Then what on earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital, getting some sort of treatments?”

She dropped her hands to her sides. “My doctor wanted to do a biopsy right away, but he told me I had several options. He gave me lots of pamphlets to read, suggested some books on the subject, even said I could take a few days to get a second opinion. So that’s why I’m here. I just needed some time…to think about what this might mean.”

Anger and dread made Lucas irrational. “I can tell you exactly what it might mean, if you don’t hurry.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she said, pulling out of his arms to turn away. “Believe me, it’s all I’ve been thinking about, night and day. But my doctor did tell me that if it is cancer, we have a few weeks to get everything in order…if I have to have surgery.” With her back to him, she continued. “You have to understand, I’m not one to rush into anything. I need time to think, to decide about my future. That’s why I came down here. So I could get away from all the distractions and just rest and think. Then when those two photographers showed up, I thought they’d found out. I was afraid I’d have to go back to New York, after all. And that would mean further delays.”

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