Most of all, he made generous love, without recompense, to her body. This time, he wanted her to be the sole beneficiary of his healing hands.
How could she not love a man like that?
Chapter Fourteen
“Hey, guys, enough dawdling! Time to get this show on the bayou.” It was nine o’clock, and Luc was eager to get started.
Sylvie gave him an exasperated look as she finished providing a day’s supply of food and water for her rats in their critter cage. He was holding the front door of the cabin open so he could lock it after her.
Sashaying by him—amazing how a woman so shy could have sashaying down to an art form—she flipped her hair over her shoulder and remarked, “You weren’t worried about dawdling in the bathroom a short time ago.”
With a laugh, he pointed out, “Mais oui, there is dawdling, and then there is dawdling.”
“Isn’t that just like a man, to see everything through a testosterone filter?”
“Are you saying I think with my… uh, joy stick?”
“J-joy stick?” she sputtered, then admitted with a wicked grin, “Well, you do give fairly good joy.”
“Fairly good?” He attempted to swat her on the behind for her saucy remark as she passed through the doorway, but she danced away at the last minute.
Yep, her shyness is melting away like sweet chocolate on a hot tongue.
Now, there’s a picture.
It was good to see Sylvie smiling back at him, though, and being playful. He liked to think he’d had a role in that transformation.
No sooner did she step onto the porch than a flock of ducks came waddling onto the porch, quack-quack-quacking their affection for her. Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite a flock, but there were six of them, and they were squawking up a storm and rubbing up against her legs.
Was it possible these were the ducks that had eaten the discarded jelly beans last night? Could the ducks be affected by the love potion, the same as he?
Oh, wow! That brought up pictures to boggle the mind. Could ducks have hard-ons? And how would one check? He wasn’t even sure how to tell a male from a female. On the other hand, maybe they were just happy to see her because she’d thrown them some bread crumbs after dinner last night. Yeah, that was probably it.
Tee-John was standing down by the stream, waiting impatiently for what he must consider an adventure—an all-day boat trip. Luc’s heart swelled with love for the boy, who was a young, spitting image of all the LeDeux men. His black hair was slicked back off his face, now that he’d bathed. His dark eyes were clear and intelligent. He wore the same dirty T-shirt and jeans, but his face and arms shone with a clean, healthy tan. Yep, he was one good-looking kid. And he was shooting up like a weed. Pretty soon he would outgrow his nickname of Tee-John… a Cajun prefix for petit or small, as in Small John.
It would be good to have Tee-John along for the trip. Luc had been worried about Sylvie being able to paddle the whole way. This way, she and Tee-John could spell each other.
The pirogue was loaded with the supplies they would need to test the water, a camera and spare rolls of film, maps, notebooks, binoculars, mosquito repellent, sunscreen, and a styrofoam ice chest loaded with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and soda pop. They expected to be gone the entire day, and hoped to return to the cabin by nightfall.
There was also another essential item Luc had packed—one that he hoped he wouldn’t need today. The pistol. He’d never risk Sylvie and Tee-John’s lives if he thought there were any chance of danger. Still, it was best to be prepared.
It was a beautiful day as they paddled silently through the narrow bayou streams—one of those special Louisiana days when the sun beat down with its unrelenting heat, but a soft breeze ruffled the leaves and hanging moss of the swamp trees. Pausing for a second in his paddling, he let the fingers of one hand riffle through the cool water, which was pure enough to drink, even though it was stained the color of dark tea by a century’s worth of tree and bark tannin.