Pirate's Alley

“Then why?”

 

 

He cocked an eyebrow and his cobalt eyes took on a playful sparkle. “If I were to avow that you are my immortal life’s great passion, that I would give up immortality itself to be at your side and in your bed, you would not believe me, n’est-ce pas?”

 

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Damn straight. In fact, had he proclaimed his undying love and devotion, I’d have slapped him for lying to me after all our soul-baring. Even now, thinking about it, I couldn’t keep a straight face. I snorted out a burst of laughter. He was so not the Lord Byron type.

 

Jean laughed with me. “And there is your answer, Jolie. I am not the type of man to fall upon his sword for the love of a woman, nor do I want a woman who wishes for such devotion. Yet my feelings for you are matters both complex and serious.”

 

My laughter died. “And those are?”

 

His face grew solemn. He put his glass down and paced to the window, standing with his back to me. “The world is a bigger and more wondrous place than ever I dreamt as a mortal man.” He pulled back the curtains, and over his broad shoulders I could see the heavy fall of Christof’s snow piling on the windowsill. “But to live into eternity is a lonely enterprise, Drusilla. I might find companionship with a human woman, but she could never know who or what I am, and I do not wish to live such a lie. I might find companionship among my kind, yet many of their lives exist only due to my memories, and that is shallow company. They offer no surprise.”

 

He turned and looked at me, and his aura radiated genuine affection tempered with something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Loneliness, maybe. Longing.

 

“When I see you, Jolie, I see a woman who is far more than she realizes but who will someday grow into her powers. One who is much stronger than those who would trap her inside their cages or try to put her to harness. One with a bold intelligence, with whom I can laugh. One who surprises me.”

 

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear. “I see a woman who makes me feel alive again, like a man, and not like a wraith who has lived beyond his usefulness in a world that no longer needs him.”

 

I didn’t even try to stop the tears his words drew from me. Whatever I’d thought he might say, it wasn’t this flaying open of his soul, laid bare for me to stomp on.

 

Jean walked to sit beside me on the sofa, and leaned in close, so that he had only to whisper for me to hear him. “Of course, Jolie, you would make me feel even more like a man should you throw aside le petit chien and allow the famous privateer Jean Lafitte to woo you like a proper suitor. I should like to understand more about the signs on the shirt you wore earlier. What was it: Eat the tail and suck the head?”

 

I blinked up at Jean through tears that dried quickly when I saw the laugh trying to escape his twitching lips. Thank God. If ever a serious moment needed a bit of smarmy relief, it was this one. I had no doubt the things he’d told me were true; I felt the honesty of them. But he’d saved us from diving so deeply into that pool we’d both drown.

 

I smiled. “It isn’t crawfish season yet; I’ll show you then.” By spring, hopefully he’d forget.

 

“And now, Drusilla, I must ask for you to be equally honest with me. What is Jean Lafitte to you, and how will you use the information you have been given?”

 

Good question, and I didn’t know the answer. I’d come here to find out how Jean felt, but instead of the clarity I’d hoped for, all it had done was show me what a muddle my own feelings were.

 

Love and friendship, duty and loyalty. Sorting them out shouldn’t be this hard.

 

“Pardon, Jolie. I did not wish to bring you pain.” Jean wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. I inhaled the scents of tangy cinnamon and exotic spices and rich tobacco that was unique to Jean. He was solid and warm, and the auras of our affection for each other mingled. But it wasn’t romantic love, not what I felt for Alex. Not for either of us. Lust, I could handle.

 

After a few seconds, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “You perhaps should return to your room, Jolie. You have much to consider. I only ask you this: If you decide you must tell your Alexander about my involvement with Christof and the burning of L’Amour Sauvage, will you tell me of this decision before the council meeting? Surely you will allow me adequate time in which to prepare my defense.”

 

I finished the last sip of brandy, set the glass on the table, and turned toward Jean. “I won’t betray you.” Jean Lafitte had given me a precious gift tonight: his trust. I had to treat it with respect, however I decided to handle things.

 

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