Though the night air weighed on the earth like a soggy woolen blanket, Jo shivered as she set Napoleon in the grass. The lantern hanging beside the kitchen door spread a glow several feet beyond the steps. “Remember not to go beyond the light, mon petit.”
Hugging her waist, she rubbed her elbows through the watered-silk wrapper and the nightgown underneath, but the chill remained. In the weeks since Bennett’s brief but unsettling visit, everything had changed. Monsieur Collier’s health had improved, but instead of celebrating, all of Dumont had settled into the final stages of mourning. Someone—or something—precious had died.
Or perhaps that perception was hers alone.
Before leaving New Orleans, she had buttressed her courage, prepared to endure a loveless marriage, but the reality was much sharper and more dispiriting than anything she could have imagined. Perhaps she would have been wiser to surrender to Lucien. At least then she would not have had to live a lie.
And she would not have met Amon Collier. The younger brother’s absence these past three weeks had left suppers at Dumont cold and empty. Why couldn’t he have been the man Madame Espallier arranged for her to marry?
With a series of fierce barks, Napoleon bounded across the circle of lamplight. Jo scooped him up before he could escape. Planting small forepaws on her shoulder, he growled toward the house. She spun, peering into the shadows while her heart pounded her ribs.
The tall grass beside the kitchen steps rustled, and then parted to reveal glowing, almond-shaped eyes. A sleek calico cat slinked into the light for only a moment before racing along the veranda’s foundation and disappearing into the darkness.
Relief washed a smile across Jo’s lips. She rubbed Napoleon’s ears. “Merci, my brave defender. One cannot be too careful when lions are about.”
The moment she set the gallant knight upon his feet, he bolted after the cat.
“Napoleon. No!” She yanked the wrapper and gown to her knees and gave chase.
****
Jo peered into the inky blackness made even more impenetrable by the tears clouding her eyes. “Napoleon.” Where could he be? Wild animals, hounds, even large barn cats could make a meal of him in one bite. Winded by the dash around the far corner of the sprawling mansion, she fought for every sobbing breath.
Bending at the waist, she parted the shin-high grass with her hands, straining to spy the tiniest movement. “Napoleon, please—”
“Looking for someone, mademoiselle?”
The familiar deep, quiet voice sent Jo’s heart scrambling for her throat. She bolted upright and whirled. “Napoleon. He’s—”
“About to drown me.” A small, enthusiastic tongue bathed the skin beside Amon’s scrunched-shut eye.
“Dieu merci.” The whispered words escaped around the hands Jo clasped at her lips. “Where did you find him?”
“He found me.” Amon peeled Napoleon from his neck and set him in Jo’s arms. He swiped at the side of his face, swiped her with a glance, and averted his gaze. A tight grin played at his lips. “You often go for midnight strolls dressed like that?”
Jo looked down and gasped. Her wrapper gaped open and the hem of her nightgown, dampened by the grass, clung to her knees. Face warming, she shoved Napoleon against Amon’s chest. He clamped a large hand around the dog while she straightened her garments.
“What are the two of you doing out here?”
Her trembling hands fumbled with the wrapper’s sash. “He was restless.” She gave up on tying a bow and jerked a knot in the silk.
A low chuckle pushed more heat into her cheeks. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
Despite the darkness, a sparkle lit the gaze that sought her face before tracing a languid path all the way to her toes. “You’re a beautiful woman. I hope my brother realizes how lucky he is.”
The reverence in the gaze and the tone were at once comforting and confounding. Jo wound one end of the silken sash through her fingers, watching the pattern change, trying to remember how to breathe.
“We’d best get you and le petit caporal back inside the house before…”
She glanced up. A distant sadness she suspected he meant to cover lingered at the outer corners of his eyes. “Before what?”
Amon nodded at Napoleon, cradled in the bend of his elbow. “Before he starts snoring.”
A warm palm cupped the small of her back all the way across the yard and up the kitchen steps. Amon doused the lantern and set Napoleon inside the door. Tiny claws clicked over the tile floor as he trotted off to find his bed.
Jo would have followed, but a mountain of Collier filled the doorway. A subtle tension vibrated just below the surface of his calm.
The intensity in his eyes caused the strangest stumble in her pulse. She lowered her gaze and tried to squeeze past. “Bonne nuit.”
He shifted to block her path. Fingertips applied gentle pressure under her chin. “Josephine, look at me.”
Her name flowed from his lips like a prayer. “You take liberties, Monsieur Collier.”
He didn’t correct her. “Maybe so. Look at me anyway.”