A Late Summer Bloom (8 page)

“Hmm.
I don’t think so.”

For the first time, he saw a beautiful blush rise up her neck and appear
on her cheeks. “Desiree, I’m no expert, but your gift might be trying to get
your attention. Maybe you can channel souls, but you’re blocking it.”

“Blocking it?
How?”

“We will try to seek an answer. In the meantime, you and I are taking a
trip.”

“Where?”

“The witch, Giselle, remains in the Bayou. We will seek her out and put
your mind at ease. Once you agree not to interfere, I will watch over you from
afar. I cannot take the chance of this ever happening again.”

Simon thought he saw a fleeting look of regret in her eyes, but almost
immediately, the fiery Desiree returned. She squared her shoulders and stood
up. “Won’t the master be upset if you don’t follow his order?”

Simon turned his back to her and waved her away. “I will first seek
permission. The master forbade you to travel to Cottonwood Landing, not to Baton
Rouge.”

“I’ll have to arrange for my absence.”

“Take care of what you need to. Giselle will not be traveling for some
time. Once I get back, we will go to her together. Goodnight, Desiree.”

Closing his eyes, Simon heard the bedroom door close. Believing,
somehow, his Aimee had returned to him shook him right down to his very core. He
must finish this assignment and put as much distance between him and New
Orleans as possible.

Chapter Twelve

Giselle breathed a sigh of relief when she and Julien turned off the
main road. Just ahead, a sign announced their arrival at Beaumont Plantation. The
bike began to slow down. Julien navigated the motorcycle up a path surrounded
by huge oak trees. The large oaks hung over the path, their branches coming
together, creating an illusion of a tunnel up to the main house. Moonlight
shone through the swaying leaves, casting shadows that resembled open arms,
welcoming them home.

They stopped in front of a large antebellum mansion, complete with big,
white columns. It was beautiful and grand, and she immediately felt a great
peace settle over her. He was careful helping her off the motorcycle and his
touch gentle when he tapped her shoulder. Chilled from the loss of her fur
coat, Giselle watched the little rabbit scurry away into the brush. She shook
out her arms and stared at the house, admiring its loveliness. Although it needed
some tender loving care, there was something about the old sugar plantation
that made her feel at home. “It’s beautiful.”

Unable to wait before taking a look inside, she rushed toward the front
door when a hand reached out, abruptly pulling her to a stop, “Oh, no, you
don’t. Your place is that way. And it’s, Mr. Beaumont to you, Little Witch.” He
stood in front of her clenching his fists, then pointing in the other
direction.

She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the gardens.

“Oh—uh—okay.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll show you the way, since I’ll be doing a lot
of that from now on.”

Giselle struggled to swallow the lump that seemed to form in her throat
every time he opened his mouth. She walked quickly behind him, noticing the
disheveled bushes around her. Although it was dark, she could tell the home and
its grounds had been neglected. Trying to keep up with him, a beautiful scent
wafted in her direction, causing her to slow her footsteps. She craned her neck
over a shabby hedge. There, across the gazebo was a lovely garden, but there
was something odd about it. It called to her, begging for her presence. Julien
glanced back at her. “Keep up, Little Witch!” Snapping to attention, she fell
behind him with hurried footsteps. “Stop being such a jerk! I’m right behind
you.”

When they entered the cottage, a strong gust of air rattled the
windows. The rooms lit up from a bright flash of lightening followed by a low
rumble of thunder in the distance. An old fashioned hurricane lamp flickered to
life with the wave of Julien’s hand. “The storms can be bad. The lights will
come on as soon as I hit the main line. Is there anything you need, besides
clothing?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

****

Julien left Giselle in the guest cottage and walked toward the main
house. With a heavy heart, he scanned what was once a place of grandeur.
Beaumont Plantation had been a gift from his parents, with the assumption that
he would have many heirs. But, at twenty-nine years of age, he had not a one.
The home held the memories of a time in his life when joy reigned. Now, looking
around, the only beauty he could find was the magic gardens. A gift from his
sister, Chantilly, the magic garden was the only thing left to thrive on his
land.

Julien approached the main house. Eyeing the peeling paint and slanted
shutters, he shook his head in regret,
then
entered
the foyer. Inside, he found very much the same as he’d found outside. The
interior was in serious disrepair. The large sweeping staircase, once inviting
to the eye, resembled a mass of peeling spindles and splinters. Plaster fell
from the ceiling when the door closed behind him, leaving a gaping hole in the
wall. Dust and cobwebs, thick with time, zigzagged across the room.

With every painstaking repair, he lovingly restored the estate only to
return months later to find a rundown, ramshackle of a home. After the fifth
time, he gave up. It had to be cursed. It was the only way he could explain its
state. The home he loved was now an empty, dilapidated shell, heavy with fault,
empty of love, and frozen in time, much like his heart. He found his bed just as
uninviting as his home. He couldn’t let Giselle come inside. He was ashamed of
his home. But, with a strange sense of relief, he fell onto his pillow and
slept like he hadn’t slept in years.

Chapter Thirteen

Giselle quickly left the warmth of her bed and changed her clothes. It
had been the same for the last two mornings. Get up, listen to the tyrannical
traveler blabber on about the tenth power, practice, and repeat. Yesterday was
the worst. Recalling how Julien towered over her, ripping into her about not
being truthful with him, made her mouth twitch.

“You’re telling me you haven’t experienced any power that sets you
apart from the coven? Even a little witch like you should be able to figure out
what powers you possess. You’ve been lying to me. We will never get anywhere if
you don’t tell me everything there is to know.”

Ugh!
It was enough to drive her crazy. If he weren’t so
ruggedly handsome, she would be completely exasperated. She needed some fun,
and Julien was way too serious to consider granting her any time for trivial things.
Deciding to visit the garden on her own, curious about its origins, Giselle
felt a need to walk amongst its beauty.

****

Julien paced the length of the master suite. Ineffective in his plans
to sway Giselle to trust him caused him much frustration.
Maybe she doesn’t like to be yelled at.
Covering his eyes with the
heels of his hands, he tried rubbing away the self-induced headache coming on.
Out of options and close to giving up, he needed to clear his mind. What was it
about her that had him on edge all the time? Julien had to clench his fists
every minute he was around her to remind himself of the anger. Otherwise, he
found himself wanting to kiss her, protect her. And each moment he spent with
her, it was getting harder to control. He had to fight it. It could cost the
covens the war. He had to stay on the straight and narrow yet—something was
pulling at the corners of his mind.

Julien
thrust
 
his
balcony doors open and gust of cool
air rushed inside the warm room. His eyes narrowed in disbelief as he stared
out at the grounds of his estate.

Walking out onto the balcony for a good look, Julien couldn’t believe
his eyes. The alley of oaks danced gloriously in the wind, their branches no
longer drooping toward earth, but standing tall, in salute. His eyes scanned
the grass, noticing its deep green hue. Shoots of honeysuckle could be seen
making their way up toward the sun. As if the flowers knew what he was
thinking, a soft breeze carried with it their scent. A smile, true and
confident, emerged on his face. It was
her
presence. It had to be.

As he took in the beauty of a long dead past, he caught a glimmer of the
dark-haired beauty walking on the path to Chantilly’s garden.
Hmm.
What’s she up to?
He went back inside
and changed into jeans. He slipped a white cotton tee-shirt over his head and
headed down the stairs. Looking around his once decaying home, he realized it
had been rejuvenated. Julien ran his fingers over the railing, the wood felt
smooth and rich. There were no holes in the walls, no peeling paint, no
cobwebs. The silver shined so bright, he could see his own reflection. Two days
later and it was good as new?
It has to
be her
.

Outside, he took in his surroundings. Were his eyes deceiving him?
Anxious now to see Giselle, he walked toward Chantilly’s garden. Along the way,
he heard her humming. It was a beautiful melody filled with warmth and joy. And
it renewed his hope, for he now believed Giselle was indeed, the tenth power.

If only she believed it.

Standing in the gardens, he watched her lean over, inhaling the
fragrance of each blossom. When she got close, the blooms stood taller, more
vibrant in her presence. He couldn’t help but smile at her innocence as it hit
him square in the gut.
She really doesn’t
see it.
He watched her run a
finger
over an old wooden sign, its words unreadable.

Julien cleared his throat.
“My sister’s garden.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. He jerked his chin toward the sign.
“It’s supposed to say, my sister’s garden.”

Giselle cast her eyes away. “I’m so sorry about
Joyal
.”

Just hearing her name fired up his nerves, but he remained steady,
discarding the unwelcome reminder. “No, I meant my sister, Chantilly. This
garden was her gift to me.”

She smiled and he realized it was the first time he saw her show
happiness.

Beautiful
.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s enchanted.”

He chuckled. “Yes, it is.”

Her expression took on a serious guise. “I’m sorry to have intruded.
She might not like it.”

“The garden is for me to enjoy. Chantilly denounced her witch-hood
years ago. This garden was one of her last incantations. She chose this spot
because her lover was murdered here. And it was here she swore her devotion to
never love another. The last time I saw her was in this beautiful place.”

Giselle was quiet, solemn. “Do you miss her?”

“Every day.
But life goes on, doesn’t it?” The thought of both
sisters came to mind, making him choke out the words.

“And what about finding her?”

He shook his head. “She knows the way home.”

Giselle walked closer, and Julien straightened his posture.

“Sometimes,” she said. “When a witch feels lost, she needs someone to
care about her, to bring her back to her rightful place. It could be that she
knows no other way to deal with her grief, other than to run from it.”

“Like you run from your fear?”

She tilted her head.
“Fear?
Of
what?
The most powerful warlock of all time hunting me
down for the tenth power, so he can wipe out the covens and the human race,
too?
Unless, of course, I use that power to stop him, a power I haven’t
a clue how to use.” She waved her hand in the air. “Nah, that’s not it. Could
it be my fear of dying? Nah, that’s not it, either.
Wanna
know why I’m not afraid to die?”

She got close to him, so close Julien could smell the cleanliness of
her skin, her mint tea shampoo, and her womanly scent that drove his desire
into the stratosphere. He blinked. “Why are you not afraid to die?”

“Because— I’ve never truly lived.”
She offered him a sad smile and stepped
around him to examine a red
iFulva
flower.

Julien pursed his lips. Her honest reply took him by surprise. And what
it made him
feel
was as unexpected as her answer. Could a crack in his icy demeanor be to blame?
Taking a deep breath, he felt a wave of emotion the likes of which he hadn’t
felt in years. Compassion seared his skin from the inside out, warming his
cold, lonely heart.

Julien questioned her again, hoping this time for a different answer. “Can
you trust me enough to tell me what you’re afraid of? I can help you.”

“Oh, how I want to believe that.”

“You—” He stopped and glared to the east. “Someone has arrived. And she’s
not alone. Stay here.”

Chapter Fourteen