Bayou Reunion
by Rebecca York

To his surprise, Chase Melancon has inherited the Belle Vista plantation in Louisiana. Old man Rousseau left him the grand mansion rather than leaving it to his grandsons, so Chase is preparing for trouble. But when Chase discovers that Julienne Rousseau is living in Belle Vista and needs his help, he knows he's in way over his head...

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Return of the Warrior

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Julienne fled from Chase - fled up the wide front stairs, then along the upper hall to the small room she'd taken for herself. Without thinking, she rushed across the room and threw herself into the closet, pulling the door closed behind her. In the dark, she huddled against the wall, her knees drawn up against her chest and her head bent.

She'd been a fool to think that this could work, a fool to assume that Julienne Rousseau could just walk back into Chase Melancon's life - and everything would be all right between them. Not after the way it had all ended seven years ago.

Her cheeks were wet, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand, struggling to get control of her roiling emotions, angry with herself and with him.

She might as well pack up and leave, she thought, wondering where she was going to go.

When she heard footsteps in the hall, she went rigid.

"Julienne?" It was Chase, his voice soft but urgent.

She didn't answer.

"Julienne, that was a dumb thing for me to say. I'm sorry. Really sorry. You can trust me to act like a gentleman."

There was a long pause, during which her heart started to pound wildly in her chest. Did he mean that? Or was he just saying it because it was what he thought she wanted to hear?

"Don't do anything as stupid as I did. Don't run away from me. Please," he added, and she heard his contrite, strained tone.

He sounded almost as upset as she felt, but her throat was too clogged for her to answer. And even if she could have spoken, she wasn't sure what she would have said.

"I'm going to bring some stuff in from the van. Then I'm going down to the den. I'd...like it if you came down, too."

Chase stood in the hall, his breath shallow in his chest. It took all his formidable will to stop himself from tearing down the hall, tearing through the rooms to find her.

The wounded, vulnerable look on her face when she'd fled the kitchen haunted him.

Something had happened to her. Something bad. He knew that from the violence of her reaction - knew it as surely as he knew the pain he felt inside himself now. And he was deathly afraid that he might know what it was.

He wanted to call out to her again. Chère, trust me. Just trust me enough to tell me what happened to you.

Trust him!

After the insult he'd flung at her? Cursing himself, he turned and stalked down the stairs, forcing himself to tread lightly in his heavy boots.

Shadows gathered like ghosts around him in the darkened hallway. Outside, he stood for a moment in the waning sunlight, dragging in air and expelling it in great gusts. Then he slammed open the door of the van and began pulling out heavy equipment, straining his muscles, the exertion calming him a little.

But only a little. Because he knew he had screwed up badly. And the worst part was that he didn't know if she would give him a second chance.

To be continued...



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