Tarnished Gold (Landry 5)

"Does your father take hunters here?" Pierre asked. "No, monsieur." I smiled. "My father does not know these places, and I won't be telling him about them either." Pierre's laughter rolled over the water and a pair of scarlet cardinals shot out of the bushes and over our heads. On the far shore, a grosbeaked heron strutted proudly, taking only a second to look our way.

"It is very beautiful here, mademoiselle. I can understand your reluctance to live anywhere else. Actually, I envy you for the peace and contentment. I am a rich man; I live in a big house filled with beautiful, expensive things, but somehow, I think you are happier living in your swamp, in what you call your toothpick-legged shack."

"Mama often says it's not what you have, it's what has you," I told him, and he smiled, those green eyes brightening.

"She does sound like a woman who can draw from a pool of great wisdom."

"And what of your mother, monsieur?" "She passed away a little over a year ago." "Oh. I'm sorry."

"She developed heart trouble soon after my brother Jean's accident, and eventually . ." He leaned over the pirogue, his hand trailing in the water. Suddenly he pulled it up and sat back. A green snake slithered past. "A moment ago that was a stick. This place is full of all sorts of magic."

I laughed.

"Just Nature's magic. Swamp creatures blend in with their surroundings to survive. Mama says that's true for people, too. If we don't like where we live, if we hate where we are, we will fade away there."

He nodded. "I'm afraid that might be happening to me," he said sadly, and sighed.

I was gazing at him so intently, I didn't pay attention to the direction in which my pirogue was going. We struck a large rock protruding out of the water and the impact caught me off balance. I fell over the side of the canoe and into the water, more surprised than frightened. When I bobbed to the surface, I was again surprised, this time to find Pierre Dumas in the water beside me. He put his arm around my waist to keep me afloat.

"Are you all right?"

I spit out the water, coughed, and nodded. He and I took hold of the side of the pirogue. He got up first and then helped me into the canoe. I caught my breath quickly, but I was still a bit dazed. Of course, we were both soaked to the skin.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, monsieur," I wailed. "Your fine clothes are ruined."

"Hardly, and it wouldn't matter if they were. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, but quite embarrassed. This has never before happened to me."

He smiled. "How lucky I am to be here for a first."

I looked down at myself. My blouse was stuck to my bosom, the thin material nearly transparent. His eyes drank me in, too, but for some reason, even though I folded my arms across my exposed bosom, I didn't mind as much as I thought I would.

"I'm soaked to the bone," I moaned, and he laughed. "Mama will be furious, especially when she sees what I have done to you, and my daddy . . ."

"Stop worrying. It's nothing. I'll tell you what," he said, gazing to our right and nodding, "let's land over there by that clearing and sprawl out in the sun to dry for a while. We won't look so bad when we go back," he suggested.

I nodded and started to get up to pole, but he stopped me and took over. When we struck shore, he hopped out and pulled the canoe up before helping me get out. For a moment we stood so close to each other, we could feel each other's breath on our faces. His eyes held mine magnetically.

"My hair's a mess," I said softly.

"You look even more beautiful."

I started to disagree, but he put his finger on my lips and held it there a moment. Then he lifted it away and slowly, but surely, replaced his finger with his lips. It was so gentle a kiss, I could have imagined it, but when I opened my eyes, I saw his eyes were still closed. He looked like he was devouring the sensation with great intensity so as to get every bit of pleasure from it. His eyes opened and he smiled.

"I feel unreal, like I've entered your magical kingdom."

"It's not magical, monsieur, it's . ."

"Oh yes, it is, and your kiss is the key," he said before kissing me again, this time harder, longer. I let myself sink into his arms, our wet clothing rubbing, the heat of his body caressing my skin, my breasts.

We sank to our knees and he sat back, bracing himself with his hands, his face to the sun.

"I'm not sure which kiss is warmer, the sun's or yours," he muttered with his eyes still closed.

"I don't know how this could have happened. I can pole a canoe better than my daddy can," I said, still ashamed.

"I'm glad it happened," Pierre replied. "Here," he said, lying back and extending his arm. "Just lie back on me and it will be comfortable."