«They may be right,» Serena conceded, remembering Lucky's own words to that effect. «But he was the only person I could find to take me.»
«Well, I don't think you should go with him. Who knows what he might do or say?'
Serena sighed heavily. «Shelby, one of us has to go talk to Gifford. You're not willing and Lucky Doucet is the only person able to take me.»
Shelby pouted, plumping her lower lip out and batting her lashes. «Well, I just don't think you should, that's all.»
«Your protest has been duly noted. Now, I'm off. Give my apologies to Odille.»
«Be careful.»
Serena paused on the last step at her sister's hesitant admonishment. It was one of the rare shows of concern from her twin that always made her do a double take. Shelby was for the most part completely self-absorbed. She could be silly and frivolous, petty and downright cruel on occasion. Then every once in a while she would suddenly come forth with a small slice of affection, concern, love, offering it like a jewel. The gestures were both touching and unsettling.
«I will be,» Serena said quietly.
She crossed the lawn at a hobbling half run once again, suitcase banging against her leg, foot throbbing from the sliver she had yet to remove. She set her sights on the landing and worked unsuccessfully to force Shelby from her mind.
All their lives people had remarked to them how special, how close they must feel being twins, what a unique bond they must share. Serena had always taken the comments with sardonic amusement. She and Shelby had never been close. Aside from their looks, they were as different as summer and winter. By Shelby's decree, they had been rivals from birth. Shelby had always seemed to resent Serena for being born at the same time, as if Serena had done so purposely to steal Shelby's glory. In her attempts to avoid rivalry, Serena had drifted further away from her sister, cultivating separate interests and separate dreams, creating an even wider gap between them.
Serena had always regretted the fact that they weren't close. Being the twin of a virtual stranger seemed much lonelier than being an only child. But they were too different, existing on separate planes that never quite seemed to intersect. They shared no telepathy. Sometimes it was almost as if they didn't even speak the same language. The only thing that seemed to bind them was blood and heritage and Chanson du Terre.
The elements of their relationship were complex. As a psychologist, Serena might have found it fascinating-had it been someone else's relationship, had she been able to look at it with cool objectivity. But she was too close to the subject; there were too many painful memories binding all the facets together like vines, and she was too afraid of what she might find if she ever did tear all the clinging creepers away, afraid the core might be as shriveled and dead as a sapling that had been smothered by the growth around it. And then what would happen? She would have to let go of the hope she still harbored in a corner of her heart. It was easier for them both to simply leave it alone.
As she neared the landing, her niece and nephew came running from the bank, screaming as if the devil were chasing them. They ran past her without slowing down, flying toward the safety of the house and their mother. Lucky stood on the dock smoking a cigarette, one hip cocked and a nasty smile tugging at a corner of his mouth. Serena scowled at him.
«Can't you go ten minutes without terrorizing someone?»
«Your ten minutes were up five minutes ago. You're just lucky I didn't leave without you.»
«That's a matter of opinion,» she grumbled. «What did you say to them? You ought to be ashamed, trying to give little children nightmares.»
Lucky rolled his eyes and tossed the butt of his cigarette into the bayou. «Those two are nightmares.»
«I wouldn't say that within Shelby's earshot if I were you.»
«There are far worse things I could say to that one,» he said, almost under his breath.
Serena gave him a curious look. His expression had gone cold and closed. He had slammed a door shut, but she felt compelled to push at it anyway. «You know my sister?» she asked. It seemed as unlikely as… as herself going into the swamp with him.
Lucky didn't answer. His relationship with Shelby Sheridan had never been shared with anyone, not brother or stranger or priest. He certainly had no intention of sharing the story with Shelby's twin. It had happened in another lifetime, in another place. He preferred to leave the wound scarred over, if not healed. There was no way on earth he was going to tear it open for this woman. In addition to the sin of being Shelby's sister, she was a psychologist. The last thing he needed was some college girl digging around in his psyche.
He turned his attention to the luggage she carried and the stylish outfit she wore. «Where do you think we're goin', chere? Club Med?»
Serena gave him one of her haughty ice-princess looks. «For your information, Mr. Doucet, my wardrobe doesn't hold an extensive collection of army fatigues and waders. You may find this hard to believe, but I don't particularly care to spend my free time in the swamp.»
«Oh, I don't find that hard to believe a-tall. I'm sure you're far too busy givin' dinner parties and goin' to concerts to even think of a place such as the swamp.»
«Why should I think of it? It doesn't require anything from me. It simply is.»
Not for long. Not if your sister has anything to say about it. The thoughts passed instantly through Lucky s head, but he didn't speak them aloud. He was as involved as he intended to get, ferrying Serena out to Gifford's cabin and doing the odd reconnaissance job. It wasn't up to him to save the swamp. It couldn't be. Dieu, he had his hands full just trying to save himself.
What would be the point in arguing with Serena anyway? She was a slick, sophisticated city dweller who obviously had no affinity for the area she had grown up in. What would she care if Tristar Chemicals furthered the ruination of a delicate ecosystem man had been bent on destroying for years? For all he knew she was well aware of the situation and was going out to Giff's only to badger him into selling his land. She was her sister's twin, after all. How could he expect anything better of her than deceit and treachery?
He looked at her now in her prissy little designer sportswear outfit. She was a woman born to money, used to fine things. It stood to reason she would want more. That was the way of women of her class-see to the comfort and luxury of number one and to hell with the rest of the world. She wouldn't listen to him. He was just a means to an end… again.
«Get in the boat,» he said with a growl, his temper rising like a tide inside him.
She took another step toward him, her chin lifting to a stubborn angle. «You know, Mr. Doucet, we would get along a whole lot better if you would stop bossing me around.»
Lucky all but closed the gap between them, leaning over her, trying to intimidate her with his size and the aura of his temper. «I don't want to get along with you. Is that clear enough, Miz Sheridan?»
«Like crystal.»
She tilted her head back to meet his furious gaze, refusing to back away from him. It didn't seem to matter to his eyes that she was everything he needed to stay away from. It didn't matter to his hormones that she represented more trouble than he could afford to handle. For an instant, as he leaned close and the scent of her perfume lured him closer still, desire flared hot and bright inside him and burned away all common sense.
His gaze drifted over the elegant line of her cheek and jaw, the perfect angel's-wing curve of her brows, the delicate pink bow of her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, taste her, plunge his tongue into her mouth. It was crazy.