She moved her body toward his and her arms came up around him. Suddenly her wide eyes full of moonlight and sleep were looking up into his. He felt her thighs shift, opening, inviting, quivering. His fingers tangled in the triangle of hair at the cleft of her thighs, then slid further, into the hot moist soft-as-silk folds, the memory of which had driven him mindless.

Mindless.

The abyss was there, waiting, deep and dark and bottomless. As his fingers sank into the very hot heart of her it seemed in that moment that he had leaped from a precipice, down through the eye of a storm of senses and emotions that whirled and beat at him.

Her legs parted wide, and as he shifted he accomplished the breach with an easy thrust that was sublime. She gasped. Her fingers sank into the flesh of his back as he joined her, hot steel within hotter silk, a cocoon of heat wrapped so tightly around him he wouldn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe.

Another push; her body resisted. Again, gently, though the hunger felt unbearable, more unbearable than the whip cutting into his back. More unbearable than looking into his father's eyes for the last thirty years and knowing that he didn't matter- would never matter.

Burying his face in her hair, he drank in the perfume of magnolias.

The heat mounted.

She moved against him, taking him in, deeper, tilting her pelvis up, lifting her legs high around his waist until she had all of him, until her mound ground against his. Soft, urgent words touched his ear, "My love. My life. My husband. All that I am and all that I have is yours."

Sliding his hands into her hair, he parted his lips over hers, drank her breath, her life, allowed the frantic wing beats of need to at last overtake him.

"Juliette. Juliette. God, how I've burned for you."

They moved, together, flesh against flesh, heartbeat against heartbeat, until the passion for her consumed him and he lifted heavenward, helpless to stop the fall when it came, a knife tearing, letting his life and blood- the death, the little death. He would die in her arms...

"I would die before I would lose you," he groaned. "For any reason."

?Twenty.

The whistle and shouts of men sat Juliette straight up in bed, her heart racing in fear as the memory of that dreadful and horrifying night only the week before came winging at her.

Little Clara burst through the doorway, cheek bulging with ho'hound and eyes round as coins. Her hair bobbed like springs with the multitude of ribbons Juliette had given her.

Naked still, Juliette snatched up the sheet to cover herself as Little Clara, eyes dancing with excitement

and her smile stretching from ear to ear, shouted, "Best ya come quick. Folk heah with hosses and mules

and stuff piled high in wagons."

From below came Rosie's voice, snapping out orders to Jasper and Custis. Suddenly Jesu let out a kadoodle that resounded through the house and made Rosie yell: "Lawd have mercy, be gittin' that damn bird outta this house. Ain't no place for a damn chicken I be eatin' for suppa if'n you ain't careful! Out!"

"Where are Chantz and Andrew?" Juliette asked Little Clara.

"They done gone to d'fields fo' day break. Louis, too. Won't be back, I 'spect, 'til suppa."

Jesu squawked again and Rosie let out another curse that was followed by Gaius whooping and Jasper

responding with a burst of frantic island babble.

As Little Clara dashed from the room, Juliette quickly pulled on her dress and, with hair wild and tumbling over her shoulders, ran barefoot down the stairs. A group of men stood in the foyer, talking among themselves and pointing to the fallen rafters and the charred walls.

She froze as they looked around. Faces somber, they regarded her in silence.

Then Baxter elbowed his way through the wall of men and adjusted his glasses as he smiled at her and

extended a handful of peppermint sticks. "Madame Boudreaux. Do you remember me?"

"Yes." She nodded and eased down the stairs, her gaze still moving from face to watchful face, alert for any hint of animosity. She reached for the candy, a smile touching her lips.

"We've brought a few supplies-"

"I didn't order supplies."

"Necessary items. Lumber. Hammers. Saws. Nails. Pots and pans."

Her cheeks warmed. "But I haven't any-"

"All gifts, of course. For your housewarming. Wedding gifts."

"From-?"

"Friends. Of Chantz. And of your parents, of course. As you recall, they were highly regarded in Baton

Rouge. They did many of us a favor here and there. As you'll soon learn, folks in Baton Rouge rarely

forget a kindness."

A man stepped forward, broad of shoulder and with a wild thatch of yellow hair. Rolling his old hat in his hand, he averted his eyes when he spoke.

"Chantz done me a good turn back when my wife took sick. Rode two hour ever day in the dead of winter to work my job at the mills so I can stay with my wife who done passed on now, God rest her soul."

"Helped me rebuild when the fires took most ever'thing I own year before last," another man said.

Baxter nodded and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Fact is, Mrs. Boudreaux, your mama loaned me money when I fell behind with the bank. No telling where I would be now if it hadn't been for her

generosity. All of us owe something to your parents or Chantz. This is our way of saying thank you to you both."

Emotion choking off her words, Juliette sat down on the step, watched as the men dispersed through the

house.

Liza moved up the stairs and sat down beside her, slid her arm around Juliette's shoulder and hugged her tightly. "Like a dream, ain't it? A real sweet dream."

"If this is a dream, Liza, I don't ever want to wake up."

"It only gonna get better for us both. You gots Chantz and the Belle. I gots Andrew and a baby growin'

inside me. Ain't love wonderful?"

Liza cocked her head to one side and studied Juliette's profile. "You awful quiet."

Juliette looked into her friend's dark eyes. "It's Chantz, Liza. I fear he isn't happy."

"Chantz? Not happy? Lord, girl, you shoulda seen him go outta this house bright and early this mornin'

whistlin' like a mockin'bird. Don't think I ever seen that man smile so big."

Grasping Liza's hands in hers, Juliette gripped them fiercely. "I want to make him happy, Liza. I'll do anything to make him happy, to make him..."

She looked away.

"To make him what, Julie?"

"Love me."

Liza sat straighter, curled her dark fingers around Juliette's. "Love you? Why, Juliette, that man loves you

so much-"

"He loves Belle Jarod. He loves sugarcane. He burns for both. I want him to burn for me, Liza."

Liza grinned. "You tellin' me he wasn't burnin' for you last night?"

Averting her gaze, her cheeks warming, Juliette smiled. The memory of those hours in his arms- her

body learning passion and her heart wrapped up with a fulfillment she had never known- all flurried in her mind like gossamer butterflies.

"I suppose he burned a little." Her smiled widened.

She did not recognize the man at first. The sun cast a glare over the freshly scythed grounds of scattered, wilting sunflowers and into Juliette's eyes, forcing her to lift her hand and cup it over her brow. Her step froze while around her the cicada calls pulsed like the summer's heartbeat and heat rose from the earth to penetrate the thin soles of her kid slippers.

"Tylor." She drew in a breath to steady her nerves. "I don't recall inviting you to Belle Jarod."

"I felt it my duty to drop by on my way to New Orleans and offer my well wishes to the happy couple."

"Chantz won't be pleased that you're here. I would leave immediately if I were you."

"I'm not afraid of Chantz, Juliette. Hell, every man in this parish is aware that you've castrated him. He's

about as lethal as a toothless rattlesnake now."

"He'd just as soon kill you as look at you, Tylor. And so would I, for that matter."

She swept by him, clutching the basket of wild onions and yams and clutch of sunflowers she had