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.'
I did as he suggested, my head against his chest, his arm around my shoulder. We lay there silently, our wet clothing steaming in the hot Louisiana midday sun.
'I feel like a Cajun peanut,' I muttered after a few moments.
'What's that?'
'Shrimp dried in the hot sun.'
He laughed. 'You're so full of surprises, every expression, every word, is something unexpected. What a delight. Tell me how it can be that you have not been stolen away and married. Are all the young men blind here?'
I said nothing. The silence was heavy.
'No boyfriend?' Pierre pursued.
'No, monsieur.' I sat up.
'I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry,' he said quickly.
'I should take you back,' I said. 'Mama will be angry no matter what.'
I started to stand, but he reached out and seized my left wrist.
'I haven't known you long, but somehow, I feel I can be honest with you, and I hope you feel you can be honest with me. There's a pain in your heart. I wish I could remove that pain. I wish I had some of the magic that's in this place.'
I sat again. He released my wrist, but took hold of my hand.
'Gabrielle. Your name is like music to me.' He took my other hand and gently, but firmly, pulled me closer to him. 'You're too beautiful to be unhappy. I won't permit it,' he said, and kissed me again. When we parted, he wiped away the fugitive tear that had escaped from under my burning eyelid. 'Someone hurt you? Some young man?'
'Not some young man,' I said.
'An older man?' I nodded. 'He took advantage of you? This happened recently?' he asked, firing one question after another.
'Yes. Often I go into the swamp alone. He came upon me one day and . . .'
'I hope he was made to suffer for it.'
'No, monsieur. He is a wealthy man, and wealthy people often escape pain and suffering,' I said bitterly.
'That's not true everywhere,' Pierre said, and looked down. 'At least, it's not true for me.'
'Your brother,' I said, recalling what he had told me. He nodded.
'There's more. I don't wear the ring all the time,' he said, 'but . . .'
My heart stopped and then started. 'You're married, monsieur?'
With great reluctance, he nodded.
