Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3) by Roxanne St. Claire Read Free Book Online Page B

path swerved after the second grouping of oleander bushes.
    “What was your name?”
    “Ricard Caron.” He emphasized the hated French accent.
    “Can I call you Ricard?”
    “Please don’t,” he said in all seriousness. “I hate the name.” And all the…misery it represented.
    “But you’re not anonymous or protected now.”
    “No need. The guy who was after me is dead.”
    “So you didn’t really want to be in this mercenary army?”
    He let another distant rumble answer for him.
    “Am I getting into the ‘I don’t talk about this’ territory?” she asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
    “You’re there,” he told her. “And speaking of territories, where, may I ask, are you taking me?”
    “To the top. To where you plowed me over.”
    He let go of her hand to put his hand on her back, enjoying the play of tension in her muscles and the undercurrent of resolve that hummed through her. It was sexy. But, then, so was everything she did and said.
    “I haven’t apologized enough for that?” he asked.
    She laughed, but the non-answer felt deliberate.
    “What were you doing up here, anyway?” he asked.
    Her back muscles tensed. “Just thinking. Getting my head in the wedding game,” she said, slipping out of his touch to take a few steps away.
    “Hey, no.” He snagged her hand. “I don’t want to lose you out here.”
    “You won’t.” But she tucked her hand back into his, another part of her that was small but surprisingly strong. “So you were saying you hated being Ricard Caron?”
    “Mmm.” He nodded. “When I left the Legion, I purposely had my name—my real name—pressed into the back of my tags. Except…” He shook his head, laughing. “The guy who did it spelled Luke the French way, L-U-C, so I’m always doomed to have a little of that country hanging around my neck.”
    After a beat, she asked, “So how wonderful was it to mend fences with Gussie and your parents?”
    “Wonderful, but we’re still mending,” he told her. “That’s why I decided to take this job, so I could spend more time with my little sister. Except she seems pretty damn happy without me, but still…”
    “Oh, Gussie has plenty of room in her heart for you and her boyfriend, er, fiancé ,” she corrected. She shook her head and sighed softly. “I can’t believe she’s getting married.”
    “Honestly? I can’t believe she waited until she was thirty,” he said. “Gussie always wanted a big family. She better get cracking.”
    Finally, near the top of the rise, which probably peaked at under twenty-five feet and plateaued for a quarter acre, she stopped and turned to face the black expanse of water.
    A distant lightning bolt sliced the sky, a streak of white gone in a blink. Neither of them spoke until after the thunder, about five or six seconds later.
    A breeze, powerful enough to flutter her hair, blew over them.
    “That storm’s not too far away,” he said.
    She nodded. “I know. I can feel the electricity in the air.”
    He took a step closer, venturing to put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe that’s not the storm, Arielle.”
    She didn’t move, so he got near enough to smell the remnants of hair spray from the brushed-out wedding hair. He slid his hand from her shoulder to stroke her hair, which was absolutely the most insanely stunning thing he’d ever touched. Not silk, it was more like heavy, thick strands of satin and velvet. He couldn’t stop himself from putting his lips on the top of her head, actually wanting to bury his mouth in that—
    “Is there any way to stop you?”
    He stilled. “I’m sorry—”
    “I mean, from…this.” She gestured around. “From destroying this hill.”
    The words were so unexpected, such a complete one-eighty from where he thought they were going or why they were there, he stood speechless for a moment.
    “You can’t bulldoze this rise,” she said. “Not until I am absolutely sure that it isn’t sacred ground.”
    He blinked at