Lucky's Lady by Tami Hoag Read Free Book Online Page A

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