Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 12

“Ma Petite, wake up.”

Beth bolted up too fast, gasping in pain from unhealed injuries.

Sahvrin’s lips pressed hard against hers with a groan before he turned. “My brothers are here. Get dressed. And not in anything that show your belle tetons.”

“Show my what?”

“Your tits, Ma Petite, your beautiful tits. I don’t want to kill a brother for looking,” he said, pulling a black t-shirt out of his drawer and glancing out one of the windows. The look he snapped her way made her try to hurry faster while a long string of French flew from his sexy mouth.

Oh, he was so mad. In the bathroom she pulled the yellow dress off the peg on the back door, hoping it was the right one in his eyes. God, it would hurt her breasts to wear. There was only one other choice, the red and she was thinking the color might be too related to la-passion.

She smiled to herself as her heart hammered wildly with Sahvrin memories. Sahvrin Bishop memories. Her heart fluttered that he’d referred to himself as that. She was glad because she really did miss the man she’d first met. He was different but not in a bad way now that she knew why he’d been a prick.

Oh God, she still couldn’t believe he’d done all that to her. She fought for air when the memories got too real. She snatched the brush up and pulled it through her long hair. A quick knock on the door made her jump then she opened it.

“I cannot tell my brothers about you and me, Ma Petite. I will explain later. Trust me?” he asked, leaning in to press his lips on hers again.

“Yes. I do,” she said, grabbing his face and kissing him back.

He glared at her, then whispered, “I should fucking gut them for wrecking my morning plans with you.”

She bit her lip as though considering. “We still have tonight.”

His gaze lowered to her mouth, and he leaned with a groan, kissing her again. “Come.” He grabbed her hand.

“But…I need the bathroom.”

He gently pushed her back in. “Hurry.”

“I was going to do something with my hair.”

He paused abruptly, snapping his eyes to her. “I’ll get rid of them.”

She shut the door, smiling as she did her morning bathroom business. While sitting on the toilet, she pulled all her hair to one said and began braiding it just in case he couldn’t get rid of them. Her braiding slowed a little. Why didn’t he want to tell them about them?

Before a yucky feeling could sicken her stomach, she remembered he’d said to trust him. She definitely did. With her life, obviously.

He met her on her way out of the bathroom, appearing distraught. “I have to go and meet with the men, Ma Petite. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. What men?”

“My father and brothers and a couple friends. I don’t want to leave you here alone so I’m bringing you to my Mah-Mah.”

His tone said he wasn’t negotiating, and she was surprised at the amount of joy that gave her. “Whatever you think,” she said, wanting him to know she trusted his judgment while her stomach went to jittering at the idea of meeting his mother while coherent.

“They are expecting you.” He looked her over and she held her breath at his fierce expression. “They are ready to meet la femme pour qui je suis follement tombée amoureuse.

Wow. “That’s going to need a translation,” she said, burning with curiosity while still wondering what he thought of the dress.

He eyed her. “I cannot give that to you now, Ma Petite.”

Her mouth dropped. “That’s rude. Should I ask your brothers?”

He leaned and gave her a kiss, his lips soft as silk on hers, contradicting his pushy mood. He suddenly gave a frustrated growl and pushed her into the bathroom, his kiss turning passionate as he shut the door. “Ma Petite, you make me crazy.”

He yanked her dress up while she held on to his neck. The hungry stroke of his fingers on her pussy made her gasp.

“Ma Petite, you are so fucking wet.”

“Yes,” she said in his mouth.

“Who are you wet for?” he demanded, his tongue stroking hers.

“You, I’m so wet for you.”

“Who, are you wet for?” he demanded again, plunging his finger inside her.

“Oh God,” she shot out, wondering what he wanted to hear. “Sahvrin,” she confessed, breathless.

His fingers bit at the back of her neck as he palmed her clit and wiggled his finger so deep. “Try again, Agnel.”

She lifted her leg and opened herself, her moans building. “Bishop,” she gasped, her orgasm there.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, hot and greedy in her mouth then hammered his palm against her. “I can’t wait to fuck this soft pussy.”

She came instantly, fighting to be quiet.

“You fucking want that,” he said with a note-taking lust, as she shuddered and trembled into pleasure delirium.

He continued feasting with low, hungry sounds at her astonished mouth and she watched him from a slitted gaze, the most sexy, handsome man she’d ever seen. And he liked her. No, Bishop liked her. He’d just made that crystal clear and dear God she could never be more thrilled about anything.

He gently pulled his finger out and sucked her juices off, making her gasp at the nasty act. He made her weak kneed and giddy with emotions she couldn’t begin to name.

A terrifying notion almost made her sick. What if he didn’t want her for more than this? She remembered he’d also thought sex was more than screwing. Had that been Sahvrin or Bishop who thought that?

His kiss turned tender, making her forget silly doubts and fears of doing everything backwards with him. When his hands and lips and eyes were on her, what else mattered?

****

The first big worry was how to hide her feelings for Sahvrin. Or Bishop. Lord, she hoped this didn’t get confusing or challenging. Bishop almost sounded jealous of her affections for Sahvrin, which was kind of funny and sweet. And yet the jealousy felt entirely serious.

She wasn’t sure how it would feel to have him not show his feelings for her. She’d be mature about it. He’d tell her later why he had to. Wasn’t a big deal. There were plenty of reasons he might want that. Like…wanting it to be a surprise, or wanting to see their reaction when she wasn’t around in case they hated the idea which they likely could. Getting hooked up with the rescued, maimed girl from up north might be a tradition breaker. Oh God, some peoples did have traditions like that.

Looking toward the boat, her stomach turned over at seeing they all watched her. It was only her guess what they saw, what sort of impression she was making. She let herself look at Sahvrin, not wanting to see judgment in their eyes as she held on to her thick braid with both hands. Then she remembered she wasn’t supposed to say anything about them being…intimate and she was sure her ogling Sahvrin would give it away. Was she messing up? Sahvrin’s face was unreadable, so it was hard to tell.

She focused her eyes on the boat and how she was supposed to get in it. It wasn’t small like the one Sahvrin had but it wasn’t huge either. Sahvrin’s hand suddenly extended out to her, and she eyed the boat and it, wondering if she was supposed to put her foot in the boat or on the ledge.

“I’m…I’m not used to boats,” she said, not sure how to express the problem.

“Put your foot here,” Sahvrin directed, tapping the edge of the boat.

“Okay,” she said, carefully stepping. The boat dipped with her weight when she pushed off the pier and she gasped, latching both hands to his arm as he helped her the rest of the way.

They all cheered like she’d crossed the Grand Canyon and despite her shame, a smile flew across her lips. Sahvrin directed her to the front of the boat. She spotted three seats between the front and back, the middle ones big enough for two. Sahvrin sat in the seat directly in front of her and the other brothers were in the two seats behind him.

Laughter erupted amidst the French conversation, and the sudden eyes on her made her cheeks heat up with worry.

“Hi Miss Beth.” The brother sitting just behind Sahvrin greeted her with a swampy flair. It was true up close; all of them were handsome and she was pretty picky on those standards.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the brother who’d greeted her while Sahvrin used an oar to push the boat away from the dock. “Which brother are you again?”

“Bart. The black sheep of the family. Nice to see you again.”

She leaned and shook his extended hand with a smile while much French and laughter erupted.

“I’m Zep. Pleased to meet you,” he waved from the seat behind Bart.

“You too,” she said with a wave back before standing and leaning to shake the third brother’s extended hand over Bart’s shoulder.

“August. Swamp life sure does agree with you.”

She nodded politely, wondering if he was mocking her sunburn. “Nice to meet you August.”

“And I’m Jek,” the one driving called from the back as he maneuvered the boat without giving her a glance.

“Nice to meet you again,” she called, glancing at Sahvrin who talked over his shoulder to one of his brothers. She wished they’d speak English. She’d love to hear their banter. She caught Zep watching her with a grin and he gave her a wink, like he knew something she didn’t. If she was judging between the brother’s—and she obviously was—he was second in line to looks next to her glorious Sahvrin. Sahvrin with the beautiful smile and heart, and mocha eyes that could melt panties.

She stole a glance at him, still busy with his brothers. They talked and laughed like best friends, and she soon found herself smiling even though she didn’t understand a word they said. French might be their first language judging how freely and quickly they spoke it. She wished she knew a little of it.

The boat moved out of the cove and scene stole the show, its beauty drowning out the brothers. She craned her neck to see as much of her surrounding as she could, thrilled to pieces at the beauty. Leaning left, she glanced behind Jek with the feeling of being in a parade on a float. She just wanted to wave at everything. They’d pulled out of Sahvrin’s hidden yard and onto his water driveway, and now they were moseying down the tiny lane. To where, she wondered, turning forward to see.

Something moved in the water, and she gasped at a pair of otters. “Look!” she cried, wishing she had a camera. “It’s like we’re driving down a winding water road,” she said, watching the swamp go by next to the boat.

“You like it?”

She didn’t even turn to see who asked, only nodded as she sucked in the warm fresh air. “I love it! So different than back home.”

“You don’t have bayous?”

She turned to see who asked and guessed it was Zep. “No, and if we did, it’d likely be frozen most of the time.”

“Sahvrin tells us you live at the North Pole.” He gave a shiver and shook his head. “We would not survive that, sha.”

Sha. She smiled a little at the expression. Did they all have these kinds of terms?

“It’s always oooohh and ahhhhh at first,” Bart said, leaning toward her from his seat. “Then they leave. Like my Pah-Pah says, the swamp life is either for the retired or the retarded.”

They all laughed, and she did too, catching Sahvrin staring, sending her pulse racing. She curbed her giddy joy, not wanting to come off as immature. She still felt like she was proving her womanhood to him. And that she actually did love the swamp.

“Mah-Mah wants us all to marry,” August said, grinning. “Meh, I don’t really wanna marry a retired or a retarded woman, thank you.”

This brought raucous laughter that had her giggling.

“I’m sure there’s women out there who would die to live out here with you all,” she said over the boat motor.”

Apparently, that was funny as hell. She eyed Sahvrin, hoping to learn what on earth she was saying wrong to be laughed at. He seemed to be holding back a smile. “I don’t get what’s so funny,” she finally said to him, not as loud. “I feel like I’m missing a joke.”

“Don’t worry,” he said to her. “It’s not really that funny. Cajuns just know how to make the best out of hard things.”

Hard things? Was he suggesting that these handsome men couldn’t find a woman to be with them out there? Might have something to do with their fornicating ways. Maybe if they were more like Sahvrin, they’d have a better chance. You can’t expect to find anybody serious by looking in social dumpsters. “You guys can get a mail-order bride,” she said, smiling.

They all looked at her, curious.

“It was a joke,” she said. “I mean maybe there’s such a thing, there used to be, I don’t know.”

This got them all talking in French again which pushed her out of the conversation. She glanced at Sahvrin, finding him looking pensive. She suddenly missed being alone with him. He was so much more…attentive. She couldn’t seem to get enough of that with him.

She gave her attention to the scenery, again getting swept off her feet by the view. Didn’t take long for her smile to return. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the air again, holding her hand out to feel the warm breeze as the boat sped along the winding waterways a little faster now.

She turned to find Sahvrin staring at her again and her pulse raced at the hungry look in his eyes. “How far is it?” she asked.

He leaned forward and she did too. “Vous êtes belle like the swamp, Ma Petite.”

She looked at him, gaze narrowed with a small smile, mouthing “What?”

He didn’t tell her with words, but he did with his eyes and whatever it was, she really liked it. She fought to hide what his mysterious words did to her, remembering their secret.

“Thirty minutes,” he finally said, grinning at the trees.

She regarded him, confused. “What’s thirty minutes?”

He turned his smile at her. “How long it will take to get there.”

Wow, thirty minutes. “How do you even find your way?” she wondered, realizing how impossible it seemed to keep track.

“Sahvrin has a gift,” Bart said, smiling at her.

She looked at Sahvrin who dismissed the claim with a headshake.

“No?” she wondered, looking back at Bart for more details.

“I just don’t drown my brain cells in booze,” Sahvrin explained.

Beth tucked runaway strands of hair behind her ear.

“Sahvrin’s our Swamp saint,” Zep said with a beaming grin and bounce of his brows.

Again, she regarded Sahvrin, finding him absorbed in the scenery passing by. Either he was ignoring him or bored.

“Hey, Sahvrin,” Jek called. “Your lil girlfriend is waiting for you. Look alive.”

Girlfriend? They turned a corner in the bayou and Beth spied a dock on the right with people on it. Girls, she realized. In bikinis. Great.

Sahvrin held his hand out to her, and she took it, sitting next to him where he directed. As they passed the girls, the brothers whistled and hollered French, and Beth watched all four of them stand and holler back. She gasped and turned away when one lifted her bikini top and yelled Sahvrin’s name.

“The view is much better to the left, Ma Petite,” he said, looking in the opposite direction. She realized what he’d just done, and relief flooded her.

“Wow,” she awed, staring at the tree line. “Very friendly neighbors.”

“Qui,” he said, dryly.

She regarded him out the corner of her eye. “You have not so secret admirers. I’m not surprised.” She gave him a smile to show she wasn’t the jealous type. Wasn’t true but she could control herself about it. Plus, he hadn’t done anything to provoke her jealousy, he can’t really control what women do.

They finally turned off the main waterway, or what seemed like a main waterway and drove through a series of small water roads. Much like Sahvrin’s house, theirs also had a winding driveway. She was eager to see what was around the next bend.

“Oh, look, turtles!” she cried, pointing them out to Sahvrin. “Sunbathing.”

“You like to sunbathe, Miss Beth?”

She glanced over her shoulder at Zep’s smiling face. “I like the sun,” was all she cared to say. He added something in French, irking her, especially that he laughed after whatever it was. She remembered she was nearly fluent in Italian and turned with a pleasant smile. “Non lo sai che è scortese parlare degli altri in una lingua stranierato?”

She turned back around with a light smirk in the sudden silence.

“What language is this?” Sahvrin asked, smiling like she’d surprised him yet again.

“Italian.”

He spoke French over his shoulder with a laugh then looked at her. “I told him you are nothing like the simpleton women he’s accustomed to and should be careful.”

She gave him a full-on smile. “Well thank you for that interpretation.” She faced forward again. “Maybe it’s a northern thing,” she said. “But when we want to say things about people that we don’t want them to hear, we do this neat thing and say it behind their back, not right in their face in another language.”

Sahvrin laughed loudly at that and turned a little to his brothers. “Ma Petite says she would like to learn French so she can understand everything we’re saying.” She turned to him with raised brows, making him laugh more. “Don’t you?”

“I do, yes, but obviously I won’t learn it as fast as you all speak it.”

“How about I translate when it’s something I feel you would want to know?”

She considered while feeling it was a half-ass deal but agreed.

“So do I get to know what you said to him, Ma Petite?”

“I asked him if he didn’t know it was rude to speak about people in a foreign tongue.”

He gave her a look of pure delight. “Allow me to translate in French, Ma Petite.” He proceeded to, and they all hissed with painful noises around their laughs.

“We stand corrected,” Bart said. “No more being rude with our native tongue.”

Crap so French was their native tongue? “English isn’t your first language?” she asked Sahvrin.

“Ah, no, Ma Petite,” he said easily. “We are strong believers in preserving our culture and only speak the Cajun French unless we don’t need to.”

Dammit. “I should’ve learned French,” she said, a little sad.

“It’s not quite the same, but if you knew it, you would better understand us.”

“Oh, so it’s a different dialect?”

“More like a language created out of necessity from when our people moved here from Acadia. We created new words in a new place to describe all the new things. It is a mix of our fancy French and the mother language of this land, English? Yes?”

She remembered some of the terms. “Is that the same as Creole?”

He gave an indifferent shrug. “People like to fight over identity, Ma Petite. Who is called this and who is called that, who came first and who came second. But I call it a dish we love to eat here-- jambalaya? We put all sorts of amazing ingredients into a dish, and we mix it up into one thing. That’s what this country is. A big pot of jambalaya. Full of the best tastes from every culture.”

“You done woke the professor,” Jek said from the back of the boat. “Goes to college and comes back too smart for his own britches.”

She snapped her gaze to him. “You went to college?”

“Hell, he left too smart for his britches,” August said. “Went to college at seventeen.”

They all laughed while she stared at him for an answer.

“Guilty,” he said, like he wasn’t proud of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Where? What did you go for?”

“I told you our brother was gifted,” Bart bragged.

“It’s not a gift it’s hard work. You would have managed the same if you had listened to Mah-Mah and Pah-Pah.”

“Sorry, bro-dearest, my job as the middle child was to cut up, and I did.”

“He’s a grand master of it,” Sahvrin agreed.

“So where did you go?”

“I went to the University of Louisiana, Ma Petite.”

“He’s an artist,” Bart said, or accused.

“An artist,” she gasped, jaw dropped. “How amazing! What kind?”

“Every kind,” Bart went on. “There ain’t nothin he touches that don’t come away with the Sahvrin smack.”

“Well, my favorite talent of his happens to be the one that is making me rich, “Jek said.

“Which one is that?” she wondered over her shoulder when Sahvrin seemed happy to sit on all the details.

“Mechanical Engineer. That boy can modify anything—and he does.”

She shoved him with a gasp. “Holding back on me, I see. Maybe I want to renegotiate what you teach me now.”

“That ain’t all he can do,” Zep said. “The man is a genius with paint brushes.”

“Dude, really?” Jek said, sounding angry.

Beth eyed Sahvrin, finding his face dark. Were they giving him grief because he didn’t pursue every talent he possessed? “I think a mechanical engineer is an amazing art,” she said, truthfully. “I would love to see some of your work.”

“You’d love to see some of his paintings,” Zep went on, clearly pushing buttons.

Beth realized there was more to it than they were saying, and she burned with curiosity now. But the mood it put Sahvrin in was really pissing her off.

“Sometimes we switch passions when we realize which are more important,” Beth said.

“We’re under strict orders to not talk about it, Miss Beth,” August informed, buried hostility and all.” This prompted French from Sahvrin which remained untranslated. It also ushered in a silence that lasted till they pulled up at another pier.

The sight that came with it changed the subject and the depressing mood.

“Oh my God,” she said, gawking at the mini mansion of yellow and white painted wood set back on a huge piece of land enshrouded in Cypress trees. “This is just…beautiful.”

Sahvrin got out the boat and turned to help her. “I will introduce you to my family and then we have to go,” he said, not quite making eye contact with her. “You will be okay?”

She nodded, holding his sudden stare while worry knotted her stomach. Was he upset with her? The idea made her sick since he was leaving, and she’d maybe never find out. She glanced up to see a group of women headed toward them, waving and smiling. Dear God. “Sahvrin, they dressed up? Oh my God, how do I look?” she hissed in distress.

Why he found humor in that, she had no idea but any smile on his face after the college thing was worth seeing, even at her expense. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “This is how they always dress, Ma Petite. And you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. Never forget that.” His lips brushed her cheek as he pulled away, heading down the pier while she stood there breathless, her heart dancing in her chest.

“I think he likes you,” Bart muttered as he passed her. “And that’s a good thing,” he added, over his shoulder with a wink.

“Yeah, keep chipping away at that square mile block,” Jek mumbled as he passed her next.

What? What block? And why was it a good thing that he liked her? So many clues creating so many questions and no time to ponder with the royalty parade approaching. She never would’ve dreamed people like this existed, not in this remote location. The house and massive yard was like a hidden paradise, another world, just from the little she could see. They reminded her of Victorian royalty only the Swamp edition. Dresses that were fitted and flowing. Nothing flashy, just natural colors and beauty.

A beautiful woman came toward her, long silver hair flowing, huge smile on her face. She looked familiar and could hardly believe that might be his mother. “Beth,” she called, arms stretched out as she came, wrapping her in a tight embrace for nearly a whole minute, hand stroking her head. “Oh honey,” she soothed, finally pulling back while the shock of such an affectionate welcome threw her right off her composure horse. “It’s so nice to see you again! I’m Claudette, Sahvrin’s Mah-Mah? And now I’m your Mah-Mah, yes?”

Wow, she was so young looking. The kind woman didn’t wait for an answer as she turned and introduced her to about half a dozen more ladies, all beautiful and giving her the same welcome.

Before it was over, Beth wept as she finished out the heart-felt hugs with ‘thank you’s, feeling like Dorothy leaving OZ, only she was just getting there and wondered where these people had been all her life?

Then just like that, the atmosphere changed to excitement as his Mah-Mah held her hand and tugged her to the great huge house. They walked up the incline and more of the paradise came into view and she gasped at it all. Was like a tiny village. There was the big house, then other small matching houses scattered about. She was in some strange fairytale dream in another time it felt like. She caught Sahvrin’s hot eyes on her and knew it wasn’t a dream at all. It was wonderfully real.