By Sandra Hill
Tiring of the pretentious global of haute couture, version Selene heads to New Orleans for one final task and is transported again in time to the previous South, the place she meets beguiling planter James Baptiste. unique.
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Example text
You're changing the subject. We were talking about slavery, James. " His jaw tightened with suppressed tension. " Selene felt tears welling in her eyes. For some reason, James's being a slave owner was a betrayal of sorts to her. It wasn't that she harbored romantic notions about him. She really didn't. But he represented her safe haven in this roller-coaster ride through time, and she couldn't bear to think that her security hinged even indirectly on the misery of slaves. "Save your blubbering for something you can change," he said tautly.
He soon set her straight... the brute. " Selene wasn't too happy about his wanting her gone. No woman relished rejection ... in any form. But she wished to leave him just as badly. Didn't she? "Why don't you wait for me in that restaurant over there? Give me fifteen minutes. " he reminded her rudely, then seemed to consider the significance of her words. " He stood with his legs spread slightly and his hands on his hips, an unreadable expression on his face. "Something like that," she muttered and turned to walk away.
James, you told Lizette that I was going to be your governess and help your mother. " He raked his fingers through his thick hair and shook his head slightly, as if he must be crazy. "Oui, it appears I have no choice. My brother is a vengeful man. He probably has us watched even now. " "He needs no purpose. Perhaps he would rape you and keep you as his mistress for a while, but somehow I doubt that. He has his own placee on Rampart Street. Besides, you are not quite to his usual tastes," he commented, sweeping her with a cursory glance.