Free Pamela Morsi by The Love Charm

friend
Laron. But then whom would she marry? Clearly she and Laron were
perfectly paired. They were equally matched in grace and good
looks, and he was head and shoulders taller than she. Her dainty
feminine charms enhanced the appeal of his masculine strength.
Anyone looking in their direction would note immediately what a
handsome couple they made. They looked as if they belonged
together.
    Were his careless words about to drive them
apart? Was his unsolicited opinion about to cause upheaval to
people he cared about? And, most disturbing of all, was it his own
selfish, unrequited passion that had caused him to speak?
    Laron Boudreau was the closest friend he had
in the world. Armand wanted what was best for him.
    Armand had been thinking himself wise and
helpful when he'd given his opinion on marriage without love. Wise
and helpful. But now . . . now . . .
    Armand shook his head furiously at his own
conceit. He had urged his friend to give up a genuine opportunity
to wed in order to continue an illicit union with a strange foreign
woman of low morals. A woman Laron could never marry because she
was still the legal wife of another man.
    And Aida Gaudet would soon be seeking a new
beau.
    At first he'd thought this could be a good
thing. When she had found her way to his tree-shaded hiding place,
his heart had taken up a hurried pace. She was beautiful, of
course. But there was more about her, more about Aida, almost a
glow that surrounded her. It was what drew men to her side, Armand
was sure. Many women had fine figures, handsome hair, and shy
beckoning smiles. But Aida Gaudet had some unique indefinable
something that seemed always to cheer the heart and brighten the
day. And Aida was so guileless and uncomplicated, she remained
unaware of the real source of her attraction.
    Armand was not unaware. She was like the warm
glow of an autumn fire, hard for any man to resist.
    "Someone I'm sure you would never
suspect."
    Orva Landry's words, when he'd asked whom
Aida would set upon for a new romance, now had an ominous ring.
Aida Gaudet was a beautiful and desirable woman. But if she were
not safely bound to Boudreau, she would surely seek out another
man. And because she was not very bright, her choice might well be
an unwise one.
    It was just as he had told Laron; Aida would
choose a man the same way she chose cloth, for the prettiness of
its aspect rather than the durability of the fabric. Laron was the
best-looking young man on the river, but here in Prairie l'Acadie,
Armand knew what man might well come in second place.
    The image of his brother Jean Baptiste
kneeling at her feet helping with her shoes came to his mind.
    "It was nothing," Armand muttered to himself.
A still, frightening coldness settled about his heart. "It was
nothing." And indeed it was nothing, helping her with her shoes. A
public gesture with much joking or teasing; no one present took it
seriously. But then no one present had heard Orva Landry's
warning. No one present had heard his brother's dissatisfied
complaints about married life.
    And with any luck at all, no one present had
seen the two of them sneaking back from the privacy of the
woods.
    With fear distorting his reason, Armand
thought of poor Felicite swelled with child. He thought of Gaston
and Marie. He thought of little Pierre, gurgling happily as was his
nature.
    He closed his eyes and swallowed hard against
the fear that filled his throat. "Please God," Armand prayed into
the quiet stillness of the Louisiana night. "Please don't let this
be happening."
    Armand hadn't seen them leave. He'd turned
away from the sight of the festivities when Laron had swept her
into the dance. They were such a handsome couple. It hurt him to
look at them. He made his way to a group of men swapping hunting
stories, telling jokes. Hippolyte Arcenaux had warned him that
Father Denis wanted to speak with him and Armand quickly made
himself scarce.
    He was near the edge of the woods when he
heard the familiar