Drake groaned and put his head on the table. The thought of her hunting alligators was beyond his imagination. What the hell was wrong with the men in her family?

“Can I see the pictures you took last night?” Pauline asked.

The innkeeper was smooth, Drake decided. He sat up straight and speared another rice cake, looking casual, not letting on that he was considering shaking Saria and accusing the innkeeper of being a blatant liar. Pauline hadn’t missed a beat, but she wanted to know if Saria had been taking pictures in the swamp during the leopard fight. He would bet everything he had that Pauline would insist on seeing the photographs and she’d take care to examine the time stamp.

Saria looked pleased. “Really? My brothers never want to see them. I wait for hours to get the right shot and when I do I’m so excited, but it’s kind of a letdown with no one wantin’ to see them. If you mean it, I’ll show them to you when we get back this evenin’.”

“I’d love to see them too,” Drake said. “Since you grew up on the edge of the swamp, you probably have seen some very unusual things others have never had the privilege of seeing.” He leaned toward her. “You’re a very fascinating woman, Saria. How did you get into photography?”

The warm admiration in his voice caused Saria to blush and Pauline to look at him again with open speculation, but he didn’t care. Everything about Saria fascinated him and he wanted to know more. The fact was, he was feeling very possessive of her and he didn’t much care who knew, not when she was managing to be so blasé.

Saria sent him another mischievous smile. “I wasn’t exactly the type of child who loved school. I wasn’t used to anyone tellin’ me what to do and on beautiful days, I wanted to be in the swamp, not in a stuffy school room. Photography was the only thing that kept me there.”

“You were a wild childthe,” Pauline confirmed. “No one knew what to do with you. Your pere paid no attention to business after your mere died. We all despaired of you comin’ to your senses.”

Saria laughed. “You know what she means by that, don’ you, Drake? Every good Cajun girl should get married and have babies. Lots of babies. And they should cook and clean and do whatever their man tells them.”

“What else do you want, Saria?” Pauline asked, genuinely confused. “Gettin’ married is a good thing. Your pere definitely needed to talk some sense to you.”

“Too late now,” Saria said with a strained smile. “He didn’t have anything to say before he died and he sure doesn’t now.”

Drake glanced at her. Her lashes were lowered, veiling her eyes. Her tone had been even enough, but there had definitely been an estrangement between Saria and her father.

“He should have tanned your hide every now and then,” Pauline stated.

Saria smirked, her good humor instantly restored. “I wouldn’ cook for him if he’d done that and he liked to eat every once in a while.”

“She was tendin’ bar when she was thirteen,” Pauline sniffed. “And runnin’ the family store. It wasn’ right.”

“So you all told me—and mon pere.” Saria’s laughter spilled out. “Not that it did you much good. Even Father Gallagher was upset about the bar.”

“Thirteen.” Drake was shocked. “How is that possible? There must be a drinking age.”

“Of course, there is,” Pauline said. “The bar is out in the swamp. No tourists or police.”

“I thought you had brothers.” Drake was outraged on Saria’s behalf. He couldn’t imagine a young girl surrounded by drunk men. Her absent brothers had a lot to answer for. He might just teach them a lesson himself.

Saria shrugged. “They were gone most of the time. And I grew up around the various men who were regulars at the bar. They looked out for me.”

Pauline gave a dramatic sniff. “No one looked out for you. You didn’ like somethin’ you just disappeared into the swamp and no one could get you out.”

Drake raised his eyebrow. The accents were getting thicker as the women grew more animated. “You really were a wild child.”

“I didn’t like anyone tellin’ me what to do.” Saria made it a statement of fact, without apology.

“Oh, she worked, that one did,” Pauline said. “She did all the cookin’ and cleanin’ in that house. She was a little thing, barely able to stand up to the stove.”

“I used a stool,” Saria explained.

Pauline gave another sniff. “And she did the fishin’ and trappin’ as well.”

“You make it sound terrible, Pauline. I loved my life. It was my house and my swamp, my world. And it still is.”

“See?” Pauline appealed to Drake. “She’s always been like this. It never mattered what anyone said to her, she did what she wanted. We all got together to try to talk to her pere, but he wouldn’t listen. Told us to mind our own business.”

Saria blew her a kiss. “I appreciated it.”

“Is that why every single one of the women who tried to intervene ended up with a baby alligator after they interceded on your behalf?” Pauline demanded. “She snuck into their homes and left them all a present—a very pointed present. I received one as well.”

Saria threw back her head and laughed. Drake had the sudden vision of a precocious child with gleaming white-gold hair, mischievous and running wild. He found her more fascinating than ever. His Saria had to have a backbone of steel if she was standing up to an entire community at such an early age.