“I was fifteen, Miss Pauline,” Saria said, rolling her eyes. “I hardly broke his heart. I hit him over the head with a flower pot and told him if ed to put his hand down my shirt again, I’d shoot him with my gun. He was such a dog. He was always feeling up poor Charisse as well.”

Pauline looked outraged. “You should have told your brothers.”

Saria made a face. “Really? Because they were home so much and paid such attention to me? They sent money home and figured that was enough. They were not goin’ to deal with pere, no one was.” She gave Pauline a mischievous smile. “By that time I’d gotten over childish resentments and fantasies of five brothers dotin’ on me, and realized it was far better not to be noticed by them. Otherwise they’d be tryin’ to boss me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sort of like they do now.”

Pauline nodded her head. “It’s true, cher, your pere was a mean drunk.”

Drake suppressed a groan. If her father was such a mean drunk, why did everyone think it was okay for Saria to cope with him alone? What the hell was wrong with everyone?

Saria’s gaze met his. “He never laid a hand on me.”

There was underlying humor in her tone. She wasn’t lying exactly, but she sure wasn’t telling the entire truth.

Pauline glanced at her sharply. “He switch you, child?”

“Only when he could catch me, which wasn’t often, and then I left for days. He didn’ get to eat much. He learned quick not to bother, no matter how mad he was.” Saria grinned at her, uncaring that her father had taken a thin branch to her.

“It’s a little late to be asking her that now,” Drake said, making no apologies for the anger and accusation in his voice. Damn them all, leaving a child alone with a drunken father in the swamp. “Where the hell were the churchgoing women?”

Saria leaned across the table and put a hand over his. “Don’ be upset. I’m not. I had a great childhood. Pere loved me. He drowned in sorrow after ma mere died. I wasn’t the easiest child to try to raise.”

No, Drake had to agree she probably hadn’t been easy to raise, not with her need for independence and her iron will. Saria Boudreaux was one of kind. She hadn’t thought to complain to anyone about her father or her workload. Loyalty was a big part of her makeup, even to her absent brothers. She hadn’t told on Elie Jeanmard when she could have gotten him in deep trouble. If her father cared as she said he did, and he was leopard, as he had to have been—Elie would have gotten beaten within an inch of his life for touching Saria against her will.

“You should have been protected.” Any leopard lair knew that their women were of paramount importance.

“My father taught me to take care of myself,” Saria said, “and I’m grateful to him.”

“I heard Elie and his sister, Danae, are home for vacation,” Pauline said. “My sister told me they came into the post office when she was working. Iris said Elie is very handsome and of course Danae is beautiful.” She leaned close and lowered her voice, as if revealing a great secret. “Danae is seeing a boy in college and Amos and Elie are very unhappy about it. They think it’s serious.”

“Poor Danae,” Saria sympathized. “I much prefer mon pere to hers.”

“Saria,” Pauline hissed her name.

Saria just laughed as she reached for another beignet. “You have a crush on that man,” she accused. “I heard a rumor that Amos has been stoppin’ by for dinner, but I didn’ believe it until now. Tell me everything, Miss Pauline.”

Twin flags of color lit Pauline’s cheeks. She fanned herself. “Amos Jeanmard was the handsomest boy in school. Well . . . he and Buford Tregre. Iris was so madly in love with Buford. We planned to marry, but their families objected—strenuously.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Buford dumped Iris and she was devastated. She sat in her room for days sobbin’ and then Bartheleme Mercier began callin’. Bartheleme defied his pere and married Iris, but Amos couldn’t go against his family. They were big and very devout and his entire world.”

She looked so sad, Drake wanted to comfort her. Her love for Amos Jeanmard had obviously never faded.

Pauline managed a rueful smile. “Very Romeo and Juliet. I never married. Amos did and had two children. He was very true to his wife, but he visited me often and we’d sit on the porch and talk. We didn’ dare come in the house. After his wife died, he began courtin’ me again. I enjoy his visits, but we’re both set in our ways. He loves the swamp and I love my home here.” She shrugged. “I’m too old to change my ways now. We missed our time together, but I have no regrets.”

“I always wondered why you never married,” Saria said.

“I loved him. I still do,” Pauline said simply. “There was no other man for me.”

She wasn’t leopard, but she’d been the woman Amos had loved. Could she have been leopard in another life cycle? It was possible. If the families were old and could trace their lineages hundreds of years, they might have intermarried, as Bartheleme Mercier obviously had done—marrying outside the shifter species. It would stand to reason without a large genetic pool available.

Drake sighed. The world was a big place and there were few shifters left. To find one’s mate was difficult at best. Pauline could have been Amos Jeanmard’s true mate, but her soul was now in the body of a nonshifter and Amos had chosen to put his species before his own needs. Drake didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. What about Jeanmard’s wife? Leopards scented lies. She very well could have lived a very unhappy existence knowing he didn’t really love her.