My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(31)
Author: Erin McCarthy

It was pathetically easy to avoid him, and he never sought me out, which fueled my jealousy, my determination. There were loud parties more nights than not, parties I was not invited to hostess, parties that lingered on long into the night. I had glimpses out the windows of games on the front lawn, laughter and clinging gowns on women who were clearly not ladies. It seemed we had male house-guests, friends of Damien’s from town, and he was entertaining. Gigi whispered to me that below-stairs they told her these were the sort of parties Damien’s father had thrown before his death, and that the master seemed to be following in his predecessor’s footsteps. The servants said that Damien had different female companionship every night, the latest being a rather well-known widow who had fallen into a dissolute lifestyle.

Perhaps I should have taken that as a sign that my husband was irrevocably lost to sin, and that by my present course of action, I was merely following his example and allowing my base emotions to guide me. Even as jealousy, vanity, and selfishness fueled my determination, growing and spiraling faster and deeper inside of me, I did not note the warnings. I did not look upon Damien’s behavior and judge it with the disgust and contempt it deserved. I thought nothing of his salvation, and therefore, not of mine.

I merely wanted attention, wanted to know the secrets of femininity that other women had perfected, and I wanted to understand the power of seduction.

It was with this poisonous, inappropriate attitude that I went to my husband, susceptible, eager, in fact, to be coaxed into pleasures of the flesh.

This is where I blush, where I feel the keen prickles of shame as fully as if it were yesterday, Angelique. The guests had left, according to my helpful eyes and ears, Gigi. I had been dressed for hours, waiting for such an opportunity. Damien was in the garden, taking a cigar alone, so Gigi hurriedly pinched my cheeks, fussed with the bustle on my gown, and sent me on my way with an excited little wave of her hand.

For three weeks I had worried and wondered and anticipated Damien’s reaction to seeing me, and more importantly, my reaction to him. I knew nothing of the ways of the coquette, had no experience simpering and flirting. So when I slid out the back door into the garden, my heart was pounding, my breathing hard and fast, cheeks hot, I expected to feel embarrassment on seeing Damien.

I did not anticipate what stole over me when I paused on the path and took in his figure, legs spread, back partially to me, one boot up on the perimeter of the brick fountain, chest bent forward over his knee as he smoked and stared into the dark water. What I felt then was a warm anticipation, a physical attraction, a desire to move in nearer to him. I mistook this for tenderness, for a baffling realization that perhaps I’d grown fond of my husband during our self-imposed absence from one another. Perhaps I even cared for him, could grow to love this man who was to be my companion for life.

This was yet again the naivete of the young innocent misreading her response. I know now that what I felt was lust, new and unexplored, and not identifiable to the inexperienced, but very much a sexual desire springing to life.

"Pardon," I said, gathering my courage and inching forward. "Am I interrupting your solitude ? "

"Indeed you are." Damien turned his head, inspected me. "But I shall endeavor to forgive you."

Everything in me screamed to return to the house, to slink back to my chamber and accept who I was and how little I mattered to my husband. But a heretofore unknown pride stiffened my spine, forced my chin up, led my slippers over the pavers toward the fountain.

"Have your guests returned to town? "

"Yes." Damien stared at me. clearly curious. His eyes ran up and down over me, the dim light from the house casting a shadow over his face. "You are looking rather well this evening, Marie."

It was enough of a triumph to bolster me, to coax a smile to my lips. "I thank you most kindly."

"Do you?" He sounded faintly amused. He drew on his cigar and blew smoke over the fountain in a pungent cloud, his attention shifting from me back to the water.

That was it. Nothing but a cursory inspection of me, then… disinterest.

"I have missed you of late," I said with a boldness born of desperation. The bum, the ache inside of me demanded that I proceed, desired and clamored for his touch, his experience, his understanding of me as a woman.

But he merely laughed at me, a soft, deep rumble in his chest, the sound rolling over me, more terrible than a slap, more shocking than a slice to tender flesh.

"What is it that you want, Marie? More gowns? More pin money? No, that is not what you desire. Do you wish to return to France ? That I cannot allow. There is trouble stirring in France, you know, and it is not a good time for you to abandon me and our marriage."

"That is not what I want. I want you to… to return to me," I whispered, throat tight, cheeks burning.

"In your bed? Is that what you mean ? " Damien smiled, a cool, harsh smile. "I am shocked, my dear."

I said nothing. I could not. I merely stood there, heart racing, breath rushing in and out, and waited.

"Ah, I understand. This is because you wish for a child, yes? While I would like that too, I find myself displeased with you of late. I believe before we resume proper spousal relations, you owe me a most pretty apology for your unpleasant behavior."

Do you see what he was doing? The humiliation he was putting upon me? I believe he enjoyed my discomfort, and the position of power he held over me.

If I had been myself, the woman you raised, who had a firm understanding of right and wrong, a solid grip on her convictions, I should have walked away then and allowed him to wallow in his dyspeptic and cruel emotions. I did not.

All the vices that claim and coax and cajole us into sin were working upon me, and! was willing to debase myself in order to achieve my goal. I did not know it then, but at that moment I lost myself.

"I am sorry, Damien, if I have displeased you. That has never been my intention and I will try to be a more satisfying wife."

His eyebrow rose. He noticed the emphasis I put on a particular word. "That was not so hard, was it? And I accept your apology."

I could not prevent a sigh of relief.

But then he continued. "However, I will not return to your chamber tonight or any other night. If you wish a babe, you will come to my chamber." His voice was relaxed and even, but his eyes glittered sharply, his jaw stiff. "You will come to me, and you will climb into my bed and you will tell me exactly what it is you want. Then I shall be pleased to give it to you."