My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(54)
Author: Erin McCarthy

And why that was significant. The first Damien had cheated on his wife with a Rosa. It was too much to be a coincidence.

In the middle of her contentment with her life, the promise of stability, hope for the future, amazing sex, her feelings of complete and utter balance with Damien, even a peaceful resignation toward Lizzie, this tidbit suddenly rocked her boat, shoving her right toward the metaphorical alligators.

Anna wasn’t on the porch, and when Marley knocked, the older woman called out, "Come on in."

Marley found Anna in the kitchen taking the skin off of a peach. "I’m sorry, am I interrupting?" Two seconds earlier she had been ready to call this little old woman to the mat for making up fake letters, and now suddenly she felt guilty for even thinking Anna could be dishonest. She was just a lonely old woman who barely came up to Marley’s br**sts.

"Not at all. Peach?" Anna held out a fresh one to Marley.

"No, thank you." Marley crossed her arms. "I was just wondering how you got Marie’s letters."

"Marissabelle found them." Anna sliced her skinned peach into thin pieces onto a paper plate. She didn’t seem to think it was odd that Marley had barged in asking such a random question. "In the big house."

"Did she live there?"

"Honey, she was his mistress. She didn’t live in his house. She lived in his town house on Esplanade for a while because he didn’t want her regular like, just when the urge struck."

Oh, Lord. Town house on Esplanade. The very town house where she had taken an odd, intimate nap with Damien two days before. The beautiful house where she had shared take-out dinners with him on the balcony, then made love to him in that big, white bed over and over, was the very same place where Death’s Door had holed up his mistress.

Something about that made her feel very uncomfortable.

"Then he gave her this house, of course, when he decided he wanted a closer reach."

"So how did she find the letters?"

Anna shrugged.

Marley wasn’t sure how to dance around what she really wanted to ask. So she just said it. "Are you sure these letters are real? There are some strange… similarities between what happens in them and the present."

Anna sucked a fruit slice between her thin, gray lips. Those dark eyes pierced Marley, never blinking, unreadable. "Everything is real, child. Even things you couldn’t possibly imagine are real. Go on and finish the letters, then come back and see me. We’ll talk it all through."

There was something in the way Anna spoke that sent a shiver up Marley’s spine. Marley stared at the paring knife in Anna’s gnarled hand, suddenly wondering how old she actually was, where all her family had gone.

"As soon as I finish them, I’ll bring them back. I’m going to be heading home soon. Sunday." It was the logical thing to do. The day after the party. She could see Lizzie and still be home in time for the start of the school year. Sensible.

"Does he know you’re leaving?"

They both knew who he referred to. "No."

Anna shook her head. "He’s not going to want to let you go until he’s tired of you."

That irritated the absolute hell out of her. This wasn’t about him. This was about her. It was her choices, her sister, her sex life, her liberation, her future.

"I have no doubt that he’ll survive the loss."

Anna grinned, a secret sly smile that raked Marley’s nerves raw.

"No doubt," the old woman said with a laugh. "No doubt."

"I am sorry," he said for the sixth or seventh time, his eyes red and bleary, shirt and jacket disheveled as he stood next to my bed.

"I know," I managed, trying not to cry again. "As am I. But it’s not your fault."

"I should have taken more care with you."

"It does not signify." It had occurred to me, as I had bled and bled and bled out our baby’s life during the night, that I was being punished for my behavior these past few months. I had not been a moral and upright person, not fit to raise a child, and now I would not be entrusted with such a task.

His fingers brushed over mine, softly, as if he were afraid to touch me. I knew I must look ghastly. I felt weak, heartsick, ashamed, my womb still contracting in painful spasms.

"It does. I promise you that next time, I shall exercise more caution, I will not anger you… I will not dally with the servants. In fact, I shall send away all the female staff under the age of fifty so you can rest easy in your trust of me. lam sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

Would you understand, Angelique, that at that moment, I knew I was completely and utterly lost to him… that I loved Damien, that I felt the pull of compassion, the urge to comfort, to cleave him to me, even as I barely had strength to draw a full breath? In the sixteen months of our marriage, I had never seen what could be characterized as genuine emotion from my husband. At that moment, he was sorry, and I believed him, as I could see quite clearly it was the truth.

"Oh, Damien," I said. "Darling, if it is your fault then it is mine as well. I was a willing participant, not to mention that I have always been in exceedingly poor health. I am of a petite stature and perhaps will never be able to bear a child."

That was my greatest fear, one I had not been able to voice until now. That now that Damien and I were together, truly married, and I could see that he felt some level of affection, concern for me, I feared the cruel irony of never being able to seal our bond permanently with the glorious gift of a child.

He gripped my hand fully, entwining his fingers with mine and squeezing. "You are not in poor health. You have not been ill one day since our vows. I am completely confident that you will have many of my children and they shall all be dark-haired beauties like their mother."

"Even the boys?" I asked through a watery smile, grateful for his reassurance.

"Yes. But big and strapping like their father."

I laughed, but had to stop midway when pain shot through my lower abdomen. An involuntary gasp left my mouth and Damien looked at me in alarm.

"Gigi!" he roared over his shoulder. "Send the physician back up. He is in the drawing room."

"I’m fine," I managed, even as my doubled-over posture betrayed me. It was difficult to put on a brave face, though, and I wished to be alone. "After the doctor assures you of that, I believe I’d like to take a nap. Will you come to me in a few hours?"

"Of course." He kissed the top of my head. "I think I’ll go for a quick ride, then I’ll be right back."

But two hours later I was roused from a restless sleep by loud voices in the drive, a woman screaming, horses snorting, men shouting.