My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(55)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Gigi, who had been sitting in a chair mending, rushed to the window.

"What is it?" I asked, struggling to sit up. My body was not cooperating and dizziness rushed over me.

Gigi shrieked, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"What? " She was starting to alarm me.

"Oh, Madame! It is Monsieur du Bourg!" Darting a quick glance at me, she burst into tears and leaned out the window again. "He is in the drive, on the ground. I think… I think he is dead. His head…" The words dissolved into hysterical sobbing and she ran over to the water basin on my bureau and heaved into it.

I didn’t bother to go to the window. Instead I ran straight for the door, ignoring the dizziness, the wave of fatigue that washed over me, the way my legs felt cold and disconnected from my upper body, and the sharp stabbing in my belly.

"Madame!" Gigi was screaming now, rushing after me. "You cannot! The bleeding, oh God." She started to pray, a Hail Mary, frantic and disjointed.

I was down the stairs, out on the porch, in the drive, and there I saw what Gigi had. Damien, on his back, his neck at a curious angle, blood streaming from his temple. It was obvious his neck was broken. Our majordomo and the overseer were down on their knees.

Even as I sank to my own knees, even as I knew he couldn’t survive the injury, I felt blood rushing down my legs again, my dash down the stairs reinvigorating my body’s own trauma.

"Madame du Bourg!" The majordomo looked at me in horror, already peeling his coat off and laying it over my shoulders. "You shouldn’t look… you shouldn’t be out of bed."

"Is he dead?" I touched Damien’s forehead even as I spoke the words. His flesh still felt warm. My hand over his mouth rewarded me with tiny puffs of breath, "He’s alive! We need to get him into the house. Take him up to his bedchamber."

Our majordomo looked worried, "Of course, Madame." He called for several slaves who had been watching from the corner of the house, and they ran over.

"He can’t live, Madame. He has broken his neck," the overseer said, his lips pulled back like he was going to be ill. "There’s no hope for it. He’s probably dead already, just warm still."

His words sent heat rushing through my face, and I thought for a second I might faint, but I rallied. The slaves cradled my husband in their amis, waiting for instructions. I directed them to the house, where Gigi was standing in the doorway sobbing.

"Then he shall die in his house instead of in the dirt." I tried to stand, but the landscape, shifted and whirled in front of me and I fell back to my knees. A glance down showed vibrant spots of blood on my nightrail.

As the majordomo lifted me into his arms, I asked, "What happened to Damien?"

The overseer adjusted the jacket over me as the majordomo walked me toward the house. "He was thrown from his horse, Madame. That animal has been skittish for the last three months. I can’t explain it. We never had any problems with him before, then suddenly he wouldn’t tolerate Monsieur du Bourg. Good Lord, this is just like his father, only two years ‘passed now."

My head was too heavy, so I let it loll back. I stared at the sky, so crisp and blue, so enhanced with glorious white clouds. "It’s such a beautiful day," I said, because it was. The air was warm and clear, the world a humming, peaceful place, and it was my time to leave it.

"Why in hell would she say that?" the overseer whispered urgently to the majordomo.

"The shock."

Shock? Yes, it was a shock that at the same time I had lost our baby, I was also losing my husband.

But that shock was nothing compared to what I discovered a mere hour later.

"I don’t suppose I can talk you out of attending the party," Damien said as they drank coffee in the garden at sunset on Saturday.

Marley raised an eyebrow. "I don’t suppose you can." She stared into her cup, a black French toile pattern rising above her sloshing coffee. "I have to see Lizzie."

"I understand. I do. But please stay with me. And don’t drink anything."

A girl drank one spiked martini and some people thought she needed to be watched for the rest of her life. But she’d be a liar if she said there wasn’t something very appealing about having him care enough to be concerned. She was usually the worrier, not the other way around.

"Can I at least have bottled water?"

"Don’t be a smartass."

Marley pulled in a deep breath. "I love the way it smells here. Everything is thick and floral. I never thought I’d like Louisiana so much, but it’s really gorgeous."

"Like you."

"Shameless flatterer. You already know I’ll sleep with you tonight, you can cut the crap."

"Extra favors." He winked.

Marley laughed. God, she was going to miss him. She really cared about him, was grateful for the time they’d had together, for who he was, and how they were lonely people who’d both been able to lean on each other when they needed it the most.

"You know I should leave tomorrow. Monday at the latest."

His smile quieted. "I was hoping we could ignore that—let’s say, oh, indefinitely. I don’t want you to leave, ma cherie. Not yet."

The sadness in his voice caused a big fat lump to leap into her throat. "I can’t stay. You know that. I have a career, family, my life back in Cincinnati." And she’d be taking back with her the knowledge that she was independent, strong, as sensual as any other woman. That was her liberation, her gift from him, and she would be forever grateful for it, even as she knew staying would be a mistake.

"I know." He leaned back in his chair, stared out at the garden, back to the sugar cane Marley could see way off in the distance. "That doesn’t mean I have to like it. I warned you from the very beginning that I’m a spoiled, selfish man. I want what I want. And I want you."

"You’re not nearly as selfish as you’d like to think you are." Marley twirled the coffee in her cup, setting it back down. "And you don’t really want me to stay. Not really. Right now I’m just attractive to you because I’m different. Prude."

"You weren’t a prude when you were screaming in the swamp, and in my bedroom."

"True." She was into the truth. She could own up to that. "But I’m not like your usual women."

"What does that mean? What do you think my usual women are like?"

"Look at Rosa. She’s thin and gorgeous."

"You’re gorgeous. And Rosa, she and I are toxic together. We bring out the worst in each other. I wouldn’t want you to be like her."