The Taking (Seven Deadly Sins #3)(4)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Of course, that was ludicrous, there was no danger there, and it was equally absurd that she didn’t want to remove the ring. She was planning to leave her husband. She was. Soon. So there was no reason she couldn’t take his wedding ring off for a minute.

“Sure.” Before she could change her mind, Regan yanked the band off and dropped it into the voodoo priest’s outstretched hand.

The sense of giddy relief that flooded her when the symbol of her marriage left her possession caught her off guard. She sucked in a few rapid breaths, amazed that she could feel so much lighter, so much more confident in her decision to leave, after something as simple as removing the ring.

“Shuffle the cards.” He pushed the deck across the table to her as he turned her ring over and over in his other hand, giving it a cursory glance before resting it on the table, out of her reach.

Regan eyed the ring, wanting to ask for it back, then stopping herself. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was intending to steal it. Let it sit there on the crisp white tablecloth for a minute. She took the cards and shuffled them carefully, precisely. They felt different from regular playing cards, softer, pliable. The colors had faded, and they looked dirty to her, not the fresh dirt of a recent soiling, but the indecipherable grim of years and years of handling.

“Cut the deck in three piles,” he told her, when she stopped shuffling and held them out to him.

Trying not to think about washing her hands posthaste, Regan cut the deck as directed, staring down at the cards. It was too difficult to look at him. There was something about his eyes, probably the result of the unusual light color, that made her feel like he was seeing her with altogether too much clarity. He wasn’t buying the careful image she presented to the world of happy wife, a classy, pulled-together modern woman.

A glance up showed he wasn’t looking at her, but at the cards as he picked a pile and started laying them out in a pattern. He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones, a long narrow nose, and a perfectly proportioned mouth, with lips that had just a hint of flushed color to them. There was something so primal and male, and yet so beautiful about him.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“The cards.” His hand indicated the spread on the table.

Regan saw nothing but pictures and swirls of color, all strange, meaningless images. “I don’t know anything about the cards. I’m Presbyterian.”

There was a short pause, then he actually burst out laughing. “Now that was funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Irritated, Regan sat back in her chair. She didn’t need this random man to laugh at her.

But he immediately stopped, his smile eradicated by her words. “I know. You never try to be funny, do you? You don’t think you’re witty. You’re afraid of being judged, so you hide behind platitudes and social correctness and never say what you’re really thinking.”

A hot flush rushed over Regan. God, that was a little too close to home. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And there’s nothing wrong with being polite.”

“You do know what I’m talking about.” He tapped a card, the upside-down images blurring. “You try very hard to please all the time, you always have. But maybe you need to please yourself sometimes.”

Leg bouncing anxiously under the table, Regan shook her head, not even sure what she was denying. “I like myself just fine.”

His voice lowered. “And so do they, cherie, so do they. They never expected you to replace your sister.”

Regan’s body went completely still, the heat rushing through her extremities, hot saliva flooding her mouth, the unexpected buzzing in her ears and a sweeping dizziness making her question if she might actually faint. But she swallowed hard and the blurry world sharpened again. “I don’t have a sister.”

He was a hack, that was all. Just guessing, throwing out vague pronouncements, the kind that anyone could interpret however they chose.

“But you did,” he murmured, eyes on her while his hands pushed the cards together in a pile. “We don’t need these. I know all I need to about you. You had a sister, and when she died, the fire in you extinguished. You turned down the volume on your personality so that you wouldn’t hurt your parents any more than they had already been hurt. You wanted to be perfect.”

Now the tears did dribble out, unwanted, humiliating, as Regan bit her lip to prevent it from trembling. “How could you know about my sister?” she whispered. “Did you do research on me? It’s very cruel to bring her into a form of entertainment.”

He shook his head. “I’m not trying to be cruel. I’m trying to release you. Your parents don’t expect you to be perfect or to be your sister. They love you, just as you are.”

The stranger’s words lacerated her, and she wanted so much to believe them. Regan put her hand over her eyes, trying to push back the tears. “Of course they love me,” she managed to choke out. She knew that.

“They won’t understand, but they won’t be angry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The decision you’re weighing right now. Your parents may not be happy about it, but just remember they love you.”

“What decision?” The heat suffusing her had turned to a chill, crawling across her skin like encroaching winter.

His fingers landed on her wedding ring, and he rocked it on the table, back and forth, back and forth. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Regan wanted to snatch the ring from him and leave, abandon his crazy pronouncements and dirty tarot cards and retreat from the courtyard. But she stayed in her chair, curious as to what he would say next, mesmerized by the casual way he fondled the symbol of her marriage. On her hand, it spoke volumes. On the table, it was just a pretty ring that held no power.

She jumped, the sensation of someone touching her shoulder sending her whirling around. “Something touched me!”

“It was probably a plant brushing you,” he said mildly.

Regan swept her gaze left and right, squeezing the spot on her shoulder where she had felt distinct pressure. “There are no plants within three feet of me.”

Even before the words were fully out of her mouth, she felt it again, this time on both of her shoulders, as if someone was standing behind her and resting their hands on either side of her head. She leaned forward in her chair, a little panicked as she looked around again, but the sensation remained.