The Immortal American (The Immortal American Series) (26 page)

Before I thought of Hannah I had almost asked him to run away with me.

Instead I kissed him.

Volcanic heat poured from his body into mine as he returned my kiss. This was the last moment I would have Jacque in my life. I would marry soon, and I might bear children that could look like my sister. Yet I would never taste Jacque again. I would never see colors again or fairies or hear a man tell me that he had searched for me for decades.

I pulled at his undershirt, grasping it in my fists, forcing his body to meld with mine—side by side we lay kissing. His hands gently explored my hair, smoothing it, then journeyed down my neck; his other hand found my waist and embraced me all the more.

I tasted his salty, metallic tears. He released me enough to whisper, “
Je t’aime, chér. Je t’aime. Vous êtes un ange descend sur terre.
”

I sobbed at him calling me an angel come to earth. I whispered, “
Vos yeux sont aussi bleus que l’océan.
I’ll never look at the sea without thinking of you, your eyes.
Je t’aime
. I love you. I love you.”

He kissed me in a frenzy; I reciprocated.

Then, he pulled away from me and held my hands still. He swallowed, his whole face tense.

“I—I . . .”

I kissed him lightly. “I know.”

“You kissed me. I—but you kissed me.”

“I love you so much, Jacque. You must know, I always will.”

He looked at me then, his face so tense, his nose flared, his black brows furiously furrowed. Then suddenly he let out a breath. The tension seemed to go, as if he were resigned to our fate. “How do you feel,
chér
?”

I softly laughed. He was so sweet and considerate. “I’m nauseated. Sick. My head is killing me from drinking too much or  . . . from the thought of losing you. Forever. By God, but I will love you for as long as I live.”

He found a small smile and nodded. “
Bien.”
He rose to one of his elbows and reached for an empty goblet. From somewhere he retracted a silver flask, so similar to Colonel Devlin’s that it surprised me. He unscrewed the lid. “This will help with the headache,” he said, as he gingerly poured the clear liquid into the glass.

“Another of your mother’s tinctures?”

His smile was tight, but he shook his head. “
Non
, this is one is mine. Not of my creation. It is one I . . . discovered.”

I reached for the glass. Today would be the day I’d have to explain how champagne flutes landed in my room, how the velvet chairs came to be, how I was a betrayer of the worst kind, yet couldn’t seem to help myself from being anything but.

“
Chér
?”

I lifted the flute to my lips, but arched a brow to let him know I was listening.“I—I love you. Please, remember that.”

I kissed him again, but was so thirsty that the kiss was quick as well as my gulping down the oddly icy cool water he’d given me. It was just water, no herbs or taste other than the purest water I’d ever had in my mouth.

I smiled at him. He smiled back, but held his breath.

Then my throat closed.

I reached for it, letting the flute fall to the floor and could hear the flat melodies of shattered glass, but my hand could only go so far before I couldn’t move anymore.

“Ah,
cher
, I’m so sorry.”

I tried to suck in a breath, to communicate my need for help, but I couldn’t breathe. I struggled, but felt my body start to shake of its own accord.

“Oh, the tremors,” Jacque whispered. “I’d forgotten about the tremors. I forgot that I was paralyzed too, but I remember now as I watch you die.”

My body convulsed again and again. Tight pinchers wrapped their legs around my chest, especially my heart. My heart! My heart exploded yet felt wrapped in ever growing pressure. I was going to die if Jacque didn’t do something. I tried to reach for him, but he just lay beside me, still on one of his elbows, looking down at me with concern on his face. But he wasn’t doing a damned thing. God damn it!

Just as suddenly as my seizure began it stopped.

“You’re going to die now,
chér.
I’m so sorry. I know I should have given you a choice, but I couldn’t let you decide for yourself. Besides, it was you who kissed me. I am so sorry. So sorry.”

What was he saying? Why didn’t anything he say make sense?

Darkness crowded my vision, but I fought it. Every muscle in my body tensed with the effort to stop the blackness that I was drowning in.

“Don’t fight it, Violet. Let yourself die.”

Another bout of seizures ensued, wracking my body all over the bed. Finally Jacque sat up more. His forehead creased, the lines around his mouth became white with worry.

“
Mon Dieu.
You are strong, but you are making this more painful that necessary. Let it happen, my love, let yourself succumb.”

My body was on fire. Prickly flaming needles were in every pore of my body, throughout my joints, and deep within my belly and chest. The stabbing inflamed then acid was drenched throughout.

It was then, that moment that I finally realized that Jacque had poisoned me, was killing me. Why? I wanted to scream.

A tear fell from my eye, skid across my temple and gather in my hairline.

Jacque gently wiped my tear with his hand. “C
hére
, I’m so sorry. You’re in so much pain.”

His own eyes glistened with moisture.

But I wasn’t about to let him kill me.

I fought to keep my eyes open as my vision blurred again and again with bleak blackness. I was burning from the inside out. My body stiffened again and the spasms recommenced.

“
Je suis désolé. Je suis si désolé. Mais je ne pourrais pas tu relâcher
.”

Jacque said that he was sorry, but he couldn’t release me. Couldn’t release me?

One of the jolts convulsed me so my back arched off the bed. I stayed ungodly bent for an eternity, the blackness swallowing me. The last voice I thought I heard was Hannah’s, screaming out my name.

I heard a door open and close. I woke from the sound. It had to be the kitchen door with Mrs. Jones coming to wake me for my wedding.

“It is Mrs. Jones,” Jacque whispered.

I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing Jacque’s always calm voice. What an awful dream I’d had.

But the reality was I was to marry today. I would never have Jacque in my bed again. Or be encircled in his scent like I was at that moment–leather, pine, and what was that? Anxiety?

I wanted to laugh. How could I smell anxiety?

“
Tu respirez
.”

Of course I was breathing, I wanted to say to Jacque, but I found that my mouth felt sticky. More than likely because I’d slept for so long.

Jacque caressed my cheek, and I couldn’t help but smile. By God but I loved him.

“
Remercier Dieu.”

Why was Jacque thanking God? Why was I so cold? Was I covered in sweat? Was I still under the quilt? Why couldn’t I open my eyes to check?

Suddenly I thought I heard Bethany move about the kitchen. I could have sworn I heard her say to herself that she was going to let me sleep in, that I needed as much sleep as I could get, that she would come up and get me in twenty minutes time. No thirty, she said.

But she was a floor under me, and there was no way I could hear her that clearly. I never had before. Once my mother had yelled at my father in the kitchen, my sister and I had been in our chamber, and even then we’d only heard the muffled shouts that my father had spent too much money on tobacco yet again.

“Violet,
chér
, I need you to wake up. Mrs. Jones is in the house. She’s going to come up soon to get you ready for your wedding. We must leave now.”

Yes, he had to leave me, and I had to leave for my wedding.

Jacque wrapped his hands around my arms and tried to gently shake me awake.

I fought the glue in my eyelids, then they sprang open. Oh! How that hurt. I clumsily covered my eyes to shield them from the burn of the—of the colors. Only my arm felt too heavy and when I’d finally summoned the strength, I smacked my forehead maladroitly before I covered my eyes with my forearm. It wasn’t that my chamber was too bright, there was just too many colors. They were in such immense detail. Too much. The colors were too loud.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Jacque said. “I forgot how odd the transformation felt. Seeing more clearly, the better hearing, being faster, stronger . . .”

What on earth was he talking about?

I peeked at him. His face slowly came into focus. He was smiling, yet his countenance was smeared with anxiety. His hands around my arms softened into a caress. Lord, he was beautiful. His glossy black hair, light skin, and those glowing eyes. Dark, dark blue gazing down at me. I didn’t want to move from his stare.

“There you are. Come back to me.” He was smiling proudly, like a new parent. “Are you still in pain?”

I sucked in a breath, realization dawning on me.

I tried to ask why I might be in pain, but my mouth was curdled in mud and cotton.

“Can you move, Violet?”

I tried to lift my shoulder, to adjust my position, but I felt so heavy, as if I weighed the same as Bess. I tried to shake my head, but my head was still. My God, what was wrong with me? Did Jacque really poison me?

I heard Bethany again mutter something about getting the eggs from the chickens being as much fun as sucking lye juice. But then the kitchen’s door opened and closed and I guessed that she had gone to fetch the eggs anyway.

I looked at Jacque, noticing that my breath felt pinched and with every fast gulp of air, my ribs felt as if they were healing from serious blows. I’d once fallen from the wagon and landed on my back, knocking the air out of me. My ribs had ached for weeks, like the bones themselves were too large for my skin and lungs. That was how I felt at that instant.

Jacque smiled down at me comfortingly. “Violet, I’m going to have to carry you away now.”

He
had
poisoned me! He’d made it so I was paralyzed to do his bidding.

What bothered me the most at that moment was that somewhere in my mind or in my heart, I understood what he had done and why. Something in me wanted to run away with him, and for him to take the choice away from me would make it that much less guilt inducing. Somewhere in my soul I sympathized.

As he leaned over me, gently cradling my head, then sliding an arm around my legs, something else in me screamed for my freedom. He’d poisoned me into paralysis. He’d taken my choice away from me, admitting that himself, and damn him to hell, but I wasn’t going to go with him. Not that way!

He tried to lift me, but my head bobbed at what must have looked like an ugly angle. He stopped to adjust his hold on me, and I sprang from him.

Surprised to be able to use my body again, as well as how I had suddenly jumped on top of my bureau, I struggled with the sheet covering me, trying for some kind of decorum while I glared down at him.

He blinked at me. His arms still outstretched.

He straightened slowly.

“I’m not paralyzed anymore.”

He smiled. “I see that.”

“You tried to poison me.”

He shook his head.

I pointed a finger at him, still precariously balanced on the armoire. “How else was I paralyzed other than you poisoned me, Jacque?”

He kept his tiny smile, further infuriating me. “That was not poison,
chér
.”

My finger pointing at him turned into a fist. I growled at him. “How could you?”

“
Oui
. Yes, I know. I should have asked you first.”

“Asked me?”

He shrugged.

I jumped down from the chifferobe, hoping I wouldn’t make too much noise, and when I did land I heard nothing. Jacque didn’t look surprised. In fact his unconcerned countenance, that small smile of his, the fact that he had poisoned me was enough for me to rage. “Asked me? And how would you have asked me if you could poison me, hmm? I’d like to know. ‘Violet,
chér
, I’d like to poison you so I can run away with you. What do you say,
chér?’
”

The man actually had the nerve to chuckle. “I love how you imitate me. I don’t sound so regal though.”

I made a noise that was part growl, part anguished howl, not sure if I would throttle him.

“But we do have to leave soon, Violet. I hear Mrs. Jones approaching from her retrieving the eggs.”

I pointed a finger at him again. “How do you know she got the eggs?”