Archetype (17 page)

I
spend the following hour in my studio for the privacy. I do nothing more than sit and vacillate. How am I supposed to turn on my husband? I recall his patience with me in those first months. How loving he is. I will never forget his pained expression while recounting my rape and near murder. He seemed to believe every word. At the time,
I
believed every word.

Then I dreamed of the man on the beach. Follow that up with Noah and Foster showing up, and I am losing ground. I think I am finally getting somewhere only to find I am still miles and miles away from the truth.

Sitting on a hologram beach, I cry in frustration. It feels as though my entire world is falling apart.

It fell apart a long time ago,
She says.

 • • • 

“Of course not,” I said, smoothing my hands over the front of the teal wrap dress. I trained my gaze on the hallway perpendicular to ours just ahead. “I’m only a simple girl.”

Guard Taggert snorted a laugh. “Simple. Right. And I’m the queen of South America.”

We stopped abruptly at one of the doors. Taggert’s arm jutted out toward it. “Inside.”

“What?” I asked in surprise. “I thought we were leaving. You just said—”

“I said you were bought and paid for. That doesn’t mean you get to skip the private meeting.”

My heart pounded and I fought to hold steady as I pressed the button to open the room. Inside, the lighting was set low to suit a certain “mood,” and a love seat sat facing a couple of overstuffed chairs. Someone had decorated the space in mauves and coordinating colors, none of which I liked. Flowers freshly picked from the WTC’s garden filled plain white vases. I knew from my past meetings with suitors that all the rooms were identical to this one.

“I’ll come back for you when you’re done,” Taggert said.

“What?” My voice came out pitched high with the second shock in as many minutes. “It’s against the rules to leave me alone with a suitor. I need a chaperone.”

He shook his head and grinned, flashing teeth that were dark from smoking too much tobacco. “Again. Not a suitor. He owns you.”

Taggert closed me inside without another word. My heart thumped unsteady, uncomfortable beats and breathing grew difficult. I closed my shaking hands into fists. There was nothing to be frightened of.
He’s only a man. Just another man. And there is no way in hell I will be around long enough for this arranged marriage to come to fruition.

A bellowing male voice sounded outside the door. “In here, boy. Let’s get this over with. I have back-to-back meetings all day.”

The door slid open and I took a clumsy step away from a tall, barrel-chested man with hair so dark it was almost black. Gray streaked through the inky texture around his temples. He looked naturally angry, mouth turned down in the corners, no laugh lines. His brown eyes didn’t shine and seemed to take in every last detail of the room, and most especially me.

“Mm-hm,” he muttered, scanning me; then he scowled and grunted. “Skinny, but you’ll do.”

Several not-nice retorts came to mind but never left my tongue when the “boy” he’d called to a moment before rounded the corner with a phone to his ear. He wasn’t much older than I was. Dark hair in a tousle over his crown, dark lashes lowered to hide his eyes, but I caught a flash of bright color. Green maybe. Or blue.

“Hang up,” the man said sharply, and the boy didn’t hesitate.

The second the boy looked at me with the green-blue of his eyes, I couldn’t breathe. He, too, seemed caught short of breath, but maybe for different reasons. Call it instinct, but this guy reeked of trouble, and it overwhelmed me to think I was supposed to share the most intimate parts of myself with him.

The boy smirked. “She’s a little young for you, Dad.”

“Dad” harrumphed. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s for you. Declan, meet your birthday present. Emma Wade.”

Declan’s eyes widened and scanned me from heel to teal dress to head.

“I’ll just see what’s taking that damn lawyer so long,” his father said and stepped out of the room.

We stared at each other in silence for a long moment, and I wondered if he could hear the pounding of my heart.

“I’m sorry about my father,” he said finally. “He can be a little abrupt.”

I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say in response, so I just nodded.

Declan strolled closer. “You really are beautiful.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“How old are you?”

I straightened my spine and looked him in the eyes, which I had to admit were truly a beautiful color. “Seventeen.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Legal soon, I take it?”

I set my jaw and nodded. “A couple weeks.”

His smile lengthened. “I’m not a complete dick. You can relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

He laughed. “Okay, well, it’s nice to meet you, Emma Wade.”

The door opened behind him, drawing our attention to Declan’s father and another man, slim and nearly bald. This man scanned the two of us while dropping a briefcase on a nearby table. His fingers blindly found the clasp and propped it open as if he’d done this a million times before.

“Ready?” the man asked us.

Declan and I both turned to his father, who nodded. “They’re ready. Are the papers in order?”

The lawyer took out a small stack of legal-size papers. “Postdated for September eighteenth—the girl’s birthday.”

“I was told we can’t take her home today,” Declan’s father said. “Is that true?”

The man nodded. “Afraid so. The law is the law. That doesn’t mean we can’t be ready beforehand, though.”

“What’s going on?” Declan asked.

His father waved a hand. “Marriage certificate.”

The lawyer lifted a long, slender piece of metal and a small canister out of his briefcase. “And the branding.”

I backed up until I hit a coffee table and fell onto it. I recognized the metal now. The end was flat and small and undoubtedly shaped with linking hearts. “But you can’t. I’m only seventeen.”

Declan looked down at me with pinched eyebrows. “I don’t know, Dad. If she doesn’t want the brand, it’s really no big deal. I can get her a ring. It’s fine.”

His father looked disgusted by this option. “And risk losing claim to her? Grow up, boy.” He nodded at the lawyer. “Do it.”

The lawyer depressed a button on the canister and a burst of flame ran free. He coated the metal and I stood, preparing to run from the room. Declan took me by the arms and spun me around to face the other two men.

In my ear, he said, “Just hold still. It’ll be over before you know it.”

 • • • 

I lurch forward and dry heave over the hologram of lapping waves at my fingertips.

Declan
is
my husband.

He is also an astronomical liar. We never met the way he told me. Not in a park between meetings. It was not love at first sight. No fairy-tale beginning. He had even claimed he never had me branded. Dr. Travista must have removed it while I was clueless after my “accident.”

At least I now know the truth despite the betrayal I feel remembering.

I really am Emma Burke.

I
stare out the window in Dr. Travista’s office, absently turning my wedding band with my thumb and clutching my elbows, repressing a shiver. Snow falls heavily in large flakes. A lot has fallen since this morning, and the cars in the parking lot hide under white hillocks.

“Emma?” Dr. Travista’s voice is raised, startling me.

I turn. “Yes?

He chuckles from where he sits in his chair. “You are on a whole other plane today. I’ve called your name three times.”

Get it together,
She tells me.

I force a smile to my face. “Sorry. I was lost in the view. The snowfall is really beautiful.”

A fine line forms between Dr. Travista’s eyes. “I thought you hated the snow.”

My stomach flips but I hold tight to my calm expression. I have to be more careful. “It is growing on me. Did Declan tell you I went for a walk in it the other day? It is not that bad.”

“Yes, I heard. You went out after he told you about your accident.”

I want to ask him if Declan told him about all the sexual positions we shared in front of the fire, too, but I bite my tongue. Will nothing between Declan and me remain private?

I stroll to my chair, taking the time to collect my thoughts. It has been two days since Declan told me this lie. One since finding out my husband is a liar of epic proportions. So epic I do not fully understand the scope, apparently. But I will find out. I have come too far to give up now.

I sit and smile tight-lipped. “We can lose the word ‘accident.’ We both know the truth.”

“What would you like to call it?”

I search for the words that came to mind after I heard this lie and look away. “Attack. Violation. Kidnapping.”

“How does this make you feel?”

“I was angry at first,” I say and pick at the leather seam in the arm of my chair. “Now I do not know. It is as if it has happened to someone else.”

Someone we don’t even know,
She adds dryly.

“I have to admit,” Dr. Travista says, removing his glasses, “you’re taking it rather well.”

I shoot him a halfhearted smile. “I guess we will see how it goes if I remember the truth.”

There is silence and he shifts in his chair. “I heard some news about Ruby,” he says.

I sit a little straighter. “Oh?”

“She and Charles are expecting a child.”

My jaw falls open of its own accord and I promptly slam it back shut. “Really? How?”

He chuckles. “I think you know all about the how of it, Emma.”

I shake my head. “No, I mean, she cannot be well yet. When I last saw her, she did not know what a husband was, let alone sex. How could he do that to her?” My voice grows in pitch with each passing word. I cannot help but feel anger for poor, defenseless Ruby, who probably did not understand what was happening to her.

Dr. Travista blinks at me in surprise. “It is none of our business, Emma. And anyway, a child is always good news, don’t you think so? You should be happy for your friend.”

“Her husband is a dick,” I snap without any forethought and am immediately surprised by my use of the word at all.

A dark chuckle fills my head, and She says,
Well, well, look who’s coming out of her shell.

Dr. Travista’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, now, that language is quite unbecoming of you.”

I sink into my chair and fold my arms, averting my gaze.

“Understandable, though,” he adds with an amused smile. “Anyone would agree you have no reason to like the man. But maybe you should learn to rein in your emotions a little better.”

Rein in my emotions? He truly has no idea what a mess I am. One small outburst with a very minor curse word and he acts as if I am a borderline emotional train wreck. Which I am, but still. He has no clue.

I paste on a smile. “Of course. You are right. I will try to do better.”

His eyes slim a fraction. “You have been a bit touchy lately. When did we last test
you
for pregnancy?”

Oh, here we go.

This comes out of nowhere, and I make quick mental calculations. I have been careful to avoid sex during the time I am most fertile, but this is not foolproof. It would be worse than bad to get pregnant now. Not when I just found out my husband is not the man I thought he was.

But Dr. Travista is right. I have been quick-tempered the last few days.

Fingers
tap-tap-tap
over the computer tablet as he searches for the exact day. He frowns. “That long? Oh, and I see . . . you are getting ready to start your cycle. That could be why, but let’s check to be sure.”

I stand automatically, knowing arguing would be futile. He leads me into a nearby exam room and goes through the motions of extracting my blood. He is silent while he fills a tube and sends it through the air lock, calling to another room with instructions.

While we wait, I tap my heel against the white tile. I take note of a single black scuff mark that was not there the last time I was in here.

He leans into the counter, watching me. “Each time we do this, you seem more and more opposed to the idea. Why is that?”

“I am not opposed,” I say.

“Nervous, then?”

I nod. “A little.” I want to scream
I do not want this!
Every cell in my body is anxious to hear its fate. I hate this. I hate this so much.

The door opens a moment later and my old nurse, Randall, walks in with a woman in tow. She blinks slowly, then smiles weakly at Dr. Travista. I recognize her, but her identity is just out of reach. Auburn hair cut very close to her head. Bone thin. I wonder if she has a single ounce of fat on her body. It is hard to tell her age, but I think she is young like me. Her cheekbones seem overlarge, and so do her hazel eyes.

Where the hell do they find these sick women?
She asks.

Randall pulls to an abrupt stop when he sees me, and Dr. Travista straightens.

“You’re a little early,” Dr. Travista says to Randall. He glances at me. “Emma, why don’t you wait for me in my office? I should have your results shortly.”

I stand slowly, catching the woman’s eyes for only a moment. She does not seem to recognize me even though I know her from somewhere. I want to stay until I can figure this out, but I have been dismissed and there is no arguing with that.

Of course, it would not be out of character to introduce myself. I step toward her and extend my hand. “Hello. I am Emma Burke.”

The woman’s smile widens to show very white, very perfect teeth. She takes my hand, which surprises me. I fully expected a reaction like one Ruby would have given me: none at all.

“Lydia Farris. Nice to meet you, Emma. You must be Declan’s wife.”

“Y-yes,” I say and find myself blinking rapidly, as if I need my vision cleared rather than the shock of information flooding my head. Richard Farris’s wife?

A surprised gasp fills my head.
The Stepford wife?

I just saw Lydia Farris days ago, and she looked nothing like this skeletal woman in front of me. She had been thin, but nothing like this. And all of her hair is gone.

Ignoring my runaway thoughts, I say, “Farris sounds familiar. I believe I met your husband at my art show.”

She nods. “Oh yes. I was sorry to miss it. I heard it was wonderful. I had to stay home with our young children. We have three boys.”

I smile, though I want to gape and gawk at her appearance. “Three? How nice for you.”

“And now I hope to have a few girls to supplement the small lot of them,” she says and chuckles.

Dr. Travista steps toward her. “Lydia, why don’t you sit? You and Emma will have plenty of time to chat.” He looks pointedly at me, telling me it is time to go.

“I will come see you soon,” I tell her. “Maybe you can show me pictures of your boys.”

Randall eases her into a chair and she smiles up at me. “I would love to. See you soon, Emma.”

I don’t like it,
She tells me.

Me, either. And just what I need. Another puzzle piece to add to the board.