The Mistress (29 page)

“She does not want children.”

“She might change her mind. Once things settle down, once we’re married and—”

“Trust me on this...she does not want children. She had her chance once. She didn’t take it.”

Wesley’s eyes bored into Kingsley.

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying...” Kingsley leaned forward and spoke slowly. “She had her chance. I know she had her chance because that child was also mine. Your fiancée got pregnant, she realized she was pregnant and, within two days, she wasn’t pregnant anymore. So before you entertain another fantasy about nurseries and nannies and a glowing Nora Sutherlin swelling with your child, know this—she does not want children. And if you do, then you should very much reconsider your choice for
chatelaine
.”

Wesley felt something break—something light and small, no bigger than a soap bubble. It burst in the air in front of him and evaporated into the ether. He didn’t know what it was—a hope or a dream or perhaps merely a wish—but it was gone now, gone forever.

“She told me...” Wesley began, and stopped, waiting for his voice to steady itself. “She told me once why she trusted you. I didn’t trust you. You sent her on all those jobs. Sent this five-foot-three woman to strange houses and hotels with nothing but a riding crop to protect her. You sent her into the bedrooms of these rich and dangerous men. I told her she shouldn’t do it, it was dangerous, she could get killed. You two fought on the phone all the time. Fought and flirted and plotted and schemed. I asked her why she trusted you. You know what she said?”

“Enlighten me.”

“She said that you were like the brother she never had. She said that yes, you two fought all the time, but only in the way siblings fight. She said that at the end of the day she knew you would never put her into real danger. You could punch her in the arm and pull her hair because you were her big brother but if anyone else tried it—”

“I would destroy them.”

“Yeah. And then she said that she knew you were family because only family forgave each other like you had to forgive her. I asked her what she did to you that was so awful. She said she took something from you, something you wanted, and you forgave her for it, anyway. Now, I don’t trust you, and I don’t trust Søren, but I’m trying to trust Nora. So I’m going to trust that she was right about you when she said that even when you two didn’t like each other, you still loved each other. Every now and then my father and I get into nasty fights. Usually on days ending in
Y.
But at the end of that day, he’s still my father and he’d still burn the world down to save my life if he had to. Nora says it’s the same with you.”

Kingsley didn’t speak and for that Wesley could have kissed the man. He’d had enough of that suave French accent and that patronizing tone.

“I’m sorry for what happened with you and Nora. I wished she’d told me the whole truth. Then I could have told her that I don’t hate her for it, that I don’t judge her,” Wes said, wishing he could have been there for her back then. Maybe he could have talked her out of it.

“She’ll never be the wife you want her to be,” Kingsley said.

“You know what, I don’t give a fuck about that right now. I just want her safe. You get that?”

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

“Are you going to get her back? Or are you going to make a liar out of Nora for saying she trusted you like family?”

“I will get her back even if it kills me.”

Wesley started to say something but heard the front door slamming and feet running.

Grace appeared in the doorway out of breath and shaking.

“He’s gone,” she panted. “He left you a note in the desk, but he’s gone.”

Kingsley nearly ripped the desk drawer opening it. He pulled out a white sheet of paper, barely glanced at it and dropped it on the desk.

He raced from the room. Wes stared at Grace in shock, in horror, in confusion. In the distance he heard a car starting.

“Søren...he went to give himself up,” Grace said, still gasping for air. “He’s going to let her kill him.”

32

THE QUEEN

“H
e? He who?” Nora asked.

Damon grasped Nora by the upper arm and yanked her off the floor so hard he nearly dislocated her shoulder.

“You get one guess.”

Nora knew but she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to guess, didn’t want to make it real.

“I’ll give you a hint. She’s already planning the honeymoon.”

“Oh, God,” Nora whispered, bringing her cuffed hands to her face. “What’s she going to do to him?”

“I think she’s going to leave that up to you.” He pulled her into the hall and dragged her toward some destination unknown.

“Up to me? What do you mean?”

Damon didn’t answer, he only laughed, and the laugh was so cold and evil she would have clawed his eyes out if she could.

He threw open the door to the library and Nora gasped at the sight before her.

Søren knelt on the floor in the middle of the library. Andrei stood at Søren’s back. And from the serene look on Søren’s face, one would think he was a pious man kneeling for his morning prayers instead of a man with a gun to the back of his head.

“Søren!” Nora wanted to scream his name but it came out hoarse and broken. He opened his eyes and looked at her and she saw nothing in the gaze but love.

She started to run to him but Damon held her struggling in his arms. Squirming and writhing, she desperately tried to wrench herself from his iron grasp.

“Eleanor, calm down,” Søren ordered. “Don’t give them any excuse to hurt you.”

Everything within her rebelled but she did as Søren told her and forced herself to stop struggling.

“Damon, you can let her go,” came Marie-Laure’s voice from behind them. “She’s not the one who matters anymore.”

She sensed Damon hesitating but he released her. As soon as his arms left her, Nora raced forward and dropped, almost skidding on her knees to get to Søren as fast as she could. She raised her hands to his face, kissed his lips, leaned into him and breathed in the scent of him—winter even in summer.

“You lunatic,” she whispered, caressing his face, his mouth, with her still-bound hands, “why are you smiling?”

He gazed at her with new eyes, with eyes of almost-innocent wonder.

“It’s good to see you again, Little One. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. God, I missed you so much. You shouldn’t have come.”

“I had to.”

“He didn’t have to,” Marie-Laure said as she walked to them and started to circle them on the floor like a shark. “I would have killed you and then disappeared again. He loves you for whatever reason so I would have had all the vengeance I desired. But this...killing him? This is better.”

“You fucking b—”

“Eleanor, look at me,” Søren said, his voice calm but insistent. She did as he told her. There was no one else in the world she wanted to look at more, anyway.

She nodded and rested her head against his chest.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Nora wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him but the handcuffs held her wrists tight. “You should have let them kill me.”

“You know I couldn’t do that,” he chided. “I told you there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you.”

“Goddammit,” she said, resting her forehead briefly against the center of his chest before looking up at him. “Why do you love me so much, you stupid man?”

He smiled down at her.

“Because I met you.”

“This is all very sweet,” Marie-Laure said, still circling them. “But we do need to get this over with. I’m sick of this house, tired of this game. The boys are getting bored, too. They get restless when bored.”

“What do you want?” Nora asked. “We’ll give it to you. Money, apologies, firstborn children...anything.”

Marie-Laure stopped and gazed down at Nora.

“I want you to make a choice. It seems you have a pathological fear of making any definitive choices in your life. You flit from man to man and never completely commit to anyone. Once you make a decision, you don’t stick with it. You promised yourself to him,” she said, pointing at Søren, “and then you left him. You had another man in your life and you sent him away. Then you went back to my husband but you didn’t stay with him, either. Back and forth, back and forth. You make my head spin.”

“Imagine how I feel,” Nora said.

“I can’t. I can’t imagine you feel anything. If you did, you wouldn’t spend your entire life fucking men over.”

“Marie-Laure, that’s enough,” Søren said, giving her the barest glance before looking back at Nora again. “Your argument is with me and Kingsley. Eleanor was only a child when you and I married.”

“Oh, yes, defend her. The woman who spread for half the country while you stay locked up in your church praying for her soul.”

“I’ve never prayed for her soul,” Søren said. “Only for her happiness.”

“Doesn’t she look happy now?” Marie-Laure grabbed Nora by the chin and squeezed viciously hard before letting her go.

“I am happy,” Nora said, refusing to be cowed. “Of course I’m happy.”

“Why?” Marie-Laure asked.

Nora looked at Søren. “Because he’s here.”

“
Mon Dieu,
if this is what love is, I’m rather glad I was spared it. You two turn my stomach with your little show.”

“We should go,” Damon said, coming closer to them, a gun held in his hand. “If he’s here, then...”

“They’re afraid of Kingsley,” Marie-Laure explained. “I, however, am not. If he was going to try something he would have by now. He’ll let you two suffer and die while he’s off somewhere else not caring. I suffered for months right under his nose and he didn’t care, wouldn’t care.”

“He suffered, too,” Søren interjected. “I told you before we married that ours would be a marriage in name only. You agreed to it. You knew I didn’t love you.”

“You should have loved me.” Marie-Laure glared at him with the fires of hell burning in her eyes. “Everyone loved me.”

“And you loved no one,” Søren said without the slightest tinge of rancor in his voice. “You didn’t even love me. You were merely insulted that someone you desired didn’t desire you back. Kingsley knew what love was. You mistook desire and jealousy for love. You didn’t want a husband. You wanted a conquest. I only fascinated you because I wouldn’t give in.”

Marie-Laure said nothing for a moment. Nora shivered as a little smile danced across her lips.

“You’re right, my husband. I tried to seduce you and failed. I tried to woo you and failed. I tried to conquer you and failed. I will not fail again.”

“There is nothing to be gained by this,” Søren said. “If you kill me, what will you achieve? I’ll die still in love with her and never having loved you.”

“That’s true.” She nodded her agreement. “Too true. But perhaps you would be a bit easier to seduce now than you were all those years ago. Damon?”

Damon stepped forward and put his gun to the back of Nora’s head. Her heart stopped the second the cold, heavy metal touched her hair.

“Now...” Marie-Laure knelt on the floor next to them. Søren had seemingly stopped breathing the moment Damon pointed the gun at Nora. “Kiss me.”

“Søren, don’t,” Nora begged. “Not even to save my life. Don’t.”

But Søren ignored her. He turned his head and Marie-Laure rested her hand against his cheek. Nora’s stomach churned in revulsion as Marie-Laure pressed her lips to Søren’s with terrible ardor. Nora had seen Søren with Kingsley, seen him with submissives at the club, and never had she felt disgust or even the slightest shred of jealousy. In fact, she enjoyed watching him play with others, enjoyed watching others adore him. Seeing him forced to kiss Marie-Laure, seeing the tightness in his face that signaled his own disgust, his own revulsion, at being forced to do something so intimate with someone so foul, sent bile into the back of her throat. It was like watching someone piss on the
Mona Lisa.
It was like watching a rape.

Marie-Laure kissed Søren with endless passion and all Nora could do was watch.

“Merde...”
Marie-Laure yanked back from the kiss and stared wide-eyed at Søren. Blood streamed from her lip.

Søren glanced at Nora and winked.

“Oh, no,” Nora taunted. “He bit you. Now you’ll turn kinky, too.”

Marie-Laure’s hand snaked out and slapped Nora viciously hard on the face, so hard she felt blood escape her nose.

When her vision cleared, Nora smiled at Marie-Laure.

“See? Told you so. You’re one of us,” Nora said.

Marie-Laure stood up and reached into Damon’s jacket pocket. From it she pulled out a black-handled dagger, sleek and lethal. She laid it on the floor between Nora and Søren.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” Marie-Laure said to Nora. “Time to decide, and this time, whatever decision you make will be quite permanent. You have a choice...you can walk out of this room right now and leave him with me. He’ll become my husband, my real husband, no pretense this time, and we’ll fly away together to my beautiful home far from here. And Damon and Andrei and a few of my other boys will make sure he stays inside and does every little thing I want him to like a good and attentive husband.”

“Or?” Nora asked. Whatever the other option was she’d already decided to choose. Søren forced into slavery, forced to service his madwoman sexually, forced to perform for her? Never. “I can already tell you I’m taking door number two.”

“Is that so? Well, let me tell you the other choice. It’s quite simple. You can take that dagger and you can shove it into his heart and let him bleed to death on this floor in front of your eyes, in front of mine. And while he’s bleeding to death, you walk away. By the time you reach the end of the driveway, I’ll already be on my way out of this ugly country.”

Nora let the words sink into her. She could let Søren live out the rest of his life a slave to this woman...

Or she could kill him with her own hands.

“Eleanor,” Søren whispered, giving her the most desperate and imploring look she’d ever seen on his face. No...the
only
desperate and imploring look she’d ever seen on his face.

“No helping.” Marie-Laure snapped her fingers in his face. “She decides, not you.”

But Nora had already decided. The choice was no choice at all.

Nora picked up the dagger. Søren sagged with relief.

“I want to say goodbye, first.” Nora clutched the knife tight to her chest. “I won’t do anything without saying goodbye.”

“You can say your goodbyes. I’d rather like to hear this. Go on.”

Marie-Laure crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. Nora ignored her, ignored the dagger in her hand, ignored the entire world around her. No one existed but Søren, and once he was gone, there would be nothing left.

She turned her eyes up to him.

“Søren...I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare. We only have a few minutes left on this earth together and do not waste a moment of this time apologizing to me for your imagined sins.”

“You know I didn’t imagine them.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve lived your life without fear and without regrets and without giving a damn what anyone thought of you. Don’t start that nonsense now.”

“I left you.”

“You had every right to leave me. My God, Eleanor, the tests I put you through, the trials...”

“Don’t forget that stick you made me water for six months.”

“I remember. I was never shocked that you left me. Only shocked you didn’t leave me sooner.”

“You were kind of a hard-ass,” she said, grinning at the memories that barreled through her mind with the force and speed of a runaway train. Watering that damn dead stick in the ground as if it were a living plant...changing her clothes seven times in a row because Søren had a specific ensemble in mind he wanted her to wear and they wouldn’t leave Kingsley’s house until she guessed what it was and put it on...lying curled up on the floor of the Eighth Circle, his shod feet resting on her back as he used her that night as a footstool and nothing more—he didn’t even beat her or fuck her or even kiss her. She’d been nothing but furniture.

“You’re being too kind.”

“Okay, you were an
unbelievable
hard-ass.”

“That’s better.”

“I loved it, though. I loved being yours. Even when I carried that stupid watering can out to water that fucking stick, I loved it. I knew you tortured me like that because you loved me, because you wanted me to be strong.”

“You were always strong, Little One. I only ever wanted you to be mine.”

Nora leaned against his chest again and he bent to kiss her forehead.

“I am yours,” she whispered. “I always was. Even when I was with someone else...I was always yours.”

“I know,” he said with utter arrogance.

She growled in frustration and fury. The unfairness, the absolute unfairness, that this injustice, this travesty, was happening to Søren of all people...she could have screamed, could have cried all the way to heaven.

“It’s not fair, it’s not. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.” Nora felt the dagger in her hand and wanted to plunge it into her own heart to give it respite from all the pain. Maybe she would.

“It’s not?” Søren asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “You’ve already decided how we’re supposed to die?”

“I have. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

“That’s very...Catholic of you,” he said.

“I’ve even seen it.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re going to be one of those men who gets more handsome with every passing year. You’ll be like Christopher Plummer—handsome even when you’re eighty.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you about your unhealthy level of interest in him.”

“He’ll return my emails eventually, I know he will.”

“Or file a restraining order.”

Nora laughed as the vision danced across her mind’s eye.

“It’ll be peaceful, quiet...” she said. “You’re fourteen years older than me. I’ve had to face that fact since the day we met. Barring a bus hitting me in downtown Manhattan, you’ll go first.”

“Something I’m profoundly grateful for.”

“You’ll be in the rectory reading the Bible in your favorite chair by the fireplace and you’ll...you’ll fall asleep.” She saw it all in her mind’s eye. The hand holding the Bible...the Bible slipping from his fingers and fluttering to the floor. “That’s where I’ll find you when I sneak in that night. In that chair asleep. And I’ll know...I’ll know you’re gone. And I’ll kiss your beautiful hand and put the Bible on the bookshelf. I’ll take your collar and I’ll go away. I’ll disappear.”