Midnight Bayou

hold him, rock him. “No. No, no, no.”
    “He rapes me.” Fire burned in the center of him. Pain, the pain, and the fear. Oh God, the fear. “I call for help. I call for you, but you’re not here.”
    His voice tore with tears. “You don’t come. I need you.”
    “Don’t, don’t, don’t.” It was all she could say as she clung to him.
    “He hurts me, but I fight him. I try to stop him, but he won’t stop. I’m so scared, I’m so scared, but even then I know he’s not doing this because he wants me. It’s because he hates you.”
    He turned his head, those storm-gray eyes drenched. “He hates you. And because I’m yours, he has to break me. The way he broke your toys when you were children. I beg him to stop, but he won’t. He tries to make me stop screaming, but I can’t stop. I can’t. His hands are around my throat.”
    It doubled him over, that hideous pressure, that shocking loss of air. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. My baby’s crying for me, and I can’t breathe. He kills me. While my baby’s crying in her crib. Our baby. While he’s still inside me. He breaks me like a toy that belongs to his brother.”
    He lifted his head, looked at her now. And when he spoke, his voice was so full of grief she wondered they both didn’t die of it. “You didn’t come. I called, but you didn’t come.”
    “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
    “She came.” Declan got rockily to his feet. “She came, and she saw what he had done to me. She looked down at me like I was a mess that had to be cleaned up before the neighbors came to call.”
    His eyes were dry now, and narrowed at the slamming of doors on the second floor. “Her house, her sons, and I was the bayou slut who’d trespassed. I watched her look down on me. It was like a dream, that watching. I saw hertell him to carry me out, down to the bedroom, while she cleaned up the blood, and the candle wax, and the broken crockery. He took my body out the gallery, but I watched her, watched her go over to my sweet baby, and I heard her mind wonder if it would be best just to smother the child. She considered it, and I believe if she’d tried, there was enough of me left that I could have struck her down like a lightning bolt.”
    He walked back to the door. “She thought I was weak, but she was wrong. They could kill me, but they couldn’t end me.”
    “Declan, that’s enough.”
    “No, not yet.” He walked down the steps, down the hall, opened the door to Abigail’s bedroom. “He laid me on the bed in here. And he wept. Not for me, but for himself. What would happen to him? His hand had defiled me, and killed me, but he thought only of himself. And does still. For he’s in this house, he and Josephine. Walking and waiting in their little hell.”
    He crossed over to the wall where the armoire had been, opened the door of it in his mind. “They took some of my clothes. I had the gown in here for the ball. I was so proud of it. I wanted to be beautiful for you. Make you proud of me. She dropped my watch, but didn’t notice. She had Julian wrap me up, and they carried me out, with the suitcase full of my things. They got old bricks to weigh me down, and they carried me away.
    “It was hard. Even though there was moonlight, even though it was cool, it was a hard walk carting all of that. Julian got sick, but she brooked no nonsense. They would say I ran off with another man. They would let the gossip spread that my baby was a bastard, fawned off on you as your own. She told Julian how it would be as they put the bricks over me, as they tied the cloak around me with rope, as they pushed me into the bayou.”
    He looked back at her. “You believed them.”
    “No.” Lena was weeping now. For him, for Abigail, for herself, for Lucian. “No.”
    “Not at first. You feared for me. You searched for me. You wept for me. I tried to reach you, but you wouldn’t let me in. You wouldn’t let me in because some part of you already believed their lies. I loved you. With all my heart, my soul, my body. I died for you.”
    “I couldn’t stop what happened to you. I wasn’t here to stop it.”
    “No, you weren’t here that night. And you were never really here again. Not for me, and not for our child. You broke your promise to me, the solemn vow you made to me in that bed the night she was born. More than death, that is what doomed us.”
    “How did I break my promise?”
    “You promised to love our child, to care for her