Unfaithful (3 page)

“There wasn’t a woman who didn’t envy her fair complexion and soft dark curls.”

“Like yours,” I was quick to point out.

He smiled. “Yes. Like mine,” he said, clearly pleased he’d inherited his mother’s looks and not his father’s. He seemed relieved there was no strong resemblance to the man he despised.

“Her manners were kind and graceful, though her true beauty was in her soul. Her porcelain skin was the envy of all the ladies. Until she met my father, that is. Then their envy quickly turned to compassion. He’d won her heart by hiding love letters in loaves of bread he would send her, but once they were married his attitude changed. It was probably my father’s behavior that kept me from returning the attentions of the girls in our neighborhood,” he admitted, apparently realizing it only now.

“What
kind
of attentions did they pay you, exactly?” I said, feeling irritated, as if the girls from his past could even matter. None of them had been alive for centuries, but in spite of myself a twinge of jealousy gripped my stomach.

Evan didn’t bother to hide a smile. “Nothing that mattered,” he reassured me. Looking me straight in the eye, his head still resting on my lap, he reached up and swept a lock of hair from my face, holding my gaze as he did so. “There’s never been another girl for me. Back then I had to take care of my mother. I didn’t have time for another woman. You’ve been my one and only, Gemma.”

The pause that followed lasted even longer than the others, as if Evan were preparing to reveal the most difficult, painful part. It was so obvious I could almost see the tangle of thorns trapping his words; every time he tried to free them, the thorns pierced his heart before he could open his mouth.

I waited in silence until he was ready to relive the memory. “It was a peaceful September night—but not at our house. In my heart there wasn’t a trace of the stillness that filled the streets. Inside I was screaming with rage and frustration. With hatred. I could feel my mother’s pain echoing everywhere. In my head, my chest. Every part of me suffered for her. Father had gone out for the millionth time but that night was different from the others. Looking into my mother’s eyes, grown dull and weary, I saw something different in the dim light of the candle she kept on the windowsill where she was waiting up for him as she did every night. The look she had on her face is seared into my memory as though with a branding iron. It still burns whenever I remember it. I’ll never forgive my father for making my last memory of my mother be that exhausted, empty look in her eyes.

“I decided enough was enough. I went out to find him. I’d never done it before but that night I was determined to bring him home, by force if necessary. I was young, strong, and brawnier than he was. But my good intentions quickly vanished. It took me less than a minute to realize it wasn’t worth it; he was in the doorway of a tavern, too drunk to stand, his arms around two bawdily dressed girls. They must have been more or less your age. They staggered down the street, laughing provocatively and behaving scandalously for ladies of that era. When he saw me, my father didn’t even take his hands off them. Utterly shameless. I was ashamed for him. I was ashamed
of
him.

“‘William!’ he chortled as I walked toward him. He was too drunk to notice the disgust and scorn in my eyes. ‘Hey! I’m talking to you, lad. Come here. Look what lovely pullets I found in the henhouse. I got one for you too!’ He squeezed the girls closer, like a trophy to be shared, and I realized I’d never known true hatred and contempt until then. ‘Come! What are you waiting for?’

“Rage boiled inside me as he spoke. ‘Come on, laddie! You can do it!’ Then he turned to the girls, laughing, not even bothering to lower his voice. ‘You must forgive the boy. He’s never had a woman before.’

“That’s when I got close enough for him to focus on my face. ‘And he still clings to his mother’s skirts.’ He lowered his voice and made a theatrical gesture. ‘What’s wrong with you? You aren’t afraid to know what a real woman is, I hope!’ he said in a mocking tone.

“The two girls snickered without taking their eyes off me, as if they were interested in his proposal. But all I could see was that man. I glared at him with disgust as I neared him, trying not to think of the look in my mother’s eyes that still set the blood in my veins on fire.

“Suddenly his voice became animated. ‘My ladies!’ he cried with the enthusiasm of someone about to do someone else a favor. ‘Voila! I present to you my son, Evan William James!’ He introduced me with a bow that knocked him off balance. The two girls tried to hold him up.

“I didn’t lift a finger to help him. With a drunken laugh, he straightened up. ‘He came all the way here for one of you two. Who’ll volunteer? Or do you want to choose for yourself, William?’ he asked before the sneering girls could decide. ‘What is it, son? What’s wrong? Come now!’ he said when I didn’t answer. ‘These two lassies aren’t to your liking?’ he said testily, lifting their chins toward the dim light of the only lantern. ‘For tonight you’ll have to make do.’

“They must have seen the fury in my eyes because the two girls’ expressions changed the instant I got close enough. They were so scared they broke away from him and backed up. If looks could kill, my father would have dropped dead on the spot.

“As I stood there, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, ‘Choose one so tonight you can finally become a real man.’ Then he sneered at me. Wrong move. His words were like gasoline on a fire. I rushed at him, shoved him, and struck him across the face so violently that he landed on the ground yards away from the girls, who were shocked by my brutality.

“‘You’re no man,’ I hissed in disgust. ‘You never have been.’ Then I walked off, not feeling the least bit guilty about his bloody jaw. I never saw him again.”

I shared Evan’s silence for a long moment.

“It must have been terrible,” I finally said, horrified by his story.

“Not at all,” he said. “It was the most liberating, most gratifying thing I’d ever done. The thought of having to leave my mother in his hands was what worried me when I realized I’d never see her again.”

Knowing he hadn’t finished, I didn’t break the silence that followed.

“I went back the way I’d come, running down the cobblestone streets. The places where Father amused himself were in the most squalid neighborhoods, fitting only for the likes of him. It hadn’t taken me long to find him. I’d known he would be on the outskirts of town in the most disreputable dens of vice. Now that the burden had been lifted from my chest, the silence inside me was so intense that my footsteps echoed off the buildings in the dark, deserted alleys.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a shriek of terror that sliced through the night like lightning. I was instantly on guard, trying to figure out where the desperate voice was coming from. A woman, at that hour of the night. Imagining she needed help, I rushed in her direction. Although people today think modern society is violent and dangerous, it’s actually a lot safer than it used to be, believe me. There were a lot more robbers on the streets of London in the eighteenth century than there are today in New York City. Anyway, I immediately suspected it was a criminal. When I saw them I was surprised. I had just run around the corner and my breath caught in my throat, not from fear—I didn’t feel a trace of it—but from outrage.

“There were four of them, all more or less my age or maybe a few years older. They were dressed well, even better than I was, so they must have been from upper-class families. They were all drunk as skunks. Back then noblemen amused themselves by terrorizing people, and the focus of their amusement that night was a young lady. From her clothing, I guessed she was a noblewoman. She wore a full-skirted white lace gown that matched her long gloves and around her neck was a string of pearls. Her face was so innocent, and the terror I read in her eyes when one of the boys slid his hand under her skirt made me run to her rescue. It wasn’t unusual for spoiled noblemen like them to rape girls, even dragging them out of their carriages. Their crimes often went unpunished.”

“How terrible.” Appalled, I could find nothing else to say.

“It was rare for a nobleman to be punished. The art of violence was part of their education. They had the right to carry weapons and they never went without them. I was petrified by the spine-chilling scene I was witnessing in that alley. I was just a boy and it took me a few seconds to react. My presence hadn’t disturbed them in the least, or maybe they hadn’t even noticed me there, blinded as they were by excitement. I remember one of them covering her mouth with one hand while unbuttoning his trousers with the other.

“It was at that point that the girl looked in my direction. In her eyes I glimpsed the same look I’d seen in my mother’s, filled with resignation. Without thinking, I tackled the boy who was forcing the girl against the wall and we fell to the ground. A gun went off and I froze. The boy beneath me wrenched himself free from my grip. I heard the echo of their footsteps, but when I turned around it was too late. The four boys had run off down the alley and the darkness had swallowed them up. I looked down at the hand I’d instinctively raised to my aching chest and realized I wouldn’t be going home that night.”

I sat there in shock as uncontrollable shivers ran through my entire body. “It’s a terrifying story,” I finally said, attempting to bring his attention back to me. But Evan was still there in the alley, lost in his memories. In his eyes I could see he’d just relived the tragedy, and I’d done it with him.

“It’s just one of many. There were worse crimes in London’s deserted alleys in the dead of night. The streets weren’t safe. It was what happened afterwards that was unusual.”

His words startled me. I hadn’t known he had more to tell.

“I didn’t have time to realize what was happening. After a moment I fell to the ground and lost consciousness.” Evan stopped, lost in thought, reflecting on the distant past. “I felt a profound stillness coming from inside me. It was everywhere, surrounding me, engulfing me. Suddenly a harmonious sound broke the stillness, like music from a harp, but more . . . human. The sound pulled me out of the darkness, back to the surface. All at once I was on my feet again. Confused, I shook my head. The sound came again. I stood still, trying to understand where it was coming from. I wanted it. I longed to reach it with every fiber of my being. I followed it unresistingly. The voice began to whisper my name over and over, like the sweetest of melodies. I couldn’t resist it. It was a girl’s voice, calling to me with excited giggles like a child playing hide-and-seek. I was irresistibly attracted, like I’d been hypnotized and had no control over my own body or mind. That’s when I received the mark.”

“Your tattoo,” I murmured, stroking the symbols that wound around his left forearm.

Evan nodded. “For a few seconds the burning sensation drove her out of my head. Then I turned the corner and saw her. It was the girl in the white gown. Blinded by my earlier rage, I hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was. She wore her red hair up and a few locks hung over her delicate neck. Her voice continued to beckon me until I went to her and instinctively stroked her rosy cheek. I couldn’t take my eyes off her full red lips.”

I went rigid, not prepared to hear more. A stab of pain had pierced my heart and I wanted him to stop, but Evan went on before I could protest.

“I wanted her and yet I had this strange feeling that I wasn’t really in my right mind, like I was falling under some evil spell. Seeing me hesitate, the girl tried to encourage me with her eyes. She lifted her hand and ran it along the curve of her bosom. I thought she might be trying to repay me for chasing off the boys, but I wasn’t interested in that kind of reward. Still shaken from having stood up to my father, I wanted to rush home to tell my mother everything. I didn’t want the girl and yet I had the strange urge to touch her. She seemed to sense it and, taking my hand, she slid it under her skirt. The contact with her warm skin made me shiver.”

A deep ache throbbed in my heart when I heard Evan say these last words. I knew it made no sense to feel such resentment—so much time had passed—but I couldn’t help it. The mental images his description was conjuring up were unbearable. No matter how distant they were, Evan’s emotions pierced my heart like a dagger.

“A cold shiver,” he continued. His eyes locked onto mine as if he’d perceived my thoughts and wanted to reassure me. We were sitting close together, almost facing each other. “An evil chill I’d never felt before, so cold it permeated my bones. It was almost painful, as though someone had trapped me under a thick layer of ice and I couldn’t reach the surface. The more I struggled internally, the more it overwhelmed me; I was totally at the mercy of that pain. I couldn’t breathe but, against my will, my lips continued to move closer to hers. Shards of ice ran me through every time I tried to resist. My body, in contrast, wasn’t offering any resistance. It was attracted to her; it wanted her, but I’d never been that kind of guy. It wasn’t that I was indifferent to her beauty, but normally I would have made the decision not to give in to her. I’d always been strong-willed, and my intolerance of those who lacked a sense of decency was probably due to Father’s behavior.

“It was only when I looked her in the eye that everything changed, as if I’d unexpectedly found the key to escaping her control. Not caring about appearing rude, I grabbed the hand that was holding mine, doing with it as she pleased, and shoved it against her chest so hard she winced. I had only a second to stare into her sensual, pouting gaze. I saw defiance in her eyes as if, despite my rejection she was still trying to make me change my mind. Then she vanished before my eyes.”

As Evan said this it dawned on me. “She was a Witch.” I was so stunned by everything he was saying that it came out as a whisper.

He lowered his head in confirmation. “It was a trap. The boys had just been bait. By giving in to evil they’d sealed their fates, but I was her actual target.”

“So she wanted them to kill you? But why?” I asked, confused.