Page 72 of Eternal Craving

“How did she know we were in danger?”

“We were all in danger.”

“Rumors carry, Daumia.”

“What do you mean?”

“While at the senator’s, you were mortally injured.” Her gaze met mine. “I have my spies, remember?”

“Rumors are just that, rumors.”

“The way you look at Ricardo, one would think he caused you some terrible grief.”

“I keep thinking of Salvador.”

“He didn’t survive, but you did?”

“Whatever your spies thought they saw, they were wrong.”

“Ricardo ran his sword into your gut!”

I looked away. “If that were true, I’d be dead.” I rose and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To put my son to bed.” I headed out after Alicia.

I entered the small bedroom and sat on the bed next to Jacob. My sister was with Ricardo. I stroked Jacob’s hair. He tried so hard to keep his eyelids open, full of excitement over seeing me again. He clutched my hand, and I kissed his forehead. My perfect child was so much like his mother. Jacob’s pure, innocent love for me was a much-needed boon.

I recalled Eduardo, the way he smiled when I ate a biscuit or his expression when I’d first lifted him onto the saddle of one of my smaller, gentler horses.

Then I was assailed by the awful vision of him lying dead in his mother’s arms, my son gone from me forever. I wiped away a tear, though more fell. I’d been present at his birth, but not at his death. Fathers should die before their sons.

The first night I’d met Salvador, we’d lain on the grassy bank together staring up at the stars, such a perfect moment ofintimacy. Salvador had the kindest nature, the ability to say the right thing at the right time and always see the best in people. He’d be the one person who’d know what to do in this situation.

Jacob had fallen asleep. With my head in my hands, I let go and sobbed. I missed Annabelle’s touch.

I want my old life back.

I tried to disengage from these thoughts, this terrible wave of grief. Strange how my emotions were different, muted, and yet ever present, a constant reminder that I was no longer human. I shook off the melancholy, not wanting to alert Miranda or Alicia that I was no longer myself. I had to act as though everything was fine and that we might again revisit the contentment we’d once known.

I returned downstairs to join them for supper in the rustic, homey kitchen. The candelabra at the center of the table threw shadows on the walls. Though offered food, I declined, but accepted the glass of blackberry wine, the fruity scent wafting beneath my nose. It dawned on me that I may never taste food again. The smell of lamb made me nauseous.

Miranda’s cheeks were rosy, the liquor apparently warming her.

My attention turned to Alicia. “You’ve hardly eaten.”

Alicia looked up at me. “I was just thinking the same about you.”

Miranda’s gaze locked with mine.

Alicia placed her fork down. “I hate Felipe, but he’s the father of my son.”

I took a sip of wine.

The sweet taste of revenge.

My imagination spiraled, offering up the darkest fantasy of how it would feel when Felipe looked into my eyes as I stole his life. I’d make him suffer before I let him know death.