Free Heart of Perdition by Selah March Page B

another for more than a few, fleeting moments, and I expect I never will.”
    James lifted his eyes to hers, and she watched as the unpleasant shade of green faded into the bright blue she remembered. He reached out and brushed a tendril of hair from her face, then dropped a kiss on her nose. “Never is such a long time, my darling.”
    His face creased with a puzzled frown. A moment later, he clutched at his chest and fought to breathe. Elspeth’s lazy, rumpled joy evaporated. She rolled away from him and stumbled to her feet, covering herself with the torn remnants of her gown.
    “Do you see? Oh, James, now do you see?”
    He curled into a ball upon the floor, plainly racked with pain.
    In the library, the clock on the mantel tolled the hour. Never before had it sounded so loud, and so filled with gleeful perversity. Clutching her bodice to her bosom, Elspeth ran from the drawing room into the library, snatched up a poker and proceeded to dash the clock from its perch. She beat upon it till it lay in splinters on the hearth. Still, its unholy tick-tock would not be silenced—proof that Elspeth had no more power to destroy the clock’s inherent evil than she did to save James from his own folly. She fell to her knees upon the Persian carpet, pressed her fists against her ears and wept.
    A quarter of an hour passed, during which time Elspeth attempted to restore both her composure and her mourning frock to their proper states. When she returned to the drawing room, she found James likewise fully dressed and seated at the piano, apparently recovered from his attack. He rose at her approach and opened his arms, as if he expected her to walk into his embrace a second time and watch as death stole him away.
    Instead she told him, “I am neither good nor courageous enough to be the heroine of a popular novel. If you press me, I will relent—but please know it will be against my will. I do not want you here, James.” She cringed to see his face fall, but continued nonetheless. “You are mortal. If you stay and love me, you will die.”
    After a long moment of silence, he dropped his arms, nodded and offered her a smile, crooked and genuine.
    “I think you are more than a little mad,” he said. “This persistent solitude would drive anyone insane. But this is your domain. I cannot preach change and choice to you, and then force you to accept my love. I am a better man than that, Elspeth.”
    She watched him take his leave and wished he were not quite so good, after all.

Chapter Ten
    1 December 1899
    She loved him; it was indisputable.
    She loved him as if it were some new manner of breathing she had invented. In his absence she found herself lost in a grief black enough to be the opposite of starlight. It seemed unlikely that anyone could experience such pain and remain among the living. She waited for death to unwrite her from the story of the world.
    It did not. She continued to breathe, and to love.
    December wore on. The weather remained unusually placid.
    One day soon, I will not be here to see the change of seasons.
    But today was not that day, for today she received a letter from her lover.
    Dear Elspeth,
    I write to inform you that I will be undergoing further surgery. Colgrave is against it, but I believe what I am doing is right, for if such a small amount of the substance from your father’s artifact has made me so strong and healthy, what might a larger amount do? Indeed, what might all of it do?
    I believe in my heart of hearts—if you will forgive the unfortunate turn of phrase—that it is my duty as a man of science to discover the limits of your father’s discovery. Or perhaps this is merely the lie I tell myself.
    In any event, I have updated my will, and although the title and family estate will pass to my third cousin’s son, I’ve bequeathed to you all my remaining worldly goods, save for a few odds and ends.
    I ask that you see to Toby’s education, and treat him well. He’s a good boy