Page 94 of The Devil's Torment

VICKY

My first Christmas as a married woman, and I wake to an empty bed and a ball of anxiety in my stomach. It took me ages to drop off last night, and when I finally did, I slept fitfully. My brain simply wouldn’t let me rest, too busy running things over and over until I considered popping a sleeping pill, which would’ve been a good idea if I had any, except I don’t.

The thing is, I know what I need to do, and I’m scared out of my wits. As much as Beth’s subterfuge and, yes, cruelty has hurt me deeply, I could not live with myself if I had the power to give my sister a second chance at life and I didn’t help her.

Worse is yet to come, though. I have to tell Nicholas. He didn’t need to utter a single word for me to know what he was thinking. It was written all over his face. He doesn’t want me to do it. Part of me is overjoyed. It proves he cares for me more than I ever dared to hope he would. But all it means is I’ll have a battle on my hands convincing him it’s the right thing to do, and I’m already in a battle with myself. There’s no energy left to fight him, too.

The door to the bathroom opens, and Nicholas emerges with damp hair, beads of water on his firm chest, and a towel slung around his waist, that tantalizing V on display. I lick my lips and swallow, and his mouth turns up at the corners.

“Merry Christmas, Half-pint.”

Despite the chaos whizzing around my mind, I smile at the pet name, recalling how confused I was when he first used it. Now I see it for what it is: a way of him showing his affection toward me. Right from the start, my husband surprised me with his compassion and, more recently, his vehement defense of me. First with the guy from the bar, the one who punched me, then with Matthew, and now with my parents. He may not love me, but he makes mefeelloved, and isn’t that what truly counts in the end?

“Merry Christmas to you.” I reach into my bedside drawer and take out the gift I bought for him a few days before Beth reappeared in our lives and blew my world apart. It’s only a small gift, but I hope he likes it. Buying a present for someone who wants for nothing isn’t easy.

“What’s this?” he asks when I hand it over.

“Um… it’s Christmas, so I’m going to take a punt on a Christmas gift.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” His smile is wide, though, and he unwraps it with the enthusiasm of a child. “We normally exchange gifts after dinner.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” I reach for it, but he snaps his arm back.

“Too late.” He tosses the wrapping paper on the bed and turns over the box, then gives it a little shake. I’m glad now that I added extra protective packaging to the inside. Peeling off the sellotape, he peers inside. First, he frowns, and then his eyes flare wide as he reaches in and pulls out the model of a yacht. It’s not quite a replica of either of his, but it’s as close as I could find.

“I love it.”

“You do? For real?”

He plants a hard kiss on my lips. “Absolutely. I’ll keep it in my office. It will remind me of sailing days with you.”

My heart flip flops. When he says things like that, I want to fling my arms around his neck and tell him how much I love him, how I’ve always loved him, and how glad I am that fate stepped in to give us this chance at happiness. But I can’t get the words out. My gut tells me it’ll be a mistake, that he’ll withdraw if he knows how deep my feelings for him run.

He examines the yacht from every angle. “The workmanship on this is incredible. Where did you find it?”

“An independent store online. I think they have a physical shop, but I’m not sure.”

“It’s the perfect gift.” He sets it on his bedside table and leans forward to kiss me again. “How did you sleep?”

“Not great.” Better to rip off the plaster. I take a deep breath and go for it. “I’m going to donate a kidney to Beth.”

I brace for an explosion, for him to tell me she doesn’t deserve me putting myself at risk. Instead, he folds his arms around me and holds me. Minutes pass where we say nothing, just hug one another. I wish I could stay wrapped in his arms forever.

“Whatever you need, I’ll be there every step of the way.”

I gulp past a lump in my throat, my chest cramping. His unwavering support is more than I could have ever hoped for. “Thank you.”

“Feel like going for a walk before breakfast? It’s cold, but we can wrap up.” He winks. “And if you’re still cold, I have ways of keeping you warm.”

He always seems to know the right thing to say to lift my spirits. “I’d love to.”

* * *

De Vil family Christmases are an entirely different beast to the ones I experienced growing up. Ours were a quiet affair, with just the four of us, and right after dinner, Beth and I would usually excuse ourselves and go to our rooms, either separately or together. But the noise that greets us as we walk into the living space in Charles’s area of the house is deafening.

In the corner is a tree big enough to rival the one in Trafalgar Square, and there are dozens of presents piled beneath it. The entire De Vil family is sitting around the roaring fire, with several conversations all happening at once. How they can hear one another over the din astounds me. I guess they must be used to it.

Everyone turns as we enter. George immediately gets up to make space for me by the fire as though I’m already post-op and need the added warmth. I appreciate the sentiment, though.

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