Page 105 of The Forsaken
“Gabe, stop!” Quinn cried.
The sound of her voice seemed to bring Gabe to his senses, and he loosened the hold on Jude’s throat but remained uncomfortably close, blocking Jude’s escape.
“What’s your problem, man?” Jude’s hand went to his bruised throat. “You’re barking mad.”
“Am I?’ Gabe growled.
“I’m calling the police. This is assault!” Sylvia exclaimed as she fumbled in her handbag for her mobile.
“Go on. Call the police,” Gabe retorted. “And when they get here, I’ll just show them this.” He pulled the sticker he’d confiscated from Emma from his pocket and held it up in front of Sylvia’s face. “Do you know what this is, Sylvia?”
Sylvia clearly had no idea what Gabe was talking about, or why Jude suddenly looked scared out of his wits as he tried to inch further away from Gabe.
Gabe’s hand shot out and caught hold of Jude’s arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Gabe, what is that?” Quinn asked. She peered at the image on the paper, but whatever it was, she couldn’t see why Gabe was so upset.
“It’s a heroin fold,” Gabe replied, his voice very low so Emma wouldn’t hear.
“Please don’t call the coppers, Gabe. I’m sorry, man. I really am. Emma was never meant to find that. It must have fallen out of my pocket,” Jude sputtered. He looked around wildly, but his friends had legged it, having probably sensed that things might get ugly and the police would be called.
“I don’t want you anywhere near my child. Ever!” Gabe hissed as he shoved Jude against the wall for emphasis.
Jude didn’t fight back. He stood stock-still until Gabe finally stepped aside, giving him a chance to escape. Jude took off at a run, heading for the nearest exit. Sylvia opened her mouth to say something, but Gabe turned on her.
“Don’t! Just don’t!”
“Why is Daddy cross with Jude? It’s only a sticker. I didn’t mean to take it,” Emma whimpered.
“It’s all right, darling. Let’s get you in the car.” Quinn grabbed Emma by the hand and pulled her toward the exit. She needed some air. A lava-like heat was spreading upward from her chest and her heart hammered frantically as she fought for breath. Her vision blurred, softening the edges of the walls and making the door difficult to make out. Everything seemed to be reduced to one pulsating point of darkness, the black hole zooming in and out and making Quinn sway with dizziness. The sunlight nearly blinded her when she finally managed to get outside and she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the glare.
“Quinn! Quinn!”
Gabe’s voice sounded as if it were coming from underwater. Quinn leaned against the building for support as blood roared in her ears and she was overcome by crippling vertigo. She would have fallen had Gabe not caught her in time and settled her in the front seat of the car, which was parked near the exit.
“I’m taking you to A&E.”
“No, I want to go home,” Quinn muttered. “I need to lie down. Please, Gabe. I can’t bear to be poked and prodded just now. I just need to rest.”
“Her blood pressure is through the roof,” Phoebe said as she took Quinn’s pulse. She found Quinn’s blood pressure medication in her bag and pushed a tablet between Quinn’s lipsbefore holding a bottle of water to her mouth. “There now. You’ll start to feel better in a few minutes. Gabe, let’s go. Do as Quinn asks.”
“Mum, I don’t think…”
“Gabe, there’s nothing they can do for her. She needs quiet.”
Gabe seemed paralyzed by indecision but complied with Phoebe’s command and strapped Emma into her seat. “You’re going to see the doctor first thing tomorrow,” he said, and Quinn nodded, too weak to reply.
SIXTY-THREE
MARCH 1465
Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Northumberland
Kate kneeled on the prie-dieu, her hands clasped in front of her. Over the past few months, her prayers had become more fervent, more desperate. She’d never imagined that a moment of weakness would tear her soul asunder, but reality had set in very quickly after that Christmas night. She spent nearly every waking moment torn between duty and love, and consumed with guilt for turning her back on her faith. She’d gone to church several times since Christmas, determined to confess her sin, but when she entered the confessional, the words simply wouldn’t come. They stuck in her throat, mainly because she couldn’t lie to God any more than she could lie to herself. She’d tried to keep away from Guy, to erase the memory of his lovemaking from her heart, but when night came, she waited for Hugh to fall asleep and then stealthily left their bedchamber, climbing the stairs in complete darkness, her bare feet stinging with cold, as she hurried to her lover’s room.
Guy was always there, waiting for her. He caught her in his embrace and covered her face with kisses, his hands exploring her body in ways that had grown even more intimate since that first night. He knew every inch of her, and made a study of what merely pleased her and what set her alight, playing her the way a skilled musician played his instrument. Her body never felt as alive as when he touched it, and her heart had never been as full. But then morning came, and with it, self-recrimination and shame. She was a sinner, an adulteress, and a liar. She had dishonored her husband and herself, and besmirched her wedding vows. Guy sympathized with her struggle, but although he did share some measure of guilt, his sin wasn’t nearly as terrible as hers. Guy wasn’t married. He hadn’t promised to love, honor, and obey in front of God. Men took lovers all the time, but women were taught to be pure andobedient, their only duty to please their husbands and bear children.
And now God had seen fit to fill her womb at last, blessing her with the miracle she’d prayed for rather than punishing her for her transgression. This morning, she didn’t beg for forgiveness. This morning, she thanked the Lord and praised his name, but her soul was torn. The child in her belly was not her husband’s; Hugh hadn’t touched her in months. It was a life created during an act of love and devotion, a life that had never been meant to be. What was she to do?
