Chapter 63

It didn’t take Luc long to shower, shave, and select new clothes. His hair, now past shoulder-length, took up most of his time. His fingers didn't want to cooperate in braiding it and, not wanting to call Lottie, he finally banded it tightly into a nape-hugging ponytail.

Wonder if Gabriel will wear his hair long? If he does, I won't argue. Hell, by the time he’s old enough to worry about how his hair looks, bald may be the in-style.

He decided to postpone his talk with Merry a little longer because he was eager to get back to the hospital. He also had a feeling it was going to lead to another complicated mish-mash like their last talk and he was taking the coward’s way out. Because he hadn’t had time to think of the answers he needed.

Coming out of the bedroom, he started toward the stairs, intending to return to the study.

Maybe I should ask Julie for pointers on how to explain about Gabriel’s entrance into the world. Hell, maybe I should just coward out and let Julie do it.

Michel’s door opened.

“Luc?”

Luc stopped. Clarice waddled toward him, getting between him and the stairs.

“How is she?”

He could hear the hope for bad news as clearly as if she’d said it.

“Julie and the baby are doing fine.”

The hopeful look vanished like a light being extinguished.

He enjoyed that, relished it, as a matter of fact. “What’s the matter, Clarice? Did you hope they’d both die? Sorry to disappoint you….but even if I were a widower, I wouldn’t be let myself be susceptible to your dubious charms. And I certainly wouldn’t want you around my son.”

Without giving her a chance to recover from that insult, he went around her and started down the stairs.

“Luc. Wait!”

He turned back, away from the stairs. She took a clumsy, careful step toward him.

“I can be big about this. I’ll even act concerned if that’s what you want.”

To Luc’s ears, Clarice’s words sounded like a bluster, spoken to keep her hopes boosted. They also held a tone of desperation.

“After all, she won’t be around here much longer and neither will her brat.” When she smiled, it was the baring of a she-wolf's teeth. “Will she be moving back to Dallas? If she’s not here, that’ll help when you start divorce proceedings.”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong.” Luc looked impatiently to the study door, wondering why Michel didn’t appear and add his two cents’ worth.

Damn, the door’s shut. He probably can’t hear us. In a way he was glad. He didn’t want Clarice ruining the cease-fire between him and his brother. It’d probably go soon enough but he had to keep it alive as long as possible.

“There’s not going to be a divorce. Not if I can help it.”

She recoiled. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you don’t understand.” Luc didn’t try to control his temper. He was sick of Clarice’s refusal to accept the obvious. He made his voice as malicious and insulting as possible.

“What does it take to get through that thick skull of yours? A forty-five caliber bullet? You can’t understand anything that doesn’t benefit you.”

She took a step backward, staring up at him, eyes huge in that swollen, bloated face.

“You’re a scheming, selfish bitch, Clarice. How could you possibly understand that I love Julie and she loves me and even if she didn’t and left me flat, I’ll never ever love you again? Matter of fact, I never loved you the first time.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. And I wish to God you’d accept the fact that you and I are finished…fini…done for!” He waved his arms, making her take another step backward as if she feared he’d strike her. “I’m staying with Julie and no amount of threats on your part’s going to prevent that. Read my lips, Clarice: I wish you’d just…leave…me…alone!”

He shouted those last three words were shouted at her, the hatred in them evident.

“Leave you alone?” She didn’t raise her voice, but it was as if she were screaming. One hand came up, nails like claws, fingers clenched into a fist. “After all I’ve suffered…putting up with Michel all these years…having this damned baby.”

“Marrying Michel was your idea. He’s the one I feel sorry for, not you. As for the baby? Quite frankly, I think it’s about time you got caught.” Luc’s expression held nothing but disgust.

“You don’t mean that.”

“My God!” His voice went up in disbelief.

Below them, a door opened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harrison appear from the kitchen, hovering in the hallway. There was a sound from the study.

“You don’t let go, do you? Are you that stupid?”

He turned away. Clarice caught his arm.

“You’re going to be sorry, Luc. I told Gran’père. If he dies, I’ll tell the lawyers. You’ll never get that Trust and you’ll never get San Souci!”

“What did you tell Gran’père?” Luc demanded.

“About you and that whore you hired to marry you. I saw the papers. She had them hidden in your dresser and I told him because he was going to give San Souci to you. He was going to take it away from Michel. Wh-when he said it didn’t matter, I told him that this baby’s yours—”

“You bitch!”

He moved so fast she didn’t have a chance to dodge. Luc caught her shoulders, shaking her.

“You made him have that heart attack? Don’t you realize you might’ve killed him?” He was vaguely aware of sounds below them, people whispering together, footsteps.

“I don’t care! If he dies, Michel will get the plantation. I’ve got to keep Michel. If you don’t want me… he’s got to take care of me.”

“You’re disgusting!” He pushed her away, releasing her so quickly she staggered and fell against the wall.

“You’ll regret that!” Her eyes glazed with hatred. “Stay with me, Luc, or I swear, I’ll ruin you. You'll never be able to show your face in Orleans Parish again.”

“Go to Hell, Clarice.” Glaring at her, Luc started down the stairs.

He sensed rather than heard her step directly behind him, the rush of footsteps.

“Luc! Look out!”

Glancing over his shoulder, he dodged. Hands raised to push him, Clarice fell, the lunge of her body carrying her past him. He caught at her sleeve, felt her body hesitate a moment, then the fabric tore. She clawed at his hand as her own slipped away.

Clarice screamed as she plunged down the stairs. Her body struck the steps, bouncing to smash against the marble of the foyer floor. She collapsed into a huddled mound while Luc stood there, holding the torn piece of cloth. Blood slowly piddled beneath her head.

“Harrison, call an ambulance!” Michel ran to his wife’s body as the butler obeyed. “Clarice? Ch-chérie?”

Gently, he rolled her onto her back, choking back a sob as her head lolled at an awkward angle. Clarice drew in a harsh, ragged breath.

“She’s still alive. Oh, merci Dieu.” He rested his fingers against her cheek, then got to his feet and staggered up the stairs to where Luc stood.

Below them, Mattie knelt beside Clarice, wiping the blood from her battered face with the tail of her apron.

“You saved me.” Luc’s eyes met his brother’s tearstained ones.

“I-I couldn’t let her push y-you.” Michel could barely speak. His mouth twisted, struggling to form the words. “My G-God, Luc, she tried to kill you.”

Luc raised the hand holding the ragged piece of fabric. He let it fall from his fingers.

“You’re bleeding.” Michel gestured at the nail marks where Clarice had tried to catch Luc’s hand.

“Whose blood is it?” Luc muttered.

He felt lightheaded, as he had after he’d seen his mother fall from the wall. But it isn’t Maman lying there, it’s Clarice, and I didn’t push her either…Oh God…