The Letter by Sandra Owens Page A

came out of nowhere that he didn’t want to look in that room. The foreboding was so great, he turned to walk away. He shook his head at his foolishness. Even so, he approached slowly, his bare feet silent on the waxed oak floor.
    “Wake up, darling, I want you again.” Silence. “No?” Soft laughter. “I know how to get your attention, luv.”
    Michael stilled. That was Leo’s voice. What the bloody hell was his cousin doing in Diana’s bedroom? His heart pounded so hard, he feared it would stop beating for good. He gently pushed the door with a finger, widening the crack.
    Sweet Jesus. His knees buckled and he grabbed the doorframe to keep from sinking to the floor.
    Diana lay with her face turned toward the wall, her legs spread wide, one hand resting on Leo’s head, the other cradling a breast. Leo’s face was between her legs, his mouth on her quim. The noise coming from the bed was unbearable to hear. Michael tried to close his ears to the sound of sucking, the sound of Leo’s grunts.
    In a gray haze, he moved toward the bed. The smell of sex assaulted his nostrils. This could not be. Mother of God, it could not.
    Diana moaned softly.
    Michael lost all reason.
    Rage, all consuming, powerful rage possessed him, turning his vision blood red. His cousin was dead. “You bloody bastard!” Michael attacked.
    It took Diana’s father, his mother, and the butler to pull him off Leo. He fought them, trying to get to his cousin, but it was the fear in his mother’s eyes that stopped him.
    “You can’t kill him, Michael,” she begged.
    “Let me up,” he demanded. “I’m not going to touch the bastard, but I want him out of my house. Now. I want all of you gone. Tonight.” He gestured at the bed. “Especially her.”
    Michael turned to leave. At the door, he stopped and gave Diana one last look. How could she do this to him? He had believed his heart safe in her hands. He wanted to ask her, but she had her face buried in his aunt’s chest, in shame, he was sure. His aunt held Diana close, softly talking to her.
    He walked out.
    ****
    “I went to my room, dressed and in less than an hour, I was hell bent for Wyburne where I spent the next three days attempting to drink all thought of you away.”
    Diana stared at her empty glass, wishing she could drink away the horrifying images his words had put in her mind. Dear God, she wanted to get up and leave, to find a place she could hide in shame.
    The story was worse than she could have imagined, and she had tried many times to envision the events of that night. Yet, because it was so appalling, she understood better why Michael had reacted the way he had. If he had only found Leo stretched out next to her, then he probably—no, she was sure that he would have seen Leo’s picture for the forgery it was. Leo, being a devious bastard, knew exactly how to ensure that Michael didn’t take the time to reason things out.
    “He staged everything, even to my hand resting on his head, and his mother pretending to speak to me. I swear to you, Michael, I wasn’t aware of anything.” Would he believe her?
    Anguish filled his eyes. “I know. God, I know. I want to kill him.”
    “Then, thankfully, he is already dead. I would not want his blood on your hands.” Neither one of them deserved what Leo had done. She understood Michael’s need for revenge, there had been times she thought about killing her husband. But she wasn’t Leo, had never wanted to become like him, nor did she want Michael to stoop to that level. Had Leo’s mother made him like that by catering to her son’s every wish, by encouraging his belief that everyone owed him?
    “Who do you think knocked on your door?”
    His eyes shifted away from her. “It could only have been my aunt. What is difficult for me to get past is that everything done to you was from my side of the family.”
    She shook her head. “No, that isn’t true. My mother refused to see me, and my father disowned me and then left