It all clicked into place then. The madman with the gun was Isabel’s estranged husband. Of course he was. “I know you didn’t,” I assured her. “If you had, you never would have married him. You have far too much good sense for that.”
Isabel’s tears flowed freely now. “I swear to you, I didn’t tell him — about us. He just seemed to know, and then he knocked me out, and I couldn’t stop him —”
My vision went black with rage. “He hit you?” I said, and I saw Isabel shiver at the murder in my tone. The man was lucky I was still too weak to stand, or I would have tracked him down and killed him right then. As it was, I still struggled to sit up, to set my feet on the ground. Isabel’s hands were on me in an instant, gently pressing me back to the pillows.
“Oh, please don’t,” she said softly. “There’s been enough violence because of me. I couldn’t bear it.”
The gentle pleading in her voice had an instant calming effect on me, and I submitted easily. “Fine,” I growled. “But if he ever crosses my path again, I can’t be responsible for what I do to him.”
Isabel smiled, but didn’t answer. I could see the concern in her eyes as she examined my face, pressed her cool palm against my forehead to feel my temperature. “You should talk to a doctor,” she said. “You’ve been asleep for days now —”
I caught her wrist to keep her from leaving my side, from paging for a doctor. “In a moment,” I said. “Not just yet. I need to talk to you first.”
Isabel went very still. “About what, Jacques?” she asked softly.
“You’ve been here the whole time,” I said, remembering the brief moments I had surfaced from my long periods of unconsciousness. “Why?”
Isabel’s dark eyes met mine unflinchingly. “Do you really have to ask me that?”
“Please,” I said. “Tell me.”
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the beeping and whirring of machines. Even my heart seemed to stand still. “Isn’t it obvious, Jacques?” she said. “I’m in love with you. I’m in love with all of you. I couldn’t have left you, even if I wanted to. I had to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes were downcast, seeming to study the ugly linoleum floor. “I didn’t mean to tell you that,” she whispered, barely audible.
I caught her hands. My heart was in my throat, I could hardly find the words to speak. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I asked.
Isabel laughed, but there was no humor in it. “What, tell you ‘I’m in love with you and six other men?’”
“If it’s the truth,” I said. “I only ever want the truth from you, Isabel.”
Isabel still wouldn’t meet my eye. “It’s so wrong,” she said. “But I could never pick between you, I knew that. Please don’t ask me to.”
“I would never ask that of you,” I said, catching her hands in mine. “Look at me, please, Isabel.” Finally, her dark eyes met mine. “What was your plan? If you weren’t going to tell me?”
Isabel took a deep breath. “I was going to leave,” she said. “Once I made sure you were all right, that you weren’t going to — I was going to leave you alone, let the seven of you get on with your lives.”
My breath caught. “Truly?” I asked. “You would have left us?”
Isabel choked on a sob. “It’s what you asked me to do, wasn’t it? I knew that I pushed you too far, too fast. It was wrong of me, and I wouldn’t do that again. It was too much to put on you, to tell you how I felt. I thought it would be … kinder not to tell.”
“Isabel … ” My mind was a jumble of all that I needed to say to her. “I’m so sorry for what I did, for making you leave. I should never have done that, should have insisted that we all go with you, together. I didn’t mean it, not really. The truth is, I was terrified of how I felt for you, so I pushed you away. It was wrong of me, so wrong, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”
“How do you feel for me, Jacques?” Isabel asked, gaze locked on mine.
“Je t’aime,” I said. “I love you.” My heart raced with the admission. “I can’t speak for any of the others, though I suspect they feel the same way, but I know how I feel for you.”
“And … ” Isabel hesitated, searching for the right words, “you don’t mind? About the others? I thought you might feel … ”
“Jealous?” I supplied, and Isabel nodded. “How could I fault you for loving them? I love them, too. That you can see them for what they are only speaks well of you, Isabel. If anything, I love you all the more for loving them.”