The Raven Master Page 13

  She took a deep breath, slid a covert glance to her left and saw that Quinn was again staring into the flames with that same mesmerized expression. And the same sadness.

  She hesitated before lightly touching his wrist. “Is something wrong?”

  “Hmm?” He seemed startled by her presence. “I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

  “What is making you so unhappy?”

  He regarded her for a moment then looked away. “Why do you think that I’m unhappy?”

  After retrieving her hand, she set the tea cup on the table. “The look in your eyes. You were a million miles from here.”

  “Was I?” He smiled weakly. “Perhaps I was. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “You weren’t rude.” She turned sideways, bringing her knee up to the cushion. “Do you want to talk about her?”

  Tea sloshed over the rim of his mug as Quinn’s head jerked around. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Janine moistened her lips, staring at the wet stain spreading over his denim-clad knee. “The only thing I can think of that would cause the kind of pain I see in your eyes is love…or perhaps the loss of it.” She squirmed under his hard stare. After a long moment he set the mug on the coffee table and stubbornly crossed his arms. Janine sighed. “I apologize. Your personal life is none of my business. It’s just that—” Biting off the words, she rubbed her face and started to stand. A warm hand settled on her shoulder. She settled back onto the sofa, glancing up expectantly.

  Quinn looked at her for a moment. “It’s just what?” Apparently she must have looked confused because he questioned her further. “What were you going to say?”

  “Oh.” Acutely aware that his hand still rested on her shoulder, she fidgeted restlessly. “I’m concerned about you, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  The blunt question surprised her. She glanced up quickly and responded without thinking, “Because I care about you.”

  Something strange happened then. Quinn’s eyes softened as he lifted his hand from her shoulder and lightly caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes, reveling in the exquisite sensation.

  Suddenly the warmth of his touch disappeared, and when she looked at him again the glow had drained out of his narrowed gaze. He spoke with a sharpness that stung. “Strays and strangers aren’t worth your concern. They’re just passing by, and if you get attached you’ll be hurt.”

  She winced at the warning. “That’s a rather harsh assessment.”

  He moved his hand to the back of the sofa. “But nonetheless true.”

  Without his comforting warmth, a chill swept over her shoulder, and she was unnerved by how quickly he’d re-erected his emotional shields. Somehow she managed to lift her chin and face him directly. “Are you still a stranger, Quinn?”

  He had the grace to avert his gaze. “Yes.”

  “That’s unfortunate, considering the personal information I’ve shared with you.” She suppressed a shudder when she recalled all she’d revealed about her life with Charles, then issued a fervent prayer of thanks that she hadn’t disclosed everything. “I’d hate to believe that I’ve opened my heart to someone who has no feelings of friendship for me.”

  Their eyes held a long moment, his gray gaze probing, searching for something and apparently finding it. “I care deeply for you, Janine. I think you know that.”

  Her breath slid out all at once. “I care for you, too. That’s why I’m concerned.”

  “Don’t be,” he whispered miserably. “I’m not worth the effort.”

  Instantly she touched his jaw, turning him to face her. “A friend once told me that I should never put myself down. I think that’s good advice, don’t you?”

  His eyes widened, sparkling with undisguised amusement at having his own words tossed back in his face. “Yes, it is. Your friend sounds like a smart cookie.”

  She smiled. “Oh, yes. Sometimes I actually believe that he’s brilliant.”

  Quinn feigned shock. “Only sometimes?”

  She managed a nonchalant shrug. “No one is perfect.”

  “You are.” The warm glow returned to his eyes. “In fact, you’re the most perfect woman that I’ve ever known.”

  Her heart fluttered at the praise. “And have you known a lot of women?” When his gaze narrowed, she could have kicked herself for having blurted such an insensitive question.

  To her surprise, however, he answered, “No, not many.”

  She hesitated, not wanting him to withdraw again yet intrigued by the small vulnerability that he’d revealed. “Are you—” the word momentarily stuck on her tongue “—married?”

  With a poignant smile, he slowly shook his head.

  If a person could drown in relief, Janine would have died on the spot. Instead she slumped back against the buttoned cushion. “Have you ever been?”

  “No.” He gazed absently across the room as though weighing something in his mind. Finally he spoke so softly that she barely heard. “I was engaged once.”

  The sadness in his eyes nearly broke her heart. “The woman in the photograph?”

  Without acknowledging her question, he stared into space, rubbing his fingertips with his thumb. A stifling silence fell over the room. Janine had decided that he wasn’t going to answer when he finally spoke in a voice that broke only a little. “Her name was Cynthia Zabrow.”

  That name and the reverence with which he spoke it struck Janine’s heart like a dagger. “She’s a very beautiful woman.”

  “Yes.”

  Focusing on her own wrinkled slacks, Janine wondered what kind of extraordinary woman this Cynthia person must be to ignite the passions of such a special man. A lump wedged in her throat. “You must love her very much.”

  He blinked, turning his gaze to Janine. “Why do you say that?”

  “The look on your face, the softness of your voice when you spoke her name.” Frustrated by an unexpected tightness in her own chest, Janine took a deep breath and reached for her teacup. “It’s obvious how deeply you care for her.”

  “Is it?” He considered that for a moment, then answered his own question. “Yes, I suppose it would be. At one time I was very much in love with her.”

  A small spark of hope ignited when he used the past tense. “The relationship didn’t work out?” Wincing under his quizzical stare, she absently twirled the cup around the saucer and stammered an explanation. “It’s just that…you seemed so sad, I…I assumed, well, that you were no longer together. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “It’s all right. I understood what you meant.” Quinn laid his palm over her hands to still her fidgety fingers. “Cynthia and I haven’t been together for a long time.”

  “Oh.” She managed not to smile. “I’m sorry.”

  His philosophical shrug seemed a bit forced. “It happens.”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier.”

  When he didn’t respond, Janine took advantage of the silence to take a sip of cold tea. At least she thought it was cold. As she nested the cup in its saucer, she couldn’t recall if she’d actually tasted the beverage or had simply gone through the motions.

  A million questions peppered her mind. Had Cynthia shared Quinn’s love of animals? Of classical music? In other words, had she been worthy of being loved by such an extraordinary man? And how could any woman in her right mind have let him go?

  It was none of her business, of course. Still, her inquiring mind wanted to know. She cleared her throat. “Were you and Cynthia high school sweethearts?”

  His pained expression indicated quite clearly that the subject was as raw as an exposed nerve, yet he answered calmly, and the emotion in his eyes never reached his flat voice. “I met her at the rehabilitation center. She was a patient.”

  Stunned, Janine moved the rattling cup and saucer from her lap to the table. “Isn’t that against some kind of ethical code? Doctors dating their patients, that is.”

  “Cynthia was under the care of another c
ounselor so she wasn’t actually my patient.” Leaning back, he slid his arm along the sofa back and stared thoughtfully into space. “That’s a technicality, I suppose, but it was enough to rationalize any qualms.”

  “Did you have qualms? About becoming involved with her, that is.”

  He considered that. “In retrospect, perhaps. At the time, I was too enamored to consider the consequences.”

  “What consequences?” Instantly alarmed, she blurted, “Were you fired?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “For becoming involved with a patient?” She blushed at his astonished stare. “I mean, you mentioned that you weren’t working there anymore and I just thought that…” Unable to dig herself out of the verbal mess, she simply allowed the words to die naturally.

  “I didn’t lose my position because of the relationship,” he said finally. “Cynthia had completed the rehabilitation process before our engagement was announced. At least, I’d hoped that she had.”

  Janine didn’t understand the vague statement and said so.

  Quinn massaged his eyelids. “Cynthia’s parents had both been alcoholics. The addiction was genetically ingrained in the family. She had a difficult time in treatment.”

  “What happened?”

  “Eventually Cynthia decided that life was unbearable without a little whiskey to soften the edges. She couldn’t cope with sobriety. When she was forced to choose…” His voice broke and he shook his head. “I couldn’t compete with her addiction.”

  Janine tried to imagine how any woman could have ever chosen a bottle of booze over a man who quite obviously adored her. The rejection must have wounded him deeply. Janine saw the raw hurt in his eyes and was touched by it.

  She laid a consoling hand on his thigh, oblivious to the intimate nature of her touch. “Cynthia was a fool. You deserve better.”

  Quinn glanced up, startled. Then his lips curved in a slow, sensual smile that warmed Janine to her toes. “That was a nice thing to say.”

  “I mean it,” she insisted fervently. “Any other woman would have given all she owned to be in Cynthia’s place. I can’t sympathize with anyone who could throw away a chance for love and spurn the man who had offered it. It’s inconceivable to me.”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “I can see that it is.” He lifted her hand and lightly brushed his lips across her palm. “Perhaps only those who have experienced loss and betrayal can understand the true value of love.”

  Her hand tingled under his touch. When he pressed his lips to the sensitive pulse point at her wrist, she sucked in a sharp breath and hoped she wouldn’t faint. With a boldness that shocked her, she touched the side of his face. His skin was warm and slightly rough where a day-old beard shadowed his jaw. The pleasant, scratchy sensation made her fingertips itch for more.

  When he lifted his mouth from her wrist, his eyes darkened with sensual awareness. There was a hunger in his gaze that took her breath away. He touched her face, caressing her brow with his thumb before moving his hand around to cradle her head. “There’s something about you, Janine. When I look into your eyes, it’s like seeing sunshine after an arctic winter. You make me feel things that I haven’t felt in a very long time.”

  His voice was so seductive, his gaze so intense that Janine feared her insides would simply melt away. When his lips finally took hers, the dull throb in her belly exploded, igniting sparks hotter than the crackling blaze. Her lips parted, an invitation he accepted with a searing passion that affected her more deeply than anything she’d ever experienced.

  For the first time in her life, she wanted a man. This man.

  Even in the fuzzy recesses of her passion-drugged brain, she realized that Quinn alone had the power to make her feel like a whole woman. He made her feel beautiful and cherished. Locked in his embrace, Janine believed that she was special—that what they shared was unique only to them. Quinn Coulliard was her soul mate, the man who shared the passions of her spirit, who could breathe new life into her traumatized body.

  Suddenly she was gasping for breath and vaguely aware that his lips were generating a moist trail of heat down her throat. She moaned softly, arching her neck to allow him greater access.

  “Lavender and lilacs,” he murmured against her pulsing skin. “The pastel scents of spring. You smell so sweet it makes my head spin.”

  A sharp female voice shattered the moment. “Oh, gag me.”

  With a gasp, Janine looked over her shoulder just as Quinn’s head jerked up.

  Althea stood in the doorway, with one hand propped on her hip, snapping her gum and eyeing them both with exaggerated disgust. “Since you’ve obviously gone into heat, the least you can do is rut privately so the rest of us don’t have to watch.”

  Janine was mortified to the bone.

  Quinn, however, simply leaned back and smiled lazily. “Makes you hungry, does it?”

  Althea flushed to her roots. “It makes me sick.”

  “In that case, maybe you’d better close the parlor door on your way out.” Although Quinn’s smile remained frozen in place, his eyes issued a warning that brought Althea’s hand to her throat.

  “I’m not a servant. Close the damn door yourself.” Fixing Janine with a final malevolent stare, Althea spun and headed up the stairs with every vile name she’d ever heard rolling through her furious mind. She’d show them. They’d regret this humiliation.

  Panting, she went straight to Jules’s room, and after a quick glance to insure that no one had followed, she tapped lightly on the door. “Jules,” she whispered thickly. “Open up. It’s Althea.” A frantic rustling emanated from inside the room. She heard his closet door snap shut, and after a moment the knob turned. She spoke to the dark eyeball peering through a crack in the door. “We have to talk. Let me in.”

  The eye widened, rolled to the right and to the left, then the door opened. Althea breezed in, raking her fake finger-nails through her ratty hair.

  After a final peek down the hallway, Jules closed the door. Obviously uncomfortable with the unexpected invasion, he self-consciously smoothed the crisply ironed lapels of his pajama top. “You seem distressed,” he said finally.

  Althea threw her head back and laughed.

  “Shh!” Jules’s panicked gaze spun around the room. “Someone will hear.”

  Since alienating the frightened young man wouldn’t be to her advantage, Althea apologized with a pretty pout, then slid him a shifty glance. “You haven’t seemed too happy lately. What’s happening?”

  Jules sighed dramatically. “Things haven’t been going well.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She folded her arms. “Actually, life around here soured the minute Coulliard arrived. I mean, no one is paying any attention to you anymore. Your grand-mother’s always fussing over him, filling up his coffee cup, smoothing his hair….” She paused while the young man nodded glumly. “If I were you, hon, I’d be pretty peeved about our new neighbor.”

  “Coulliard has spoiled everything,” Jules replied somberly. “I wish he’d drop dead and blow away.”

  “Maybe we can arrange that.” Smiling broadly, Althea tossed a chummy arm around his thin shoulders. “Auntie Althea has a plan.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Janine slowly opened her eyes, vaguely aware that the heat in her belly was slowly draining away. A peculiar emptiness settled over her, a disappointment to have been awakened. She’d had that dream again, the one about Quinn. It had been glorious. It had been frightening.

  Moistening her lips, she squinted at the red LED numbers on her clock radio and moaned. It wasn’t even two in the morning. She flopped back onto the pillow wondering if she’d ever sleep again. The fire was easing from her body, but her mind was alive, tormented by sweet memories, not only of the dream but of what had happened in the parlor—before she and Quinn had been so crudely interrupted.

  Janine didn’t even try to suppress her resentment of Althea. The woman was vulgar and malicious and quite obviously jealous as sin. Having recen
tly encountered the green-eyed monster herself, she could at least understand what had driven Althea to behave so badly. But that didn’t excuse such crassness, and Janine was still upset that, after the cantankerous woman had left, Quinn’s demeanor had changed markedly. He’d instantly withdrawn and become distant, acting as if the closeness they’d shared had meant nothing.

  Then he’d chastely kissed Janine’s cheek, thanked her for the tea that he hadn’t even tasted and said good-night, leaving her frustrated, stunned and emotionally bereft.

  Even the memory of how she’d stood there staring at the empty parlor for God knows how long was embarrassing to her. What had she expected Quinn to do—take her right there on the sofa?

  And was that what she’d really wanted?

  Sighing, she turned over, beat the feather pillow into submission and rammed her head into the resultant dent. She squeezed her eyes shut, waited a moment, flipped over, waited another moment, then threw off the covers and fanned her face with her hand.

  It was going to be a long night.

  A sound in the hallway caught her attention. She sat up, listening. She heard one soft click follow another as Quinn’s door opened and closed.

  Sliding out of bed, she tiptoed to her door, cracked it open and peeked into the hall. She saw nothing except the dim shadows cast by the tiny stair lights. After several seconds, she’d nearly convinced herself that she’d been hearing things when Quinn’s door suddenly opened again.

  Janine quickly closed the crack to a mere sliver, twisting awkwardly to peer through the narrow opening. Quinn emerged fully clothed and carrying a flashlight. He fiddled with the battery compartment, tapped the tapered handle on his palm, then flipped the switch and tested the beam.

  Apparently satisfied, he moved stealthily down the hallway using the flashlight to illuminate his way. When he reached the stair landing, he swept the beam around the wall. Janine opened her door a bit wider to get a better view and was completely baffled by the odd sight.