Patricia Potter

by Rainbow

  “I have nothing for you,” she said sadly.

  He grinned down at her. “You gave me the most magnificent present in the world yesterday—just being alive and here.”

  “But that doesn’t count,” she argued.

  He looked at her worried, distressed face. “I have a solution, then. A sketch of the Lucky Lady.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Done,” she agreed.

  His own eyes caressed her, the open smile he had never seen before, the face full of animation, and eyes glimmering with golden lights. He made an instant imprudent decision. “I plan to stay a few days.”

  He didn’t think her face could brighten any more, but it did, and he shoved back all the warning voices in his mind. She made him feel so damned good, so damned free.

  “Cam…?” The name came easily to her tongue now. He was a friend of Quinn. He was her friend.

  His mouth twitched at the corner. “I think he might go on to Cairo.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Not if he’s recognized, but he’s very good at slipping in and out of places.”

  “I’ll have a present for him then too,” she said delightedly. “Daphne’s manumission papers. Levi has an attorney who can handle it tomorrow.”

  His hand tightened on her arm. It was the best gift Cam and Daphne could have. He knew from his friend how terrified Daphne was of being taken back. It had required a great deal of courage on her part to stay in Illinois. He wanted to lean down and kiss Meredith, but there were several pairs of openly curious eyes in the room.

  His approval already showed in his face, and it was enough for Meredith, more than enough. But even as the glow inside her flared brightly, she warned herself to be wary.

  Quinn saw the brief shadow in her face and guessed its cause. He was surprised to discover that, rather than being disappointed, he was rather pleased. Wariness, in their world, was a necessary and admirable trait. And there was something about her odd combination of innocence, suspicion, and talent for deception that both excited and fascinated him.

  In some ways, he felt like the young man he had been before he’d lost his own innocence in England. For the first time since his arrest, he felt truly alive and hopeful. He grinned, realizing that he was actually courting.

  He tried to warn himself to go slowly. She knew nothing about him, about those years in Australia. How would she feel if she knew he was an escaped convict, that he had been chained like a dog and subjected to every humiliation known to man? That he was responsible for his best friend’s death?

  He had told himself that over and over last night…and continued to tell himself this morning when he had pounded at Levi’s door and convinced him to open his mercantile so he could select a present. He had told himself that as he looked into Levi’s worried eyes, and related just a little of the conversation in the carriage. He had told himself that as he hurriedly dressed and arrived at the Meriweather home at an embarrassingly early hour for dinner. He had told himself that so many times that it was like an echo in his head.

  He reminded himself that he somehow always managed to bring disaster to those he loved, that he had vowed not to get too close to anyone again. He would have to bar his heart from loving her, and make her see that caring for him was both unwise and dangerous.

  Yet his heart filled with joy every time he thought of her, of the tentative little smile and the wistfulness in her eyes, of the way she held his hand, as if it were made of gold instead of scarred by calluses. Especially the way she touched him, as if he were special and cherished. It had been a very long time since he had felt special. And he liked the feeling. He liked it very much. And, damn his soul, he couldn’t fight it. Not anymore.

  Quinn looked at the locket in her hand. “May I put it on for you?” he asked.

  Her slow smile, still tentative, still a little hesitant, made him ache inside, made his hands tremble slightly as he gathered the golden hair to one side, and fastened the slender chain around her neck. His fingers rested a trifle longer than necessary on her neck and might have stayed there if Sally had not come over to admire the locket.

  He stepped back, watching the golden brown hair settle in soft curls around her face and down her back. He remembered how it had felt in his hands when he had made love to her, and his whole body ached with longing. He was relieved when they were called to dinner and she was seated across from him. He was only slightly aware of the fond, amused glances of their dinner companions as he and Meredith spoke to each other silently across the table.

  After dinner, Sally asked if Quinn would join her in some carols at the piano. It had been a very long time since he last sang, years until last night, and he was reluctant. He didn’t really know why. Perhaps because he equated music with happiness, with his family, with memories smothered by brutality. He had often sung with his family, all of whom had rich voices, but when he had returned home to find two dead, he had avoided it, avoided reminiscences of carefree times.

  “Please,” Meredith said, noting his hesitation.

  He nodded and went over to the piano. Sally sat and arranged some sheet music and gestured for him to sit next to her. Sally was an excellent musician and the soft note of “I Saw Three Ships” wafted through the room. She started singing, her soft pure voice soon joined by Quinn’s sure rich baritone. As if they had rehearsed it perfectly, they divided the phrases, joining together in the refrain, the sound of their voices lingering in the room as the song ended.

  Sally then played “What Child Is This,” and her voice stopped suddenly as Quinn continued the plaintive melody.

  Meredith sat transfixed, for there was more emotion in Quinn’s voice than she had ever seen in the man. There was pain and compassion and love there. The room was so still that she knew the others were as affected as she was. She was unaware of the tear rolling down her face, that her hands were clasped so tightly they were white. When the song ended, there was no movement, no talk, only complete silence, and through eyes blurred with tears she saw his face twist into the old self-mocking lines, and his voice, without accompaniment, started “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” and was soon joined by the piano and other voices.

  He left soon after, pleading another engagement, but Meredith suspected it was something else, that he was embarrassed at exposing something of himself he had kept previously hidden.

  Quinn leaned over and, quickly and almost indifferently, kissed her cheek at the door. “I’ll call tomorrow,” he said. “For Daphne’s papers.”

  She nodded, feeling the strain in him, the tension that radiated from his body. She wanted to ask him to stay, to beg him not to go, but she could not. Something in his guarded look told her not to.

  “Tomorrow then,” she said.

  His grim mouth relaxed slightly. But he merely lowered his head in acknowledgment and strode quickly away.

  Sally came up behind her. “He’s wonderful,” she whispered.

  Meredith didn’t answer. Dear God, but the sense of loss was overwhelming as he disappeared around a corner. Don’t, she told herself. Don’t be a fool.

  Quinn Devereux, she had learned, was the consummate actor and, after her kidnapping, she did not doubt his ruthlessness. The wary part of her, the part that guarded against hurt, couldn’t help but wonder now if the gentler, more vulnerable Captain Devereux was only his latest role.

  Chapter 19

  QUINN HAD experienced many restless nights, but none quite as tormenting as this one.

  For a time yesterday, he had felt like a schoolboy courting his first girl. He had completely lowered his guard and revealed feelings he had thought submerged forever.

  But it had felt so good to be surrounded by warmth, to be touched gently by eyes that asked little in return. He kept seeing the pleasure in her face as she opened his present, as she looked across the table from him.

  But bloody hell, it wouldn’t work. It couldn’t. They would only endanger each other. Unless they both gave up the Underground Railroad. And
he doubted she would do that until she found her half sister. He now knew exactly how stubborn she could be.

  He had already risked much. Despite his casual words, coming to Cincinnati had been unwise, perhaps dangerous. But he was no longer the cool calculating outlaw he had been. His stomach was tied in knots, his heart twisted in contorted anguish. He was seeing everything that he had missed. Going without was endurable if you knew nothing else, expected nothing. But once you did, it was pure misery. In the past two days, he’d tasted love and warmth and joy, and he had an appetite for more. No. He had a fierce, uncontrollable craving that was eating away at him. Quinn now understood Cam’s preoccupation of the past days, and his obsession with Daphne. He had an obsession of his own now to deal with.

  They’d had a drink together last night, he and Cam. More than one, more than two. God knew how many. Cam was celebrating the news about Daphne’s manumission; Quinn was seeking comfort. After the last weeks of drunken grief, he should have known there was none in the bottle.

  He wanted Meredith. Damn, he wanted her.

  He rose slowly the next morning, realizing he had gained nothing from the previous evening other than a headache and a stomach that felt weighed by stones.

  Amazed that his hand was steady, Quinn shaved, although very cautiously, all the while searching his face curiously in the mirror. It was the same, yet it was different. A side of his mouth quirked upward at his image. Damn fool. Ever since Morgana, he felt immune from love: infected once, protected always. Like a smallpox vaccination.

  Nonetheless, his heart was beating in a quicker fashion than usual, and he could scarcely contain his impatience to see whether Daphne’s papers were ready. He couldn’t admit to himself that part of the reason for his rather singular eagerness was seeing Meredith. He would obtain Daphne’s papers and leave, he promised himself. He made lists of things he needed to do, excuses to keep away from her, all the time knowing he would discard them in a moment if invited to do so.

  Sally visited her parents’ home early the morning after Christmas. Meredith was busy with her sketch, trying to remember every detail of the Lucky Lady: the gingerbread lacing, the lanterns, the great paddlewheel. It was already taking form on her sketchpad.

  Sally leaned over and looked. “His boat?”

  Meredith nodded, her face turning crimson.

  “Tell me everything about him. He’s intriguing.”

  “I wish I could,” Meredith said. “I don’t know that much myself. Just that he owns the steamboat and that his brother is my trustee.”

  “He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” Sally said dreamily, “except, of course, for Garrett.” The last words were added hastily and loyally.

  “Hmm,” Meredith answered. “Too handsome.”

  “No one can be too handsome.”

  Meredith lifted an eyebrow in disagreement.

  “He looks at you as though he’s passionately in love.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  “And you looked as if you were passionately in love with him.”

  “They can be very deceiving.”

  “Then why are you sketching his boat?”

  “A promise. Nothing more.”

  “I think there’s a lot more.”

  “He’s a gambler, Sally.”

  “All the more fascinating.”

  “And a rogue.”

  “I know,” Sally said with satisfaction. “He’s just what you need.”

  Meredith tried to look insulted, but it came to no more than a silly grin. “Sally!”

  “Besides, he has a wonderful voice. You two can come visit, and we can sing together.”

  “I can’t sing.”

  “I know that.” Sally giggled. “I meant your captain and me.”

  “And what will Garrett think?”

  “He thought we were wonderful last night. Garrett is very broad-minded. Besides, everyone noticed your captain had no eyes for anyone but you, certainly not for an old married lady like me.”

  Sally looked so unlike an old married lady, Meredith had to laugh. Her friend had never looked happier, and never laughed nor teased so much. Marriage had been very good to her. Meredith wondered what marriage would be like with Quinn Devereux. He was so unlike the industrious but amiable Garrett Bailey. She couldn’t imagine him being satisfied, or happy, with one place, one person.

  “Nonsense,” she said, surprised when it came out aloud. She had intended the comment only for herself.

  Sally’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll bet he calls on you as early as he did yesterday.”

  “Nonsense,” Meredith repeated, yet the idea had definite appeal.

  As if on cue, an impatient rapping sounded on the door, and Sally grinned. “Nonsense?” She laughed at the blush on Meredith’s cheeks, then ran quickly to the door, opening it to find Quinn Devereux, looking as baffled at being there as Meredith was in seeing him. Sally couldn’t resist an “I told you so” smile to Meredith before she turned back to Quinn and grinned broadly.

  “Mrs. Bailey,” he said formally to Sally, “Meredith said she had some errands to run this morning. I thought I might escort her.”

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” Sally said. “I have to go out, and we were just wondering how we could amuse Meredith today.” She avoided Meredith’s glower. “Do come in, Captain. She can be ready in a few minutes. She just needs a cloak, don’t you, Meredith?”

  “More like a gun,” Meredith muttered just within Sally’s hearing, making no secret that her intended prey was her friend.

  “Oh, and a bonnet, of course,” Sally ran on heedlessly. “I’ll get them for you.” With a wink, she went out of the room, leaving Meredith alone with Quinn.

  He couldn’t prevent a slight grin of his own at Sally’s obvious matchmaking and Meredith’s discomfort. He saw the sketchpad in her hands and moved to her side, studying the lines intently. “That’s very good.”

  Meredith’s hands trembled slightly. He always had that effect on her. “It would be better if I could see it again.”

  He gave her a level stare with unblinking blue eyes. “You can,” he said. “Go back with me. We can take the Ohio Star to Cairo and wait there for the Lucky Lady. The timing should be just about right.”

  Quinn didn’t know where the suggestion had come from. He certainly hadn’t considered it earlier. He had intended something quite opposite in fact. He had planned to escort her to the attorney’s office for Daphne’s papers and then say good-bye and leave. Leave her, Cincinnati, and all the turmoil she created within him. Over a breakfast he couldn’t eat this morning, he had decided that course was the only wise one. Yet now he held his breath for her answer.

  “Yes,” she said simply, quite unable to say anything else. She could barely breathe as she looked up at him. Was Quinn, fresh-shaven and smelling of those enticing spices, even more irresistible this morning, or was it just that he was becoming more important to her? Piece by piece she was fitting together the puzzle that was Quinn, and the more she learned, the more intrigued she became.

  She liked his friendship with Cam. She liked his easy charm with her friends. She liked the emotion in that fine voice of his. She liked the gentle way he touched her with his hands and especially with his eyes. She even liked the way he glowered at her because it meant he was as confused as she.

  And he was glowering now, as if he couldn’t believe her easy assent. “You know what I mean?” he added roughly.

  But he no longer intimidated her. She had wondered last night whether she was seeing the real Quinn Devereux, or merely a shadow figure he wanted her to see. Perhaps a part of her still wondered. But she was willing now to take a chance. Not only willing, compelled.

  She nodded, watching a quick flash of life in his eyes before he shuttered them once more.

  He sighed with something like surrender. “I don’t know what in the hell we’re doing, Meredith, but I can’t seem to do anything about it.”

  “I know,” she
said.

  The simple affirmation made him grin. He had never met a woman with so little guile. When, he amended silently, she was not playing the role of a ninny.

  “It could be dangerous,” he warned. “And most assuredly not prudent.”

  Now she grinned. “Is this the way you conduct all your seductions, by warning the lady off?”

  He shrugged, drowning his laughter in his throat. He was beginning to wonder who the seducer actually was. “There haven’t been enough to establish a pattern,” he replied with roguish modesty.

  She gave him a skeptical stare. “The notorious Captain Devereux?” she teased. “I’m disappointed.”

  “I can always try to improve,” he retorted, but his eyes said something entirely different.

  Her heart beat at an accelerated rate, and she had to strain for breath. Quinn Devereux was undoubtedly the most wickedly attractive man she had ever known, with that devilish smile on his lips and laugh crinkles around his eyes. Yet, she noticed abruptly, his eyes, so deep a blue they made her ache inside, still didn’t smile. It was…almost as if they were unreachable, a part of someone else, a stranger who stood apart and watched.

  She stood, forgetting about the pad in her lap. It fell, and he quickly swooped down and picked it up. “Such carelessness with my present,” he admonished her.

  “It’s your fault,” she said. “You have a way of…”

  “Confusing you?”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said with satisfaction. “Now let’s go see Levi’s attorney. I have a most impatient friend.”

  He waited, not very patiently himself, she noted, as she found her cloak and hat and gloves. When she presented herself, he took her arm.

  “How—” she started to ask how they would travel.

  “The coachman from the other night,” he interrupted, seeing the question in her face. “He learned my name from Levi and presented himself at the hotel early to say he would be at our service. I think he believes me an eccentric millionaire.”