The Raven Master

by Diana Whitney

  Holding the flat metal in place with his hand, he carefully raised the lamp, then stood to examine his handiwork. When he was certain that no trace of the concealed envelope was exposed, he sat tiredly on the bed.

  Although his foray into town had been an informational bust, the afternoon hadn’t been a total waste. At least he now knew what the master key looked like. Unfortunately he didn’t know where Janine kept it. Since she’d taken his room key from the foyer closet, that had been the first place he’d looked. He’d also checked the kitchen drawers, the pantry, every nook and cranny in both the library and parlor. That left only her bedroom and the downstairs office, both of which were secured by those damnable jimmy-proof locks.

  Despite Janine’s protestations to the contrary, her trusting nature obviously had limits but he already knew that from the leery way she watched him. He’d encouraged that, of course. He wanted her to be afraid of him, to keep her distance. Every time she’d gotten too close, he’d momentarily lost sight of his priorities. There was something about her…

  As Janine’s image floated through his mind, he was instantly aroused. Her delicate fragrance lingered in the humid air, an enticing combination of floral sweetness and musky excitement that made his head spin wildly. His fingertips tingled with the memory of her softness, the way her creamy flesh had pulsed beneath his touch. And those incredible eyes, filled with a guileless passion that probed the core of his manhood until he’d been nearly mad with wanting her.

  She was so fragile, so innocent—

  Quinn swore and pinched the bridge of his nose. Had he learned nothing from the past? He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the worn photograph. He studied it again. Cynthia had had innocent eyes, too. Her betrayal had taught him the ultimate lesson—and she had paid the ultimate price.

  The mattress vibrated as the raven hopped onto the bed and waddled up beside his master. Quinn absently stroked the glossy black feathers, silently pondering the quest that had brought him to Darby Ridge. The end was in sight. Soon, it would all be over. Then the killing could stop.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Here, dear. Let me help.” Edna took a soiled dinner plate from Janine’s hands, sympathetically eyed her bruised forearms and tutted. “Are you in a great deal of pain?”

  “It’s nothing, Edna. Really.” Embarrassed by the attention, Janine made a production of filling the sink with soapy dishwater. “Besides, the ointment you gave me helped a great deal.”

  “You must use it twice daily,” Edna said sternly, shaking a fistful of gloppy forks. “Infection is always a concern when wild creatures are involved.”

  Jules propped his elbows on the kitchen table. His dark eyes sparkled with excitement. “What if it’s rabid?”

  Althea smoothed the dipping bodice of her fire-engine red cocktail dress, tossed her napkin on the table and emitted a contemptuous snort. “Birds don’t carry rabies, you idiot.”

  “But what if they did? Why, we might come to breakfast some morning and find poor Janine writhing on the floor with foam oozing out of her mouth.”

  Rolling her eyes, Janine roughly turned off the faucet. “I promise not to foam, Jules.”

  “Oh.” The disappointed young man scooted his chair backward so his grandmother could finish clearing the table. “Still, the creature is dangerous. It should be taken into the woods and shot.”

  Janine quickly glanced over her shoulder and was relieved that Quinn’s dispassionate expression hadn’t changed. He was seated casually with one arm looped over the back of the chair, his lean legs extended and crossed at the ankles. Actually, he didn’t appear to be the least bit concerned by Jules’s threat.

  In truth, neither was Janine. She knew perfectly well that all this rabies business was just part of the young man’s melodramatic nature. Nevertheless, Janine felt obliged to defend her decision in allowing the raven to stay. “Edgar is not dangerous, Jules. As I’ve already explained, I frightened the bird and he reacted. Besides, he’s safely secured in Quinn’s room. There’s no way for him to escape.”

  Althea grinned smugly. “Unless, of course, he was deliberately let out and, say, locked in Jules’s room. My goodness, that big blackbird could probably peck a person’s eyes out while he slept.”

  Jules went white. “That’s not funny.”

  Since Janine was up to her elbows in bubbles, she suppressed an inhospitable urge to fling soapsuds in the smirking woman’s face. “You’re not helping the situation, Althea.”

  Althea instantly arranged her crimson lips in a sultry pout and patted Jules’s knee. “Now you know I was just teasing, don’t you?”

  Jules folded his arms and stared sullenly at the gingham tablecloth. “I detest birds. They’re…dirty.”

  “Every creature of God is good,” Edna murmured, piling the remaining dishes on the counter.

  Althea turned her attention to Quinn, leaning flirtatiously across the table. “Personally, I think it’s very sweet that you rescued the poor thing.” She fluttered her clumpy eyelashes. “Is it true that men who like animals make the best lovers?”

  Quinn managed an indulgent smile. “I couldn’t say.”

  Pressing her upper arms against her breasts, Althea bent provocatively forward, expertly defining the exposed cleavage. “Come up to my room later, and we’ll find out.”

  “Really, Althea.” Edna indignantly dropped a damp tea towel beside the dish drainer. “That kind of talk is most inappropriate.”

  Crossing her bare thighs, Althea leaned back and chuckled. “What’s the matter, Edna? Did you want first crack at him?”

  The older woman turned pink as a peony. “You are a sinful woman. I’ll pray for your soul.”

  “It isn’t my soul that’s horny.” Althea stretched, stood and crossed the room to give the dumpy little grandmother an unexpected hug. “But pray for me, anyway. I’ll take any help I can get.”

  Edna patted Althea’s thickened waist. “I will, dear. I will.”

  There was a scraping sound when Jules suddenly pushed back his chair. “Shall we play chess tonight, Althea?”

  The rhinestone cascade dripping from the woman’s ear-lobes glittered as her head shook. “Not tonight, hon.”

  Crestfallen, Jules extended a pleading hand. “Just one game? Please?”

  Althea ruffled the young man’s hair, an affectionate, motherly gesture that should have seemed out of character yet oddly enough didn’t. “No offense, sweetie, but I look too damned good to waste time pushing carved figures around a dinky board.” To prove the point, she adopted a runway stance and gestured the length of her slinky red gown. “Is this enough to knock your socks off or what?”

  Jules shoved his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored slacks and regarded her sullenly. “You look like a tart.”

  Althea grinned. “Good enough to eat, huh?”

  Edna’s brow puckered with concern. “Jules is quite right, dear. Modest attire would be much more attractive.”

  Suppressing a smile, Janine dunked a soapy plate in rinse water and pretended she wasn’t listening.

  “Oh, sure. I suppose you want me to dress like Miss Plain-as-mud, here.” Althea disdainfully eyed Janine’s floppy, thigh-length top. “Now there’s a fashion statement.”

  The dripping plate froze in midair. Janine looked over her shoulder, astounded and appalled to have become the subject of conversation. Even worse, the two women continued their ardent discussion and gave no more thought to Janine’s presence than they would of any inanimate object.

  With chunky fists pressed in the vicinity of her shapeless hips, Edna rose up to her full five-foot height. “Janine does not expose herself, if that’s what you mean.”

  “At least I don’t have to hide in a tent.” Althea mimicked the older woman’s stance. “I’m proud of my body.”

  Edna lifted her flabby chin. “Janine is a God-fearing woman.”

  “Yeah? Well, if you ask me, she dresses like a man-fearing woman.”


  Janine sucked in a quick breath and steadied herself on the counter.

  “Look at her,” Althea insisted. “No makeup. Hair that hasn’t seen a comb in God-knows-when. Is this a woman out to attract men?”

  Cringing, Janine absently touched her stringy bangs and wished the kitchen floor would swallow her whole. She didn’t dispute Althea’s brutal assessment but was nonetheless mortified by the public critique. She was considering whether she should beat a judicious retreat or ignore the humiliating ordeal when Quinn, who had been watching quietly from his seat at the kitchen table, suddenly spoke.

  “Janine is a beautiful woman,” he said softly. “She doesn’t use cosmetics because she quite obviously doesn’t need them.”

  Jules tilted his pinched face, scrutinizing Janine in much the same way the raven had done. “I quite agree. Natural beauty is much more appealing than an artificial, painted look.”

  A red flush crawled up Althea’s exposed bosom. “Excuse me while I gag.”

  Now it was Jules’s turn to grin smugly. “What’s wrong, Althea? Are you jealous?”

  “Oh, pul-eeze.” She flipped her head so sharply that the rhinestone dangles whipped her face. “Go ahead and waste a perfectly good Saturday night singing Saint Janine’s praises. I’m going to party.”

  With that, Althea spun on a spiked heel and strode angrily out of the room.

  When the front door slammed, Quinn gave Janine a slow smile that did peculiar things to her insides. “Was it something I said?”

  Suddenly shy, Janine lowered her gaze as she returned his smile.

  Edna bustled over to the table, wringing her fat hands. “You must forgive Althea,” she told Quinn. “She wants to be a good woman. Once, I’d thought her worthy of redemption but the devil has taken her.”

  There was a peculiar agitation to Edna’s voice that caught Janine’s attention. To her surprise, she saw that Edna was fussing with Quinn’s hair, smoothing back a lengthy strand that had escaped the pinion at his nape. Her eyes, however, held an odd, faraway expression and she continued to speak in such a low, pious tone that Janine became extremely uneasy.

  “Still, we must never give up,” the woman murmured. “We must all pray for Althea. Only when her soul is purified will she see the kingdom of God.”

  “Purified,” Jules repeated dutifully. “Amen.”

  Janine could have sworn Quinn gave Jules a look cold enough to freeze lava. After she blinked, there was only the impassive expression she’d come to expect from her newest tenant. Except, however, for a frustrated frown as he attempted to escape Edna’s frantic grooming. Finally Quinn twisted away and captured her busy hands.

  The flustered woman emitted a nervous titter. “May I pour you another cup of coffee, dear? Perhaps you’d like some dessert. I’m sure Janine has something in the pantry—”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.” Quinn stood, releasing Edna’s hands only when his hair was safely out of reach.

  Jules took a tentative step forward. “May I have some dessert, Grand’mère?”

  Edna’s tiny blue eyes registered instant disapproval. “The Lord’s abundance must not be abused with gluttony.”

  The young man folded his arms and stared at the floor.

  At that moment, Janine felt terribly sorry for Jules. She understood that beneath the educated veneer he was emotionally childlike and easily wounded. Any rejection, real or perceived, sent the fragile young man into a sullen depression.

  Edna, however, seemed oblivious to her grandson’s distress. “I’ll say good-night now. I must prepare my Sunday school lessons.” She lifted a cheek to receive Jules’s perfunctory kiss and smiled brightly at Quinn before toddling away.

  Janine set the final pot in the drainer and wiped her hands on a tea towel. “Actually, Jules, you’ve just reminded me that I had planned to set out a plate of cookies. Not as dessert, of course, but as part of the meal.”

  A flash of interest lit his dark eyes. He glanced over his shoulder, peering through the open doorway until his grandmother’s footsteps had faded away, then faced Janine and rubbed his slender hands together. “It would be rude to refuse, wouldn’t it?”

  “Of course.” She smiled and went to the pantry.

  “Janine?”

  She rooted through the crowded shelves. “Yes, Jules?”

  “Will you play chess with me?”

  “I’m not good enough, remember?” Retrieving the cellophane bag of soft-baked chocolate chip cookies, Janine closed the pantry door. “The last time we played, you said—and I believe these were your exact words—‘a demented chimpanzee would be a more challenging opponent.”’

  “I didn’t mean it.” Extending his hands, Jules followed her around the kitchen pleading his cause. “I wasn’t feeling well that evening. Please…I promise not to comment on your mental acumen.”

  Janine pulled a serving platter from an overhead cupboard. “I’m sorry, Jules. I have to pay bills this evening.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “Sure, if you’re willing to give up hot water, television and cooked food.”

  Jules’s thin shoulders drooped in defeat.

  Quinn folded his arms and leaned lazily against the door-jamb. “I’ll play chess with you.”

  Straightening, Jules regarded Quinn scornfully. “Are you any good?”

  “Are you?”

  Mightily offended, Jules hoisted his sharp little chin and puffed out his skinny chest. “I am a certified chess master.”

  When Quinn angled a questioning glance at Janine, she answered with a nod. He smiled and returned his attention to Jules. “I think I can hold my own.”

  Jules sniffed. “I doubt that.”

  Stretching, Quinn rolled his head. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? Besides, you don’t appear to have any other offers.”

  After considering that for a moment, the young man issued a curt nod. “I’ll set up,” he said brusquely, then spun and hurried out of the room.

  Janine set the unopened cookie bag on the platter. “Jules really does play brilliantly. Althea is the only person I know who can stretch a game past five minutes.”

  “Are you concerned for my ego?”

  “Of course not.” She moistened her lips as he moved closer to her. “Just a friendly warning, that’s all.”

  “A warning.” He stood close behind her, so close she felt his breath on her hair. “That sounds rather sinister. What happens if I lose? Will I be murdered in my bed?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” An enticing whiff of spicy after-shave enveloped her. She inhaled deeply before completing her reply. “You’ll probably endure some unpleasant taunting, that’s all. Jules enjoys crowing about his game prowess.”

  When Quinn slid his index finger up her arm, her knees nearly collapsed. “And what happens if I win?”

  “I—I don’t know.” She gripped the table as his knuckle brushed her earlobe. “No one has ever beaten Jules before.”

  In a proprietary gesture so sensual it took her breath away, Quinn casually wound a strand of her hair around one finger. He bent so close that his breath warmed the sensitive flesh behind her ear. “Then this should be an interesting evening.”

  A cool draft brushed her back, and when she turned, Quinn had gone. Janine sagged against the table like a deflated balloon. Her heart pounded and her legs wobbled like rubber bands; the room seemed as hot as a sauna and her skin grew slick with nervous perspiration. She was scared to death.

  A man-fearing woman.

  God, how right Althea had been.

  Janine wiped her moist brow and stiffened her spine. She had no time to mull past regrets. She had a business to run. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward her office.

  As she passed the parlor, both players were hunched over a carved pedestal chessboard. When Quinn suddenly looked up, his gaze affected her like a body blow. She absently touched her abdomen and hurried down the hall, fumbled in her pocket for the key and entered the stuffy
office. Propping the door open to allow air circulation, she sat at the desk and pulled out a depressing stack of unpaid bills.

  After a few minutes, she was interrupted when Jules appeared in the doorway and discreetly cleared his throat. She glanced up. “Can I help you?”

  “I, uh…” He offered a strained smile. “The cookies?”

  “Oh!” She pushed away from the desk and stood. “I forgot. I’ll bring them into the parlor.”

  Jules smiled gratefully. “You’re very kind.”

  Janine rounded the desk and walked briskly, pausing only for a furtive glance as she passed the parlor door. When she met Quinn’s quiet gaze, she quickly looked away and continued into the kitchen.

  It took only a few minutes to arrange the cookies on the scrolled silver-plated platter. When she returned to the parlor, Jules was alone. She set the platter on a nearby table. “Where’s Quinn?”

  “A call of nature.” Jules took a cookie, nibbling it delicately. He frowned.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s a bit dry.” He glanced longingly toward the kitchen. “A glass of milk might be nice.”

  With a pained sigh, Janine trudged back through the dining room without considering the possibility that she could have told Jules to get the milk himself. She was, after all, the hostess and tried to make all of her guests feel pampered.

  After she’d poured two tall glasses, she returned the carton to the fridge and went back to the parlor. Jules was chewing a cookie, staring at the chessboard as though reading the secret of the universe. Quinn was back in his seat but seemed more interested in Janine than the game.

  The rubbery sensation returned to her legs.

  She set down the glasses, acknowledging Quinn’s thanks with a brief smile.

  Jules suddenly emitted a crow of pleasure and took one of Quinn’s white pawns with his own black knight. “Your queen is in jeopardy, Coulliard. I’m afraid this will be an extremely brief game.”

  Still staring at Janine, Quinn smiled slowly before returning his attention to the board, and without so much as a pause for thought, he slid a white bishop into position. “Check.”