Patricia Potter (25 page)

Don’t make the error of sympathy, he told himself. But it didn’t work. He did feel sympathy, and something more, and it scared him as little in his violent life had.

The dawn had spread across the entire eastern sky. He could delay no longer. As he looked at the steps leading down to the cargo deck, Cam appeared, his harsh features more tranquil than Quinn had ever seen them. Quinn wondered if his own would ever mirror that look.

“She all right?”

“She’s fine. That little girl has more courage than I thought.”

“The others should arrive soon. Watch out for them, Cam. I’m going to my cabin.”

“Need any help, Capt’n?”

The edges around Quinn’s eyes crinkled. “I need a lot of help, Cam, but for the moment stay here and take care of the shipment.”

“What are you goin’ do?”

Quinn shrugged. He wished to hell he knew.

Cam grinned. “Wildcat by the tail?”

For the first time since night, Quinn relaxed slightly. “I think you could say that.”

“When do we leave?”

“Noon. No later. Particularly now that we have a guest.”

“You’re goin’ to keep her then?”

“I don’t see any other choice, Cam.”

“You know whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

“I know, Cam,” Quinn said softly. “I know.” He turned and moved swiftly toward the stairs to the upper deck. And his cabin.

Meredith watched the first light seep into the cabin. She had stopped struggling. It was futile. Instead she studied her surroundings. Perhaps it would tell her something about the enigmatic man who seemed to have so many conflicting faces.

The cabin was a comfortable one, with rich wine-colored draperies and shelves and shelves of books. She was surprised at their number. Reading was not a habit she associated with gamblers and rogues. She wished she could make out the titles. You could tell much, she knew, from what a person read.

The bed on which she lay was large and comfortable, the sheets smelling of soap and spices, a smell she remembered well and which was indelibly associated with him. It had hovered in her mind far too long after their last meeting.

She twisted around until she faced the back wall and saw the painting that dominated it. Even in the dim light, she knew immediately it was a rainbow. In shock, she recognized it as her own. Her rainbow!

Elias had said someone had been asking for her paintings. Could it have been Devereux? Had that been how he’d found her? Had he been tracking her? If so, he was far more dangerous than she had first thought. And far more devious.

When she heard footsteps and the sound of a key turning in the lock, she twisted again until she was as he had left her. But she didn’t close her eyes, nor would she try to hide her thoughts from him. Those tactics simply hadn’t worked earlier. She decided to challenge him directly.

Meredith watched as the tall lean figure entered and went to one wall, pulling the draperies apart, letting the sun pour in and fill the room. She sensed the reluctant hesitancy in his steps with surprise.

And then he was there, above her, seeming much taller. He had taken off his coat and he stood there silently in a linen shirt open at the neck, tight black trousers hugging muscular legs, and polished soft-leather black boots that came almost to his knees. There was so much power in that body, so much strength. She had sensed it before, but never in so formidable a way.

Her eyes moved slowly upward, to a face that was now slightly shadowed with new beard. All derision was gone from his eyes. Instead, there was something like regret, and that worried her more than threats or mockery or torment. She could understand those, cope with them, ignore them, tolerate them. She didn’t understand this expression, or the quiet thoughtfulness of his gaze.

His eyes broke the contact and with lithe grace he picked up a chair and placed it near the bed. He folded his long tall body into it, and she wondered once more at the leisurely elegance of his movements. He looked unhurried but again she sensed the tension in him, the silent watchfulness that made something in her react so strongly to him. After bearing his scrutiny for several seconds, she felt her own tension clawing at the walls of her body. She couldn’t believe how much she craved his touch again, the feeling of his fingers against her face….

She was desperately afraid that those wayward feelings were evident in her eyes, for she could not move her gaze away from him. Dear God, why did he affect her so? She should know only fear, loathing, caution.

Meredith saw his mouth soften, as though he could read her mind, and he leaned down and untied the cloth from her mouth. She took several deep breaths of air, partly because of need, partly to regain her composure.

He cut the bonds around her ankles, then her wrists, and his fingers were unexpectedly gentle. His mouth was set but not in a hostile gesture. Only a throbbing muscle in his cheek gave real evidence of tension.

She stretched like a cat after a nap in the afternoon sun, playing for time, praying for inspiration. She felt rather than saw his intent, searching, intrusive eyes on her and she could not disobey their silent command. Her eyes climbed slowly to his, meeting them, challenging them. A sudden fierce force streaked between them with the same wild splendor as heat lightning on a summer’s night. It paralyzed both of them.

“Who are you, Meredith Seaton,” Quinn finally asked, his deep voice soft and compelling. “What are you?”

She rubbed her wrists slowly before answering, as if they pained her. She had already discovered he was discomfited by the thought of hurting her. She decided she would use that interesting weakness to her advantage.

“You know who I am,” she said breathlessly, but her voice caught, and he heard the strain in it. “And I could ask you the same questions.”

His mouth quirked up on one side, and the cleft in his chin seemed to deepen. His eyes, those dark blue remote eyes, suddenly looked as if they had been sprinkled with light. She had never met anyone so magnetic, so mesmerizing, anyone who could turn charm on and off as easily as opening and closing a door.

“Ah, but I asked you first, Meredith, and I, at the moment, have the upper hand.”

Meredith didn’t miss the wry note in his voice as he said “at the moment.” He grew more and more puzzling by the second.

Once more, she hesitated. Her eyes traveled around the cabin and again found the painting. The sun, lying low in the east, hit it directly through the window, and she could almost see the water moving.

“That’s an interesting painting,” she observed, changing the subject. She didn’t think he knew about her own painting. She had never mentioned it to him and she was sure her brother wouldn’t have drawn attention to her efforts. She was equally sure his brother would have discreetly disposed of her gifts.

He turned away from her and stared at the painting as if it were new to him. The signature, M. Sabre, was in the right-hand corner, exactly where Meredith’s had been on the painting she had given Brett. Now he knew why something had nagged at him in Brett’s office. The scrawl of the names was similar. There was something else similar, but he couldn’t quite find it. He shook his head. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. The same hand couldn’t have produced this painting and the monstrosity in Brett’s office. Coincidence in the scrawl, in the name. That was all. Still, his curiosity was pricked. “You surprise me, Meredith,” he probed. “I didn’t realize you were interested in art.”

“Nor you,” she retorted. “I rather imagined you would have framed a deck of cards…or a roll of bills.”

“Even blackguards and gamblers have an appreciation for something well done,” he replied with the half smile that so charmed her. “Call it a whim, Meredith.” Each time he said her name, the old taunting quality came back into his voice, and she hated it.

But even the half smile disappeared and once more his eyes bored into her. “The art appreciation discussion is over. You’re avoiding my question.”

“I don’t remember it,” she said in her old Meredith-the-simpleminded tone. “I’m thirsty. The gag hurt me.”

Amusement flickered in his eyes for a moment, then fled. “It won’t work, Meredith. Not anymore. Although I must say, you’re very good at acting the simpleton. Even my brother believes it, and he’s usually very astute.”

But he went to a table where a pitcher and glass sat and poured her some water, then set the pitcher next to the bed. He sat, crossing his legs indolently as he watched her sip carefully…and slowly. More slowly, he knew, than necessary. A raised eyebrow finally signaled his impatience.

Meredith knew she couldn’t delay any longer. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, “although no gentleman would call a lady simpleminded.” The last word was said with great dignity.

Quinn couldn’t help it. He leaned back in the chair and laughed, a full-throated hearty laugh that filled the room and resounded in Meredith’s heart. It was, quite simply, the most pleasant laugh she had ever heard, even if it was directed at her. She tried to keep her own mouth from twitching. Her response
had
sounded incredibly stupid, but then she had trained herself for years to say stupid things.

Even as he laughed, his eyes remained cool and watchful, and she became painfully aware that none of her defenses were working with him, that he saw through the facade she had so carefully built. Still, the habit was strong. “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” she said, pouting.

His laugh faded into a chuckle until he realized that she had very astutely changed the subject again.

He leaned back lazily in the chair, stretching his long legs and placing them on the bed next to her. “Very clever, Meredith, but you’re not leaving this room until you answer every one of my questions. And to my total satisfaction. I don’t mind waiting. You look very fetching.” His hand went out and pushed an errant curl away from her face. “I think you have no idea how much.”

Meredith felt the flush rise on her face. To her knowledge, she had never blushed before she met Quinn Devereux. It was just anger, she comforted herself. Only anger.

“You can’t keep me here forever.”

“No?” It was menacingly said, a promise implied in the tone.

“No,” she blustered. “I’ll scream.”

“No,” he replied. “For some odd reason, I don’t think you will.”

She opened her mouth in threat, all the time knowing she could no more scream than he could let her. She could never explain her presence in his cabin at this hour in the morning. Still, she thought, the threat might convince him to let her go.

His reaction was immediate. His lips silenced her.

He meant only to quiet her, but the meeting of their lips quickly became something else. In the past hour, both of them had wanted this, although they stubbornly refused to recognize it.

They knew it now.

With a deep sigh, she surrendered to the irresistible, and her lips responded with all the longing, all the need that had been building inside like a rumbling volcano about to erupt. They were both like two thirst-crazed people sighting a spring. Running, stumbling toward life-giving salvation.

His hands tangled in her hair, relishing its silky richness as his mouth searched and found a response. He felt her body tremble under his hands, and her mouth open to him, inviting, enticing. He moved quickly to the bed and took her in his arms, feeling the incredible softness of every curve, exulting in her surrender, delighting in the unrestrained reaction of her body to his.

Their tongues melded together, meeting in a slow sensuous waltz, languorously at first, but then catching a rhythm that grew in intensity and speed. They moved incautiously, frantically, flaming the new sensations each stirred in the other. When Meredith thought she could bear no more, his mouth gentled suddenly, and the kiss became something fine and wondrous.

Meredith was startled by his gentleness. The evidence that he had leashed his own desires was obvious in the throbbing of the muscles in his cheek, and it affected her as nothing else could. His tongue, which had earlier ravished and plundered, now seemed contrite, tenderly teasing the places he had previously aroused, sending her on new waves of exquisite flight until she knew nothing except she had to have more of him.

Her arms went around him, drawing him closer. She had never known she could feel this way, so…wanton, so…shameless. Yet she felt no shame, only a sense of rightness, of being where she belonged. It was so confusing, so utterly impossible, but she was helpless against the rampaging feelings. She could merely move along with the flood of exquisite sensations.

“Meredith…pretty Meredith,” he whispered in her ear. She heard her name as if from a distance. It sounded like music the way he drew it out, the way his soft warm baritone voice caressed it.

Her heart thumped so loudly she knew he could hear it, and her hands pressed tighter against him, her fingers touching his neck, playing the same teasing games as he did. She felt his body go taut as if struck, and then his lips were on her throat, licking and nuzzling until she thought she would go mad.

She felt his hands reach behind her, find the buttons to her dress and release them one by one. As her dress loosened, his mouth moved from the nape of her neck downwards, trailing hot paths until she thought she could bear no more.