Patricia Potter (35 page)

She hadn’t expected him to do that. She had thought he would protect his gambler’s identity. But he stood there patiently, waiting to be introduced, as the Meriweathers, Sally, and her husband gathered around, voicing concern which had obviously plagued them for hours.

“It’s my fault,” Quinn said with a quick charming smile. “Miss Seaton is an old friend, a client of my brother, and we started talking….”

It left Meredith with little choice but to introduce him, and he was quickly invited inside for Christmas cheer. She was startled when he accepted with alacrity.

She leaned over and whispered, “Cam?”

He merely grinned wickedly. “I think Cam will understand.”

“Is this wise?” she questioned.

“No,” he answered softly in her ear. “But I haven’t been wise since I met you.”

And then he turned from her and fastened his charm on the Meriweather family. She had seen him charm Opal and then her brother. Still, she was amazed at how easily he now worked the same magic on her friends. Within minutes, they had invited him to attend church with them, that night, and again to her surprise he accepted.

Sally winked at her approvingly as she tucked her arm under that of her husband.

Of all the strange things that had happened to Meredith since she’d met Quinn, none turned out to be more emotional than standing next to him in church, his dark face lit by flickering candlelight and his strong baritone voice dominating in the singing of centuries-old carols. Sally looked at him in complete delight, as her perfect soprano and his deep resonant voice caused every eye to turn their way.

So much for secrecy and subtlety, Meredith thought. But they were only small warning signals compared to the great joy of standing there with him, her arm tucked in his possessively, and feeling a part of Christmas for the first time in her life. Her heart swelled until she thought it might burst, but a tiny voice kept warning her it wouldn’t, couldn’t, last.

But it seemed, for the next few days, as if it might. He showed up Christmas morning with a small package. She didn’t even wonder how he managed to find something on Christmas. Nothing he did surprised her any longer.

His eyes gleamed as she took the small package and opened it to find an exquisite gold locket. It was by far the finest gift she had ever received, and Meredith clutched it possessively even as she knew she probably should not accept it. It was far too expensive for propriety, but then, she thought, she lived a life of impropriety.

“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.

C
hapter 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.