Secret of the Wolf (40 page)

She wouldn't be driven. But she must choose, now for all time: to remain apart from him,

clutching at the last scraps of objectivity, or to forsake her principles and surrender to

her heart
.

Logic dictated the obvious answer. Logic, which had no more power to force her hand

than did fear. But once she abandoned it, she couldn't turn back
.

"Am I dreaming?" Quentin asked. "Are you here, Johanna?”

Muscle by muscle she allowed her body to melt against him. "I'm here.”

He stroked the palm of his hand up her cheek and across her hairline, smoothing the

stray wisps that had come loose from her braids. "Why?”

Answer him. Answer with the truth

"I dreamed," she said. "Dreamed of you.”

"What did you dream?”

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"That

I was with you. Here, in your room.”

"With me." His hand, stilled in its motion, moved again to cup the back of her head. But

he drew her no closer. "As you are now?”

"Yes.”

"I've also dreamed, Johanna," he said, stroking the pad of his thumb along the bridge of

her nose. "But dreams do not always match reality.”

As if she, of all women, were not fully cognizant of such facts. "Sometimes dreams

reflect reality very well indeed.”

"Or give us warnings." He let her go. Her skin felt suddenly cold in the absence of his

touch. "Johanna, I think you'd better leave.”

"You want me to go?" she said. "After all the—" She stopped herself, moved back to sit

on the edge of the bed and began again. "You have, in the past, led me to believe that

you are attracted to me. Was I mistaken?”

He sat up, and the sheets slid down to pool in his lap. She bit down hard on her lower

lip
.

"Why the change, Johanna?" he countered. "Why come to me now? You've been

avoiding me." He smiled in self-mockery. "With good cause. I've behaved

less than

admirably. Yesterday was just more proof that I'm not to be trusted.”

"Yesterday you said that I couldn't help you—”

"You said it yourself, Johanna. I told you that you were right.”

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"I was wrong." She glared at him, trying to make him understand
.

"I thought that I was no longer to be your patient.”

"No. Not my patient.”

"Then what, Johanna?”

That was the question, and now she had no choice but to answer. Answer him
.

"Let me

let me show you," she whispered
.

He turned his head. "Again, why now? Is it pity?”

She reared back. "Pity? Can you say such a thing, when—" She pressed her lips

together. "I do not waste my time on pity.”

"No." He met her gaze, and his eyes softened. "You're a curious woman, Johanna.”

"It is a hazard of my occupation," she said. The nightgown was still damp with

perspiration, and she realized that she was shivering. "Either you want me, Quentin, or

you do not. I would appreciate an expeditious decision.”

He laughed aloud. "Oh, Johanna, Johanna. Even now you can't stop playing the

doctor.”

"I don't play at anything," she said. "If that is your answer—”

His hand came to rest on her knee, burning through the muslin of her nightgown. "My

answer, Johanna

is that I've always wanted you. From the very beginning.”

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A gush of heat rushed to the core of her body. "Then we need not talk any longer." She

placed her hand carefully on his chest. It was bare, sleek with soft hair, and strongly

muscled. The heat pooled between her thighs. "I am not afraid.”

He seized her wrist. "Do you know what you're asking?”

"Is it so great a sacrifice on your part?”

"Not on mine." He eased his grip and ran his fingers up and down her arm. The

sensation was delicious, but she tried not to let herself become distracted
.

"You are concerned for my honor," she said. For all his joking and flirtation, he was no

despoiler of women
.

He was not. Fenris was another matter
.

"I've known many women," he said. "I know what society demands.”

"Of your aristocratic females, perhaps," she said. "But I am not a member of your

society, nor am I attempting to make my way into an advantageous marriage.”

He worked his fingers between hers. "You don't wish to be married?”

"We have had this conversation before, have we not? I have found that my work and

marriage are not compatible.”

"I'm sorry," he said
.

"Do not pity me, Quentin. Do you think less of me, for making this offer?”

"No." He squeezed her hand. "You could never be less than honorable.”

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Her eyes began to prickle with incipient tears. "Then there is no obstacle—”

"What of your professional reputation?" His voice hardened. "I did not tell you before,

but when I went into town with Oscar, comments were made regarding your possible

relationship with male patients.”

"I know. As they've undoubtedly been made in the past. I am not the first woman doctor

to face such prejudices. But if they already suspect or prefer to believe that I am a loose

woman of dubious morals, what we do now will make no difference.”

"You must have plans for the future—”

"Yes. And I will continue with those plans. I am perfectly capable of discretion. What I do

as a physician is entirely apart from what I choose as a person. A woman.”

The bed shook with his silent laughter. "And to think I once asked you what you wanted

as a woman, and doubted you'd ever allow yourself to find out.”

"You have also made assumptions, Quentin," she said
.

"I thank you—for your gallantry, and your desire to protect me. But I do not need your

protection, nor that of any man. I can make my own decisions and weigh the

consequences.”

He was quiet for a long time. "You know that our relationship can never be the same if

we go forward.”

"I know." And she did. It was long past time for regrets. Neither one of them had much

to lose by proceeding to the next logical step
.

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And she knew, in the center of her being where scientific discipline held no sway, that a

more intimate connection between them would only strengthen her ability to help him.

She'd always relied on intuition in her approach to treating the insane. She saw with

complete clarity, for the first time in her life, that emotion was the very basis of that

intuition. Her feelings for Quentin were an inextricable part of her
.

Feelings she wasn't yet prepared to name
.

But there was a final reason why the hour had come to let fall the barriers she'd

constructed to keep them apart
.

"You think you can have him and get rid of me," Fenris had said. "Once I take you, he'll

be that much weaker.”

If that were possible, the reverse must also be true. She had the chance to circumvent

Fenris's plans here and now. He might return at any moment, but if Quentin was first,

Fenris was disarmed. The act of love would be for mutual pleasure, not domination. And

Fenris would lose some of his power
.

Over her, and over his other self
.

"I am as fully committed to seeking your cure as I ever was," she said slowly. "But we

will do it together.”

"Together." He held out his arms. She moved into them, feeling as though she'd been

rescued from the midst of an icy desert. "This method of rational discussion is a strange,

dry way to go about lovemaking. It's a technique I never thought to try.”

"With all your other lovers?”

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"Ah, yes." He rested his forehead in the hollow of her shoulder. "There is so much you

don't know about me, Johanna.”

"No two people can hope to know one another completely.”

"I'm still a drunkard, and I don't know what I'm capable of when

I lose control. If you

give yourself to me, you do more than risk your reputation.”

It was the plainest warning he could give. He wasn't aware of Fenris, and still he was

afraid for her—but he didn't reckon on the greatest danger she faced
.

Losing her heart. Facing life alone when he left her, as surely he must—as Rolf had left

her, and her father
.

That, too, was her decision: to take the risk, knowing full well that the future was an

unknown quantity. She'd already turned her back on a woman's traditional fate
.

She wouldn't force Quentin to bear the burden of unreasonable expectations. She went

into this with her eyes wide open. What happened beyond tonight was in the lap of the

gods. And if she got with child

She would cope with that eventuality if and when it came, as she'd always done
.

Words were insufficient to persuade Quentin of her sincerity. The time for hesitation was

past
.

Deliberately she pressed her weight against him, bearing back down among the pillows.

She laced her hands behind his neck, amid the wavy strands of his auburn hair, and

kissed him on the mouth
.

At last, he believed her
.

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Now Quentin was sure that there was more to sleep than nightmares
.

Johanna had come to him. She was in his bed, practically begging to be loved. And he

hadn't the strength to deny her, even when he knew he should
.

Even when he knew how unworthy he was
.

Why now? What had changed? She'd never really answered that question. If he'd

thought it was pity that drove her, after seeing him in such a pathetic state, fallen from

his high resolves, his memory a blank

But it wasn't pity. He sensed that she'd withheld the full truth about what had happened

while he was drunk in town, but she wouldn't come to him if he'd committed any acts of

violence. She was far too sane to commit her body to a lunatic
.

Not Johanna. If she gave herself, it was with full comprehension, and of her own desire.

She was as bold as any lady of the evening—unashamed, yet endearingly innocent at

the same time; self-assured, yet betraying just a trace of feminine insecurity. Those very

contrasts were what made her unique in all his wide experience
.

He had known, from their first conversation, that loving her would be the premier

experience of his lifetime. She'd give everything she had, for she knew no other way.

And she'd chosen him to be her teacher in the arts of love
.

But she was inexperienced, naive for all her intelligence. She needed guidance and a

gentle hand
.

She needed a lover who would take her so far, and no further
.

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Oh, it would be so easy to surrender to his own baser instincts and relieve her of the

virginity she had so little use for. She was convinced that she'd accepted the potential

repercussions of her actions. But he knew better. And he wouldn't let her destroy her life

and career for a night's pleasure
.

Not his pleasure, at any rate. All he'd done was to cause her trouble. Tonight, he'd bring

her joy. And she wouldn't have to sacrifice anything but an hour's governance of her

body
.

As for her heart

Wasn't it what he'd wanted, to break down that shell of cool restraint? But he'd never

really believed it would come to this. He'd been so careful to avoid closeness with other

human beings for the last several years. Was it because he thought Johanna was safe

from his wiles that he'd dared so much with her, risked such intimacies?

If so, his scheme had backfired. Now he felt the heavy weight of responsibility. He might

be weak, a coward and a scoundrel, but he had enough honor to keep her away from

the crumbling brink of complete disaster. To regard tonight as a one-time miracle, not

the beginning of a future that could never be
.

As for tomorrow

it would take care of itself, one way or another. He believed in

Johanna's good sense. And in his own instinct for survival
.

She bent to kiss him again, and this time he met her halfway. He spread his hands

across her back and kissed her as he'd always wanted to, without reserve or second

thoughts: deeply, thoroughly, teasing her lips apart with his tongue and seeking inward.

Her panting breath swept into his mouth
.

Already he could feel her nipples like firm little buttons pressing his chest. She smelled