“Please, sir,” she said. “I have to get home.”
He chuckled. “Don’t you want the sweet I promised you? It’s right here in my pocket—”
Quentin’s legs gave way. He caught himself against the wall, doubling over with dry heaves. The nausea and rage within him were such that he knew with sudden clarity what would happen if he walked through that door.
He flung back his head and howled.
Ingram’s startled oath was muffled by the girl’s scream of terror. Quentin crouched beside the window, waiting just long enough to hear the suite’s outer doors slam and the girl’s running footsteps down the hallway. Then he turned and leaped back through the window, his thoughts intent on one thing only.
Drink. Inebriety. Intoxication. The complete and total annihilation of all thought and feeling in the tender care of a bottle of whiskey. Even at this hour the Springs Saloon would still be open for business.
Chapter 16
“He hasn’t come hack, has he?” Johanna turned at the sly insinuation in Irene’s voice, letting the curtain fall from her hand. The rutted lane that led to the Haven’s gate was as empty in late afternoon as it had been since early morning. Quentin was still missing, nowhere to be found in the house or the orchard or vineyard, not even in the woods where May had sought him when he’d failed to appear for lunch.
“It’s so touching to see you worry over him,” Irene cooed. “Just like the faithful wife.”
The words struck more surely than any other insult Irene could concoct. Johanna stepped away from the kitchen window and met Irene’s arch stare. “He is my patient, as you are. In fact, I have been neglecting you, Irene. I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize. I haven’t had to listen to your boring speeches.” She sat down at the kitchen table, draping her body over the chair in a languorous pose. “But it doesn’t really matter, after all. I won’t be stuck in this place much longer.”
Johanna had heard this many times before, but for the past week Irene had been uncommonly quiet, even retiring—at least until last night.
Now she wanted to talk, and Johanna knew that she ought to take advantage of the opportunity. The other patients had all been seen today; merely waiting around for Quentin was a waste of valuable time.
Yet she was haunted by the fear that his absence was permanent. She’d told him of her plan to find another doctor for him, abruptly and without adequate explanation, chill as an alpine winter. Why should he stay, if she gave him no reason to do so?
She diverted her attention to the situation at hand. “Would you care to join me in my office and discuss it?” she asked Irene. “I’d very much like to try another hypnotic session, if you are willing.”
“How predictable you are.” Irene yawned. “Predictable, and stupid. You’re so busy prying into people’s heads that you don’t even know what’s happening right under your nose.”
Johanna knotted her hands behind her back. “Would you care to enlighten me?”
“Why should I? You’ve always been so cruel to me.” The older woman’s eyes sparked with pleasure in her perceived power. “You’ve enjoyed torturing me. Well, now the shoe is on the other foot.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Always that superior tone, as if you don’t feel anything.” Her voice began to shake. “Oh, yes, the great doctor. Just like God. So smart, so sure. Everything is so clear and easy for you. You look at people as if they were specimens in jars, and you can arrange them any way you like.”
“Irene—”
“I’m sick of you and your hypocrisy! You’re a whore underneath your starched collars. I know that you want Quentin Forster. But he won’t have you, will he?”
White-hot anger bolted through Johanna. Irene shouldn’t be affecting her this way.
“Go ahead, hit me again,” Irene hissed. “I know you want to.”
Johanna unclenched her fist and spread her hand on the table. “No, Irene. I realize that you’re suffering. If you’ll only allow me to—”
“You can’t help me.” The storm passed, leaving Irene panting and strangely rational. “But sometime soon you’re going to find out what it’s like to be helpless while other people take everything away from you, and there won’t be anything you can do about it.” She swept to the door. “As for Quentin,” she threw back over her shoulder, “I saw him head for town late last night—after he was in your office going through your papers.”
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