“I want you to be happy,” she said. “You have so much to reclaim, Quentin. All the things you left behind, in England—your family, your heritage—”
“My old ways as a rake and ne’er-do-well?” he said. “Oh, yes. The second son, returning home to become a burden on his family.”
“You would not be a burden on anyone,” she said, her throat growing thick with passion.
“Except upon you.”
She surged to her feet. “You were never a burden. You were my patient, and then my friend. My dear friend.”
“Only a friend, Johanna?” He rose with deliberation. “As I recall, you told me that you loved me.”
This was the moment. Speak. Her mouth was so dry that she could hardly swallow.
“You promised me, Johanna, that you’d see me through to a cure. Are you going to abandon me now?”
“You are no longer my patient. You have not been, since we—” She caught her breath, her face unbearably hot. “In any case, you have made remarkable progress, crossed the most difficult threshold.”
“But I’m not cured, you know. I have all of Fenris’s memories, as well as my own. Ugly memories.” He wasn’t joking any longer. “I must learn how to forgive myself. I don’t know if I can do it alone.”
She refused to let him belittle his own extraordinary accomplishments. “You are strong, Quentin, or you would not have survived.”
“Not that strong,” he said, walking toward her. “Not strong enough to leave you.” He knelt at her feet. “You see, I love you, Johanna.”
He loves me. He… loves… me. Her entire body vibrated like a metronome, and her mind went utterly blank.
“Patients often think that they love their doctors. It is a common—”
He sealed her lips with his finger. “But you just said I’m not your patient, Johanna. Can’t you make up your mind?” He sighed and shook his head. “Let me help you.”
Giving her no time to prepare, he leaned forward and kissed her. Deeply, passionately, with everything he was and could become, with Fenris’s ferocity and Quentin’s gentleness.
“I have a proposition for you, dear doctor,” he said, when he let her up for air. “Be my wife.”
“Quentin—I want you to know that I… I—”
“You might as well take pity on me.” He smiled, the old smile laced with both wickedness and a new resolve. “I’ve been waiting to love you in a proper bed ever since that night in the Barbary Coast.”
Rampant desire made it impossible to concentrate. “I have been trying to tell you, but I am not very good—” She wet her lips and croaked out a laugh. “Quentin, I need you. I do not wish to go on without you by my side. I love you.”
He gave a crow of triumph and kissed her again. She laced her arms around his neck and hugged him as if he might vanish if she dared let loose. Was she dreaming?
“You know—” she gulped and started again. “I am merely human. How will your family accept—”
“My family cares about me, and they’ll love you for the remarkable woman you are.” He bared his teeth. “I assure you that they will.”
“But you must want to return to England.”
“America is my home now. My old life is over.”
“You… understand that I am a doctor.” She laughed again, nervous and jubilant. “I am not much of a cook. Nor a housekeeper—”
He took her face in his hands. “My Valkyrie. I would never ask you to give up your great gifts for healing the mind.” He kissed her hands, one by one. “I know very well that you can get along without me. But together—” He swung her off her feet and twirled her in a dizzy circle. “Beware to anyone who stands in our way!”
They kissed, and danced about the parlor like a pair of dervishes, until Johanna’s hair came loose and they both looked as though they’d just left the bedroom. Johanna didn’t even bother to straighten her frock.
This was not madness. She loved, and was loved by, a man who expected, even demanded that she embrace her gifts, just as he embraced his. He’d never regard her as anything but an equal. A friend, a helpmate, a lover.