The mere thought of alcohol made Quentin’s gorge rise. He crossed his heart. “I promise I’ll be good.”
That almost imperceptible smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “I wonder.” She turned briskly for the door.
“Doctor—Johanna—”
She stopped, hand on the doorknob.
“Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “Thank you for helping me.”
“I, too, took the Hippocratic oath,” she said. “Rest well, Mr. Forster.”
Quentin was very tempted to test her composure by inviting her to join him under the covers, but long training as a gentleman quelled the impulse. Her dignity was not impregnable, but there was no point in wasting all his ammunition at once.
“Until later, then,” he said.
He remained seated at the edge of the bed long after she’d left, working out the thoughts and feelings she had provoked in him. They were a mass of uncomfortable contradictions—the very sort of thing he’d avoided by moving on before there was the slightest chance of developing a relationship with anyone, or feeling much of anything at all.
Reflecting deeply on his own emotions was hardly the sort of game at which he was expert. It led him too close to the shadows, like drink. He was more than a little alarmed at the intensity of his reaction to Johanna Schell.
He fell back on the bed, pillowing his head on crossed arms. The ceiling above was a soothing, blank white, luring him toward oblivion. Why not sleep, as the doctor recommended?
But sleep had never been his most reliable mistress—unless he was drunk. His thoughts chased round and round like a wolf after its own tail.
Why did she attract him, unlike so many other women? It wasn’t merely her curvaceous body; he’d sampled plenty of those in his time. No; the physical was only a small part of it.
It was her strength—not so much of body as mind and purpose. She carried herself with all the confidence of a man, but no one could mistake her for anything but a woman. She knew who she was and lived in herself without shame or doubt. He couldn’t imagine her confounded by any of the fears or petty cares that afflicted so many average lives.
Perhaps she wouldn’t be daunted by his demons—those demons he could never quite see, who hovered at the very edges of his consciousness. The ones who reduced him to a pathetic coward, terrified to look too deeply inside himself for fear of what he’d find.
Was Doctor Johanna Schell strong enough to match them? Could her science of hypnosis bring him to the end of his perpetual flight?
That was it. That was the heart of the subject, and of his sudden and half-unwelcome hope. Johanna Schell was like this place, this Haven… a sanctuary in the storm his life had become. Her touch not only moved and aroused him, it anchored him, drew him into a quiet place where his demons had no power.
He closed his eyes. God, how he longed for such a place. But to take the risk, to ask for her help and everything that might entail… had he any right? Even if she offered, with all her poise and faith in herself… what if that weren’t enough?
Better to run. Better to spend one last day to be sure of his recovery, and leave this transient peace behind.
He laughed, as he always did on those rare occasions when his ruminations led him to a state of such maudlin self-pity. Laughter kept the tears at bay, and there was enough of an English gentleman left in him to disdain the ephemeral solace of weeping.
He wasn’t that kind of drunk. He wished that he were. He wished that he could reconcile himself to a permanent ending.
But that was another thing a proper English gentleman simply didn’t do. Not until there was no other choice.
Quentin covered his face with the soft feather pillow and laughed until no listener would have any doubt at all that he was quite insane.
Chapter 4
Whenever she was troubled, Johanna had always gone to her father.
In their life together, since her mother’s death, she had been the sensible one. She’d kept the books and most of the asylum records, saw to her own handful of patients, reminded Papa to eat and helped him dress—each and every task carried out with the same single-minded efficiency.
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