She drew in a breath. “You do want help, Quentin. No matter what difficulties we may face.”
God help him. “Yes.”
“Even if it means—” She paused, and again he was left with the certainty that she had stopped herself from speaking frankly. But not because she was afraid of him. He hadn’t yet driven her to that.
Did she fear for him?
“There is one more thing I must ask you now,” she said.
He braced himself. “Ask.”
“Lewis came to me today. He claimed to have seen you change into a wolf.”
Quentin couldn’t quite stifle a bitter laugh at the absurdity of it. “Oh, lord.”
She simply stared at him. “Were you running in the woods unclothed, as Lewis claims?”
How could he answer? “I was in the woods. I did a bit of running.”
“And did you feel the desire to become a wolf, Quentin?”
The quandary was most ironic: to let Johanna believe him even more insane than he was, or tell her the unvarnished truth..
If any human could be trusted with the facts of his nature, she could. But such knowledge would place more burdens upon her—the burden of belief in the face of all she knew, the burden of secrecy… and the burden of acceptance. If she could accept.
It was too great a risk. Their relationship hung in the balance.
And what relationship is that?
“A wolf, at least, very seldom doubts his own sanity,” he said at last.
Her face revealed her thoughts as distinctly as chalk on a slate. “Is this all you have to tell me?”
“I wish I were not such a disappointment to you, Johanna.”
Rare temper sparked in her eyes. “You did not mention any of this to Lewis?”
“No. I was trying for a little solitude.”
She clearly had more to say, but held her tongue. “Lewis was very upset. It will be best for you to stay away from him. And if you feel any urge toward—”
“Running naked in the woods?”
“—any desire to turn into a wolf, you will come straight to me.”
“I understand. The next time I feel the need to divest myself of my clothing, I will most certainly go straight to you.”
Her fair skin caught fire. “We’ll continue this conversation later. I shall be going into town for part of the day tomorrow, and have arrangements to make.”
He caught her arm as she turned to go. “I have a question for you, Johanna.”
She tilted her face to his, and his body tightened with desire.
“When I was in my trance… did I kiss you?”
The flush spread from her neckline to her forehead. It was all he needed to know. He bent just enough to fit his mouth to hers, and kissed her again. Lightly, a mere brush of the lips was all he dared to attempt. The shock that coursed through him was as powerful as anything he’d felt while buried deep in the aroused body of a woman in the throes of her passion.
Any woman but Johanna.
She didn’t strike him, or stumble away. Her eyes lost their bright hue, leaving her cheeks with the only color in her face. Her lips parted and closed again without uttering a sound. If not for the heightened richness of her scent and the audible speeding of her heart, she might have seemed unmoved.
When he let her go she simply turned and walked back toward the house, her skirts trailing unheeded in the fecund earth.
Chapter 13
The thick limb of the old, blasted oak split in two at the first blow of Quentin’s axe. It was only one of many such branches he planned to reduce to firewood this morning; no telling how long the pieces of the felled tree had lain at the side of the house, awaiting someone able and willing to make them useful.
Winter was far away, but Quentin had a clear choice of vigorous physical labor or going in search of a bottle.
He swung the axe again. The morning was hot, and his bare skin ran with sweat. May and Oscar had watched for a while, well out of the way of flying chips of wood, and then had gone off to the woods. Lewis was avoiding him, as expected, along with Irene. Mrs. Daugherty and a hired girl from town were busy with washing. And Johanna…