Quin aimed another glare at his friend. “What do you mean, ‘Oh’?”
Rowles quirked the corners of his mouth as if trying to suppress his reaction. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He failed at suppressing that reaction and opted for turning away. “Interesting.”
“What is so bloody interesting? You’re as bad as Morgan,” Quin grumbled, his attention flickering to Catherine at the sound of her laughter, then away.
“I had no idea, but it makes sense now.” Rowles nodded, regarding his friend with a knowing expression.
“I don’t want to know.”
“Very well.” Rowles snickered, giving Quin a sidelong stare and then turning to face him fully, studying him.
“I can’t,” Quin replied after a few moments of his comrade’s quiet scrutiny.
“Why?” Rowles asked without judgment in his air, just open curiosity.
Quin turned to him, arching a brow and giving a wry twist to his lips. “She was betrothed to my brother, Rowles.” He whispered so softly he barely heard the words himself.
“And?”
“And…I’m not Wes.” He shrugged. “I never will be. But I’ll always remind her of him, and that’s too much. For both of us,” he finished.
Rowles nodded.
Quin closed his eyes, paused, then opened them again and spoke. “I’m going to take my leave. It was good to see you, even if you do annoy the hell out of me.” He offered his hand.
Rowles took it, then cocked his head to the side. “You’re wrong, you know. You’re not Wes, that’s true. But that’s not what’s stopping you. The biggest barrier is fear. And that, my friend, is a poor reason not to try.” Rowles arched a brow. “Good night.”
Without a further word, Quin watched as his friend moved through the dwindling crowd toward Catherine and said something that caused her to look in his direction.
He couldn’t help the way Rowles’s words rang in his ears. Only to have his own convictions pour water on the glowing embers. It wasn’t meant to be. No matter what they said. With a slight bow in Catherine’s direction, he said goodbye to his mother and took his leave.
The quiet of the carriage contrasted with the way Quin’s mind and heart warred with each other. After he arrived at home, he made his way to his rooms to get some rest. And no sooner had his eyes closed than the dreams started.
It was as if since his heart knew it was fighting a losing battle, he conjured up the visions in fantasy to make up for the loss in reality.
The dreams were of her looking at him, the feel of her kiss—
Quin awoke abruptly, his heart racing even from dreaming about that simple contact. The need for more overpowered him, and he rose from bed and strode to the window. The dark evening hid the view as he leaned his head against the cool glass, feeling its chill through his fevered body.
“It’s just a dream.” His voice was hoarse from sleep. The low embers in the fireplace illuminated enough to allow him a clear view of the path back to his bed. He sat on the soft mattress and slowly lay down. The canopy above him grew blurry as sleep called.
The fragrance of her skin beckoned to him, and he gently slipped the silky weight of her hair from her shoulder and inhaled deeply. Lavender and lemon flooded his senses as he traced his nose along the sensual curve between her shoulder and neck, his body responding as she shifted closer.
“Quin.”
Her voice was husky with sleep, but warm and enticing, stirring his blood. He reached around her soft form, his hand caressing the front of her hip, and drew her back into the circle of his waiting arms, nipping at her neck as he gently pulled her near.
In a flash, he was holding nothing but air. He stared at the night, gathering his wits as his mind spun. The orange light from the embers filled the darkness, giving a sharp dose of reality to the fantasy that had lived only moments before. He could feel the heat of her body. Hear the sound of her voice saying his name. It had only been a dream.
Again.
This had to stop, but it wasn’t as if he was doing it all on purpose or could somehow make it end. He did the only thing he knew would stop the dreams. He stayed awake, wondering how many sleepless nights it would take to cleanse him from the dreams that haunted him in the dark.
Twenty
All this is only for the mice and myself to admire!
—Catherine the Great