A Fall of Silver (42 page)

“When could
you come in for surgery?”

“Today.
We’re here today.”

The surgeon laughed.
“I’m booked today. I’m truly sorry, but there are tests she’ll have to have. Blood work, chest X-rays, a CAT. I usually keep my calendar free on Thursdays. This case interests me. Tell Angela, the nurse who brought you here, to schedule the appropriate tests. Today. I’ll have a look at this implant tomorrow morning. Six.”

“Six in the morning?” Quicksilver asked, her voice shaking.
“So soon?”

“You’ve got all day to complete the tests
. And frankly, I don’t know how long the thing has been in the back of your neck, but it’s unlikely to improve with age.”

“But…
paralyzed?”

His eyes studied hers with surprising compassion.
“Are you willing to risk it?”

“Yes, she is,” Kethan replied
quickly, as if eager to settle matters.

Easy for him to say
.

“Ms.
Bankes?” the doctor prompted, ignoring Kethan.

“Yes.
I suppose so. Yes.” She swallowed.

“Good.
Well, you’ve got those tests to complete, and I have surgery.”

She left feeling as if she’d fallen into a frothing river that swept her along regardless of her efforts to
grab bushes and trees along the banks.

The rest of the day passed in the hurry-up-and-wait of sitting rooms and hospital red tape
. Various harassed caregivers did their best to take samples of her bodily fluids and push her in front of X-ray machines. They prodded and poked and generally, impersonally, got her primed for surgery.

In the silence and safety of one of the sterile waiting rooms,
Quicksilver stared at the floor and asked, “You knew her, didn’t you? The head.”

When he didn’t answer immediately, she risked a glance at him. He looked scared.
Scared
?

“Yes,” he admitted.

“How? When?”

“A long time ago.”

“My parents caught her.”

“Your parents?” He studied her, his eyes filling with warmth. “I see. They told you I knew her?”

She nodded, the muscles in her throat too constricted to allow speech.

“Do you honestly think I planned to betray you? To her?”

She shrugged, still unable to speak. Maybe she’d never be able to speak again.

“
I swear to you, I did not know she was in Virginia, or the United States for that matter.”

“What was her name?”
she asked, already knowing what he would say.

“Her name? You want to know her name?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t explain, but she needed to know, needed to know if he’d tell her the truth. The whole truth.

“Lavinia Ashley.”

The name sounded like an overly saccharine romance writer’s name from the seventies. She eyed him.

He raised his hands. “You asked. I’m telling you the truth.”

“I doubt even you could make that up. But what was she doing there?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Why do you think?”

“She always liked surprises.” His mouth twisted. “Particularly ones that ended in blood. If she found out I
had survived this long, she wouldn’t have liked it.” He ran a hand through his hair and studied the door as if longing for a nurse to show up and drag Quicksilver away. “I doubt she was interested in you.”

“Thanks.”

“Be glad. She wasn’t a nice lady.”

“Apparently, my parents were meaner. They thought they were protecting me.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. “I see.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“I don’t know your parents.” He glanced away and down to the left.

To her
, his reaction clearly indicated his disbelief, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. To her relief, the nurse interrupted and dragged Quicksilver away for more fun with the modern equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition.

“I can’t eat anything after midnight,” she complained when they
finally left the hospital.

“Then we’d better eat now,
” Kethan replied. His voice sounded confident, too confident. Hearty.

Fine for him to talk about eating. Her appetite had left her about four hours ago.
She turned to stare out the window. “Look, I’m not in the mood to eat out.”

“
Fried chicken? Mashed potatoes?”

“Are you listening to me?
I don’t want to eat out. I don’t want to see anyone. I just want to go to bed and stop thinking.”

“Right.
And a salad? At my place?”

Her lips twitched in a flicker of a smile.
“How can an Irish boy make fried chicken and mashed potatoes?”

“I like to cook.”

“Apparently. Sure. Whatever. That’s fine.” Her voice drifted off as she watched other cars pass them. All those people, all so busy, all so oblivious.

At least the sun was shining, although the trees were barren and the ground was carpeted with the dead, brown ghosts of leaves.
A closer look at the slender branches showed nubs however that would survive the winter and swell into fresh, green leaves when warm weather arrived. Even in the midst of death there were signs of life, waiting to return.

However
not all things would survive the harsh winter, and a deep, gray cold had settled within her. The trees might live to see the spring, but part of her feared she would not.

*
* * * *

After dinner,
Kethan watched Quicksilver drift up the stairs to bed, her silhouette stretched thin on the stairway wall. He felt helpless, placing her fate in the hands of Dr. Fletcher, a man he knew nothing about. The surgeon was an expert, but also a risk-taker.

Was the surgery too
dangerous?

Joe would be the first to remind him that they needed precisely that kind of doctor now. He had to have faith and hope
she would sleep well tonight and live through the surgery.

The irony was that if she
survived, she’d find herself in even more danger. When her parents discovered she was no longer controllable, they might decide not to take any chances and kill her before her incision had time to heal.

A little before mi
dnight, he went upstairs, restless and knowing he’d never sleep. In the hallway, he restrained the urge to open Quicksilver’s door and check on her.

He desperately wanted to hold her
, make sure she was all right. The sense of time seeping away like retreating waves washed over him.

The clock downstairs struck midnight, the mellow chime echoing up the stairs before fading away. He turned away embarrassed, glad the clock hadn’t
awakened her. If she’d opened the door, she’d have found him standing there staring at the doorknob like a drooling idiot.

S
weaty and out of sorts, he took a shower and then wandered into his bedroom.

“Finally,” she
said, pulling the covers up to her naked shoulders. “You took forever.”

“What’
re you doing in here?” His mouth went dry as he looked at her, wanting her. She was supposed to be sleeping, in her own room, not here in his bed.

“I’m waiting for you
, obviously.” She let the covers drift down to her waist. “Predictable. Trite, maybe, but true. I’ll probably get my head blown off tomorrow.” She smiled, her eyes glinting. “So I’d like a little mind-blowing sex now while I still have a mind to blow.”

“Ah…
.” He couldn’t think of a response, intelligent or otherwise. Silence stretched like a rubber band.

He
struggled to keep his eyes fixed on her face but his gaze dropped.

Dimly
aware that she was waiting for a reply, his mind blanked. He swallowed. “I—I hate to say this, but I think you should go to bed.”
Are you insane?
“In your own bed.” Had he said that?

“
Right. You think too much.”

With h
is blood thundering in his head, he felt as dumb as an ox. “You’re scared and having trouble sleeping. You don’t want a relationship.”
Who was talking with his voice
? He stared at her, trying to concentrate.
Do the right thing.
“That doesn’t work. For me.”
You idiot—it works for everyone
.

“Too bad.”
She smiled and jiggled just a little. One hand trailed down her neck, tracing the curve of her breast.

He stared at the soft, pale flesh…
.

“
I’ll use your bed,” he croaked, wishing he could breathe, or think.

All he could
focus on was the heavy softness of her breast and his need to hold her and take what she offered.

“Oh, just shut up.
” She crawled over the bed, stark naked, and grabbed the damp towel wrapped around his waist. With a sharp yank, she ripped it away. Cold air rushed over him. She flashed him a triumphant glance and flung the limp towel across the room. It slapped the door shut.

He couldn’t move. She ran
her hands over his hips before she pulled him closer and opened her mouth. He groaned again and closed his eyes. His hands stroked her hair until the tension became unbearable. His body tightened. He was ready to explode.

Pushing her back
, he pulled her knees up to straddle his waist. The skin felt smooth under his palms, and he slid between the long length of her legs, the taste and scent of her driving him into her.

She writhed beneath him
, pulling him deeper, and grabbed his hair.

“Come here,” she whispered
. “I want to feel you. Don’t stop!”

Her hands slid down his back to his buttoc
ks. She traced the muscles and tightened around him as small, rolling waves of pleasurable tension rippled through her, echoing within him. Each wave created a twin tide in him, pounding in an unstoppable flood.

Finally, he couldn’t hold back.
He stiffened and arched. At the moment of release, he felt her explode around him, rhythmic pulses knitting them together until they both lay back, exhausted and sprawling over the damp sheets.

“Why do you want to get mixed up in a relationship?” Quicksilver asked Kethan as they lay in bed, intertwined
and drowsy. Her fingertips traced patterns over his chest, letting the soft, dark curls glide under her palm. She wriggled closer, wanting to feel the warm strength of his body against hers.

“We all need
connections.” The words blurred with sleep.

“They’re messy.
Stupid. And they all end badly.”

He roused himself enough to glance at her.
“Not all. My parents—”

“Yeah, sure, bring up people who’ve been dead for
years. Name a modern couple who’re still married, still have a solid relationship.”

“They’re out there.”
His hand patted her shoulder in a go-to-sleep-and-stop-talking gesture. His breathing deepened.

“Sure they are.
Back in good old Tennessee where your fiancée is your sister, who might also be your step-mother and aunt.”

His arm tightened around her
. When her wandering hand began to drift too far down his belly, he grabbed it and pressed it to his stomach. She studied his face and an answering smile tugged the corners of her mouth at the sleepy, goofy grin on his face.

“Just because the only peopl
e in the news are unstable idiots who hop in and out of bed like fleas doesn’t mean everyone is like that.”

“And you’re just talk.
Talk, talk, talk.” She slid her hand back up his chest to feel the pounding of his heartbeat. The powerful thuds reassured her. “Men are biologically programmed to go wherever their lust takes them. They can’t be faithful; it’s not in their nature.”

He gripped her wrist
again to stop her random exploration of his body.

“Men can be faithful.
”

“But not you
and not now.”

“Do you want me to be faithful?
To you? Are you willing to be faithful in return?”

Her belly twisted.
She rolled over and hugged the pillow to her chest. Wasn’t there enough pain and betrayal in her life? Why open herself up for more?

In the silence, he ran
a hand over her shoulder. She could feel him waiting for an answer, their cozy sleepiness draining away.

“I don’t know.” The pillow muffled her, but she was too nervous to push the protective bulk away from her mouth
.

“You don’t know
? Or no?”