Patricia Potter (52 page)

He took to pacing the small room, wishing heartily that he could leave, but he had already put Sophie in too much danger. His face was well known in Cairo, and now there was a large reward for his capture, according to Sophie.

Quinn thought he had learned to curb his impatience, his restlessness, in prison. But he now realized that the discipline he’d exercised during his last years in Australia had not come from self-will but complete and utter exhaustion. They had been worked close to death. Now he wished for the pickax he had once so hated. He itched for anything to grab, other than images of Meredith. Beautiful Meredith.

Sophie had supplied him with books, but his eyes couldn’t, wouldn’t, concentrate on the print. How could they, when every moment he waited for the panel of the wall to open, to look up and see her standing there?

How could he spend the rest of his life without her? Only when he’d met Meredith had he realized how empty his life had been, how he had deadened all his emotions, how black and white and without color everything had been. She had made the world alive again, alive and vibrant and beautiful, and now, in this room, the colors were once more fading.

A day later, the doctor declared Cam strong enough to move, and plans were made. Cairo, according to Sophie, was locked up tight. Patrols, both official and unofficial, were on every road. Every boat, no matter how small, was searched ruthlessly.

The rewards of five thousand dollars, posted by Marshall Evans for both Lissa and Quinn, and a smaller amount for Cam, drove the stakes high, and bounty hunters from several states had come to the small river town.

Quinn intended to see Lissa and Meredith safe in Canada before he headed West. He worried that his presence would endanger them further, but he could no more leave without knowing they were far from harm than he could cut off his right leg. He had to take the two women there himself. He wouldn’t admit that perhaps it was more than assurance he needed, that he couldn’t yet bear to leave Meredith. Instead he told himself that he simply owed it to her to see that Lissa was free at last. He had given his word.

Slowly, he pieced together a plan. He told Sophie about his other Cairo Underground contact—Davis, the cabinetmaker who had sold him Meredith’s paintings. Quinn outlined specifically what was required and gave her a detailed sketch for Davis. His scheme was, he believed, the only way to leave Cairo.

And he haltingly asked about Meredith. The words popped from his mouth without conscious thought; against, in fact, such thought.

Sophie peered at him with disgust. “She looks about as bad as you do,” she observed bitingly, not adding that she had been the one to advise Meredith to stay away. Absence, she had told Meredith, sometimes does wondrous things, like make a man realize exactly how much he might miss the woman he loves. After looking at Quinn’s haggard face, Sophie decided her ploy was working well enough. She even felt a tug of sympathy for the stubborn gambler, whose usually detached arrogance was, at the moment, lying in tatters on the dirt floor.

“If Davis can finish in time,” he said after a moment of digesting her comment, “we will leave day after tomorrow. Can you make arrangements for passage?”

“Of course,” she said, shuddering. “But are you sure you want to do this? It’ll be even worse than the buggy.”

He grinned suddenly, the old Quinn Devereux smile, full of mockery and black devilish charm. “From your face, I think you believe I’ll deserve every minute of it.”

“Ah, you read me well, Captain,” she said, affection in her voice. “But then I never thought you a fool.” She paused, before adding, “Nor a coward at heart.”

He stiffened, the smile fading from his face. “Don’t interfere, Sophie,” he said curtly. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“But I do,” she said, and saw a muscle throb angrily in his cheek. “She didn’t tell me,” Sophie said. “She didn’t have to.”

“Then…”

“We are a little alike, you and I,” Sophie said. “We keep running from people, from attachments. I know why I do it. I think I know why you do. At least some of the reasons.” She paused again. “You say it’s for her sake, but I don’t think it is. It’s for your own. Otherwise you would let her make her own choice.”

Sophie started to walk away, then turned back. “I’ve adapted to loneliness, Quinn, but you don’t have to. Meredith loves you. And you love her. Don’t ruin her life because of some noble idea you have of saving her from yourself. Because it’s not noble, it’s only selfish and cowardly.”

She left the room, leaving Quinn standing in stunned silence.

“She’s right,” Cam agreed, his voice a low rumble.

Quinn spun around, glaring. “You almost died because of me.”

“You also made sure I stayed alive,” Cam said calmly. “It couldn’t have been easy holding on to me in that river.”

“It’s not over yet.” The retort was full of anger, but Quinn immediately regretted it as he saw Daphne’s face pale.

“And when will it be?” Cam asked softly. “You can’t take responsibility for everyone, forever.”

Quinn’s mouth tightened. “I’m not doing that, damn it.”

“Aren’t you?” Cam whispered softly. “I went after you for myself, not you. I heard what you told Meredith. I suspect that your friend also acted for himself. You can’t control other people. And you damn well can’t order what’s right for them.”

Quinn glared at him. Every one of his goddamned friends, including a madam and the man he thought as hardened as himself, had turned into preachers.

Bemused and thoughtful, he returned to his book. He had been reading it for two days and he still hadn’t got beyond the first paragraph. He doubted he would progress much further today.

The coffins arrived late the next day. The buggy carrying them came inside the stable, and the doors of the building were locked. After the horse was taken from the stall with the trapdoor, Quinn climbed up to inspect the two wooden boxes.

Mr. Davis’s fine craftsmanship was not readily evident. There were decided splits in the wood, cleverly designed to allow a sufficient flow of air. But only the closest inspection would indicate they were not the result of clumsy work.

The coffins were also a bit larger than usual, but few would notice that. The extra room was for several bladders of water and some biscuits. There would be precious little space for movement.

Remembering the panic he had felt in Butler’s small buggy compartment, Quinn looked uneasily at the coffin. This trip would be worse, much worse, for he would be alone. But there was no help for it.

Sophie had made shipping arrangements for the coffins, the grieving family, and a maid with a packet-owner who was active in the Underground Railroad. Once past the inspections, they would be dropped off at a small farming community where the local minister was a member of the Underground. From there they would be directed from one station to another through Indiana to Oberlin, Ohio, and then across Lake Erie to Canada.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Quinn lowered himself to the secret room, closing the door after him. He knew straw would be thrown over the stable floor and the horse installed once more. In minutes, there would be nothing to indicate the haven beneath.

Quinn now told Cam of the plan; he’d been hesitant to do so until all the requirements had been taken care of. Once out of Cairo, he said, Cam and Daphne might wish to separate from the others. Although there was a small reward for Cam, it wasn’t enough to keep bounty hunters on his trail. Authorities apparently believed that Cam was only following Quinn’s orders, and Quinn was the one they really wanted.

“No,” Cam said flatly. “We go with you.”

Quinn turned to Daphne, and she nodded, her fingers tightly braided through Cam’s.

Quinn nodded curtly. He still couldn’t shake the belief that he was bad luck. But he also knew that he couldn’t dissuade Cam, not if Cam was determined.

When the door to the secret room opened that night, Meredith appeared, laden with food. Lissa followed, her eyes cautiously moving from Quinn to Meredith and back again. But Quinn’s glance went quickly to Meredith. Her eyes were a little too bright, her mouth a little too anxious, and Quinn’s insides twisted. The journey to freedom would be very dangerous, and he wanted to soothe her, to take her in his arms and hold her closely. When he saw her swallow with uncertainty, he took the tray from her hands and placed it on the table. Then he held out his arms and she walked into them.

Home. This was home, Meredith thought as she closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of belonging, of protection, of love. Home was wherever Quinn was, wherever he opened his arms and heart and welcomed her inside. She would not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow would work itself out.

They had a quiet thoughtful meal. Lissa felt a little like an outsider, but Meredith had insisted that she eat with them. Lissa was one of them. They would be together for the next several weeks, and this was the beginning, the first step of many. But when they had finished, Meredith’s sister quickly excused herself, pleading exhaustion.

Quinn watched her leave. Sophie had dyed Lissa’s hair to an auburn color, and Lissa and Meredith looked more like sisters than ever. Lissa was a beautiful woman, poised, but with a haunting poignant quality that made a man want to protect her. Meredith, on the other hand, was stubbornly determined and reckless, her golden eyes challenging and direct, her mouth sometimes teasing, sometimes inviting.

But he didn’t draw back when she leaned into him, her hands running up and down one of his arms triggering all the urges and sensations he’d been trying so hard to contain. He thought of the coffin overhead and tomorrow, but that only aggravated his need.

There was, however, no privacy with Cam and Daphne in the same room, and he was half relieved, half agonized. Quinn didn’t know how long Meredith stayed in his arms but finally her breathing became soft and relaxed and he knew she had fallen asleep. He lowered Meredith on the cot and lay next to her, enclosing her in his arms possessively, and he knew Cam had done the same with Daphne. For the moment, it was enough.

For tonight, it was everything.

Quinn wondered if there could ever be an experience as soul-searing as hearing the lid of your own coffin nailed shut.

He had tried to prepare his mind, but he kept remembering the other tight places he had been in: the hold of the ship, the waterpit at Norfolk, all the torturous confining places.

Each strike of the hammer was another memory, and he had to force himself not to pound at the lid and demand to be released. This was the only way out of Cairo, he kept telling himself. There was no other option.

He had learned, through Sophie’s spy system, that searchers were routinely opening crates and barrels. He was gambling that superstition and fear would prevent them from doing the same with coffins. He also hoped that no one would suspect two grieving sisters, one of whom was blond and the other redheaded. Lissa had said that Marshall Evans was unaware that she had relatives, and Meredith had been disguised beyond recognition at the Evans farm.

The plan was as foolproof as he could make it. But still he touched the pistol that Sophie had given him. Cam had a similar one in his grasp.

But bloody hell, the next hours were going to be misery.

The hammering stopped, and he now felt completely encased although he knew he could probably break free. Most of the nails were only heads glued to the wood. Only six, just enough to prevent the coffin from accidentally falling apart, kept the lid on.

He felt the coffin being lifted and settled on the buggy that would take them to the docks. He jiggled and lurched with each movement of the seemingly endless ride. The buggy finally came to a stop, and he braced himself as the coffin was lifted again, this time by hands obviously unaware of its living contents. He tried to steady himself, but he felt battered by the time the coffin was laid down once more. Still he felt a certain satisfaction, knowing he was finally on the boat. He heard voices, rough angry voices, and then there was silence.

Quinn tried to calm his fiercely beating heart. Close your eyes, he told himself, for to keep them open was to see darkness he couldn’t control. By closing them, oddly enough, he felt he did have some control. He waited for the nightmares to close in on him—but they didn’t. Instead he saw Meredith: as a child happily soaring toward the sky on his swing, and then as a giggly woman with the hideous hair on the
Lucky Lady.
There was Meredith framed by the rainbow, and Meredith’s suspicious but passion-filled eyes when they first kissed. And then there was Meredith aboard the
Ohio Star,
her gold hair flowing over the pillow and her arms raised up to him.

He felt movement again—the boat was leaving the docks. They had made it!

Quinn smiled to himself. He had known Meredith would convince everyone that their elaborate charade was real. She could do anything, be anyone. Ninny, lady, groom, artist, widow. Lover.

Lover.

How good she had felt in his arms last night. How very, very good. And right. The images kept flitting through his mind, eclipsing the dark ones that had been with him so long. With something close to astonishment, he discovered that the bright happy memories had washed his mind of the bitter ones.

“They’ve had to slip by you,” Ted Carroll blustered angrily.