Page 107 of The Forsaken
“I think Brett would have gone through his whole life without incident, had you not come along.”
“So it’s my fault?” Quinn gaped at Rhys. She hadn’t expected him to spout that particular theory.
“No, it isn’t, but you took him unawares and threatened to expose something that he needed to keep hidden in order to get on with his life. I’m not saying his feelings or views are right, but very few situations are ever truly black and white. He felt frightened and threatened by what you were about to do, and he reacted much as a cornered animal would—he lashed out, driven by a sense of self-preservation.”
“Am I supposed to forgive him, then?”
“Whether you choose to forgive him or not is up to you, but don’t allow what happened to destroy your relationship with your father. Gabe says that Seth’s been calling and texting you.”
“We’ve spoken recently,” Quinn replied, suddenly ashamed of herself for avoiding Seth for as long as she had.
“Quinn, I think Seth wants to be your parent a lot more than Sylvia does, and he’s tormented with guilt over what happened. Perhaps it’s time you let him off the hook, as you let me off the hook.”
“Rhys, can I tell you something?” Quinn asked, smiling into his eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Sometimes, I wish you’d turned out to be my biological dad.”
“Come here, kid.” Rhys pulled Quinn into a bear hug. He smelled of aftershave and freshly baked scones, and for the first time since returning from New Orleans, Quinn felt completely at peace.
“Thanks, Rhys.”
“Anytime. Now, how about that tea?”
“Bring it on.”
They made small talk while they drank their tea and enjoyed Rhys’s mouthwatering scones. Emma had three, and even Phoebe ate more than she normally would. Quinn was grateful to Rhys for not mentioningEchoes from the Past, especially in front of Gabe, who’d taken away the sword and the rosary, effectively closing the window into the lives of the de Rosel family. Everything was on hold until after the baby was born.
SIXTY-FIVE
SEPTEMBER 2014
London, England
The day had been unusually warm for September. Even with all the windows open, Quinn was perspiring. She took a cool shower before going to bed, one of the few activities still permitted during her period of bedrest, but she was flushed and couldn’t get to sleep. The lace trim of her silky nightie chafed her skin, and she longed for something comfortable and soft.
Quinn turned on the bedside lamp and swung her legs out of bed, determined to get a cotton T-shirt. Rummaging in her drawer, all she found were tops more suited for work, and she realized Gabe had forgotten to do the laundry. Household chores had been piling up since Phoebe returned to Northumberland once Emma started school and Gabe returned to the institute for the new semester. He’d accepted the promotion and all talk of moving north had ceased for the time being, making Quinn a happy woman.
She shut the drawer and turned to Gabe’s side of the bureau. He had a plethora of cotton T-shirts, which he wore year-round. She pulled out one of her favorites, a lime-green V-neck that had no annoying tag to scratch her skin. The glow of amber at the back of the drawer caught her eye. She knew she shouldn’t, but the urge was too strong, and Quinn reached for the plastic bag containing the rosary before she could talk herself out of it. Gabe hadn’t bothered to hide it well, trusting her not to go looking for it, but she’d been cooped up in the house for the past month, and she was expiring of boredom.
My blood pressure is perfect, there’s no protein in my urine, my ankles are as trim as a ballet dancer’s, and I haven’t had a headache in weeks, Quinn thought proudly. What harm could a brief glimpse into Kate’s life do? It would be a welcomedistraction, and hopefully, help her get to sleep. She listened carefully. The only sound in the flat was the low hum of the TV. Emma was fast asleep, and Gabe was watching a film in the other room. He’d had trouble sleeping lately, and often came to bed after Quinn was already asleep, climbing in beside her and resting a protective hand on her belly.
She climbed back into bed, turned off the lamp, and drew the rosary out of the bag. Kate’s face instantly swam into view, her green eyes wide with anxiety.
SIXTY-SIX
APRIL 1465
Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Northumberland
Kate grabbed the basin just in time as her stomach emptied for the third time that morning. She set aside the basin, rinsed out her mouth, and reclined on her pillows, panting. The first few months of pregnancy had been surprisingly unremarkable, but over the past two weeks nausea and fatigue had become her constant companions. Awful smells that brought on a bout of sickness seemed to lurk around every corner, particularly in the kitchen, which to Kate smelled of raw meat and blood. She hadn’t been able to stomach any solid foods, except for bread dipped in broth, and ale. A bout of vomiting was usually followed by fitful slumber as her body recovered.
Had it been only Hugh and Guy in the house, she might have been able to keep her secret a little longer, but it was impossible to hide a pregnancy from Joan’s watchful glare, and the old nurse had finally confronted Kate only that morning.
“I may be many things, but a fool ain’t one of them,” Joan had bristled. “Who do ye think ye’re fooling? ’Tis good news, this is. Why not tell yer husband?”
“I’ve been wrong before.”
