Page 62 of The Lovers (Echoes from the Past #1)

FORTY-SIX

Quinn remained immobile, staring into the dying fire long after Sylvia left.

She scribbled down her mobile number and said that she would remain in the village until lunchtime tomorrow should Quinn wish to talk.

Sylvia anticipated that Quinn would have more questions once she’d had ample time to think about what she’d learned.

Quinn hugged her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them, wishing to make herself as small as possible.

The tears had dried, but she still felt as fragile as a glass bauble that could shatter into tiny fragments if not handled with the utmost care.

She’d spent over twenty years dreaming of her biological parents, imbuing them with all kinds of wonderful characteristics and inventing tragic love stories fraught with insurmountable obstacles in her desperation to believe that they would have kept her if they could.

And now that she knew the truth, she wished that she could go back to her fantasies and never, ever learn the reality of what happened.

Her father was a rapist, and her mother admitted freely that she simply didn’t want her, couldn’t love her despite the fact that Quinn had grown in her body for nine months and belonged to her more than to any of the men who’d forced themselves on her.

And how was she supposed to work with Rhys Morgan after what she’d learned?

The thought of facing him tomorrow was more than she could bear.

Quinn’s first impulse had been to call her parents and tell them what happened, but after nearly dialing the number, she replaced the phone on the sofa next to her.

She couldn’t do that to them. They’d be devastated for her and suddenly unsure of their place in her world.

Well, their place would never change. They were her mum and dad.

They’d taken her in, loved her, cherished and protected her, and given her the encouragement and support she needed to be the person she was today.

She’d rather die than hurt them. Perhaps they never needed to find out about Sylvia at all.

Quinn had no intentions of ever seeing the woman again.

What was the point? But she did need to talk to someone, and that someone was Gabe.

It was just past ten, and she hoped that he’d be at home.

Gabe picked up on the third ring, his voice gruff.

“Hello, Quinn,” he said. Normally, he would have asked about her day and told her about his.

Quinn would hear a smile in his voice when he told her of something funny that had happened or recounted some silly joke, but now his voice had a granite edge to it, and he was doing nothing to make things easier for her. It was up to her to do the talking.

“Gabe, something’s happened,” Quinn said quietly, desperate for him to care.

There was a momentary silence as Gabe obviously waged an internal battle between his wounded pride and his long-repressed feelings.

He hadn’t called her since the night she lashed out at him, and Quinn wondered if their relationship was over once and for all.

Would he politely tell her that he no longer wanted her in his life?

“Gabe?” Quinn prompted when he didn’t immediately respond. “Will you not speak to me?” It must have been a close thing, but love won in the end and Gabe replied, unable to reject her.

“Of course, I’ll speak to you. What’s happened?” he asked, his voice softening. “Are you all right, Quinn?”

“No, not really.” Quinn hadn’t even realized how not all right she was until she heard Gabe’s voice. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a shuddering sob that turned into a full-blown breakdown.

“I… She… My mother,” Quinn said, gasping as she tried to calm down.

She hadn’t meant to blub like this and had hoped to discuss the situation with Gabe calmly, but she couldn’t seem to stop sobbing, a wave of devastation sweeping her along and smashing her against the rocks until she felt as if she were mangled beyond repair.

“Quinn, is your mother ill? Talk to me,” Gabe pleaded with her.

“No. Not her.” Quinn took a deep breath and tried again. It took several tries, but she finally got the words out. “Gabe, my birth mother came to see me tonight.”

“What? You’re kidding. Tell me everything.” Thankfully, he’d forgotten all about his own hurt feelings for the moment. He knew what it meant to Quinn to find out about her past. “Wait. I’m coming over.”

“It’s late.”

“I don’t care. I need to see you.”

Quinn rang off and hugged herself. Knowing that Gabe would be there in less than an hour made her feel infinitely stronger and calmer.

She’d been such a fool. She’d been so thoughtless, so dismissive of his feelings when he had been the one to love her all this time.

He’d always been there for her, even when she was in a relationship with a man he considered unworthy, a man who left her for another woman and didn’t even have enough respect for her to break things off in person.

Deep down she knew that Gabe would drop everything to come to her aid—he always had.

He was the one man she trusted, the one man she loved.

What had she been thinking when she rejected him so cruelly?

She’d been mourning her relationship with Luke and coming to terms with the fact that the future she’d envisioned for herself was no longer hers when she should have been thanking her lucky stars that she’d been spared years of misery with a man who clearly didn’t love her.

Quinn sprang to her feet and flung open the door when she heard a car pull up. Gabe slammed the car door and walked toward her. He didn’t say anything, just took her in his arms as she melted into him, thankful that he hadn’t forsaken her.

“Gabe, I’m sorry,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“I know. No need to talk about that now. Come, tell me what happened.”

Gabe threw his jacket over a chair and pulled Quinn down on the sofa next to him after pouring them both a large whiskey.

Quinn took a sip and savored it for a moment before recounting the events of the evening without dissolving into tears again.

The whiskey helped, and Gabe’s presence made her feel as if she could handle this situation with some semblance of grace.

She didn’t have to deal with this alone. Gabe was there.

“I’ve spent all these years dreaming about meeting my mother, and now that I have, I feel empty and cheated somehow,” Quinn said. “I know it sounds perverse, but I feel almost angry.”

Gabe silently refilled Quinn’s glass and studied her face. He wasn’t the type of man who spoke without thinking, and although Quinn knew that he would try to comfort her, he’d also not bother with meaningless platitudes. He’d tell her what he really thought.

“Your feelings are natural,” he said at last. “You have every right to be angry.”

“How do you figure? ”

“Quinn, like many children who’ve never known their parents, you’ve created a fantasy—a mother who was practically sainted.

You imagined her as beautiful, loving, kind, and honorable.

Tonight, you’ve been confronted by a real woman, a woman who made mistakes, lied, and exercised bad judgment. You also question her story.”

“She was raped,” Quinn protested hotly, shocked by her desire to defend Sylvia.

She hadn’t questioned what Sylvia told her, but now that Gabe brought it up, she paused to consider.

She was a historian, and historians never took anything at face value.

History was just someone’s version of events until supported by facts, and all she had was Sylvia’s version.

“Was she? Can you be sure that she didn’t get drunk, have a bit of fun with three randy lads, and then run off in shame when she found out she was up the duff? She didn’t tell her father and never reported the incident to the police.”

“Many women don’t report rape,” Quinn bristled, shocked by Gabe’s lack of sensitivity. “The investigation can be more traumatic than the actual experience.”

“True, but there are women who cry rape after consensually engaging in intercourse. This woman wants to gain your sympathy and forgiveness. Perhaps things happened just as she said, or perhaps she wants you to see her as a victim rather than someone who exercised bad judgment and paid for it.”

“Gabe, I’ve never known you to be cruel,” Quinn said, moving a few inches away from him and crossing her arms in front of her chest. She knew she had no reason to feel defensive, but Gabe was bringing up theories she didn’t care to explore.

“I’m not being cruel, I’m being objective,” Gabe replied, unfazed by Quinn’s anger.

“I’m simply exploring all the aspects of this story.

What do you really know of this woman other than what she told you?

” Gabe demanded. “Are you even sure that she is who she says she is? Perhaps she thinks she has something to gain by approaching you.”

“She knew certain details,” Quinn replied, wondering if anyone might have had access to that information.

She supposed that anyone who was involved in her adoption would know about the circumstances in which she was found, not to mention anyone who watched the news or read the newspapers.

The discovery of an infant in Lincoln Cathedral was well publicized.

“Details can be unearthed and manipulated if someone makes it their business to do so,” Gabe replied, rational as ever.

“But not DNA,” Quinn replied triumphantly as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic bag containing a few strands of dark hair.

“Good girl,” Gabe said with a grin. “Plucked it off her coat, did you?”

“It was easy enough. Most women have a stray hair or two clinging to the fabric of their scarves or coats.”

“And what about Morgan?” Gabe asked carefully. “Will you confront him?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn replied truthfully. “What should I do?”

Gabe folded his arms and tilted his head, something he often did when he was thinking and didn’t wish to be disturbed.

Quinn let him have a moment. She had no idea how to approach the situation with Rhys Morgan.

She had a contract with the BBC and was legally obligated to see it through to the end.

Accusing Rhys of rape, especially when all she had to go on was the word of a woman she’d just met, would make working with him untenable .

Gabe finally turned to face her, decision made.

“Say nothing to Morgan. Even if what Sylvia Wyatt told you is absolutely true, it’s not your place to level such an accusation at him.

She’d made her decision, and you must abide by it.

Besides, the statute of limitations on rape must have expired by now. ”

“But how do I continue to work with him, knowing what he’d done and who he might be?” Quinn protested.

“First things first. You must find out if he’s your father. Is there any way you can do that?” Gabe asked, practical as ever.

“He keeps a toiletry bag in his desk at work. I’m sure I can find something I can work with.”

“Will you be able to keep your feelings to yourself until you know the truth?”

“I’ll have to, won’t I? I’ve waited this long to find out who my parents were. I can wait a bit longer. It will be hard to be in the same room with Rhys, knowing what I know, but I’ll keep a lid on my emotions for the sake of the truth.”

“Put on the old poker face?” Gabe joked. “I’ve never known you to be able to hide your feelings. Everything you think is always right there in your eyes.”

“So, what am I thinking now?” Quinn asked softly, a telltale blush staining her cheeks.

“You’re thinking what a fool you’ve been and how you can’t possibly live without me,” he replied with a smile.

“You know me better than I know myself, Gabriel Russell.”

“Yes, I do,” Gabe said. He was joking, but Quinn could sense the longing behind the humor. He wanted her still, despite the fact that she’d rejected him so brutally .

Quinn leaned forward and wrapped her arms about Gabe, drawing him toward her.

She brushed her lips against his and pulled him closer as she deepened the kiss.

This kiss was a long time coming for both of them, but Gabe’s response wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as she might have expected.

He took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away.

Quinn felt a wave of humiliation wash over her and lowered her eyes, wishing that she’d not been so forward.

Gabe wasn’t ready to forgive her, and perhaps he’d changed his mind.

God knew she’d given him enough reason to despise her.

Gabe instantly picked up on her emotional turmoil and smiled ruefully, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Quinn, I want you more than words can say, but not like this. You are feeling raw and unsettled, and you want to make the hurt go away. What you need right now is support and understanding, and I would be the worst kind of prick if I took advantage of that.”

Quinn nodded, still embarrassed but somewhat mollified by Gabe’s observation. “You are right: I feel completely adrift.”

“Well, what do you say to me anchoring you tonight? I’ll stay, if you want me to, but as a friend.” Gabe took her hand in his and smiled. “What say you?”

Quinn smiled back tearfully. “I say thank you .”

Gabe drew her to him, and they sat in companionable silence until Quinn fell asleep, her head against Gabe’s shoulder.

Gabe carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, where he laid her on the bed, removed her shoes, and tucked her in beneath the covers.

He climbed in next to her but knew that sleep wouldn’t come for hours.

He desired the woman next to him so much it hurt.

Some small part of him wished that he’d taken her up on her offer, but he couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability.

If and when he made love to her, it would be with her full consent and because she wanted him as much as he wanted her, not because she was looking for a bit of comfort.

Gabe sighed and stared at the embroidered canopy, wishing it was morning.