Secret of the Wolf by Susan Krinard Read Free Book Online Page A

you are, Mr. Forster, since you are likely to be spending
    a few more days with us.”

    "But I'm well, I assure you—”

    "I shall be the judge of that." Before he could speak another word, she picked up the
    thermometer and pushed it into his mouth. His teeth clicked on the glass .

    "The Haven," she said, "is what I call our little farm. There are seven of us in residence:
    myself, my father, Doctor Wilhelm Schell, and five patients. We came to this valley two
    years ago, when we found it necessary to close our private asylum in Pennsylvania.”

    "Your—" Quentin tried to speak around the thermometer. Johanna snatched it from his
    mouth, examined it, and shook her head. "You are a very lucky man, Mr. Forster.”

    "Quentin," he reminded her. "Yes, I'm exceedingly lucky." He laughed under his breath.
    "Is this by any chance a madhouse?”

    "We do not use that name here. The Haven is different. Our residents are only a few of
    those we treated in Pennsylvania. Those it seemed best to bring with us." Her voice
    softened. "They have become very much like family. This is what I want you to
    understand, Mr.—Quentin. You will be meeting them, and I do not wish you to disrupt
    our routines out of ignorance." She searched his face. "Does insanity frighten you?
    Does it disgust you? You will see behavior you may consider peculiar—”

    "More peculiar than mine?”

    "—and if you cannot treat the residents with the dignity they require, I shall have to
    make other arrangements for your care.”
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    Yes, there was fire in Johanna Schell. It sparked in her eyes when she spoke of her
    "residents," with all the ferocity of a lioness guarding her cubs. Passion existed in that
    curvaceous frame
    not for romance and the usual women's fancies, but to protect
    those in her care. A woman who took on great responsibility, and relished it .

    In that way she was the complete opposite of Quentin himself. Johanna Schell was not
    like the demimondaines he'd tended to run into during the past several years, nor did
    she bear any resemblance to the proper and well-bred aristocrats of England. She was
    something new to him—honest, straightforward, unselfish, with hidden emotions yet to
    be discovered. He couldn't assign her to a category and dismiss her as unimportant, as
    he did the other men and women he met briefly in his wanderings. That was what
    intrigued him most .

    Ordinarily, he wouldn't linger long enough to indulge his curiosity. But he found himself
    admiring this cool, stern, and utterly sensible goddess. Not merely admiring—he was
    drawn to her, and by more than the erotic promise of her touch .

    If she'd been loup-garou, the explanation would have been simple enough. There was
    always the possibility of a sudden and unbreakable bond forming between two of
    werewolf blood. But, even though he lacked his brother's broad mental powers and
    flawless ability to recognize others of their kind, he knew that Johanna was
    unmistakably human .

    No matter. He couldn't trust himself to remain here longer than strictly necessary. His
    safety—his sanity—lay in constant motion. And if his worst, half-acknowledged fears
    were correct
    if he left turmoil behind each and every time he lost his memory in
    drink

    Guilt was one of the emotions he'd learn to outran. Sadness was another. And
    loneliness .

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    Johanna reminded him that he was lonely. She and her healer's touch .

    "I am the last man to judge another's madness," he said at last, meeting her eyes. "You
    may trust me in that, if in nothing else.”

    "That sounds like a warning.”

    "Yes." He smiled crookedly. "But I shan't be the one to prove how unwise it is to bring
    strange, besotted men home as you would a wee lost puppy.”

    "I would bet that you are not a puppy, Quentin Forster.”

    "Ah, do you gamble?”

    "Only when I have no other