Etienne winced at that accusation, then scowled. "I didn't know I loved her. I knew I cared for her, though, and wanted to keep her with me, and she no doubt knew that. Obviously she didn't care to."
"How did she know that?" she asked dryly. "Did you tell her?"
"No."
"How did I raise such stupid children?" Marguerite asked the room at large with disgust.
"We could read each other's thoughts when we were... intimate. She knew I cared and wanted a relationship with her."
"What?" The expression on her face suggested he was an idiot, Etienne noted, feeling uncomfortable. "How could she read your thoughts? She was no expert. Dear Lord, the poor girl couldn't even control her teeth until the last day or so that she was here. Reading thoughts is an advanced skill that takes years to learn." She frowned at him. "Did you read her thoughts while you were intimate and her mind was open to you?"
"No. Of course not. I didn't want to intrude."
"But you think she was somehow able and willing to intrude on your thoughts?" she asked, then snorted with derision. "Of course she didn't. You're going to have to gather your courage and tell her, son."
Etienne remained silent, but Marguerite could read the fear in his mind and heart. He wanted to go after Rachel but feared rejection. She knew her son and was positive that he would go after the girl eventually. Marguerite just feared it might be too late by the time he did. It seemed to her that if she didn't want to watch her son mess up his chance at happiness, she would have to utilize a little motherly interference.
Good Lord, she thought with exasperation. The boy was over three hundred years old. A mother's job never ended.
Chapter Eighteen
Rachel sat back and capped the bottle of nail polish before holding her feet out and examining the results of her labor. She now had ten dark red toenails. This was a new experience, but she'd had a lot of new experiences since Etienne Argeneau had made his first appearance in her morgue.
Frowning, she forced that thought away. It wasn't good to think about Etienne. She tended to grow morose and depressed when she allowed herself to think of the man and their time together. Rachel missed him. She had only spent a short time in his home, yet it had felt like both an eternity and a mere minute at once. It was as if she had known him forever and experienced a lifetime in a heartbeat. She missed him horribly.
Sighing, she set the polish on the table and stood up. Rachel lifted her jeans so that the cuffs wouldn't ruin all her hard work, then crossed the living room of her apartment and walked into the kitchen. She really should let her nails dry properly before trying to walk, but if she continued to sit on the couch there was no doubt she would just depress herself with thoughts of Etienne and their time together. Rachel had learned that quickly once ensconced back in her own life. Thinking of Etienne was a no-no likely to sink her into deep depression and make her eat ridiculous things like ice cream that her body didn't need and she really had no taste for anymore.
Realizing that she had walked straight to the fridge and opened it to examine its contents, she closed the door with a disgusted sigh. Then she propped her hands on her h*ps and turned to examine the room. It was spotless. She had cleaned it, as well as the rest of the apartment, before settling down to paint her toenails to pass the time. Rachel still had trouble filling her nights off. She had returned to her life to find that the day position had been given to someone else while she was missing. Her boss had apologized profusely, explaining that they had feared the worst when she had disappeared. The position had needed to be filled at once, so he had given it to Tony, who had also applied. Rachel had assured him she understood, and she did. In fact, much to her own surprise, she hadn't really minded. Her experiences in that one short week had definitely turned her into something of a night person. She now loved the nights and was happy to work through them. Oddly enough, her noisy neighbors no longer disturbed her sleep. She was somehow able to block them out and slept like the dead.
Her only problem with the night now was that it reminded her so much of her time with Etienne, which was wonderful and sad at the same time. She missed him.
A knock at her door saved Rachel from dwelling on Etienne and sinking into sadness and depression again. Pasting a smile on her face, she left the kitchen and walked down the hall to answer it, wondering which of her neighbors would be knocking at this hour. It was well past midnight, but no one had buzzed to be let into the building, so she was sure it had to be a neighbor.
Rachel didn't bother to check the peephole before opening the door. Her strength and speed had continued to grow in the weeks since she'd been turned, and she wasn't really afraid of anyone anymore. It was a new and rather empowering way to live. She pulled the door open and glanced out, then stilled briefly before stepping through the door and glancing up and down the hallway with bewilderment. She was sure she had heard a knock, but there was no one at the door. And there was no one in the hall.
"I must be losing my mind," she muttered as she stepped back inside and automatically locked and bolted the door. Rachel had turned and taken two steps away from the door when the knock sounded again. She stopped walking but didn't turn back to her apartment door. The knocking hadn't come from there. It was coming from down the hall, in the vicinity of the living room. More curious and confused than anything, she continued down the hall, and into the large, comfortable room, her gaze sliding over her overstuffed furniture before another knock drew her gaze to her balcony window.
Rachel gaped at the man who stood on the other side of her sliding glass doors, then rushed forward when he grinned and waved.
"Thomas!" she greeted as she pulled the door open to allow him in. "How did you get up here?"
"I climbed, of course," he said with a shrug.
Rachel stared at him, then stepped out onto the balcony and peered over the edge at the front of the building and the six balconies below her own. She turned back to ask with disbelief, "You climbed that?"
"Sure." He shrugged with amusement. "I like climbing."
Rachel peered back down the building again. It wouldn't be impossible to climb, she supposed, if you were strong and agile and weren't afraid of falling to your death. All of which were no doubt true of a two-hundred-year-old vampire. Heck, give her a couple of hundred years and she might be doing things like that herself.
A little laugh slipping from her throat, she turned back and led the way inside again. "Why didn't you just buzz? I'd have let you in, you know."
Thomas shrugged again as she closed the balcony door behind them. "I wanted to surprise you."
"Well, you succeeded at that," she said dryly, then smiled. "To what do I owe this visit?"
"I wanted to wish you Happy Valentine's and invite you to the Night Club," he said easily--but his words merely confused Rachel again.
"Umm... Thomas, Valentine's is in February. This is September," she pointed out.