left Mona wishing that she had been more forthcoming on that last night about her usual rampant desires.
Rampant. She really loved that word. It suited her. “You are running rampant.” That was the kind of thing Celia or Lily would say to her. And she would say, “I treasure the compliment, but I do get the point.”
God, if only she’d talked to Yuri herself. Celia had told him to call First Street. Why hadn’t he done it? She’d never know.
Even Uncle Ryan had been irritated. “We need to talk to this man. We need to talk to him about Aaron.”
And that was the really sad part, that it was Celia who’d told Yuri, and maybe nobody else in the world knew what Aaron had meant to Yuri, except Mona, in whom he’d confided, preferring to talk than to make love on their one and only stolen night. Where was he now? How was he? In those few hours of passionate exchange, he’d proven intensely emotional, black eyes glittering as he’d told her in stripped-down language—the very beautiful English of those for whom it is a second tongue—the key events of his tragic but amazingly successful life.
“You just can’t tell a gypsy something like that, that his oldest friend’s been run over by some maniac.”
Then it hit her. The phone had been ringing. Perhaps that had been Yuri, and no one in this place could find her. No one had seen her come in here last night and collapse on the couch.
Of course, she’d been utterly captivated by Rowan, and had been since the first moment yesterday afternoon when Rowan had climbed to her feet and begun to speak. Why had Rowan asked her to stay here? What did Rowan have to say to her, to her alone, and in private? What was really on Rowan’s mind?
Rowan was OK, that was certain. All afternoon long and into the evening, Mona had watched her gain strength.
Rowan had shown no signs of lapsing back into the silence that had imprisoned her for three weeks. On the contrary, she had taken easy command of the house, coming down alone late last night, after Michael had gone to sleep, to comfort Beatrice and persuade her to go up to bed in Aaron’s old room. Beatrice had been leery of subjecting herself to “Aaron’s things,” only to confess finally that curling up in his bed, here in the guest bedroom, was exactly what she wanted to do.
“She’ll smell the scent of Aaron all around her,” Rowan had said to Ryan, almost absently, “and she’ll feel safe.”
That wasn’t a normal comment, Mona had thought, but surely that was the trick of seeking your mate’s bed after a death, and people had talked about mat cure for grief being very good. Ryan had been so concerned about Bea, so concerned for everyone. But in Rowan’s presence he had had the air of a general, all seriousness and capability, in the presence of the Chief of Staff.
Rowan had taken Ryan into the library, and for two hours, the door open for anyone who cared to stand in it or listen at it, they’d discussed everything from the plans for Mayfair Medical to various details about the house. Rowan wanted to see Michael’s medical records. Yes, he seemed as sound now as he had been the day she met him. But she needed the records, and Michael, not wanting to argue, had referred her to Ryan.
“But what about your own recovery? They want you to go for tests, you know,” Ryan had been saying as Mona came in for a final good-night.
Yuri had left his message at Amelia Street just before midnight, and Mona had experienced enough hate, love, grief, passion, regret, longing, and excruciating suspense to finally wear her out.
“I don’t have time to take these tests,” Rowan had been saying. “There are much more important things. For instance, what was found in Houston when you opened the room where Lasher had been keeping me?”
At that point Rowan had stopped because she’d seen Mona.
She’d risen to her feet as if she were greeting some important adult. Her eyes were brilliant now, and not so much cold anymore as serious, a real important distinction.
“I don’t mean to disturb you,” Mona had said. “I don’t want to go home to Amelia,” she’d said sleepily. “I was wondering if I could stay here—”
“I wish you would stay,” said Rowan without hesitation. “I’ve kept you waiting for hours.”