Ritual Sins by Anne Stuart Page B

healing a man with a wounded soul …
    He levered himself away from her, almost too quickly, collapsing beside her in sudden exhaustion. If she ever found a man with a wounded soul, a man fool enough to trust her, she’d flay him alive with that tongue of hers.
    Lucky for him he needed nothing and no one. Lucky for him he’d met hundreds of Rachel Connerys in his life. Rich, spoiled, searching for some kind of meaning. They didn’t know the secret of the universe, and he wasn’t about to tell them if they hadn’t figured it out on their own. That life was essentially meaningless.
    She was breathing more easily now, the rasp in her damaged throat quieted. He stretched out beside her on the hard stone floor, not touching her, letting the music flow around them as he concentrated on gathering his depleted energy.
    Few people would dare approach him in those circumstances. He could feel their intrusive presence,and he knew it had to be Calvin or Catherine. He guessed it was Catherine—Calvin already knew the sting of Luke’s displeasure.
    He didn’t move, didn’t bother to open his eyes as Catherine knelt down by his head. She was a smart old lady; there were times when he wondered just how much she knew, or guessed, about the secret workings of the Foundation of Being. She reminded him of Granny Sue, the old woman who’d taken him in when he first arrived in Chicago, a tough-talking, chain-smoking ex-hooker who’d taught her daughters how to turn tricks by the time they were fourteen. There was a similar ruthlessness about the two of them, though Catherine, with her blue blood and her perfect manners, hid it better than most. She was more than a match for some of the worst cons he’d known. More than a match for Calvin.
    She waited in respectful silence, and he held it long enough for her to get restless before he opened his eyes. “Blessings, Catherine,” he said. Rachel didn’t move, still lost in a deep, dreaming sleep.
    “You’re going to have to do something about Calvin,” Catherine said. “He’s become unstable.”
    “I thought it was Angel McGuiness who was unstable,” he murmured.
    “She’s no longer an issue. Calvin, on the other hand, is becoming more of a problem. You don’tdeny he’s responsible for this? That he deliberately endangered Rachel?”
    “I don’t deny it. I’m just not certain why he did it.”
    “He must think she’s some sort of threat. Which is ridiculous, of course. We have nothing to worry about, no secrets to hide. Rachel is a severely troubled young woman, looking for meaning in life. We can help her find the answers she needs. If Calvin would keep his murderous tendencies to himself.”
    “Calvin can be a bit … overenthusiastic where I’m concerned,” Luke said. “I hadn’t realized he was worried about her presence here. I’ve spoken to him. He expressed the proper shame and repentance.”
    “So it won’t happen again?” Catherine persisted, forgetting, as she often did, that she was in the presence of her spiritual master. Generations of old Philadelphia money made subservience difficult.
    It was easy enough to remind her, with the touch of his cool hand on her dry, aging flesh. She jumped, startled, suddenly contrite.
    “Forgive me, Luke,” she murmured. “I’m just an old woman who worries too much. Of course you’ve got things well in hand. I’m just concerned about the girl—she’s a sweet thing, despite her anger.”
    He controlled his amusement at the notion of Rachel’s alleged sweetness. “Of course she is, Catherine. And I know that we can all help her basic goodness and gentleness come through.”
As long as Calvin doesn’t try to off her again
, he added to himself.
And assuming there’s any goodness and gentleness there to be brought out.
    “You’ll show her the way,” Catherine murmured.
    “I’ll try,” he said, wondering just how drugged Rachel was. He wanted to look at her. Touch her. Let his bare skin rest against her.