Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [78]
Morgan made another faint sound, then turned in his arms to gaze up at him, her hands lifting to rest on his chest. She was smiling, but her golden eyes were heavy-lidded in the look of sensual awareness he loved. And her voice was a little husky when she said, “We both know how many security cameras are trained on us right now. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not entertain the guards.”
Quinn kissed her very lightly. “No, I suppose not.” He stepped back just a little but caught her hand in his and held it firmly. “You do realize the museum's closing?”
She nodded, but sent the brilliant yellow glow of the Bolling a last glance. As they started strolling toward the doorway, she said, “Why would any thief want it? I mean, why would anyone in their right mind want to steal something with the history of the Bolling?”
“Aside from its rather astonishing value, total egotism,” Quinn replied succinctly. “Every one of the thieves who tried in the past believed they'd be the one to triumph.”
“And now? Does Nightshade believe in curses?”
Quinn answered that more slowly. “Nightshade believes he must own what would destroy other men, and he believes he can. That he's somehow immune to the danger. He believes it's his right, his . . . destiny . . . to possess priceless beauty.”
Morgan looked up at him. “What do you believe?”
He shrugged. “I believe he's just trying to fill the emptiness inside him, Morgana. He's a hollow man, emptied out of everything that matters.” Aware of her searching gaze, Quinn suddenly felt slightly self-conscious. In a much lighter tone, he added, “Psychology 101.”
Morgan didn't respond to that. Instead, amusing him yet again with her singular determination to get all her questions answered (it reared its head at the most unlikely moments, he'd discovered), she said, “I checked the plaque for the Talisman emerald a little while ago. Do you—I mean, does Quinn—want it because it's supposed to have belonged to Merlin?”
“Well, a hundred and fifty carats of emerald are worth quite a lot no matter who they once belonged to.”
“You know what I mean.”
He knew. “Actually, Quinn has earned a bit of a reputation for . . . um . . . taking items with odd or supernatural backgrounds. Not all the time, mind you, just here and there, often enough to make interest in them obvious. And it is something Nightshade was aware of. He found it quite easy to believe that Quinn would have come all this way to try to get his hands on that little bangle.”
“And avoid the Bolling?”
“I told him I was superstitious and extremely wary of curses. I'm reasonably sure he believed me.”
Leaving the exhibit behind, they walked in silence to the stairs and began descending. Halfway down, Morgan spoke again in a voice that was just a bit unsteady.
“Alex, if I wanted to guess who Nightshade is—”
“Don't, Morgana.” He kept his own voice even, but his fingers tightened almost unconsciously around hers. “Your knowing who he is wouldn't help—and could hurt. There's no reason for you to know until you have to. Trust me.”
Morgan glanced up at him as they reached the lobby, and a little laugh escaped her. “We've already established that I don't really have a choice about that.” Then, before he could respond, she was going on in the same casual tone. “You're free until around midnight, aren't you?”
“More or less,” he agreed. “I thought we could get something to eat and then go back to your place.”
“Sounds good to me.”
After that their conversation steered clear of the exhibit and Nightshade and other troubling matters, and Quinn was glad. He knew he should have kept his attention focused on those matters, troubling or not, but all his concentration seemed taken up by her. She had fascinated him from the first night they'd met, and their subsequent, rather intense encounters had only deepened and increased that fascination.
He thought she was magnificent. Not just in her physical beauty, although that