And he had been aware of pure steel beneath that strength. "We'll have to see. I think she's working it out for herself right now. Have you located Molino's man at the circus grounds?"

"Woman," Harley corrected. "It's Marie Ledoute, a trapeze artist. She's a heavy gambler and she's recently been tossing around more money than she could have obtained from her salary. This morning she was very curious and asking questions of where Pierre, our roustabout, had been for the night."

"Did he tell her?"

"No, but he will and everything else she wants to know. She's in bed with him now."

"Keep an eye on her. She probably won't contact Molino until she leaves Pierre Jacminot. That will give us a little time."

"Right." Harley hung up.

Not much time, Grady thought. As soon as Molino knew where they were, he'd send someone on their trail. He should really bundle Megan up and whisk her away from here.

Not yet. He had a weird idea it would be like disturbing a butterfly when it was emerging from a cocoon. She hadn't been damaged last night and he wouldn't risk doing it now. She needed time and he would give it to her.

CHAPTER NINE

MEGAN OPENED THE ADJOINING DOOR to Grady's knock at six-fifteen that evening. He gave a mocking bow. "Dinner is served. I hope it's not too early for you. I want to be at the airport by eight tonight."

"Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, but you can never tell. It's better that we head out." He turned and preceded her to the white damask-covered table and held her chair for her. "You have more color. Did you get some rest?"

"A little." She sat down and spread her napkin on her lap. "But I didn't sleep."

"I didn't think you would." He sat down opposite her. "I ordered chicken and I found mushroom soup on the menu. You love it, don't you? I remember Sarah used to make it for you all the time."

"Yes, I do like it." Her brows lifted. "But it's such a little thing that I wouldn't have thought you'd remember it."

"Little likes and dislikes reveal character." He picked up his fork. "You love running in the surf, puppies, people who are honest and caring, and watching the sun come up. You hate food with mushy textures, ranting politicians, cruelly in any form, feeling helpless."

"Some of those things aren't so little."

"No. And they only give indications of the total Megan Blair. Try the salad. It's excellent."

She started to eat. "You remember all those things from that summer with Mama and me?"

"I always try to remember the good things. It always helps during the bad times. That was a very good summer for me." He smiled. "And you were a big part of what made it good. Sarah kept telling me how solemn you were but I never saw it. You were eager and funny and brimming with life. God, I'd never known anyone with that much energy and joie de vivre."

"And it didn't hurt your ego to know that I had a crush on you," she said calmly. "You did know that, didn't you? I was pretty transparent. Even Mama could see it."

"Oh, yes. I knew. I was... honored." He grimaced. "When I wasn't trying to fight off the dark side. I had to keep telling myself that you were no Lolita and I'd be sorry as hell if I seduced you." He shrugged. "Sometimes I even believed it. But if I'd stayed with you for a few more months, I would have been in trouble. I was only twenty-five myself, headstrong as the devil, and used to having my own way."

She could feel that now-familiar wave of heat moving over her as she looked at him. Everything tonight seemed clearer, simpler, every emotion keener and resounding to every word, every nuance. "I would have had something to say about being seduced. A crush doesn't necessarily guarantee that I'd jump into bed with you."

"It would have been a start." He got up and replaced her salad with the soup. "After that, I'd just have to work on giving you everything you want from me."

She raised her brows. "Like mushroom soup?"

"Ah, you've found me out." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm plying you with mushroom soup instead of champagne or strong drugs."

Mushroom soup, memories, and hints of sexuality that were more potent than any drug. She took a taste of the soup. "It's good. You chose well." She looked up when she was half finished with the soup to find him studying her. "What?"

"I was just wondering why you told me you had a crush on me all those years ago. You've been hiding your head in the sand about what happened that summer since I came back into your life."

"That's not true."

"You're right, only the parts that concern me."

"Maybe I decided that I didn't like burying my head in the sand. There was no reason for it. Why should I be ashamed of how I felt then or now? As long as I act according to my own code, there's no reason to hide anything. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Oh, no problem at all. I admire clear thinking. I was just wondering why it was manifesting itself at this particular moment."

She didn't speak for a moment. "Perhaps because I've recently had a lesson about clarity and weighing what's important and not important." She stared down into her bowl. "Life is important, keeping faith is important, all the rest is pretty far down on the scale."

"According to Edmund Gillem."

"And according to Megan Blair." She raised her eyes. "He died to keep Molino from getting his hands on that Ledger. But he was protecting more than the Ledger, wasn't he? He was protecting lives. Molino called them freaks. That means they were like me …and you. Right?" He nodded.

"I want to know about the Ledger. I want to know why he was willing to die for it."

"I told you that I'd tell you if you wanted to know. You didn't want to become any more involved than you had to be."

Her lips twisted. "I couldn't be any more involved than I am right now. Tell me about the Ledger. What is it?"

"It's a sort of elaborate, detailed family tree."

"What family?"

"Don Jose Devanez was the patriarch but over the centuries the name has almost died out."

"Centuries?"

"The Ledger was started in 1485 at the time of the Spanish Inquisition. The Devanez family was landholders in southern Spain and they were very prosperous. They invested in overseas ventures and success followed success. It was rumored at the time that they'd gained their riches from using devilish powers to draw ducats to them. The family was very private and stayed in the country away from the cities and royal court. It was only when the Inquisition reached fever pitch that they felt in danger. The local priests had heard tales that members of the family practiced everything from shape changing to predicting the future. Some of the stories were pretty wild."

"And some of it was true?"

"There was no doubt the family had strong psychic abilities." He made a face. "And it didn't take a crystal ball for them to see the writing on the wall. Torture and death. The priests accepted heresy about witchcraft and there was plenty of talk about the Devanez family in the area. Fray Tomas de Torquemada had recently become the Grand Inquisitor and the burnings were becoming almost commonplace. The family knew their only chance was to leave Spain and go where they couldn't be found. Jose Devanez prepared several havens for his family and gave the word to take off when he heard the priests were preparing their case against the family."