Subj: Consequences of Falling ch. 34
Date: 7/27/01 11:33:35 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Nicole

Meanwhile

Quentin stood in the doorway, his eyes plastered onto Constance. He had had a problem turning away from her the moment he saw her first, her pale elegant body clothed in a shockingly deep crimson confection and looking oblivious to the mores she had been turning against. He had not choice but to be drawn to her. Even now as she slumbered in the loose gray robe, Quentin found himself just as drawn to her. Constance brought out his protective streak. She always looked so fragile, as if someone could easily snap her in two. But Quentin knew that it was ridiculous to think so. No one could destroy her.

Except possibly him. Quentin knew the sway he held over Constance. He had watched her swing from verbal violence to quiet anger the moment he had walked into the room. The moment she left, the object of her anger came to him and thanked him for calming her down. "She would've skinned me alive had you not come in." Quentin did not bother asking what had happened. He would have finished the job had he known. And that was what bothered him. His temper was as explosive, if not more so, as Constance's. To top it off, she was much more sensitive than she often appeared. He feared that he would hurt her, break her love in two and send her away. He had worked hard to obtain her. He would not lose her now.

Quentin would not give Constance a reason to flee. He wanted to shelter her from what might come. He knew that he ought to share the note from Petofi with her, but he could not bring himself to do it. Barnabas was right: there was no need to worry Constance if he could not authenticate the note. Besides, he had received the note almost 18 months earlier. If something were going to happen, it would've happened earlier.

But now wasn't the time to worry about Petofi. Quentin knew that now was the time to fall into oblivion. If he could not forget on his own, he knew that Constance would be more than willing to help him. He slipped quietly into their bedroom and laid beside her, slipping his hand beneath the slick silk to her smooth warm flesh. He moved the robe from one shoulder, kissing her from the bare shoulder, up the curve of her neck to her ear. "Are you awake?" he asked, tugging playfully at her earlobe as his finger drew languid circles around her navel.

Constance giggled. "Yes, I'm awake." She turned onto her back, forcing Quentin to brace himself on his elbows, their legs as interlocked as physically possible. Smoothly, she slipped on hand around his neck and the other on his back, the look in her eyes beaming passion. But that expression soon changed and she sighed before she asked, "What's wrong?"

Quentin took a moment to answer her, his body responding more to her touch than to her words at the moment. "Nothing," he whispered, his voice suddenly gruff.

"Please, Quentin. You're not happy. I can tell. Now, what's wrong?"

Quentin swallowed hard but maintained his composure. "I'm all right," he insisted. "Why do you ask?"

"I can see it on your face," she explained, running her finger along the contour of his jaw. "I know you, darling. I know when you're troubled."

"I see the same in you."

Constance scowled slightly and tightened the grip on the back of his neck. "You'd be right, but that doesn't matter. I'll be all right. I want to know what's bothering you."

Quentin could barely repress the grin that attempted to spread across his face. "Whatever was bothering me isn't bothering me anymore."

Constance seemed apprehensive, but her grip on his neck soon eased and she lowered him to her chest. "If you say so," she murmured. "I just want you to be happy."

"And I am. You don't have to worry about me." Quentin kissed her gently lifting her off the bed and cradling her in his arms. Her anxiety was potent, almost bitter to the taste. He laid her back down, falling in beside her although their legs remained entangled. "You don't ever have to worry about me."

"But sometimes I can't..."

"No!" he insisted, pressing his finger to her lips before replacing it with his own. "Nothing is ever going to happen to me. I promise you that."

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.