Portrait in Death (In Death #16)(66)

"Sure." She said it casually before sitting down and calling up the file on the sitting room unit. "I'll have a couple of eggs, scrambled, and whatever else you're having."

"A very smooth way of ensuring I eat." He programmed breakfast, then studied the screen-the two images Eve had called up on it. "Different types entirely, aren't they? And yet, the same... vitality, I suppose."

He thought of the picture of the woman he knew to be his mother. Young, vital, alive.

"It's monsters who prey on the young," he declared.

He couldn't get the images out of his mind, even after Eve had left the house. They haunted him as he went down to make amends with Summerset. The two young people he'd never met, the mother he'd never known.

They linked together in his head, a sad and sorrowful portrait gallery. Then another joined him, and he saw Marlena in his mind's eye. Summerset's lovely young daughter. She'd been little more than a child when the monsters had taken her, Roarke thought.

Because of him.

His mother, Summerset's daughter, both dead because of him.

He stepped through the open door of Summerset's quarters. In the living area PA Spence was running a hand scanner over the skin cast to check the knitting of bone.

The wall screen played one of the morning newscasts. Summerset sat, drinking coffee, watching the news, and ignoring the PA as she cheerfully detailed the progress of his injuries.

"Coming right along," she chirped. "Excellent progress, particularly for a man of your age. You're going to be up and around on your own again in no time, no time at all."

"Madam, I would be up and around on my own now if you'd go away."

She clucked her tongue. "We'll just get a reading of your blood pressure and pulse for the chart. Bound to be elevated since you insisted on drinking that coffee. Black as pitch. You know perfectly well you'd do better with a nice herbal tonic."

"With you nattering in my ear I may take to starting my day with vodka. And I can take my own vital signs."

"I'll take your vital signs. And I want no trouble from you today about your vitamin boost."

"If you come near me with that syringe, you'll find it deposited in one of your own orifices."

"Excuse me." Though he'd have preferred to slink away unnoticed, Roarke stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt. I need Summerset for a few moments, if you'd excuse us."

"I'm not quite finished. I need to update his chart, and he needs his booster."

"Ah, well." Roarke slid his hands into his pockets. "You look better today."

"I'm quite well, considering."

And angry with me, Roarke noted. "I wonder if some fresh air might be in order. Why don't I take you out through the gardens for a bit, before the day heats up."

"That's a fine idea," Spence said before Summerset could answer. And she whipped the pressure syringe from behind her back, had it pressed against his biceps and administered before he could blink. "Nothing like a nice turn around the garden to put roses in your cheeks. No more than thirty minutes," she said to Roarke. "It'll be time for his physical therapy."

"I'll have him back for it." He started to step behind Summerset's chair.

"I can navigate this bloody thing perfectly well myself." To prove it, Summerset engaged the controls and propelled himself toward the terrace doors.

Roarke managed to get there in time to open them before he whisked through.

Back poker straight, Summerset drove over the stone terrace, turned down one of the garden paths. And kept on going.

"He's in a very sour mood this morning," Spence commented. "More so than usual."

"I'll have him back for the therapy." Roarke shut the door behind him, and followed Summerset down the path.

The air was warm and close, and fragrant. He'd built this world, he thought, his world surrounded by the city he'd made his own. He'd needed the beauty. It hadn't been simply desire, but survival. With enough beauty, he could cover up all the ugliness of all the yesterdays.

So there were flowers and pools, arbors and paths. He'd married Eve out here, in this manufactured Eden. And found more than his measure of peace.

He let Summerset glide himself along for the first few minutes, understanding the man probably wanted to put some distance between himself and Spence as much as he wanted the control.

Then Roarke simply stepped up behind the chair, stopped it. Locked it in place. He walked around to sit on a bench so that he and Summerset were on the same level.

"I know you're angry with me," he began.

"You've saddled me with that creature. Locked me in with her as my warden."

Roarke shook his head. "Christ Jesus. You can be as mad as you like about that. Until you're healed you'll have the best care available. She's it. For that I won't apologize. For the things I said to you last night, for the way I behaved, I will. I'm sorry for it, very sorry."

"Did you think you couldn't tell me?" Summerset looked away, stared hard at a violently blue hydrangea. "I know the worst of you, and the best, and everything between." He looked back now, studied Roarke's face. "Well, at least I see she tended to you. You look rested."