Page 84 of West Wind

As for his brother, he certainly didn’t look like a man who had, hours earlier, relinquished his claim on the woman he’d brought home. He stayed near her as she sat on the serpentine couch. The two of them even seemed to move with a synchronization that was hypnotic.

What would it take to convince Travis to stay? To admit that Annabelle was the best thing that would ever happen to him?

He turned his attention to the smitten doctor who trailed along after Annabelle like a faithful puppy. John either didn’t see or chose to ignore her closeness to Travis. Bart could only shake his head at his friend’s denseness.

He watched as John joined Annabelle on the couch and mentioned the last time she’d performed in San Francisco. Soon they were discussing their favorite operas and the American thirst for culture. Travis moved away to fill his glass.

Dorothea was there in a flash, leading Travis slowly and purposefully toward the open double doors.

“I must speak to you,” she whispered urgently. “But not in here. Privately.”

Bart pretended not to listen, but inside he seethed. Tell her to go away, to disappear. Tell her that you don’t want to talk to her privately. He tried to communicate those thoughts to his brother, even though he didn’t believe in such nonsense. He couldn’t very well interfere. Some decisions Travis would have to make on his own.

Shelley sighed and set his glass down. There had been a time when Thea’s offer would’ve been attractive. She was still a beautiful woman, graceful and fair, her low-cut gown revealing ample cleavage, her blue eyes inviting. Just like five years ago. She’d been married then. He’d carried a lot of anger in his heart and in his soul. He wasn’t angry anymore thanks to Annie, so he saw no harm in following Thea as she led him to the small stone patio.

“Why do you torture me like this?” Thea threw herself at him as soon as they were away from the double doors. Her breasts pressed against him; she held her lips invitingly close. “I never should’ve married Lewis. I know that, now. I was young and stupid. I love you, Travis. I’ve always loved you. We were meant to be together.”

The woman he’d once planned to spend his life with had always been free with her declarations of love. “It’s too late, Thea. I’m not the same man who asked you to marry me. That was a lifetime ago…”

Thea pressed her lips ardently to his, while grasping his head in her hands. It was a frantic grip, not a caress. It was control, not love or even passion. Her ardor turned to desperation when he didn’t respond.

He didn’t move, not away or toward her. It was she who pulled away from him, stunned and rejected. “Are you trying to make me pay? Is this some sort of revenge?”

Shelley stepped back. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. There was no feeling left. He didn’t hate Thea, he didn’t love her. He didn’t even particularly like or dislike her. She was a vaguely unpleasant memory from a life long past. She stormed into the parlor with her head high and her shoulders squared.

The night air was pleasantly cool. He stayed where he was and took a deep breath. Annie would be discussing opera with that stuffy doctor. Bart and Thea would continue to watch him like a pair of hawks. It seemed a good idea to steal a few quiet moments on the patio.

By the time he entered the parlor through the open double doors, Thea was gone. That was fine with him. His last look at her, as she’d realized his rejection, had convinced him that she was truly an ugly woman on the inside, where it counts. He leaned against the door frame and watched Annie’s back, the line of her neck, the curve of her hip. She spoke to his brother quite intently, with ardor, with passion.

As he watched, she rested her hand on Bart’s arm, her long fingers startlingly pale against his black sleeve. Shelley’s smile faded quickly. Bart and Annie? Well, why not? Bart lived in her world, appreciated what she loved in a way he himself never could. His brother could offer her everything he couldn’t.

He moved forward, unable to stop himself. He hadn’t left San Francisco yet, dammit. Annie stiffened at the touch of his hand on her bare shoulder, but she didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder.

“I’m very tired,” she said coldly. “I must excuse myself.”

The doctor moved forward. “Perhaps it’s too soon for you to be up and around. I could check in on you in the morning, if you wish.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Annie kept her back to him even as he tried to circle around so he could see her face. “A good night’s sleep is all I need.”

Bart frowned, an expression that rarely crossed his face. Annie’s hand remained on his arm and he circled with her, facing Shelley over her head, the three of them caught in an awkward dance.

Head down, Annie broke away and fled the room. Shelley attempted to follow, but Bart’s suddenly strong hand grabbed him and spun him around.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough for one evening?” Bart’s usually languid tone was clipped and sharp. “Leave Annabelle alone.”

He shook off his brother’s grip and followed Annie. When he caught up with her she was halfway up the staircase.

“What the hell...” he began, laying a hand on her shoulder and forcing her to turn and face him. Her face was ashen, her eyes filled with tears. His anger disappeared. “What’s the matter, darlin’?”

Annie lifted her chin and stared him down. “I am not a wounded bird.”

“What?”

“Or a starving kitten, thank you,” she snapped, turning away from him.

He caught her arm and spun her around, tossing her easily over his shoulder. She beat her fists against his back, but he ignored her mild assault.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I intend to find out.”