Page 86 of West Wind

“Actually, she kissed me.” He tried again to claim a decent kiss, gently pressing his lips to hers. “All I could think about was you.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“What are you scared of this time, darlin’?” Her lips softened as he pressed his mouth against hers.

“That you’re going to leave.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

She waited for a quick denial, but he said nothing. Instead he pulled her head to his shoulder and took a deep breath.

“Well?” she prompted.

“I never lied to you, Annie, but I don’t belong here, and you don’t belong in my world. Where does that leave us?” His voice was resigned.

“I belong wherever you are.” She tilted her head back and forced him to look at her. “No matter where that is. I can sleep under the stars, eat beans for the rest of my life, sing just for you. All I need are my red boots, my dreamcatcher, and you.”

“It’s too dangerous. You almost died,” he said gruffly.

“People die in the city, too,” she argued.

“Annie…”

“I love you, Shelley,” she blurted out before she could change her mind. “I love you. There. I said it.”

He moved her back and away, frowning slightly as he studied her at arm’s length. “I’m the worst man in the world for you,” he whispered.

“Hello, Brat.” The deep, sonorous voice stunned her. She turned her attention to the well-dressed, dark-haired man who stood leaning casually against the doorjamb with a wry smile on his face.

“Icky!” She jumped up and ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “I can’t believe you’re here. How did you find me?”

He moved her away from him and studied her from head to toe. “You look… fabulous, actually. I should whip you good for not letting me know where you were. I’ve had men searching for you from the moment I found out you’d disappeared. Why on earth did you run like that? What were you thinking?”

“I have so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start.” She took both his hands in hers and smiled. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

She turned around, one of Nicky’s hands still in hers. Her smile quickly faded at the sight of an empty parlor and the rippling curtains at the open double doors. He’d done it again. That coward. How could he?

Her eyes were narrowed when she turned back around. “Take me home, Icky,” she said crisply. She practically ran into Andrew as she fled from the room.

“Give Mr. Shelton a message from me,” she shouted at the old man.

“Umm. Master Bartholomew or Master Travis?” he asked slowly, his voice dragging laboriously.

“Master Travis,” she snapped. “You tell him that he is a snake. A no-good, low-down, reptile of the worst kind. A degenerate uncouth barbarian. A poor excuse for a man who… who…” She launched into a tirade in French that had the butler wringing his hands.

“Perhaps Miss Annabelle would like to leave a note for Master Travis?” he asked hopefully.

She calmed down somewhat, her composure returning. “Just tell him that I hate him and his canned peaches.”

She ran upstairs, returning moments later with her dreamcatcher, her medicine bag, her cowboy hat, and her red boots.

Nicky waited for her by the front door.

Bart appeared at the opposite end of the hallway. “Where are you going?” he asked, stunned. “Where’s Travis?”

She couldn’t stand to look at his face, a face so much like Shelley’s, and she certainly didn’t have any answers to his questions. Without a word she turned and burst past Nicky, through the door, and into the cool night air.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

After a few hours of fitful sleep, Annabelle woke in her yellow room. The first time Nicky had brought her to San Francisco from Paris for an extended visit he’d presented this room which he’d had decorated with her in mind. It was bright and sunny and frilly, with lace curtains and satin pillows. She’d long considered this room home.