When The Heart Beckons (23 page)

And she put a hand to his arm for just a
moment before sliding past him and approaching a waitress on her
way to the kitchen. The warmth of her fingers tingled even after
she’d left his side. It amazed him how she could be stubborn and
irritating one moment, and irresistibly charming the next. A
dangerously persuasive, utterly bewitching woman if ever he’d met
one. He watched her talk the waitress into honoring her unusual
request, saw her nod and smile and press a gold piece into the
woman’s palm, and was amazed that the sight of her sashaying back
toward him made his heartbeat race. What was Annabel Brannigan up
to now?

Only one way to find out, he reasoned. He
followed her up the stairs and waited until he was inside her room
before speaking.

When the door was shut behind him, he leaned
against it.

“Now, then.”

“Yes?” She was hurriedly stuffing items back
into that damned carpetbag of hers. He got another glimpse of lace
drawers, a glance at a silk stocking, saw that diary of her aunt’s,
and then she zipped the whole damned thing up and pushed it under
the bed. But he noticed that a photograph of Brett had been set in
a prominent position on the maple bureau.

For a moment, his gaze rested on the face of
that dark-haired, grinning young man.

Then he shifted his attention back to
Annabel. “What’s this all about?” He shook his head. “You’re acting
loco, even for you.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Steele, what a charming
thing to say.” She chuckled saucily at him and he fought the urge
to seize her in his arms and kiss that adorable mouth which seemed
to mock and beckon him all at the same time.

“Talk, Miss Brannigan.”

The glow in her eyes deepened with
amusement, turning them suddenly more green than gray. “Why, Mr.
Steele, can’t you call me Annabel on a regular basis even after all
this time?” she murmured. “We are now so well acquainted that it
seems positively absurd for you to avoid my given name.”

“You’re stalling!”

“I am not.”

“Why supper up here? What is so private, so
personal that you have to talk to me alone right now, right
here?”

Relentless, obstinate man! Annabel turned
away so he wouldn’t see her desperation as she fumbled for
something plausible to placate him. Her thoughts whirled, selecting
and discarding several possibilities all in the space of a moment.
The next thing she knew Steele’s hands were on her shoulders,
turning her to face him so that she was forced to look directly up
into his eyes. Time was up.

“Talk,” he said again, ominously, but this
time, unlike that time in Lily’s room, his words didn’t fill her
with fear. It was as if a mask had dropped away and the Roy Steele
that everyone else saw was no longer the one she saw when she
looked into his eyes; she saw beneath the cold facade, the
merciless curl of his lip, and knew that the man before her would
not harm a hair on her head. The world outside this room might
cower at the sight of the deadly gunslinger Roy Steele, but she
only felt a strangely warm affection flowing like molten honey
through her veins. She wanted to reach up and stroke his cheek and
laugh into his beautiful, darkly glinting eyes.

“Well ...” she began and took a breath.

“Go on.”

“I ...”

A knock sounded at the door.

“The food!” Laughing, she darted out from
his grasp like a deer under a thicket and pulled open the door.
“My, doesn’t everything look delicious.”

He had to admit that it did. There was beef
stew and potatoes, fried chicken and venison in thick gravy, along
with big plump biscuits swimming in butter. Steele pulled two
little chairs up to the small table beneath the window as Annabel
poured steaming coffee into cups.

It was hard to believe a slender female
could put away so much food. He watched incredulously as she took
her third helping, her enjoyment of the hearty meal obvious. He
wondered suddenly if she would throw herself into lovemaking with
the same gusto as she threw herself into her repast. There was a
sensual warmth and earthiness about her which, layered upon her
pert femininity and that curious blend of stubbornness and charm,
made him want to taste her everywhere, her silky peach skin, her
delectable mouth, the delicate pulse beating at her throat. She was
lightness and musk, sweetness and steel. And being alone in this
tiny room with her, in clear sight of that damned bed, was doing
strange things to his thinking, not to mention certain parts of his
body.

He took ahold of his coffee cup and gulped
at the strong black liquid, burning his throat. But it helped him
to remember who he was and all of the reasons why Annabel Brannigan
was off limits to him.

And it would help even more to turn his
thoughts onto another subject, to get down to business. He set down
his fork. “Don’t you want to know what I’ve been up to while you
were gallivanting around looking for bonnets?” He watched her pause
in the act of helping herself to another biscuit, and her eyes
focused alertly on him with the cool appraising intelligence he was
beginning to know.

“Of course. Does this mean you plan to tell
me?” She set the biscuit down on her plate untouched and waited for
him to answer.

Steele hesitated. This would upset her.
Hell, it upset him. But she had a right to know. “Seeing as it
concerns you, I reckon I should,” he said quietly. “We’re setting
out at first light for New Mexico.” He leaned back in the chair and
went on quickly, keeping his tone steady and impersonal. “Seems the
woman Brett was traveling with lives on a ranch there, south of
Magdalena. Her name’s Conchita Rivers. According to one of the
bartenders here in town, Brett was in the place getting drunk not
too long ago, and talking about some trouble the lady’s been having
with a big cattle company that wants to run her off her property.
It seems he answered an advertisement to work for her; he’s going
to be fighting off the outfit that wants to get rid of her.”

Annabel had gone very still, and the color
ebbed from her cheeks. She said nothing, just sat there while her
coffee grew cold, watching him with those wide, vivid eyes.

Steele stood up, pushed back his chair, and
stalked to the window that overlooked the narrow main street of
Silver Junction.

“They were headed to the lady’s ranch when
they passed through town,” he said grimly, watching the nearly
deserted, dusky street. “The bartender said they were looking for
some more men to back them up in the fight. Didn’t sound like they
found many.”

Annabel felt ill. She jumped up from the
table and tossed her napkin down beside her plate. “Brett is
risking his life for this woman? Why? How can he hope to help her?”
She pressed trembling fingers to her temples and shook her head.
“He’s a good shot, but he’s no match for a gang of hired gunmen.
He’ll be killed!”

“Maybe that’s what he wants.”

“What are you talking about?”

He reached her in two quick strides, and put
a hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up. “When a man chooses a
fight like this one, he’s either desperate for money ...”

“Which he’s not.”

“... or he’s a fool, doing it out of a sense
of honor or maybe love ...”

He paused, as if waiting for her to refute
this, but Annabel said nothing. It was possible Brett was in love
with this woman, she reflected miserably. The idea filled her with
hopelessness.

“Or,” Steele continued grimly, “he’s looking
to die.”

Dazed, she shook her head. “Brett doesn’t
want to die. He has so much to live for. I know there was some kind
of a problem with his father, but surely that wasn’t enough to make
him do something so foolhardy.”

“You’re certain you have no hint what
happened between them?”

“I wish I did,” she muttered.

“Strange that he wouldn’t have come to you
and talked over whatever was bothering him, or even have let you
know he was leaving town for a while.”

She flushed beneath his intent gaze. “Well,
he ... didn’t.”

“What kind of a man runs out on his
fiancée?”

The condemnation in his tone cut her to the
quick. Brett was the most decent, honorable, gentlemanly man she’d
ever known. He didn’t deserve to have Roy Steele think he was a
weakling who ran out on the woman he was going to marry.
Tell
him
, a voice inside Annabel shouted.
Tell him the truth
... that Brett is not your fiancée, that yes, you love him, but you
were hired to find him. Brett didn’t run out on you at all, he
simply ran away, like his brother. Tell Roy Steele right now and
set everything to rights
.

“There’s something you should know.”

“Yeah. I’d like to know why you hustled me
up here so quickly. And where you really were while I was out
scouting information.” The cloud that had come over her expression
when he’d talked about Brett, and about the woman from New Mexico,
stabbed him clear through. It made him angry. Angry at Brett and at
her—and at himself. His armor went up instinctively, and he reacted
by roughening his voice and his attitude.

“You’re holding back on me, Annabel, and I
don’t like it. You’ve stalled long enough.”

Her mouth fell open. “That’s twice now that
you’ve called me Annabel.”

“What?” He scowled. “What if I did? That’s
not the point. The point is ...”

“The point is, if you’d stop talking long
enough I could explain something to you. It’s about Brett ... and
me ... you see ...”

But suddenly he couldn’t bear to hear her
sing Brett’s praises, couldn’t stomach the idea of hearing about
her undying love, and the devotion that had always existed between
the two of them. He turned away. “It’s none of my business.”

“Yes, it is.” Annabel grabbed him by the arm
and yanked him back. He allowed himself to be pulled toward her.
“Listen to me,” she blurted out. “And don’t interrupt. I think you
should know that ...”

But doubt, and the piercing look in his
eyes, halted her in mid-sentence.
What if he gets angry that I
lied to him about being Brett’s fiancée?
What if he’s
furious that I’m working for Ross McCallum to find Brett? He didn’t
sound overly fond of the man or the way he’s made his fortune. What
if he decides to leave me here and find Brett alone?

He would do it, too, Annabel realized,
remembering how implacable Roy Steele could be.
After all, if
I’m not betrothed to Brett, I have no claim on him, and Steele
could easily try to dump me here and go off alone to save Brett’s
life. Of course, I’d try to follow him, and he’d get even madder,
and we’d be right back where we started
.

Don’t chance telling him now
,
something inside of her warned.
You’re too close. And he’s too
unpredictable. He’s finally accepted that the two of you are
partners of a sort, but if he finds out that you’ve been lying
about your connection to Brett, he might turn his back on you
faster than you can blink.

“I’m getting mighty tired of these games,
Annabel. If you have something to say, just go ahead and say
it.”

“I ...” She took a gulp of air and hurried
on, retreating from the larger truth at the last moment, hoping
he’d settle for the smaller one. “I lied to you.”

“About what?”

“I wasn’t really shopping for a bonnet.”

“Never figured you were,” he said dryly.

“I was sending a telegraph message back to
St. Louis—I had to let Mr. McCallum know I was getting close,” she
rushed on, blushing only a little, for this was basically the
truth. “And ... there’s something else ... something important. I
saw Red Cobb in town tonight.”

“You
what
? Where?”

“At the telegraph office.”

“And you’re just telling me
now
?”

She sidestepped this comment and explained
about the message she’d overheard from the clerk, and her own idea
to divert Cobb’s search to Prescott.

Steele raked a hand through his hair. “So
Cobb was hired by an hombre named Lucas Johnson? In St. Louis?” He
shook his head, puzzled, then quickly fixed her with a hard stare.
“Why in hell didn’t you find me and let me take care of him once
and for all?” he demanded.

He seemed so frustrated and bewildered she
couldn’t meet his eyes. “I wanted to protect you,” she mumbled.

Struck dumb by this explanation, he was
silent for nearly a full minute. “From Cobb?” he asked
disbelievingly. “Sweetheart, you
are
loco ...”

“No! I knew exactly what I was doing! If
you’d known Cobb was here in town, you’d have fought him, and it
would have ended in bloodshed and death ... possibly
your
death ...”

Her voice cracked and trailed off. Steele
stared at her as if she had just sprouted wings and flown around
the room. “Why should you care?” he asked slowly.

She drew in a ragged breath and tried to
sound offhand. “Well, perhaps because Cobb would then have a clear
path to killing Brett.”

“That’s all?”

“And you did save my life ... more than
once. I guess I owe you something ...”

“Owe me ... so you feel gratitude toward me,
is that it? Well, don’t.”

Something oddly bitter beneath his cool tone
made her heart turn over. And suddenly she sensed a terrible pain
in him, and it anguished her as strongly as if it were her own. She
clutched his arms and pulled him closer and he let himself be
pulled.

“No, that’s not it at all,” she heard
herself confessing. The truth poured out of her like spring sap
from a maple, clear and pure and untainted. “I
care
about
you, Steele. I don’t know why, but I do. I couldn’t bear it if
something happened to you. When I thought that Red Cobb might shoot
you down, I ... had to do something else. I had to protect
you!”