Page 17 of This Haunted Heart

“Worry not,” she moaned at me, “I’m only prone to melodrama when my entire life is crumbling around me. That only happens . . . more often to me than it does to anyone else because God hates me.”

“Clearly you require assistance,” I said, not hiding the disapproval in my tone. “Why don’t you dress while I pack.”

“I don’t want you touching any more of my things, you pirate.”

“Then you pack and I’ll dress you!” I snapped.

“That’s . . . nonsense.”

“Look at me, Rynn.”

She did, reluctantly. Her doe eyes were red-rimmed and full of malice. “Just go away!”

“If you do not ready yourself, I will throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here as you are. Look and see me. I am no longer in a costume. None of your friends would dare stop me.” I was old money. I was power.

“They . . . might.” Her bountiful bottom lip went between her teeth uncertainly.

“Did they halt Utrecht when he put your arm in a sling? Have they done a thing to stop him from returning to see you here? No, they have not. If they tried to stop me now, they would pay dearly for failing you then.”

Her lungs hitched, and her eyes widened briefly before sharpening again. It was clear she did not know what to make of me. “You would hurt them?”

“Anyone who tried taking you from my arms, yes. They matter nothing to me. I would hurt them maliciously and without hesitation or restraint. I am the serpent you accused me of being. Get. Dressed. Now.”

Her arm went back over her eyes. The sting of my treachery had her lip quivering.

I hauled her to her feet, careful of her healing arm, and when she struggled, I draped her over my shoulder like she was a sack of flour. A sack that kicked and flailed, as passionate as an angry bobcat, but I would not be deterred.

“All right, all right,all right,” she chanted as I marched for the door.

I plopped her down onto her backside. “Prepare to depart.Now.”

Sprawled at my feet, lacy nightgown twisted up around her knees, she stared up at me with bottomless eyes full of anguished betrayal. Finally, she relented.

Rynn crawled away, putting distance between us before rising slowly. Her chin trembled as she dressed. She swiped her cheeks and sniffled while packing her traveling cases and boxing her books—not in alphabetical order but in some method of madness all her own. She pinned up her hair and secured the jet curls away from her face with a silk scarf the color of crow feathers. The frock she wore was charcoal gray.

She looked like she was going to a funeral. I hardened my heart to her sadness. Her pain was nothing compared to the grief that had beat in my breast since her trickery.

Chapter 5

Rynn Mavis

Mail bags covered both rows of seats in front, forcing me to crowd my pirate in the back of the stagecoach. I was angry with myself more than anything—actually no. I glared over at the rogue who’d robbed, coerced, and then stolen me right out of my bedroom, and corrected that thought.

I was angriest at him unequivocally.

We bumped and swayed over ruts made by wagon wheels in the muddy earth headed due south from Salt Rock. I kept to my side of the seat and didn’t try for the door again. The road was narrower, the terrain rougher in these parts, and full of jagged rocks. I didn’t want to put my arm back in a sling by leaping out of the cabin in a vain bid for freedom.

“Banish the thought, Rynn,” he warned when he caught meeyeing the handle.

“I’m not going to do it. I don’t want you to sit on me again,” I muttered, thinking of how he’d sat right across my legs the first time I’d had second thoughts about traveling anywhere with him.

And I wanted my money back—needed it. In case of emergencies, I kept a small portion in the bank at Salt Rock, but it was a paltry sum in comparison to what he’d taken. I needed all of it to retire properly.

I was done with the life I’d lived. Tired of the risks. Tired of having to trust people with only parts of me, never the whole thing. Tired of constantly having to move on and start over. Tired of not being allowed to put down roots, to nest and really live.

I was alone in the world, a fact I’d tolerated better when I was a wealthier woman, beforehecame along. His betrayal shouted the truth of my singularity louder than any hardship before it ever had.

I looked him over out of the corner of my eye. There were no noticeable bulges in his pockets. I doubted my cash was on his person, and I’d had jewelry in there as well but not much. I’d sold most of it preparing to move.

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