Chapter 25
Zaira held out her hand and examined the gold bracelet she’d clasped around her wrist. At the center of the bracelet, four garnet jewels formed a flower around a center diamond with turquoise enamel.
The gift from Bellamy had been delivered yesterday afternoon by a messenger to Oakland. And it had been the third gift Bellamy had sent. Three gifts in three days.
She unclasped the bracelet and set it back on the bureau in her bedroom next to the matching brooch and necklace, each of which contained garnet florets and diamonds with the turquoise embellishment.
They were exquisitely beautiful and exactly the sort of colorful jewelry she would love to wear. Except that she couldn’t wear them, couldn’t accept the gifts. In fact, she’d taken off the claddagh ring, too, and placed it next to the jewelry she planned to give back to him.
Tomorrow. She was going into town tomorrow to deliver her next segment to Mr. Knapp, the next chapter in her novel that she’d worked on rewriting for the past few days since returning to her family’s country home.
She hadn’t told her da or mam yet that she hadn’t quit writing the way they’d assumed.
She also hadn’t told them she’d pulled the manuscript from the rubbish bin by the bank and taken it to Mr. Knapp.
And she hadn’t told them Mr. Knapp had only been too happy to continue publishing her work because of the growing interest in the story.
She’d asked Mr. Knapp not to say anything to her da so she could find a way to inform him she was continuing her writing with the newspaper. Since Da had been staying in the city, she hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to him more about it.
As much as she balked at the thought of having to face him, she knew she had to. Now that she’d started down the hard path of honesty, she wanted to keep going, no matter how difficult it would be.
The next step was telling Da her plans—not asking for permission. She wanted his approval, but she didn’t need it.
Da wouldn’t be happy with her decision to keep writing. In fact, he would be irate that she was defying him. He would probably lose his temper and be even more disappointed in her than ever. But he wouldn’t cast her out of the family, would he?
She swept her gaze over her lovely bedroom, her heart pinching at the prospect of giving it up.
The ivy-patterned wallpaper was accented by potted plants situated around the room, making her feel as though she were in a garden.
The bed canopy was created from wispy white tulle and the comforter patterned in white and green stripes and decorated with lacy white throw pillows.
Whatever might happen, she had to press forward in doing what she knew was right. She needed to stop hiding and learn to live her life more openly, then pray that Da—and the people she cared about—could accept her for who she was and not who they expected her to be.
It was still terrifying to think she’d been so bold, that she was still being so forthright, especially after concealing her true self. Regardless, she’d poured her heartache and frustration into the rewrites of the chapter, and she believed it was her best writing so far.
She finally understood what Mr. Knapp meant when he told her she needed to write with more emotion and from the heart.
Most people glossed over their pain or tried to make it go away.
But as a writer, she needed to examine all that she was feeling, try to make sense of it, and transfer it into her story.
Of course, she would never wish on anyone the heartache she’d experienced with Bellamy—loving him but leaving him.
But at least she could find some use for it.
An ache pulsed in her throat just thinking about walking away from him, especially as he lay injured in bed.
She’d wanted to be with him, wanted a relationship with him, wanted to spend every minute by his side.
She’d probably wished for that all along, even before they’d entered into their fake relationship.
The trouble was, with each day that she didn’t see him, the need for him only expanded so that she was missing him more than she’d believed possible. She wasn’t sure if she could wait until tomorrow to see him when she returned the jewelry. A part of her wanted to go into town today.
She expelled a tight sigh, forced herself to step away from the jewelry, then sat on the edge of her bed.
Bellamy was being sweet in sending her the gifts.
She could give him credit for that. He hadn’t been belligerent about Kiernan and Da’s insistence that he marry her, and he hadn’t resisted their idea the way she’d expected.
Instead, he’d been understanding, had even come to her defense with her writing when her da had belittled it.
At the thud of horse’s hooves coming down the long lane in front of the house, she shot up and pressed a hand against her chest. It was about the time of the afternoon when Bellamy’s messenger had come the past three afternoons. Was Bellamy sending another gift today?
She rushed to the window, threw aside the curtain, and fixed her gaze on the horse and rider. The swarthy skin, chiseled features, and dark hair belonged to only one man—the devastatingly handsome Bellamy McKenna.
Bellamy was coming. To see her? Why else would he make a trip out?
She practically threw the curtain back in place and plastered herself against the wall. What should she do?
Frantically, her gaze flew to the door. She wanted to rush down and greet him the moment he arrived.
But she couldn’t act too eager, could she?
She had to behave with more caution. Because she was opposing him no matter what he might say to convince her that she wasn’t trapping him into marriage, that her da wasn’t forcing him, that the marriage was what he really wanted after all.
He’d told her the truth in the bank storage room after their kiss—that she wasn’t the woman for him.
She couldn’t forget that, and neither the gifts nor his pleas could change the fact that if they hadn’t spent the night together, he wouldn’t be proposing marriage at all, much less so quickly.
He was only doing it because he was a man of honor and believed he needed to save her.
Without moving from her spot against the wall, she waited as she heard him reach the front of the house, dismount, and race up the stairs. When his fist knocked firmly against the door, she drew in a quick breath. At the sound of the door opening and then voices, she closed her eyes.
Several moments later, the light taps of footsteps hurrying toward her bedroom told her Mam had sent a servant to fetch her.
After the servant announced that she had a visitor, Zaira forced herself to count to twenty-five before leaving her room and descending the stairway.
She expected to see Bellamy in the hallway or perhaps in the sitting room, but only her mam waited.
“He’s outside on the veranda,” Mam whispered, approaching and tucking a strand of Zaira’s hair back into her chignon and then straightening one of the fabric-covered buttons on her bodice.
Zaira didn’t want Mam making her presentable to Bellamy, hoping he would still want her and be willing to take her even though now she was blemished. The trouble was, she was already too flawed for Bellamy’s taste, and having one more stain wouldn’t make a difference.
Mam guided her forward. “I’ve sent the servant to bring you tea.” She opened the front door and practically pushed Zaira out.
From the corner of her eye, Zaira could see Bellamy, but she shifted so her back faced him. Instead, she paused to allow Mam to follow her and act as a chaperone.
But Mam took a step back into the hallway. “Go on with you now. You’ve kept Bellamy waiting long enough.” With that, Mam closed the door firmly, leaving Zaira staring at it.
Apparently her parents didn’t care anymore if she spent time alone with Bellamy, probably because they assumed the wedding would take place any day. Or maybe they both realized that after she’d spent an entire night with Bellamy, having a chaperone now was silly.
“Hi, Zaira.” Bellamy’s soft greeting behind her sent shivers up her spine.
Why, oh why did even the merest sound of his voice have to affect her this way?
She stared at the front door for a few more seconds, trying to pull her emotions into a semblance of normalcy. She could feel Bellamy watching her, waiting for her to turn. She couldn’t put it off forever, even though she wished she could.
Dragging in a steadying breath, she pivoted to find Bellamy leaning against the porch railing. He was half perched on the beam, his arms crossed casually, his flatcap tilted at a rakish angle, and his dark eyes unreadable.
At the full effect of his handsomeness, her heart tumbled into an endless fall.
She took him in, from the dark hair curling at the edge of his collar to the stretch of his vest across his chest to the long, lean legs crossed at his feet.
Although his arm was in a sling, he didn’t seem to be in pain or suffering in any way.
As she lifted her eyes to meet his, a smirk was playing at the corner of his mouth, almost as if he was enjoying watching her ogle him.
She narrowed her eyes into a glare in an attempt to rid herself of all the feelings for him that hadn’t diminished and had only grown stronger. “Bellamy, you shouldn’t have ridden out here with your injured shoulder.”
His smirk only widened. “’Tis good to see you still care about me.”
“You’re the hero who saved my life. Of course I care about your well-being.”
“Admit it. You care for more than just my well-being.”
She pressed her hands to her hips, mostly to keep them from trembling. “I’d like to see you heal from your wound. That’s all.” If only that really was all.
He shrugged. “I came to tell you the two bank robbers were finally caught. Mr. Wright told the constables everything, and the two were apprehended getting off a steamboat near Hannibal.”