by Lauren Smith
“You can’t teach me to love, then abandon me.”
That voice. Dark, rich, seductive, yet full of anguish.
She knew that voice. It dropped into her like a stone into a deep well, striking a part of her that awakened at that sound. That voice belonged to a man, a man she belonged to.
“Please, find me!” she screamed out, hoping he could hear. Where was he? Why couldn’t he find her?
“Please,” she begged. “I don’t want to go.”
Go. There it was, a strange pull by something inside her, trying to force her into a deeper darkness, one where there would be no more light.
She focused on the darkness around her and then down at her hand. The pressure was there. It hadn’t left. She poured every bit of her strength into it and squeezed back. The invisible pressure tightened around her hand in return. Vibrations rolled through her, like deep notes of cellos humming and dying, then striking again.
“She’s responding,” a new voice said. “Sir, please let go of her hand. We need to—”
“No. I’m not letting go.”
“Never let go,” she tried to say, but her tongue was thick and wouldn’t move. The world around her was a fuzzy gray, like a heavy fog had dropped down from the mountains by her home.
Home. She missed the mountains, the silver birch trees with leaves that turned a bright yellow each fall. Leaves burst into a view before her, swirling in circles, caught up by the wind and into a whirling fire around her. Crisp air stinging her eyes and nose as she rode up winding trails.
“Callie, open your eyes.”
It was him. Her lifeline. The one she belonged to. Light sparked across her eyelids as they fluttered weakly. She needed to see him, the man who owned her heart.
Bright light burst through as she finally got her eyes open and she whimpered as her entire body quivered and then went very still from weakness.
A face leaned over her, blotting out the fluorescent lights above.
Wes. The name finally came back to her, and as he stared at her so grimly, she frowned back. Flashes of another Wes, one laughing, smiling, seductive, so full of fire and life, almost hurt to remember. The man gazing down at her was gaunt, his eyes lined with fatigue and a shadow of a beard tinting his jaw with a ruddy brown shade.
“What’s wrong?” The words were barely above a whisper, but he exhaled in relief and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She wanted him to smile, to see that man she’d fallen in love with and not this ashen-faced ghost.
“Thank God.” Tears coated the tips of his lashes.
“Wes,” she repeated, a tad stronger. In bits and pieces the night of the club came back to her but everything beyond her fight with Corrine was a terrifying blank slate.
“Hush, just rest. You’ve been through a lot, darling.” Wes’s hand gripping hers shook faintly.
“What happened? The Monet…”
He bent to press a kiss to her forehead. “It was Stephen Vain. He was the thief. He and Corrine were partners. He poisoned you with Jimsonweed at the club and waited for me to bring you home. Then he blackmailed me into giving him the real Monet in the black room before he would tell me what poison he gave you.”
Callie had to focus on what he said, but once she processed it all, she squeezed his hand again. She had been a pawn for Corrine and Vain to use to get the Monet?
“He got away with the Monet in the black room?”
Wes nodded. “The FBI is working with Interpol to track him and Corrine. I know it’s a matter of time before they’re found, but there’s no guarantee that we’ll recover any of the paintings.”
Despite her weakness, she laughed a little, then winced.
“What’s the matter?” Wes smoothed her hair back from her face. He seemed to think she was in pain.
“It’s okay, Wes.” She managed to smile at him. “The real Monet is safe.” Thank God she could finally tell him the secret she’d been hiding the last few days. Her plan had worked and she’d outwitted the thief. Even though she’d been wrong about Thomas Stonecypher, she hadn’t been wrong about how the thief had been one step ahead of them.
Wes started to shake his head.
“I painted a second forgery of the Monet. Royce gave me a spare key to the black room. I switched the real one out and put the second fake Monet in your black room.”
His lips parted and his eyes widened. “What? Where’s the real painting?”
She giggled, but it was breathless. “The real one is under the bed in my studio. I didn’t think anyone would think to check all the beds in your mansion.”
“Callie, my God!” Wes’s fists clenched and he looked like he wanted to punch a wall.
“You’re mad?”
“Mad? Mad is not a strong enough word for what I’m feeling right now,” he growled as he shoved his chair back from the hospital bed and got to his feet to pace.
“What if Vain had realized the other one was a fake, too? I wouldn’t have known where to find the real one. You were unconscious and I could have lost you since I didn’t know you’d switched them.”
“Please, Wes. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. I just wanted to protect the Monet. I know how much you loved it.” Hot tears leaked out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
When he noticed, he strode back over to her and leaned over to hug her. His lips were soft against her ear.
“You are the only thing that matters to me, Callie. Nothing is worth your life. Do you understand? You are the only thing I love.” He lifted his head so their faces were inches apart, eyes locked.
“You love me?” Her bottom lip quivered and she couldn’t seem to control it. She bit it to keep from crying. She was so happy. How was it possible to contain everything she was feeling?
“Shh…there will be plenty of time for me to tell you how much I adore you later. I want you to rest now. Your father will be here in a few hours. I want you rested so when he arrives, you’ll be well enough that he won’t want to kill me.”
“He’s coming here?”
“Yes, he’s going to take you home to Colorado. I have to fix some things here while you recover.” Wes caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
“But I don’t want to go back to Colorado without you.”
A little smile curved his lips. “You’re saying you can’t last a few weeks without me?”
A few weeks? She didn’t want to go five minutes without him. She shook her head and the movement hurt.
“I’m making another bet with you, darling. Make it, say, three weeks without me and I promise you’ll be rewarded.”
“No, I want you. Now. Don’t you dare leave me, Wes.” She squeezed his hand.
“I’m not leaving you, but I do need to send you home because it’s the best place for you to heal while I get things settled here. Can you please try to be brave for me and give me some time? Can you do that?”
She nodded, but didn’t release his hand. “Don’t let go.” She was afraid of that darkness coming back. If he held on to her, she wouldn’t slip away.
He eased back into the chair by her bed and kept a grip on her hand.
“Never. You are mine. I made a promise to keep you.”
As her lashes fell, she finally relaxed.
“You are mine, too,” she whispered, then drifted away.
* * *
Three weeks. It seemed like he counted the days whenever Callie wasn’t with him. Of course, this hell was of his own making. He’d sent her home to Walnut Springs with her father as soon as she’d gotten out of the hospital. The poison had weakened her body and the doctors had urged her to rest in a place where she was most comfortable with the least amount of stress. That wasn’t his home in Weston. The mansion was a flurry of activity as he changed everything in the house he could think of to make it ready for Callie. He finished her art applications, spoke with her soon-to-be professors, arranged for a real studio to be built for her by the Winter Garden.
E
verything was going to be perfect.
But it didn’t change the fact that he missed her. It was almost like she haunted him, a living ghost, her voice teasing his ears to where he’d turn, thinking she’d be there, only to remember he’d sent her away. The look of betrayal and hurt in her tired eyes had wounded him, but she’d been too exhausted and on medication when Jim had taken Wes’s jet to fly her home.
Jim had made it clear that if Wes came for Callie, he’d better be ready to ask for her hand in marriage. Wes agreed. If that was what it took to have Callie in his life, a ring and a ceremony, he’d do it. What’s more…he wanted to do it.
Wes stood in the old bedroom that had been Callie’s temporary studio, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets as he took in the easels full of art. He couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow. She had no idea he was coming, so it would be a surprise. A wonderful one, he hoped.
A light rap of knuckles had him turning toward the door. Royce was leaning against the frame, smirking.
“So you love the little cowgirl, don’t you?” He rolled his eyes.
Wes shrugged. “No point in denying it.”
Royce pushed away from the door frame and walked over to the bed and knelt down.
“Well that’s good to hear, because I had a friendly little bet with Callie about whether you did in fact love her. I won, you see, because I knew you loved her. She didn’t believe me.”
Wes stiffened. “A bet with Callie?” He knew Royce too well, and his bets often had unorthodox payments. “What were the terms?”
His friend slid something out from under the bed, a canvas covered with cloth. He carried it over to an easel and set it up.
“Because I won, she was supposed to give you this. I figured she must have forgotten, what with nearly dying and all.” Royce chuckled but there was no real humor in his tone.
“What is it?” Wes joined him as he faced the covered canvas.
“Take a look.” Royce nodded at it.
With one hand, Wes carefully let the white cloth drop from the painting and then sucked in a breath.
His soul was there, in the dark green forest, bathed in the lantern-yellow color that had always been a siren call for him. Four little boys…camping. Four men’s faces, like dark gods watching over their younger incarnations. Callie knew his deepest secrets now, had painted them on this canvas. The loss of his innocence. She’d shown him that she understood what he mourned and couldn’t reclaim, but she reminded him, too, that he wasn’t scarred anymore, not in the way he’d believed all these years. She’d painted a light to show him the way out of the darkness, to show him the way home.
“A woman like that…is worth keeping,” Royce noted in a thoughtful, almost quiet tone.
Wes’s throat constricted and it took him a second longer to answer.
“A woman like that is worth loving.”
* * *
Callie leaned against a wooden beam on the Broken Spur ranch’s front porch and watched the snow fall. The flakes were thick and large, drifting in the light breeze, catching in swirls and eddies as wind danced down from the mountains. A few brave horses had left the shelter of the barn to plod about in the thickening snow, their panting breaths and soft whinnies a comfort Callie had missed more than she’d realized.
It was finally here. Winter had come. The scent of wood fires burning from the newly built ranch cabins close to the house smelled good. She shivered and tugged her flannel-lined coat closer. Three long weeks had passed since Wes had insisted she fly home to Colorado with her father. She had been too tired and still recovering from the Jimsonweed to argue with Wes when he put her on his plane and sent her home. He’d tried to make it all about another silly bet. Could she last three weeks without him? Yes, she had, but she didn’t want to go another day past today without him. If she wasn’t so afraid he’d changed his mind about her, she would have asked her father for the money to fly out there to see him. But that little part of her deep inside still doubted he loved her, at least enough for it to last.
She had almost begun to fear her time with Wes had been but a strange and wondrous dream. If it hadn’t been for her lovebirds, the ones she’d brought home to Colorado, who chirped each morning and night before she went to sleep she would have thought Paris was a dream. All she had to do was look at them and she remembered each detail of Paris, and the way it felt to be in love with Wes. A grand adventure that now had ended. If only she could accept that.
As the days passed, he hadn’t called and she’d lost hope that what he’d said in the hospital about loving her had been true. He’d promised to never let her go. But he had. She’d given him everything and it hadn’t been enough.
A screen door opened behind her and her father walked out onto the porch. He looked pleased.
“What are you so happy about?” she asked.
“That damn boy is finally coming.” Jim rubbed his hands together and watched the distant road that led to the highway.
Hope surged through her, but she buried it. Her heart wasn’t strong enough to survive any more hope.
“What boy?” She stared at her father, afraid of his answer.
Jim held up his cell phone. “Wes. He’s pulling onto our road and should be at the ranch in a few minutes. He just called.”
“What?” Her heart shuddered and she felt that weak bit of hope blossom. “Why is he coming now?” She knew her father didn’t have an explanation.
“He promised to explain when he gets here.”
A black Range Rover appeared from the woods and crunched over the falling snow as it drove toward them. Callie was strangely nervous. She hadn’t spoken to him in so many days and it felt like years.
The SUV parked in front of the house and Wes climbed out. He looked…sexy. In jeans and a knee-length black wool coat and a charcoal gray sweater. His hair was combed back.
Holding her breath, she watched him. He closed the car door and walked across the snow and up to the steps of the porch. It took everything in her not to run to him, to throw herself into his arms. He looked at her, just an all too quick glance before he focused on Jim.
“Jim,” he said, greeting and nodding at her father.
Jim cleared his throat. “Remember what I told you. I better see you on one knee or I might not give you a second chance.” Then her father turned and went back inside, the screen door slamming behind him.
Wes walked up the steps until they were nose to nose. They simply stared at one another for a long moment. Callie held her breath, every muscle tense, her entire body craving his warmth and his touch. He reached for her, but Callie flinched, so afraid she’d do something stupid, like beg him to kiss her. His eyes darkened and his lips parted in a soft exhale before he spoke.
“God, I’ve missed you.” His voice was rough and low.
“Why did you send me away? You promised to keep me, Wes! But you sent me away and I haven’t seen or heard from you in three weeks! You and your stupid bets!” She hit her balled fists against his chest as a sob caught in her throat, betraying just how hurt she’d felt at his abandonment.
His eyes softened. “My darling, my sweet darling,” he murmured and tucked her into his arms, kissing her roughly as though starved for her. She was lost for a long wonderful moment in that kiss that seemed to go on for years. He was tasting her like he would a fine cognac or pure dark chocolate, savoring her taste, and she did the same to him. Going too long without him had been one hell of a withdrawal without her sweet addiction of his kiss.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I didn’t think you would see it as me leaving you. I wanted you to rest and get better. That couldn’t happen if I was here. I’d lose control and take you to bed and that could hurt you if you were too weak. You almost died…” He stopped, took a deep breath, and pressed his forehead to hers. She could feel his hands shaking as they cupped her face.
“And?” she pressed.
“Callie. I love you. I’ve never loved any woman before. I’m sure I’
m going about this all wrong. I wanted to surprise you and bring you home to Long Island, where I’ve made everything perfect for the rest of our lives together. The last three weeks I’ve been making changes to my homes both in Weston and in Paris so that you would have everything you could ever want or need. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Wes, I don’t need perfect. I need you.” She curled her arms around his neck and brushed her fingertips into his hair at the nape of his neck. His lashes dropped to half-mast.
“I want to be with you. To stay wherever you are, the ranch or the mansion in Weston.”
“That’s good. Because I’ve spoken to your father and a ranch cabin is all ours for the winter holidays, on one condition.” He reached into his pocket and then got down on one knee. “Callie, you’re the center of my world. A life without you isn’t living. You were right all along. I’ve never been in love. I couldn’t have imagined what that meant, not until you. I need you in my life. Do you understand? There will be no walking away. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever. I’ll do anything, give you anything, just to make you happy. I’m begging you. Marry me.”
He was the most powerful, dominant man she’d ever met, and yet he was on his knees begging her to marry him. Warmth blossomed in her chest and she started to nod, tears blinding her eyes. A future with Wes, one full of life, love, art, adventure, someday even children. It was a future she would fight to keep every day of the rest of her life.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.” She couldn’t get out any other words, but it didn’t matter. She was in his arms again and he enveloped her with his warmth.
“I never had dreams before I met you.” His rough whisper in her ear made her heart clench. His blue eyes were so brilliant and she saw love shining in their depths. “You are my dream,” he said. “I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “You only have to love me. It’s the only thing I want. To love you and to be loved in return.” She peeled back the collar of her coat and showed him the chain necklace she wore. His necklace.