Actually, a lot had changed.
“If Annabeth leaves town with you, she’s as good as ruined.”
Not if he kept his hands to himself and didn’t kiss her any more. “She will remain as innocent and untouched as she is now,” he vowed, a promise to himself as well as to Mattie.
Not that he was immune to Annabeth’s considerable charms, or that he didn’t want her in the way a man wanted a woman. But there was more to his feelings for her. She brought out a new, deeper emotion in him, one that went beyond the physical, a sacrificial willingness to give up his dreams in order to indulge hers.
He wanted to make her life easier. He wanted to see her happy.
And he had a good idea where to start.
“Come with us, Mattie. Come live on the ranch with Annabeth, Sarah and me. Come be a part of our family.”
A sharp intake of air made him cut a quick glance at Annabeth. He recognized the restrained hope on her face, and he knew he’d been right to make the request.
Mattie laughed in response, a twisted, bitter sound that made her daughter cringe and practically fold inside herself.
“Hunter, my dear boy, you can’t be serious.”
Annabeth’s face crumpled.
Feeling her pain as though it were his own, Hunter wanted to go to Annabeth, but not yet. Not until he finished with Mattie. “I’m deadly serious.”
“I can’t just leave town and go live on a ranch.” She shuddered. “The very idea.”
“Why not?” The question came from Annabeth, who seemed to have rallied once again. “Why not quit this life and start over?”
“You know why, Annabeth.”
“Do I?”
Sighing, Mattie pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Must you play dumb?” She slashed the air with her hand, the gesture full of pent-up frustration. “Too many people count on me for their livelihood to simply walk away.”
“Let someone else take on that responsibility.” Annabeth’s voice turned pleading.
Mother and daughter stared at one another for an unfathomably long beat.
“Sell the brothel,” Annabeth beseeched.
“Sell the brothel?” Mattie’s eyes widened. “You ask the impossible.”
“Then have one of your girls run it in your stead, or put Jack in charge.”
Shaking her head, Mattie momentarily turned her back on her daughter. Tension radiated from her, almost palpable as she worked her way over to the bookshelf and ran her fingertips along the wooden shelving.
The sadness in Annabeth made Hunter ache to spirit her away this instant. But he sensed this was a conversation that had been a long time coming. Annabeth deserved her answers.
That didn’t mean she had to hear them without the support of someone who cared about her.
He returned to her side and took her hand. The air practically crackled between them. There was something profound in the way she looked at him now, so trusting. He accepted the truth at last. He would do anything for this woman. Anything. She had the power to bring him to his knees.
Or perhaps save him from—
“I can’t leave the brothel in someone else’s care.” Mattie sounded sincerely remorseful. Even sad. “My girls rely on me to provide them with a home and a steady income. Someone else might not be so generous, not even Jack.”
Hunter’s jaw slackened at Mattie’s twisted reasoning.
She was no benevolent mother figure to a bunch of wayward girls. She ran a brothel, and she ran it with an iron fist. Men came here daily and paid considerable sums of money to enjoy the services Mattie herself brokered in this house of sin.
Hunter started to remind her of that cold, hard truth, but Annabeth let go of his hand and approached her mother first.
“You provide a home for your girls? A home? This is no home. And your girls aren’t family. They’re prostitutes.” Her voice was quietly calm as she spoke, alarmingly so, as if she was speaking from a considerable distance. “You barter their flesh and you make a considerable profit doing so.”
Mattie stumbled back a step as though Annabeth had struck her. “It’s not about the money.”
“Isn’t it?” Annabeth looked pointedly around the room, her gaze landing on a crystal vase, the silk curtains, the bookshelf filled with first editions.
“All right, yes, I like nice things. But try to understand, my dear. Most of my girls have no skills to speak of, not the kind that would result in a proper situation. If I walk away, they’ll simply end up doing for someone else what they do for me.”
“Then let them.” Annabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “As for you, stop perpetuating the cycle of sin in their lives.”
Sighing, Mattie sank into a chair. She lowered her head momentarily, perhaps to hide her own eyes. Eyes that Hunter noted were fast filling with tears, as well. “What you suggest is the equivalent of abandonment. The world beyond these walls is a cruel one, especially for women like them. You know all this, Annabeth.”
“How would I know?” Annabeth choked on a sob. “You’ve never explained any of this to me before.”
“I just did. And I won’t continue to defend my lifestyle choices to you.” Mattie rose and swept her gaze over her daughter. “We won’t speak on the matter again.”
Annabeth blinked. “But, Mother, I truly want you to come with us to the ranch.”
“With us? As if you’re a couple?” Her voice rose with emotion. “Has he made a respectable offer? Of course he hasn’t.”
Not waiting for her daughter’s response, Mattie skirted around Annabeth and approached Hunter. There was something rigid about her expression now, something a little ruthless, even cruel.
Hunter felt his throat thicken with dread. This was the Mattie Silks the rest of the world saw. “You will take Annabeth out of my sight at once, and never bring her here again.”
“Don’t do this, Mattie. Don’t do this to your daughter,” he said softly, pained. “Or to yourself.”
She ignored his plea. “Annabeth is no longer welcome in this house, nor are you.”
“Mattie.” Hunter appealed to the goodness he knew was in her. “There are other solutions.”
“Oh, please.” Annabeth gave an impressive eye roll. “Don’t be fooled by this ridiculous display, Hunter. She’s bluffing.”
“This is no bluff,” Mattie warned without an ounce of flexibility in her voice.
Eyes locked with Mattie’s, Annabeth stepped forward until they stood nose to nose. “You don’t get to control this situation. Not this time.”
Mattie flicked a desperate look at Hunter, then threw her shoulders back and hardened her resolve. “Get out.”
“Or what?” Annabeth asked. “You’ll have Jack escort me out? Go ahead, Mother, call him.”
The two women stared at each other. Or rather, glared at each other. Both were bluffing, but each was too proud to be the first to relent.
Hunter considered interjecting himself into the fray, but his instincts told him he would only make matters worse. He held back a moment longer.
“Stop this, Annabeth. Stop this right now. I will not tolerate open rebellion in my own house.”
“I’m not one of your girls. Nor am I under your control, financially or otherwise. You made sure of that a year ago when you cut me off. Funny how you didn’t have a problem abandoning me.”
Mattie’s shoulders dropped. “Everything I have ever done has been to protect you.”
“Is that right? Well, I don’t need your kind of protection.” Annabeth drew in a long, slow breath. “You’ve made your stand. Now it’s time I made mine.”
She shot Hunter a quicksilver grin. He had a bad feeling about this.
He quickly moved between the two women, fearing he’d waited too late to intercede.
Annabeth skirted around him, said something low to her mother and then spun around to face him directly. The look in her eyes was full of single-minded resolve.
He swallowed. “Now, Annabeth.” He swallowe
d again. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later.”
Eyes glittering, she placed both palms on his shoulders. “Who says I’ll have regrets later?”
“I do.” He grabbed for her hands, but she was too quick, lightning fast.
Next thing he knew, her fingers were linked together behind his neck.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
Mattie, for her part, sputtered and threatened and warned her rebellious, headstrong daughter to think her actions through to the end.
Ignoring the sound maternal advice, Annabeth’s smile widened.
He couldn’t help it. He smiled right back, with a big toothy grin of his own.
“Congratulate us, Mother.”
Hunter froze. “Congratulate us on...what?”
“We’re getting married.”
Married? Had Annabeth just told him they were getting married? He attempted to pry her hands away from his neck, he couldn’t think with her so close. But then she lifted on her toes and went in for the kill. She pressed her lips firmly to his and held on tight.
Time stopped.
His breathing stalled in his chest.
His stomach performed a fast, painful roll.
Coherent thought failed him.
No matter how good the woman felt in his arms, this was wrong. Wrong.
He tried to do the right thing. He really tried.
Hadn’t he only seconds before promised Mattie he wouldn’t hurt Annabeth? If this really exceptional kiss continued much longer, something was going to end up broken.
Like his head.
Or her heart.
Unacceptable.
He had to remember that Mattie was still in the room, clawing at his arms and yelling at him to let go of her daughter. She spoke so loudly and with such rage that surely someone—everyone—in the brothel could hear her.
That returned him to his senses at last.
He jerked his head back, took a deep breath and gently set Annabeth away from him.
She looked up at him with a self-satisfied grin. How had he allowed matters to get so out of hand?
“What do you say, Hunter? Want to get married?”
Yes. No. “No.”
Chapter Seventeen
Annabeth tried unsuccessfully to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. Frustrated with herself, she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just done. She’d proposed to Hunter Mitchell. Proposed! In a brothel, of all places.
With her mother present.
And he’d said...no.
Not “Yes, please, it would be a dream come true to marry you, Annabeth.” Not “What a splendid idea. You read my mind.” But an emphatic, unequivocal, resounding no.
Her pulse picked up speed and she burned hot with the force of her shame.
She knew she only had herself to blame for this moment of complete humiliation. Hunter had warned her. He’d made it perfectly clear he would never marry again.
Had Annabeth listened? No.
Oh, no. She’d allowed her frustration with her mother to lay siege on her good sense. She’d let her pride rule her actions, calling Mattie’s bluff with one of her own.
Scripture taught against such behavior. Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.
Holding back a sob, Annabeth pressed her lips tightly together. For a few more thrashing heartbeats, she remained silent, trying her best to discern Hunter’s mood. But no matter how long she looked, she couldn’t read any emotion on his face. His unmoving stance gave nothing away, either. Even that benign lift of his lips couldn’t quite pass for a smile.
“You have made your point, Annabeth.” Mattie looked thoroughly disappointed in her. Well, she was disappointed in herself. But at least her mother wasn’t attempting to shove her out of her brothel—or her life—anymore.
A victory, to be sure, but a hollow one at best. Annabeth sighed. Truly, could there be anything more painful than unrequited love? Anything more mortifying than a man simply staring at her in stunned silence?
She sighed again.
“Step away from her, Hunter.” Mattie made a shooing motion with her hands. “Let’s everyone sit down and discuss the future like calm, rational adults.”
A damaged, almost jagged sound rumbled from Hunter’s throat. “Look around, Mattie. Do you see any calm, rational adults in this room?”
“At the moment, no. I do not. But that doesn’t mean one of us can’t try a little harder. And when I say one of us, I mean you.” She wagged her finger at Annabeth. “No daughter of mine—”
She abruptly stopped talking. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Annabeth and Hunter asked in tandem.
“Footsteps.”
A shadow moved at the foot of the door leading into the hallway. Someone was outside, evidently listening to their conversation.
A sense of foreboding filled her. “Mother—”
Mattie shook her head, pressed a finger to her lips then, with a hard yank, threw open the door.
“Oh.” One of Mattie’s “girls” tumbled forward, landing with a thud in a heap of skirts and incoherent sputtering.
Annabeth stifled a shiver. Though she’d never met the woman, she recognized her. Her name was Camille. She had a ten-year-old daughter living at Charity House, a girl Sarah considered one of her dear friends.
Twisting around, Camille managed to sit up after several attempts. She brushed limp red curls off her face, craned her neck and then stared straight at Annabeth. Her dark eyes were filled with something that looked like cunning.
Annabeth might have turned away from that calculating gaze but that would have branded her a coward, or worse, a woman with something to hide. She forced a smile on her face. “Hello.”
Mattie was not so welcoming. “What are you doing listening at my door, Camille?”
Guilt flashed in the woman’s eyes. Another wave of foreboding sliced through Annabeth.
“I wasn’t listening,” Camille stammered. “I was...just about to knock. But you...you...opened the door before I could.”
She was lying. Annabeth knew all the signs. The darting gaze, the rapidly blinking eyes, the quick swallows.
Precisely how long had Camille been in the hallway listening to their conversation?
“Get up off the floor this instant,” Mattie ordered.
Camille hurried to her feet, her gaze sweeping around the room. As she smoothed her skirt in place her eyes came to rest on Hunter. A brief smile and then she looked meaningfully from him to Annabeth to Mattie and back to Hunter again.
“What do you want, Camille?” Mattie let out a hiss that spelled doom for the woman. “And I’d advise you to think hard before you answer the question.”
“I was...going to request an advance on my...” She eyed Annabeth again, this time looking as if puzzle pieces were fitting together in her mind. “I know you.”
“No, we have never met.” That was certainly true.
“I do know you. You’re...yes, you’re that teacher at Charity House.”
“That’s right.” Annabeth sucked in a calming breath. “Your daughter is in my class.”
Camille nodded, then flicked her gaze down to her toes and back up again. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t say.”
“Smith,” Hunter said for her, stepping forward and commanding Camille’s full attention with his large presence. “Her name is Miss Annabeth Smith.”
He did not introduce himself, or engage Camille in further conversation. But he did reposition himself so that he was slightly in front of Annabeth now, all but shielding her with his broad shoulders and muscular chest.
“Annabeth...Smith.” A pause. “Right. Of course.”
She knew, Annabeth thought again. Camille knew she was Mattie’s daughter. And from the woman’s devious smile, their secret would be all over town by nightfall.
The whispers would follow, subtle at first, then growing bolder, turning vicious, unt
il Annabeth was shunned from every good home in town. Before she could dwell on the terrible possibility, Mattie took charge.
She ushered Camille toward the exit with a considerable lack of finesse. “Yes, well. As you can see, Camille, I am in a private meeting with two old friends.” She lowered her voice to an angry murmur. “I will deal with you later.”
It was no empty threat.
Still, Camille dug in her heels and opened her mouth to argue. Mattie pushed her over the threshold and shut the door in her face.
For several seconds the entire room went silent.
Dead silent.
Annabeth’s vision blurred. Her head hurt. Her stomach roiled. All this time, she’d fooled herself into thinking her connection to Mattie would remain a secret forever. The illusion was over. The little white lies had been for naught.
The truth shall set you free.
She didn’t feel free. She felt trapped, exposed and hot with shame. So very hot. A panic-stricken breath whooshed out of her. This awful feeling, this despair, this was what came from telling lies.
She could do nothing now, nothing but inhale slowly, and then exhale. Inhale, exhale. Finally, she found her voice. “She knows I’m your daughter.”
It had to be said, had to be addressed head-on.
At least Mattie didn’t try to soften the blow with more lies. “Yes, dear, I’m afraid she does.”
“That’s not to say all is lost,” Hunter said as he moved to Annabeth’s side.
Smiling tenderly into her eyes, he rubbed his hands down her arms in a show of comfort. His gentleness splintered her thoughts, turning her a bit stupid but also a little less desperate.
He was a conundrum, this man. One moment he was rejecting her marriage proposal, the next, he was making her panic dissolve into something far less ugly and much more manageable.
“I have changed my mind,” he said with soft steel, his voice determined but not unkind.
“I’m sorry. I...” Annabeth shook her head. “You’ve changed your mind about what?”
He held her gaze. Calm, unwavering, so sure of himself. But Annabeth saw the lines around his mouth, the ones that told her he wasn’t as relaxed as he was putting on.
“Yes, Annabeth.” Taking both her hands in his, he pulled her forward and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I will marry you.”
Renee Ryan Page 18