Jane Goodger Read Online Free PDF Page B

to solve by himself.
    “It’s not my fault she came,” Carson said, sounding like a spoiled six-year-old. “She came on her own. We agreed that I would send for her. I figured after a while, she’d meet someone else and move on. Hell, I know her brother didn’t want her to come.”
    “The thing is, Carson,” Boone said with forced patience, “the girl is here and it looks to me like she’s still expecting to walk down the aisle with you. You’ve got to tell her the truth.”
    Carson shook himself as if Miss Wellesley was on his back, clinging, while muttering, “Damn, damn, damn,” over and over. He stopped finally and looked at Boone with an almost tortured expression in his eyes. If Boone didn’t know better, he’d say that Carson was actually tortured by the circumstances.
    “She told me she loved me,” he said, as if that were the worst possible thing to hear from a woman’s lips. For Carson, it probably was.
    “And how do you feel about her?”
    “She makes me horny,” he said hopefully.
    Boone let out a low chuckle.
    “Why in hell did she come?” Carson asked again, as if this time he was hoping the answer would be different.
    “You’ve got to deal with this,” Boone said, a clear warning in his voice.
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “I will.”
     
    When Amelia woke up, it was to a world gone soft and pinkish yellow. Her room glowed in the early evening light, and she smiled because she hadn’t seen anything so pretty in a long time. Best of all, it was no longer hot, but pleasantly warm. She felt amazingly rested and content, considering how miserable she’d been just a few hours ago. Smiling, she stretched luxuriously.
    “You’re as pale as a fish belly.”
    Amelia let out a small screech to hear the strange female voice in her room.
    “I’m Dulce Sullivan.”
    Amelia found a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman staring at her. Her skin was the color of tea with a bit of cream.
    “I’m supposed to make sure the men don’t get beneath all those skirts,” she said, nodding to her dress, which had become a frothing mess in her sleep. Or perhaps in her faint.
    “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Sullivan. You may call Miss Wellesley.”
    Dulce stared for two beats, then burst out laughing. “My mother was right,” she said.
    “Right?”
    “You are the strangest-talking woman I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”
    “Yes, well, strange is in the ears of the hearer,” Amelia grumbled. That only made Dulce laugh even harder.
    “I’m sorry, I’ll get used to you eventually.” The woman hardly looked sorry at all. She appeared rather pleased with herself. “For as long as you’re here.”
    She said this last with forced emphasis, as if trying to tell Amelia something without saying it aloud. Dulce had a way of looking at her that made her distinctly self-conscious, with a hostile undertone, perhaps. “I plan to be here for the rest of my life,” she said.
    “That right? I just don’t see it. Fainting types don’t last long out here.”
    Amelia sat up and straightened her skirt and her spine. She supposed she did look like a “fainting” type. Everyone, even her brother, had underestimated how tough she was, and part of that was her appearance. She always had been pale, and having golden blond hair didn’t help. She was petite and thin and sweet looking, which was why whenever she asserted herself, everyone appeared slightly shocked.
    “Mrs. Sullivan. I have traveled across an ocean, then traveled by myself across this vast country. I would hardly say that is the action of a weak woman.”
    Dulce stared at her and Amelia thought she’d gotten through to her when the girl started laughing again. “Just can’t take a word out of your mouth seriously. Just can’t.”
    Amelia let out a sigh and stood, grateful that the room didn’t spin around her. “If you are going to laugh each time I speak, Mrs. Sullivan, I’m afraid this arrangement will not be