His callous attitude hurt her. She realized he didn’t want her sleeping with Hammond Llewellyn, but he didn’t have to gloat over the fact that her plans had fallen to ruin. “Roman—”
“I’ll see you later.” Roman tipped his hat and started down the hall. “I saw a few Thoroughbreds at the livery, and I’m going to go take a closer look at them. I’ve got a ranch to buy and horses to put on it, in case you’ve forgotten. You might have failed withyourplans, but I’m for damned sure not going to fail withmine.”
Still pretending smugness, he continued to stroll down the hall. When he reached the stairs, however, he raced down them, reached the lobby within seconds, then hid behind a tall potted plant by one of the windows.
In a few moments he saw Theodosia enter the lobby. She crossed through the room, exited the hotel, and stepped outside.
He watched her from the window. She spotted Hammond walking down the boardwalk and hastened to catch up with him.
The nobleman took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.
And the place inside Roman that Theodosia had managed to light up went dark again.
Chapter Fifteen
Theodosia turned up the lamp andchose the chair farthest away from the one in which Hammond sat. They’d spent the day together. Hammond had driven her to Enchanted Hill. He’d made a wish; she had not. The day was over now.
Night had fallen.
Was it her imagination, or did the bed seem to be getting bigger? Every time she looked at it, it appeared to have grown, as if to remind her what she was supposed to be doing in it.
A shiver of apprehension skimmed down her spine.
Folding her hands together on her lap, she examined her hotel room as though she’d never seen it before. Itdidseem different, she thought. No bullet-studded gunbelt or black hat hung on the hat-stand, and no boots lay in the middle of the floor. The closet contained her gowns, but not a single man’s shirt, and atop the dresser lay scattered a bit of her jewelry, her lacy handkerchief, and her reticule, but no sheathed dagger.
The room even smelled different. She couldn’t detect the scent of sunshine or steel or leather or the musky scent of hard work. She recognized only the fragrance of her wildflower perfume and Hammond’s spicy cologne.
The room contained nothing that might have reminded her of Roman.
“Theodosia, please do not be anxious.” Hammond tried to reassure her but could not help wondering when she would allow him to take her to bed. “I am a gentleman, and I shall be quite content to wait until you are sufficiently comfortable to proceed with your plans. We—”
He broke off suddenly when the sound of wagon wheels filled the room. Turning toward the window, he saw a parrot perched in a cage and realized the bird had made the sound.
John the Baptist threw peanut shells and water at the windowpane. “Did you know the real John the Baptist got his head cut off?” he called.
Hammond rose and approached the window. “APsittacus erithacus.And what a handsome African gray he is, too. From whom did he hear the story of John the Baptist, Theodosia?”
Glad for the distraction her parrot had provided, Theodosia unfolded her hands and smoothed her chocolate-brown skirts. “His name is John the Baptist, but as for what he just said, I imagine Roman told him the story in a moment of anger. Roman has been at odds with my parrot on several occasions.” She smiled, remembering not only Roman’s habit of arguing with the bird as if the parrot could understand, but the two times Roman had saved John the Baptist’s life as well.
She recalled Roman’s crooked grin too. His quick temper, his unmatched survival skills, his boundless common sense, his deep, rich laughter, and all his hard-earned dreams.
She had so many memories of Roman Montana.
“Theodosia?”
She blinked and saw Hammond staring at her. “Yes?”
“My goodness, what are you dreaming about? The look on your face suggests you are in another world.”
Another world, she mused. Yes, the world she’d shared with Roman. “I was thinking about Brazil.” She smoothed her skirts again.
Hammond nodded but didn’t believe her. Oh, she’d told him about Brazil and the estimable Dr. Eugene Wallaby, but Hammond knew it was not the scientist or the Pindamonhangaba beetles that filled her thoughts.
It was that long-haired savage she’d been running around with. What a bloody nuisance the gunslinger was! Even when the man was not in Theodosia’s presence, he was with her in spirit. Of course, Theodosia being in the same room she’d shared with Roman Montana did not help matters, Hammond realized. No doubt she “saw” him in every corner.
“Yes, well,” he said to her, “while you were daydreaming about Brazil, I asked you how your parrot has fared on the journey through Texas.”
“He has fared well, Hammond, thank you.”
