17
Zaira needed another adventure. She was tired of being cooped up at Oakland, and going with Bellamy to look for Seamus and Moya’s father would be exciting.
She hurried after Bellamy, hoping he would let her come along.
He halted abruptly and spun.
In the next instant, she found herself stumbling and bumping against his chest. He steadied her with both hands, but she rapidly backed away from his touch, needing to keep the distance and barriers in place so she didn’t make a fool of herself the way she had at the eating-of-the-gander party.
She’d allowed herself to get carried away with her feelings for Bellamy that night. As a result, his rejection had stung harder than she’d anticipated. Over the past couple of days of moping, she’d decided that to survive their pretend match, she had to be much more careful.
“What will your da and mam say when you don’t show up for supper tonight?” Bellamy’s tone taunted her, lettingher know once again that he knew she’d lied to her parents about her whereabouts.
“I told them I was coming into the city to visit you.”
Bellamy cocked an eyebrow at her, as though he didn’t believe her.
She hadn’t necessarily lied about coming to see Bellamy. A part of her had wanted just a tiny glimpse of him—well, maybe more than tiny.
She’d also wanted to see Moya and Seamus. More importantly, however, the deadline for her chapter was today. She should have delivered it yesterday, but her revisions had taken longer because the words hadn’t flowed well, and she’d kept getting distracted by her thoughts of Bellamy and the children.
The cloudy afternoon was no longer misting, but the threat of rain still lingered. It was getting late in the afternoon, and she needed to deliver her chapter to Mr. Knapp before the newspaper office closed for the day. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go with Bellamy after all.
“Alannah needed to gather a few items from home that she’d left there, so Mam let us come together.” Technically, Alannah hadn’t really needed anything but had agreed to come with Zaira so she could drop off her manuscript. “She’s waiting at the house. I can send her word that I’ll be late.”
Bellamy crossed his arms, and whenever he did so, he looked overly confident, almost arrogant, but still much too handsome. She could sense that he was going to say no, and maybe she should just gracefully leave before he rejected her again.
On the other hand, a little ride into the countryside down to Carondelet wouldn’t harm anyone. “You can use my help.”She crossed to the trough where she’d left her horse. “After all, I was the one who found Seamus and Moya, wasn’t I?”
Bellamy watched her a moment, then shrugged. “If you’re wanting to spend time with me so badly, just say so.”
“I don’t.”
He smirked but didn’t say anything more as he quickly saddled his horse and mounted. As they started off, he patted a pouch under his suit coat. “I’ll be needing to make a deposit at the bank first.”
“Then you won’t mind if we swing by theDaily Republicanafter that, will you?” She slapped the pannier bag near the saddle, where she’d stowed her manuscript.
“What are Frannie and Albert up to this week?” Bellamy slanted a look her way. “Is she going to leave with him? Or will she stay with her family and try to protect them?”
Zaira pulled up short and couldn’t hold back a smile. “Why, Bellamy McKenna. You’ve been reading my story.”
“I don’t have much choice.” He kept riding, forcing her to prod her mount into a trot to catch up to him. “One of the regulars at the bar reads the stories in the newspapers aloud each week.”
“Sure, Bellamy. Blame it on a customer. But I know you can’t wait to see what happens next.”
Bellamy snorted as he turned his mount into the alley that ran behind First Bank.
A part of her was thrilled he was reading her story, although another part of her warned that she shouldn’t care. All that truly mattered was pleasing her new readers, and last week when she’d dropped off her chapter, Mr. Knapp had told her they’d gotten a great number of positive remarks and interest in the story.
“So what do you think?” The question slipped out. Maybe she cared about his opinion on her story more than she wanted to admit. After all, besides Alannah, he was the only other person who knew about her secret writing life.
He was silent, narrowing his eyes on something ahead. It was an area of the city that hadn’t been affected by the fire, and the buildings were some of the oldest in the city with fine architecture.
“You don’t think I have talent, do you? To you, it’s all drivel and worthless and—”
“Hold up,” he whispered, drawing his horse to a halt while reaching for her reins and doing the same for her horse.
“What’s wrong—?”
