If once he’d been intrigued by her, now he was obsessed.
But Annabelle’s face had been so wan as she lay stretched out on the bed, her injured ankle extended and wrapped in ice. She’d looked up at him, her expression heartbroken as she’d whispered, “If you have any mercy in your heart, leave me alone.”
He’d sucked in his breath at the pain in her eyes.
“Is that truly what you wish?” he’d replied.
She lifted her chin fiercely, her gray eyes glittering with tears like melted ice.
“It is.”
“Then I give you my word,” he’d said in a low voice.
And he’d left her, when all he’d wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss away the gleaming tears he’d seen in her eyes. It had been the first moment of hell, and since then, it had only gotten worse.
For three days, he’d had only glimpses of Annabelle as she photographed the ranch. He’d seen her laughing with the boys in the dining hall, even chatting with the elderly housekeeper about her grandchildren in the nearby village.
Annabelle Wolfe, an ice queen? He gave a single hard laugh. She was charming and warm with everyone. Everyone, except him. When she passed Stefano in the hall, if she met him in the stables, her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she saw right through him. He’d become invisible to the woman he wanted most on earth.
Now, setting his jaw, Stefano pulled a clean T-shirt and jeans from his wardrobe. Sitting on his bed, he put on his black work boots. Then he paused, staring blindly across his masculine, Spartan bedroom.
For three days now, he’d tried to convince himself it was better this way—better for her, better even for him. He shouldn’t risk getting more involved with a woman who cried out with nightmares she wouldn’t explain, a woman so powerful on the outside but so fragile inside.
He’d already slept an entire night at her side. He’d put her needs ahead of his own. Shocking. He’d never wanted a weighty affair. All he’d wanted with Annabelle Wolfe was a pleasant challenge and bit of fun. This was getting too serious. He should let her go.
But his body wouldn’t listen. He wanted her.
Gripping his hands into fists, Stefano rose to his feet. Going downstairs, he went to the dining hall for breakfast.
He found the plump, gray-haired housekeeper, Mrs. Gutierrez, setting down bowls of freshly baked rolls on the long table. All the young stablehands bounced around her, noisy in their hungry eagerness. The teenagers, as usual, stacked food on their plates perilously high as they cheerfully wished him buenos días. Stefano growled out a reply and went straight to his usual chair, where he poured himself some black coffee. He drank deeply of the hot, bitter brew, burning his tongue.
“Good morning,” he heard Annabelle’s sweet voice say. Stefano put down his cup on the table and looked up.
The sight of her took his breath away.
She was sleek and professional as always, wearing a pantsuit in creamy ivory and glossy black shoes beneath. Her blond hair was pulled back in her usual tight chignon. Small gold hoops gleamed in her ears and she carried a black leather case.
But the ivory of her suit was nothing compared to the creamy
color of her skin. The gold of her earrings was dull compared to the lustrous blond gleam of her hair. Her bare lips were naturally pink and full, her big gray eyes fringed with light blond lashes. And it was all Stefano could do not to fall to his knees before such beauty.
Annabelle froze when she saw him. Then her soft gray gaze became inscrutable. She turned away.
He wondered what she was thinking. If the past three days had been as difficult for her as they’d been for him. Usually women fell over themselves to share their thoughts. But Annabelle didn’t say a word.
The young stablehands saw her and rose to their feet to greet her, clustering around as they asked about her welfare in Spanish and accented English.
“Señorita, good morning!”
“Miss Wolfe, did you bring the pictures?”
“You fool, don’t ask her yet. Let her sit down first!”
Annabelle gave a laugh like the ripple of cool water in a mountain stream. “Yes. I brought the photos. Just let me have a bit of breakfast and I’ll be glad to show you.”
The boys cheered, then escorted Annabelle to her seat on the other end of the long table. Stefano tightened his hands on his coffee cup, willing himself into self-control.
At any other time, he would have been proud of the teenagers for showing such good manners, falling over themselves to make a guest comfortable. But as he saw the delighted, warm smile that Annabelle bestowed upon them, something like a growl rose to the back of his throat.