Free Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance by Catherine Vale Page B

dresser.
    “Anacelia,
stop fussing with the hair for a minute.” She turned in the chair, reaching for
Anacelia’s hand. “Here. These are for you…” For a moment her throat closed
shut, the words choked off. She coughed again.
    “These
are for you…”
    The
brush hit the floor with a thud. Anacelia’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no, Senna. No.
You can’t…” Eyes on the bag, she took a step back as if it were a viper, poised
to strike. “Those are yours.”
    “They
are mine. And they are mine to do with as I please. And…” She stood up, taking
a step, grabbing Anacelia’s hand, pressing the little bag into it. “And as
Princess, I command that you take these.”
    Anacelia’s
eyes glistened with tears, but she reluctantly took the bag. It was clear she
wanted to look inside, but she clutched it tightly, then it disappeared into
the folds of her sari. “Senna. I will treasure these for the rest of my life.”
The woman stepped forward, hugging Senna. They stood for a long time, arms
around each other.
    Finally,
Anacelia pushed away. “You must dress. Quickly. There are men in the hall
waiting.”
    “Let
them wait.” But she dropped the shawl as Anacelia went to the wardrobe, pulling
out the hated traveling silks, handing over the white silk shift. Anacelia
turned away as Senna dropped her robe, pulled the silk over her head. It
fluttered around her body, and for a moment she longed for Gabriel to appear in
the archway, climb over and take her away from all of this.
    But
he didn’t, and Anacelia helped her into the complicated layers of silks, and
finally her own corset. Anacelia laced and tightened it, but instead of stays
poking her in unfortunate places, the garment molded to her, waste cinched in
above the flair of her hips, the rise of her breasts covered with layers of
bright silk. Anacelia reached up, restraining the last thick coils of hair up
with pins. Then she helped Senna into detested silk veils, and then the
overcoat.
    “I
feel like I’m wearing enough clothes for an army.” Already she was perspiring
beneath the corset. “I’m going to melt before I get to the train.”
    Anacelia
slapped a fan into Senna’s hand. “Here. You know how to use this. And once the
train starts moving, there will be air moving. You’ll survive.”
    Anacelia
bustled to the door, flinging it open. “In, in.” The men, leaning against the
wall, looked up in surprise, moving slowly into the room. “Hurry. Stop lazing
around out there.” She clapped her hands, and the men came to life. Senna stood
aside as Anacelia directed who was to take what, admonishing them to be
careful.
    Finally,
the men had taken all her worldly possessions away. Oddly, once they were gone,
the boxes and trunks, the silks and gems and books, brass rolls of music and
windu-p music box—the music she fought over with her father, those things he
found so scandalous—once gone, they seemed trivial, meaningless. All she wanted
in the world was a man she could not have. And a man who, quite possibly, now did
not want her.
    “You
must leave now, or you’ll be late. The Ottway’s train will surely be here by
now.”
    Senna
let Anacelia bustle around, draping a jeweled shawl around her shoulders,
pressing the oft-forgotten sunshade into Senna’s hands. Then she stepped back,
casting a practiced eye over her charge.
    “Fine.
You’ll do. Now, you need to hurry. Your carriage is waiting for you.” Anacelia
opened the door to the hall, all but pushing Senna ahead of her.
    “Anacelia,
is the Ottway paying you to get me to the train on time?”
    “No.
But it will fall on my head if you’re not dressed in the right clothes, and at
least in your carriage on time.”
    Senna
hurried down the hall, afraid the woman would resort to pinching her to get her
moving.
    But
Anacelia wasn’t following her. She was standing in the doorway to the room. The
woman’s intent gaze was familiar, but behind that Senna saw the shine of tears
in the