Free Ruby's Song (Love in the Sierras Book 3) by Unknown Page B

presumed to tell you how to live. Five years of separation and I wasted no time criticizing you. It was rude and very ungentlemanly.” He studied her face, remembering the sadness and tears in her eyes as they’d said goodbye last night and he asked the question as it came to him. “Are you truly happy here, Little Miss?”
    She went blank for a brief moment before rolling her eyes with an impatient huff. “Not when you call me that. I’m a bit old for childhood endearments.” She stood abruptly, so he stood. “And I’m afraid I must finish my toilette before my music lessons begin. Thank you for coming here and I accept your apology.”
    “One more thing,” he said, almost forgetting the reason for his visit. “You look sober enough to handle this now.”
    He handed over her gun and her eyes darted fearfully to the doorway before she snatched it and looked for a place to hide it. Without any pockets she gathered a handful of her skirt and bunched it around the gun, holding it as if she were preparing to lift her hem.
    “Thank you for that,” she said. “Now, I really must go before someone sees this.”
    Turning the brim of his hat in his hands, he offered another smile. “You take care of yourself. Maybe one day I’ll get to hear this talent everyone goes on about.”
    “Perhaps,” she said, her lips curving in a grin that never reached her eyes. “Goodbye, Dalton.”
    He opened the door. “Goodbye…” he couldn’t resist, “ Little Miss .”
    His smile widened when she rolled her eyes, and he chuckled all the way back out to the street. Feeling light and unburdened, he walked down Beacon Street and returned to the inn.
     

Chapter 6
    Marlena felt it in her bones, the lackluster applause of the audience, and she knew it was the direct result of her lackluster performance. It was a denouncement she deserved and would have to endure, for she knew her heart had not been in the act that night. The melancholy that had settled over her with Dalton’s departure still lingered.
    Her visit with the Cunninghams had been disastrous. She’d overindulged on wine and had become an even more obnoxious pretender. His disinterestedness had been clearly etched on his beautiful face, and all she could do was drink more and lie more. And then she’d gone and done the most horrifying thing and cried in front of him, not to mention kissing him! Even thinking of it made her cringe, and there was no excuse to offer. Looking back and laughing over fond memories of her hometown had filled her with so much grief that it had simply overwhelmed her. And as for kissing him? Well, she’d simply given in to the impulses of her body.
    Seeing Dalton the next day was difficult, but she couldn’t have sent him away. Being near him felt more wonderful than the thought of avoiding him for the sake of her pride. He looked so handsome and boyishly charming as he struggled through his discomfort in the Winthrop home. If she had been discontent with her life before seeing him again, she was in complete misery now. Still, there was no reason for it. Dalton was a childhood infatuation, a worthy and wonderful man to pin her young heart on. He haunted her dreams, but she knew his appeal lie in what he represented.
    Home.
    Thoughts and dreams of him coaxed her back to a time and place where she felt the warmth of sisterly love and the independence of the west. His being in Boston shed bright, unmistakable light on how wide the gap was between who she used to be and who she was trying hard to become. In his eyes, she was a Brahmin , yet in the eyes of the Brahmins , she was a grasping ignoramus from the uncivilized west. Who was she and where did she truly belong? She had no idea, and it sapped all joy from her spirit. There was no more telltale sign of her listlessness than her failure on the stage this night. The energy from the crowd, the sense of purpose and resoluteness, were all lost on her, just as she was lost inside herself.
    Though