He cut another piece of chicken. “Why do you hedge?”
She wrinkled her brow.
He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “You saidtry.” He waved his fork. “A small green wise man once said something to the effect of there is no trying, only doing.”
“Green?”
“Forget it. Just know that one thing you’re missing out on during this time is Yoda.” His expression grew serious. “I want you to do something for me.” He smiled at the alarm that must have appeared on her face. “Nothing big. It’s quite easy. I simply want you to repeat these words... ‘I will write a book.’”
“I just said that.”
“No. You said you’dtry. SayI will.”
“What nonsense.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, casting her gaze anywhere that wasn’t at him, watching with his intense expression. “Lizzy. Do it.”
“Fine.” She set her hands on the table and took a breath. “I will write a book.”
“Good girl.”
A hot rush of pleasure coursed through her. Why did she like those two particular words so much? She wasn’t a pet—his or anyone else’s. But the simple affirmation had an undeniable effect, filling some small corner of her soul that she didn’t know was missing, a gasping little relief to hear such open praise.
“Now slower, as if you mean every word, like you are making a vow to yourself, to the universe, and to anyone else who might be listening.”
“I. Will. Write. A. Book.” It was as if she’d studied her whole life to master the art of being invisible, and he was here demanding she frame a canvas of her ambitions and hang it on the wall for everyone to see.
He noticed. “How does that feel?”
“P-powerful.”
“From now on, every time you say ‘I’ll try to write a book,’ stop and say it again without thetry topart. You want the freedom to create your own future. That’s not someone who tries. That is someone who takes action and can make it happen. That’s why I meant it when I said I want you on my team. Believe in yourself and you’ll be unstoppable.”
It was at that moment, in a dim bar on the Scottish border, that Lizzy realized she’d fallen a little in love with Tucker Taylor. Her husband. Not enough to cause her great danger. Nothing toderail her from their plans. But enough that her heart cracked open a fraction. And that was far more feeling than she’d ever intended. Because for the first time, she believed that maybe she could take on the stories in her vellum notebook and turn them into a real novel.
“I will get you home,” she said, and not only for his benefit. She would get him home for her too—because this crack in her heart? It was too much. She needed to get it patched up and repaired as soon as possible. All his “good girl” talk aside—flirting and fun was one matter. Feelings? True sentiment? That was too dangerous. She had a plan, and it was already going to be a challenge to execute it.
Feelings and freedom did not work hand in hand.
“To achieving our goals, Mrs.Taylor.” He raised a glass.
“My name.” She blinked. “Oh. I’ve lost my name.”
He froze. “I’m sorry, I was teasing. But you don’t ever—”
“Elizabeth!”
Lizzy went very quiet, not bothering to turn. She knew that voice. It was the same condescending tone she’d heard her whole life. The voice that reminded her that she was a burden, that she was a failure, that if she couldn’t play by the rules, then the best thing she could do was make herself as small and useful as possible.
“My God, Elizabeth,” a man’s voice ground out. “It really is you.”
She turned slowly, and there was her older brother, Henry. He looked horrible. As if he’d been in a saddle for days. Dark bruises haunted the hollows under his eyes, eyes that were positively murderous.
“Sister, are you dicked in the nob? What have you done?”
Chapter Seventeen
“Henry!” Lizzy gasped. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I believe that’s my line,” the man replied with deadly calm, “although I’d phrase it much less delicately.”
