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“Fine,” she repeated. She rubbed her aching temple, then wiped away tears with an angry fist as she turned away.
“What happened to your face?” he demanded harshly behind her.
Annabelle froze.
She realized she must have rubbed off the last of her makeup. Now, to top everything else, he’d seen her scar. He knew how vulnerable and ugly she really was.
“It’s nothing,” she said. She quickened her pace, desperate to get away.
She heard him come up swiftly behind her. “Stop,” he said roughly. “Let me see your face!”
Annabelle wanted to collapse on the ground and sob. He’d given her the kiss of a lifetime. For the space of a few hours, she’d almost thought they were friends. Now … this is all he would remember of her. The ugly scarred monster.
Slowly, Annabelle turned.
“Oh, my God,” he breathed, coming closer. “What happened to you?”
Beneath the merciless sun, she lifted her bangs, turning her face upward so he could see the deep red scar stretching down her face.
“Are you satisfied?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “This is who I really am. A monster. Why did you have to give me hope I might ever be more than this?”
Stefano stared down at her, his expression a mask of shock. Annabelle looked up at his wide, dark eyes and saw horror and disgust.
With a choked sob, Annabelle turned and ran blindly, streaking over the wooden fence toward the forest.
This is who I really am.
Her choked, tear-sodden words still echoed in Stefano’s ears as he stared after her, overwhelmed by the vision of her ruined, lovely face. The ugly red line had slithered down her forehead and cheek like a poisonous snake. A monster.
His heart pounded in his throat. What had happened to her? Had she gotten the scar by accident? Or by the hand of man?
With a sob, Annabelle had turned and run.
With an intake of breath, Stefano ran after her. But this time, she was faster than he’d ever expected. She didn’t want to be caught. Grimly, he crashed through the underbrush and into the forest. He saw Annabelle just ahead, her long blond hair streaming behind her. His stride was longer, his legs were faster, his stamina greater. He caught up with her on the other edge of the forest, pushing her into the bright, open meadow beyond.
“Let me go!” she cried.
“No,” he said, tightening his grip on her wrists.
Annabelle struggled and kicked as he pushed her past the trees into the vivid field of red poppies. Shackling her wrists with his large hands, he looked down at her.
She looked half-wild. Her cheeks were flushed, her chignon gone as her blond hair fell in waves down her shoulders. Her pant leg was ripped, her ivory jacket dirty with splattered mud.
From this close, he could see every detail of the jagged scarlet line slashing down her beautiful face. But that wasn’t what disturbed him the most. It was what was beneath the scar: the anguish in Annabelle’s trembling face.
“What do you want?” she cried. “Why do you keep trying to hurt me?” “I’m not! I want to help you!”
“You can’t.” She shook her head as tears streamed down her sunburned face. “No one can.”
Amid the waving flowers, she looked so beautiful that his heart turned over in his chest. He took a deep breath. “How did you get your scar?”
She looked up at him with big eyes, like pools of gray after rain.
“Please.” His hands gentled their hold. “Tell me.”
“It hurts too much,” she whispered. “It’s better to be numb.”
“No,” he said urgently. Looking down at her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Pain is how you know you’re alive,” he said, searching her gaze. “If you are too afraid to feel pain, you’ll never know joy.” Annabelle turned toward the green mountains jutting into the wide blue sky. With a deep breath, she looked back at him.
