It was an honest answer, but I didn’t like it. “We said we weren’t going to do this by the rules. Remember?”
“I remember.”
“You’re not Saint. Neither am I.”
His eyes trailed over me, tightening.
“What’s wrong?”
He let out a frustrated breath. “This.” He motioned to the air between us and then to the frock. “All of it.”
I looked down at my skirts, trying not to laugh. I cocked my head to the side, narrowing my eyes playfully. “Are you trying to say you don’t like my frock?”
But he wasn’t taking the bait. “I don’t like it,” he said flatly.
“Why not?”
He raked a hand into his hair, holding it back from his face as he scrutinized the shimmering silk. His gaze was cold. “You don’t look like you. You don’t smell like you.”
I couldn’t help but smile even though I could see it annoyed him. But I loved the way he looked standing there barefoot by the window, half of his shirt untucked. It was the side of West I only got glimpses of.
I took another step toward him, the length of the skirts dragging on the floor behind me.
“I would be happy if I never saw you in one of those stupid things again,” he said, finally grinning.
“Fine.” I reached up and unhooked the buttons one at a time until it was loose enough to slide over my shoulders, and West watched as it dropped to the floor in a puddle of green. The underdress was almost as absurd as the frock, tied in tiny white satin ribbons that met in bows at each of my hips. “Better?”
“Better,” he conceded.
For a moment, it was as if we weren’t in Sagsay Holm. As if we’d never come to the Unnamed Sea or met Holland. But his smile fell again, like he was thinking the same thing.
I wondered if he was wishing he’d made a different decision that night at the barrier islands. I’d freed him from Saint, but I’d dragged him into the Unnamed Sea and put him at the mercy of Holland. I’d nearly lost the Marigold, and I could see what it did to him, not having any control over what was going to happen.
The shadows caught the cut of his cheeks, and for a moment he looked like a spirit. I clenched my teeth, a stone sinking in my stomach. Underneath the anger, fear was writhing. I was scared that this was just who he was. That he’d signed the contract because he wanted to be that person Saint made him.
I could love this West. The one with a dark past. But I couldn’t tie myself to him if he was walking back into it.
“I need to ask you something.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest, as if he was bracing himself. “Okay.”
“Why did you sign the contract? Really.” I wasn’t sure how to ask it.
“Because I was afraid,” he answered instantly.
“Of what?”
“You really want to know?”
“I do.”
He blinked, quiet, and I found myself dreading what he might say. “I’m afraid that you’re going to want what she can give you. What I’ll never be able to give you.” The look of vulnerability that flashed in his eyes made me swallow hard. “I don’t want you to work for Holland because I’m afraid you won’t come back to the Narrows. To me.”
Emotion curled thick in my throat. “I don’t want what Holland has. I want you,” I said, unsteady. “She can never give me what you can give me.”
His cheeks flushed. It had cost him something to be so honest.
“I don’t want you to work for Holland, either,” I said. “I don’t want you to be that person anymore.”
“I won’t have to if tomorrow goes as planned.”
“Even if it doesn’t go as planned. I don’t want you to work for her.” I took a step toward him.
“I already signed the contract, Fable.”
“I don’t care. Promise me. Even if it means leaving the Marigold. Even if we have to start over.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked as his eyes met mine. “All right.”
“Swear it,” I said.
“I swear it.”
I let out a relieved breath, the tension coiled around me finally loosening. But West looked miserable. He rubbed his face with both hands, shifting on his feet anxiously.
I knew what that look was. It was the feeling of being trapped. Of having no way out. I knew because I felt it too. “My father said that the worst mistake he ever made was letting Isolde