"Enter," he barked.

She winced. His tone of voice told her that he had no patience left for anyone, and that her situation-her future-was dire indeed. She walked into the wood-paneled sitting room of his apartment.

He turned. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he demanded in another bark.

He looked extremely tired-and extremely angry. "How are you, Papa?" she ventured.

"Do not inquire after my welfare or my journey, by damn! He was here, and you are here, and I am in a state of disbelief!" George Boothe roared. "Were the two of you carrying on?"

Annabel cringed, tears filling her eyes. But they had nothing to do with his anger-and everything to do with her loss, her love, and her grief. "Yes," she whispered. "He was here. We were carrying on."

He stared, wide-eyed, as if he had expected her to deny it. For a long moment he could not speak. "How could you? He abducted you, Annabel, and you just forgave him?" He was incredulous. "You are an intelligent and strong woman. You allowed him to seduce you?"

"Yes," she whispered brokenly.

He stared again, as if doubting his own ears. "I will kill him when he is caught!"

"I love him!" she cried back.

"Oh, God!" he cried.

Annabel collapsed onto an ottoman, weeping against her own volition.

George turned back to her, towering over her. "Annabel, you cannot possibly love such a man. Not only is he a complete stranger, he is a thief. He breaks the law, by God. Did I not raise you to know the difference between right and wrong? How is it possible that you just stood by and allowed him to rob the countess?" He was grim. "How could you not have turned him in?"

"Even now, as hurt as I am, I pray he eludes the police," she whispered, not daring to look up. Had Lizzie told him everything? Did he know that she had participated in the theft? It did not seem so, thank God.

"If you were a child, I would turn you over my knee and give you a serious spanking, Annabel. Perhaps this is all my fault." He threw his hands up into the air. "By allowing you your wild ways as a child, by never striking you, not even once!"

"It's not your fault," she managed hoarsely. "It is my fault. Something is wrong with me, Papa. Pierce and I, we are alike."

"You are alike?" he shouted. "You are not alike, Annabel. He is a thief. You, by God, are a Boothe."

Annabel hugged herself. "I am sorry, Papa, for failing you and for protecting him, but where he is concerned, I cannot help myself. Do you know that he is the only person I have ever met who admires me for my outspokenness, for my determination, for my courage?" She covered her face with her hands. "I cannot seem to stop crying," she moaned. "If only I could stop crying!"

Silence filled the room. Boothe went to her, lifting her to her feet and taking her into his arms. "Oh, Annabel. I will kill him for breaking your heart, that I promise you."

She managed to look up at her father. "No. You see, Jie never made me any promises, Papa. I wanted to go with him. But he refused. He would not let me go with him. He did not want me to suffer the risk of being captured and incarcerated, and he even told me he expected me to find love with another man one day. Yes, he has broken my heart-yet again. But you should thank him for refusing to take me with him, instead of vowing to kill him."

"You are defending him." Boothe stared, and finally he sat down hard on the sofa. "You love him still. Oh, Annabel. What am I going to do with you?"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "My life is over. Pierce is wrong. My future doesn't exist."

"No." Boothe stood. "You have committed a grave error of judgment, but affairs of the heart are rarely wise. Your future begins today. I have never dictated to you before, and as much as I comprehend your grief now, I will do what is right for you-as I should have done two years ago."

Annabel was alarmed. "What do you intend?"

"You will marry, my dear, like every other proper woman, and one day you will thank me for it."

Two days later, Annabel stood at the altar in the reception hall of the hotel, which had been festively decorated with flowers and candles for her wedding to Thomas Frank. Her entire family was present, as was the countess and her entourage and most of the hotel's guests. Annabel was numb.

She would do as her father asked, because she did not care about her life anymore and she did not have the strength or the inclination to fight with him. Lizzie had pointed out that Thomas Frank was besotted with her, and she would probably be able to do as she liked once married-that this was, for Annabel, a very good match. Annabel had looked at her, wondering if she were out of her mind. Lizzie had married for love after a brief but stormy courtship. She and Adam remained in love four and a half years later. Who was Lizzie fooling?

Melissa had been more rational. "Papa is right. The time has come for you to settle down and grow up, Annabel. You could have found someone to your liking if you had tried, but you never tried, so now you have no choice."

Annabel did not dare look at the groom now, but she glanced at Missy, who seemed pleased by the turn of events. It struck her then, for the first time in her life, that her sister did not wish her well, but she could not fathom why.

Suddenly Annabel realized that the minister had paused and was staring at her. She began to flush. She had been so immersed in her thoughts-and her misery-that she had not been paying attention to a word he said. Thomas nudged her.

"I do," he whispered.

Oh, God. Annabel froze, unable to speak. She realized now what stage they had reached in the ceremony-just as she realized she could not go through with this.

"She does." Her father stepped forward from where he stood just behind Thomas with her mother and her sisters and brothers-in-law. "Annabel?" He stared commandingly at her.

Annabel opened her mouth. No words came out.

The white-haired minister looked at her, his eyes kind. "My dear, do you, Annabel Boothe, take this man to be your husband? In sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for better or for worse?"

Annabel wet her lips. A huge silence filled the reception hall.

And a cramp seized her. She gasped.

The minister smiled, apparently misinterpreting the sound for an affirmation, and he turned to Thomas quickly. As quickly, Thomas reached for and took her hand, clearly saying, "I do."

Annabel closed her eyes in disbelief. In another moment they would be man and wife.

"If there be any man present who objects to this union, set forth your objections now, or forever hold your peace," the minister intoned.

The hall was silent.

I object, Annabel thought wildly. I object!

The minister smiled and opened his mouth to pronounce them man and wife.

"I object," Pierce cried, striding down the aisle.

Annabel cried out and turned as the crowd gasped. Her eyes widened and her knees buckled. She could not believe her eyes-she had never wanted to behold anyone more.

He had come-he had come to rescue her.

"I beg your pardon?" the minister asked, bewildered.

Pierce paused beside Annabel. "I object," he said, his rich voice carrying. "Annabel Boothe cannot marry this man."

George came to life. "Arrest him. It's the thief who stole the Rossini ruby!"

And several members of the hotel staff came rushing forward from the very back of the hall, including the manager. The five men grabbed Pierce and immobilized him. But he did not struggle. Finally, his gaze met Annabel's.

She was crying. How she loved him. She had never loved anyone more.

"Get the sheriff," the manager was ordering one of his bellmen. The young bellhop ran off.

"Wait!" Annabel cried.

The bellhop actually faltered and stopped halfway down the aisle, for her tone had been so sharp.