“She can seem simple,” Tex said uncomfortably.
“But she’s quite smart,” Travis hastened to add. “She picks things up plenty quickly. She’s just... missing a lot of really basic education and socialization.”
“... is teaching her to read.” Conall missed the name Tex gave, but didn’t want to ask.
They lapsed into silence, one that Conall wasn’t gracious enough to break himself, chewing over everything they’d told him.
His elk was having trouble moving past the part where someone had hurt his mate.
“So,” Travis said finally, when Conall had downed the last of his gin and tonic. “You’re gazelle’s mate.”
There was unexpected challenge in Travis’ face.
“I am,” Conall gruffly agreed. That wild, wounded woman was his, and everything about him was hers.
Travis put his hand forward. Conall stared at it reluctantly a moment, then shook it. “I’m Conall.”
Before he let go, Travis said seriously, “If you hurt her, I will have to kill you.” His grip tightened.
Conall glanced towards Tex, trying to gauge whether this was some sort of joke.
Tex had a grim smile on his cowboy face. “Only if I don’t get there first.”
Chapter 7
“Gizelle? Honey?”
Gizelle flicked big ears at the voice but didn’t turn.
Wanting a lot of things at once made her legs tremble, and it was easiest just to lean against the fence here and let the noise in her head turn everything to nonsense.
“Gizelle.”
Gizelle reluctantly swiveled her head.
Scarlet was carrying a new sundress. Maybe it was the same sundress and Travis had already repaired it. Gizelle didn’t remember what she had been wearing. Had she been wearing clothing? Probably. Tex was always making her put on a dress if she forgot. It was sometimes easier being a gazelle because she didn’t have to remember things like that.
She could remember what he was wearing.
A short-sleeved silk shirt, with tropical leaves and flowers all over. Khaki shorts, pressed crisp. A silver bracelet on one strong wrist.
Blue eyes.
Blue eyes like a cloudless sky, full of promise and freedom.
“Gizelle.” More firmly this time.
Gizelle gave a sigh of defeat and shrugged back into her human form.
“I dropped the glasses,” she said regretfully. “They all broke.”
“No one is angry,” Scarlet assured her as Gizelle slipped the dress on over her head.
“I’m angry,” Gizelle said unhappily.
“What are you angry about?” Scarlet asked so sweetly that it made it worse.
“That,” Gizelle said sharply, knowing Scarlet wouldn’t understand. “Me. Everything.”