Annie's Song (38 page)

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and clenched her teeth to stop their clacking. Alex fixed his gaze on the floor and spent several tense moments counting squares of tile. When that quickly grew tiresome, he regarded the toes of his boots. From there, he turned his attention to his fingernails, then to his cuticles. When he glanced at Annie again, it seemed to him she was shivering less.

He pushed to his feet. At his movement, which she must have felt through the floor, she opened her eyes.

“How’s about some of Maddy’s coffee now?”

She grabbed for the towel. Quickly unfolding it, she shook it out over the water and covered herself from the belly down, leaving her breasts exposed. Alex handed her the mug, which, due to her shakiness, she took into both hands. The instant she released the towel, it went floating away. She grabbed for it, sloshing coffee onto her upper chest.

“Here,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Let me handle the cup. You tend to the towel.”

As he took the mug, she jerked the square of linen over her abdomen again and anchored it there with tight little fists. Hunkering beside the tub, Alex struggled not to chuckle. It was patently obvious to him that for all her modesty and wariness, she was mainly concerned with hiding her swollen waistline and what was nestled between those lovely thighs of hers, the devil take her breasts.

That puzzled Alex. He’d met a few females who weren’t shy about displaying their charms, but never anyone like Annie. She wasn’t trying to be provocative, that was plain. She honestly didn’t seem to realize that it was as important to keep her chest concealed from a man’s admiring gaze as it was the rest of her. It was as if no one had ever bothered to explain to her that—

A sudden memory struck Alex. As clearly as if it were yesterday, he recalled going wading up near the falls as a young child. There had been a community celebration of some kind up there, a picnic of sorts, with outdoor games and food galore. In the heat of the afternoon, most of the small children, under adult supervision, had been allowed to go wading. Stripped to their underdrawers, boys and girls alike had romped in the water. Alex had been about five at the time, but there had been kids as old as six or seven in the stream as well. None of the little girls had seemed embarrassed about being seen bare chested. In that stage of their development, there had been nothing for them to feel embarrassed about.

Pressing the mug to Annie’s lips, Alex watched with growing tenderness as she took a dainty sip of Maddy’s remedy. At the taste of the liquor, she wrinkled her nose.

Alex coaxed her to take another sip, then reached to smooth a damp tendril of dark hair from her cheek.

“It’ll rid you of the shivers,” he assured her when she cast him another look of distaste.

She fiddled with the towel, the loose end of which kept catching air and floating off to one side, baring her nether regions. As he studied her, he recalled the morning of their wedding and how she had sat on the landing above him, apparently unconcerned about the view he might have up her frock. And the day in the nursery, when he had kissed her breasts? He had expected her to be frightened, but instead she had watched him fumble with her buttons and chemise, curious but unafraid. Until he had tried to put a hand up her skirt, she hadn’t seemed aware that there was a connection between his kissing her breasts and what Douglas had done to her.

Annie... robbed of her hearing at six and shuffled away into the shadows, where she had been kept ignorant of people and their social mores. Even to Alex, the rules of society didn’t make much sense half the time. Naturally this girl didn’t clutch the towel to her breasts. What had she to hide? Little girls of six
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kept their lower anatomy covered because they were taught to do so from an early age. Shyness about their upper bodies came later, an attitude that was taught to them by their mothers a year or so prior to their developing breasts. By the time Annie reached puberty, she had already been a pariah, her social circle limited to immediate family and trusted servants, her only contact with the outside world, aside from accidental encounters with people, with wild animals and attic mice.

Putting the mug to her lips again, Alex said, “Two big gulps this time, Annie love.” When she obeyed him, he smiled. “There’s my girl. A little more. Come on.”

She gulped twice more. “I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t figure you would,” he admitted. “I made it pretty strong.” Pleased to note that her shaking had all but stopped, he looked deeply into her eyes. “I’m sorry about all this, Annie.” Averting his gaze, he swallowed. “I, um ...” He looked back at her. “If you never forgive me, I won’t blame you.”

She studied him, looking slightly bewildered. “For what? It wasn’t your fault.”

For a fleeting instant, Alex considered taking the easy way out. But he loved her too much to lie to her, even if the truth made her think less of him. “For being so— where Douglas is concerned, I’m weak. I always have been. I should have kicked him out of the house, straight off. I knew when I didn’t that it was wrong, that I was betraying your trust. But I—’’

He set the mug back on the washstand, avoiding her gaze. “Before it was over, I regretted not showing him the door, believe me.”

She reached out suddenly, touching tremulous fingertips to his broken knuckles. He glanced up, straight into the bluest, most honest eyes he’d ever seen. For several endless seconds, neither of them moved. He had the awful feeling she was looking clear to his soul and seeing far more than he wanted her to. “Oh, Alex.”

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say once more. “You’ll never know how sorry. Douglas is rotten, and he’s mean. He deserves anything he gets. But I gave him money anyway. I know that must seem crazy to you.

Probably to everyone.”

She deserved more of an explanation than that, and Alex knew it. But now didn’t seem the time to discuss it. He wasn’t sure there would ever be a good time.

As if she sensed his turmoil, her eyes darkened with concern. He looked quickly away, knowing that if he didn’t, he might end up telling her everything. Suddenly the air in the water closet seemed too thin. He needed to get out of there. So he could lick his wounds. So he could come to grips with his feelings.

Forcing himself to return his gaze to hers, he said, “He won’t be back, Annie. What happened tonight—it’s ended between him and me, once and for all. We’ll never see him again.”

She gave an almost imperceptible nod, her eyes filled with questions. Questions Alex couldn’t answer.

Not right now. He pushed to his feet and shoved a hand through his hair.

Watching his movements, her gaze snagged on the barked knuckles of his right hand again. A stricken look came over her face, an indication that it had finally dawned on her how he might have come by the abrasions.

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“That water must be getting cool by now,” he said, grabbing for any excuse he could think of to leave.

“You should probably be getting out before you get the shivers again. If you can manage by yourself, I’ll go in the other room and build a fire so you can dry your hair.”

“I can manage.”

“Good. I—a fire will take the chill off the room.”

He reached behind him for the doorknob, gave it a vicious twist, and nearly tripped over his own feet getting out of there.

As Alex closed the door of the water closet, a rush of air swept across Annie’s damp skin, raising goose bumps on her upper arms and shoulders. His soap and shaving paraphernalia sat on the washstand beside her, and the scent surrounded her, a common enough blend of bay rum, bergamot, and masculine cologne, but one that she had come to associate only with him.

Alex. He was troubled about seeing his brother tonight. Deeply troubled. And because he was, she knew he needed her now in a way he never had. If she truly cared about him, she would get out of the tub, towel herself dry, throw on her nightgown, and go to him.

And then what? When he turned to her, when he drew her into his arms, what if he wanted more from her by way of comfort than she was prepared to give? He had already made it clear to her on a number of occasions that he wanted to be physically close with her. In his present frame of mind, he might press her to accommodate him.

An awful, slithery feeling attacked Annie’s stomach at the thought, and she shivered with dread. After seeing Douglas such a short while ago, the memories of what he had done to her were impossible to hold at bay. Like images from her nightmares, they rushed at her from the darkest corners of her mind. The pain, that awful sense of helplessness, and the shame. Hot tears stung her eyes.

To walk into the other room, knowing in advance that Alex might try to do those things to her? She wasn’t sure she could go through with it. Or if she even wanted to. She loved him, yes. And she wanted to be his friend. But there were limits, to save her sanity, if nothing else.

Limits... It seemed such a selfish word. Annie sank her teeth into her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes closed. From the beginning, Alex had given her everything he could, holding nothing of himself in reserve and demanding nothing in return. How could she, in good conscience, hold back a part of herself from him?

Alex... dancing the waltz with her in the attic, tempting her with music from his flute, giving her the organ, teaching her how to speak in sign. When Annie thought back over the last few months, she realized, not for the first time, that their relationship had always been onesided, with him doing all the giving, she all the
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taking. At some point, that had to change, and it would be up to her to see that it did. Alex might express his desire to be close with her physically, he might even press her to that end, but he would never force her.

Pushing to her feet, she watched the water stream from her body into the tub. The soppy towel slipped from her fingers and fell with a splash. Silence. No trickling sound of water. No wet plop. Just an awful nothingness that had been the ruling force in her life for so long that, until meeting Alex, she had grown to expect nothing beyond it. Hour after hour, day after day, year after year of silence and loneliness.

Knowing Alex had changed all that.

With a sad smile, Annie recalled how bitter she had once felt at having been cheated out of getting any wedding gifts. How mistaken she had been. Alex had come into her life bearing so many gifts she’d long since lost count, each wrapped in a wealth of love. No pretty paper. No fancy ribbons. The things he had given to her couldn’t be placed in a box. But they were no less wonderful for all of that. How could she deny such a man anything?

She stared hard at the closed door. Then, not allowing herself to think past the moment, she reached for a dry towel to wrap her damp hair. All too soon—at least it seemed so to her—she had redonned her nightgown and fastened every button. With a trembling hand, she grasped the doorknob, gave it a decisive turn, and drew the door open.

At first glance, the room beyond seemed dark, but then her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness. As she exited the water closet, her silhouette, cast by the lamp behind her, danced eerily over the floor and walls, the disrupted light shifting and reflecting off the highly polished mahogany of the armoire and dresser. Earlier Annie hadn’t taken time to look closely at the bedchamber. Now she saw that, like the man who inhabited it, the room was almost stark in its simplicity, the furniture straight and sturdy, the draperies and bed hangings unpretentious. In the poor light, she couldn’t be sure, but the walls looked cream-colored, as did the draperies, reminding her of the silk shirts Alex wore. Indeed, bathed in firelight as it was, the entire room seemed a mirror image of him, solid and comfortable, painted in shades of burnished darkness and tawny gold.

He stood before the fireplace, one arm braced on the mantel, head bent, a booted foot resting on a small pile of extra logs at one end of the stone hearth. Her gaze settled on his shoulders and the breadth of his back, where his shirt, stretched taut by the lift of his arm, molded like a second skin to the muscle that roped his torso. Studying him, she recalled his strength and the ease with which he could overpower her.

But even as those memories slithered into her mind, she also recalled his gentleness, the many times he had touched her with a caress so light it made her breath catch.

Like a moth attracted to flame, she moved toward him, her heart bumping hard against her ribs. With each step she took, a little voice whispered inside her head, “Once there, you can’t turn back. Once there, you can’t turn back.” But her decision was made. And now that she’d made it, she wondered why it had taken her so long. Some things were destined to be, and she instinctively knew that having this man in her life was one of them.

He glanced up when she reached him. As she had so many times before, Annie looked into his eyes and thought of Christmas toffee still warm from the pan. His eyes were a rich, golden brown, so deep and clear she could get lost in them. Like the candy she loved so well, they beckoned irresistibly to her, tempting her, filling her with a yearning that she had, until now, been afraid to acknowledge. She came to a halt several steps shy of him, knowing even as she did that a mere arm’s length between them would not be enough to save her, not necessarily from him, but from herself.

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His eyes ... Tonight there was something more than warmth reflected in those amber depths, an awful, bone-deep sadness. It drew her a step closer to him, held her fast. She touched his shirt sleeve with quivering fingertips, her heart aching for him. Shifting his arm on the mantel, he turned more fully toward her. His shirt hung open to reveal his furry chest and hard belly, the well-padded planes defined by firelight and shadow. His skin gleamed as if he’d been dipped in bronze. Annie wanted to touch him to see what he felt like, but to do so would be tantamount to leaping off a cliff, and she was a little too wary of the consequences to initiate familiarity so quickly.