Housebound (19 page)

“You're a witch, do you know that?” he whispered hoarsely as she quickly divested him of the rest of his clothing, until he was completely, gloriously naked. “All my good intentions were completely worthless.” He quickly stripped away the last barrier, her peach silk panties, and before she realized what was happening he had rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him.

She lay stretched out across his body, her hair a curtain of black silk around him, and a sudden wave of shyness swept over her. But the fever pitch of their emotions was too high. And after only a token resistance she let him arrange her pliant body over his poised, waiting one.

His fingers reached down to find the hot, needing core of her, but she was ready for him. Firm hands caught her hips, levering her forward so that his massive strength rested just outside its haven. And with a desperation born of need, he pulled her down onto him, his glorious hardness filling her to the depths of her very soul.

A helpless little wail of agonized pleasure escaped her lips, and she looked down at him with complete amazement and wonder, her pale face transfixed.

His hands still firm on her hips, he began to move, arching up into her, then slowly pulling back, and then again, each time filling her more completely. She could feel her body
shivering atop his, feel the rigid control in his arms and legs as he tried to slow the pace, to bring her along with him. But she was far ahead, her body shuddering with spasms of need that were rapidly taking over.

And then abruptly his tenuous control abandoned him, and he arched into her as her body went rigid in his arms. And he followed her, locked together through a mindless eternity, his breath hoarse and rasping in her ear as she sobbed against his damp, heaving chest.

His arms went around her, holding her shivering, sweat-damp body against his, both of them still shaking from the hasty, animalistic coupling that had left them both barely sated. His hands were gentle and trembling against her back, and she placed a shy, longing kiss against the warm, tense cord of his neck before trying to slide away.

“Don't you dare,” he whispered on a sudden breath of laughter. “You're not going anywhere.”

“But I'm too heavy,” she protested weakly, leaning her head back on his shoulder, the soft wisps of hair tickling her nose.

“I think I'm strong enough to bear it, Annie love,” he replied, one hand slowly massaging its way up the length of her backbone, the fingers deft and almost as arousing as his tongue had been earlier that night. She stretched into that hand like a luxuriating kitten. “That was only a preliminary. I don't know what sort of witchcraft you used, but I haven't been so inept since I was seventeen years old. I have to retrieve my reputation.”

“I wouldn't have called that inept.” She groaned beneath the practiced kneading of his fingers.

“Perhaps not.” He allowed himself a small, satisfied grin. “But far too brief.”

Anne could feel her body melting into his, feel the slow stirring of the coals of passion that had never been completely banked in her still-trembling loins. “But shouldn't we get back to the others? Everyone will be at dinner by now—they'll miss us.” Her fingers trailed lightly up to his muscled arms, and she gave in to the temptation and allowed her tongue to gently taste the salty tang of his skin.

“Let them,” he murmured, one hand cradling her head against his chest, encouraging her shy explorations.

It was her first chance to enjoy a man's body in full light, and with a sudden shedding of inhibitions she threw herself into her discoveries with zest, her mouth trailing sweet, nibbling kisses down his lean torso, her fingertips tracing delicate, random patterns on the flesh her mouth couldn't quite reach. She would have preferred greater access to the unquestionably beautiful male body beneath her, but his hands still held her captive, still filled her with the renewed proof of his desire.

She had just reached his flat male nipples, her tongue gently teasing them, when she felt her body lifted. A moment later she was flat on her back in the soft bed as Noah leaned over her, his hips pinning her to the bed. His mouth caught the rosy tip of her breast in a glorious retaliation of her sensual explorations, and with an inarticulate cry she arched up against him, against his mouth and his hips, as once more he began to move within her.

This time his control was absolute, now that the white-hot urgency of their desire had been partially slaked. Slowly he moved, pulling away from her, then returning to fill her completely, so that she cried out with the glory of it.

Slowly, inexorably, the tension began to build as a slow,
burning fire that quickly flamed out of control began to engulf her. That passion was swiftly climbing to a fever pitch once more, and desperately she tried to increase the pace, to quicken those slow, driving thrusts that were leading her to the edge of madness. Oblivion was just beyond her reach, shimmering beyond her grasp, and desperately she reached for it. But it eluded her and she fell back, sobbing beneath his measured control.

“I can't,” she wept against him, hiding her face against his shoulder. “I can't, Noah.”

The hands that were bracing his body shifted to gently cup her face, forcing her tear-drenched eyes to meet his. Softly his mouth brushed hers. “Of course you can,” he whispered against her trembling lips. “I'll help you.”

Slowly he pulled away, separating their bodies, and she clutched for him, emitting a low wail of anguish at his sudden desertion.

Quickly, deftly he turned her over, one arm under her waist, holding her up as he returned to her with a sure, deep thrust that seemed to reach even deeper to the center of her being. She tried to lurch away in sudden shyness and panic, but he held her firmly.

“Don't be frightened, Annie love,” he murmured in her ear, his body covering hers, warm and protecting. “I won't hurt you. I promise.” He began raining gentle, reassuring kisses across her shoulders as he once more began to move in that slow, sweet rhythm of love. “I don't get to kiss you this way,” he continued, his warm, deep voice soothing her initial fright much as his body was once more exercising its mesmerizing effect on her. “I don't get to watch your beautiful eyes when I fill you.” Action suited words, and Anne felt that overwhelm
ing tension begin to build once more. “But it still has definite advantages.”

The hand that had been supporting her around her waist slid downward, his clever fingers seeking and swiftly discovering their partially hidden goal.

And with the force of a cannon she was catapulted over that edge of oblivion, flung out into the velvet darkness of love. Somewhere in the darkness she felt his arm support her sagging body, heard her voice sobbing her release into the rumpled sheets. And then he followed her in a blaze of glory, and she heard his voice calling her, calling her name, and it was filled with love and wonder.

He collapsed on top of her, and they fell flat against the mattress, his arms tight around her, the fingers almost cruelly possessive for a too brief moment. And then he released her, rolling to one side, an arm flung up to shield his eyes against the brightness of the hotel-room light, his warm, smooth chest rising and falling rapidly.

Reality was returning with distressing rapidity. Anne opened her weary eyes to watch him, eyes filled with an inescapable love and sorrow. Slowly she tried to edge away, but his arm shot out and caught her, dragging her willing body against his.

There was nothing either of them could say. Anne was too profoundly shaken by the last few minutes, by something she'd only dreamed existed. She couldn't guess for one moment that Noah was suffering the same wonder and amazement.

And then his breathing slowed, his heartbeat lessened, and she realized with a combination of tenderness and annoyance that he had fallen soundly, blissfully asleep. It was far too easy to pull out of his arms then—his hands clutched at her instinc
tively before falling back to sleep once more. Slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb him, she slipped from the bed. Scooping up her scattered clothes from the floor, she made a silent exit into the bathroom. Much as she wanted to stay in that bed with him, curled up against the warm strength of his beautiful body, she knew if she stayed it would take nothing short of physical violence to dislodge her. She had to keep reality firmly in mind.

Quietly she closed the bathroom door behind her, then turned to the mirror to survey the ravages the last hour had wrought on her body. She looked well and truly loved, she noted with a sigh. The kiss-swollen lips, the faint redness from his closely shaven beard, even the tiny mark of his teeth on her shoulder. Her green eyes were smiling and sultry, and she might as well wear a scarlet “A” on her chest if she thought she had a chance in hell of fooling her inquisitive family.

Still smiling, she reached for a towel. And for the first time saw the reflection of the lavender silk robe in the mirror. The robe she'd given Holly for Christmas two years ago.

Looking down, she noticed her sister's jumbled cosmetics littering the top of the sink. She stared at them numbly, as her clumsy fingers pulled the emerald dress around her shivering body. Her evening sandals were on the bathroom floor, inches away from Holly's slippers.

With a low moan of pain Anne slammed barefoot out of the bathroom, her dress held clumsily about her shivering body. She didn't even look at the figure of the man sitting bolt upright in the bed, watching her out of darkly troubled eyes as she scooped up her cape with shaking hands. A moment later she was gone, the door slammed behind her, racing down the deserted hallway as if the hounds of hell were after her.

Noah stared after her. The scent of her perfume was still in the air, the feel of her was still imprinted on his flesh. Never had Nialla seemed farther away.

Punching up some pillows behind him, he leaned back against the headboard and longed for the cigarettes he had given up five years ago. His mind was still clouded with sleep and Anne's precipitous exit, and it took him a moment to realize how alone he was. Even Nialla was gone, his constant companion of the last few years. The anger and rage had left him, finally, after all his efforts to banish them. Left him with a fond and sad memory of a love that had died, leaving him behind to go onward.

Leaving him behind to make an even bigger mess of things than he would have imagined. And at this point there was nothing he could do about it—he was going to betray Anne on her most fundamental level.

He stared at the door, more alone than he had ever been. “Annie,” he whispered, uselessly, belatedly. The room only echoed its silence.

It was very late when Anne finally joined the third stage of Ashley's celebrations. Her face was pale but perfectly composed as she glided into the elegantly seedy ballroom, and even the sight of Noah Grant, impeccably dressed and seemingly completely at ease, failed to put a dent in her composure. Besides, he was easy enough to ignore, absorbed as he was in conversation with a short, dapper man whom Anne failed to recognize. The noise of the celebrations had risen proportionally to the amount of spirits consumed, and Anne could only thank heaven that she'd availed herself of both aspirin and a tranquilizer before returning to the bosom of her family.

“Where the hell have you been?” Holly demanded in a loud whisper from directly behind her. “You've been gone for hours. I wondered for a while when I saw Noah was missing, too, but he's been back for ages now. Were you off with him?”

“No,”

“Then have you seen Ashley?”

“Ashley? Isn't he here?” Anne scanned the crowd with worried eyes, her gaze slipping over Noah's lean shoulders with indecent haste.

“Didn't even make it through dinner. He was very drunk,
Anne, and acting sort of crazy, even for him. Wilson went looking for him, but he couldn't find any trace of him.”

“Did you tell Proffy?”

Holly snorted inelegantly. “He's too busy flirting with the Merry Widow. I'm afraid we're about to have a wicked stepmother.”

“She's welcome to him.”

“Has she seen him?” Wilson joined them, his handsome face creased with worry, and without thinking he slid his arm protectively around Holly.

A small, resigned grin lit Anne's face at the naturalness of the gesture. “Not a trace,” she said. “Did anyone see him go? Was he alone?”

“He must have been—no one else seems to be missing except you. I'm sure he's all right,” Wilson insisted, giving Holly's narrow shoulders a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at him, love and gratitude shining out of her china-blue eyes, and Anne felt a sudden, unworthy pain near her heart.
Damn it, Holly shouldn't have everyone
, she thought morosely.

“Of course he is,” she agreed, squashing down that nagging jealousy. “In any case, I might go check the lobby.”

“That's the first place I looked,” Wilson said.

“Well, I can look again,” she replied mildly, heading off toward the door. She could feel a tall figure following her, and even though her senses told her no, she hoped and dreaded it might be Noah.

But it was Wilson's hand that stopped her just outside the ballroom. “Anne, I have to talk to you,” he began, tension giving him a faint wheeze. “You've been incredibly elusive these past few weeks, and I've let this go on far too long. Anne—”

She put one slim hand to his lips, a rueful smile playing
about her mouth. “There's no need, Wilson,” she said lightly. “I just hope she doesn't lead you a merry dance.” And slipping off the pearl-and-diamond ring, she placed it in one limp hand, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips in a sweet, grateful farewell. As she looked up, her senses once more betrayed her, and from across the room she could see Noah staring at her out of fathomless, wintry eyes.

Let him think what he wanted about that kiss, she told herself grimly as she escaped from the bemused Wilson, who stood there looking after her, the ring still clutched in one hand. Noah was about to lose both Kirkland women. Not that that should bother him—doubtless he already had replacements lined up around the block in New York. And there was always Nialla's sacred memory, she added bitterly, ashamed of herself for her jealousy.

It was well after midnight, and the lobby of the Elgin Hotel was dimly lit, the darkness covering some of its seamier qualities and giving it a mysteriously elegant air. The place was deserted; no sign of her brother or even a desk clerk to be seen. Anne hesitated, common sense telling her she should rejoin the party, even if it was the last thing she felt like doing, an eerie sixth sense warning her to wait.

She listened to that sixth sense for a brief moment. Just long enough to hear the faint voice that floated toward her from a darkened corner of the lobby. Even in that thin thread of sound she recognized Ashley's mocking drawl, and she rushed across the deserted lobby.

He was huddled in a chair in the surrounding darkness, the back shielding him from prying eyes. The light was dim in the corner, but not dim enough to hide his condition from his sister's worried eyes.

“Oh, my God, Ashley, what happened?” she breathed, almost afraid to touch him.

There didn't seem to be a part of his body that was undamaged. The black silk suit was in tatters around his scrawny frame, his hands were cut and bloody, his entire body seemed to vibrate with pain. His face was the most horrifying of all—one eye was completely closed by the purplish swelling, and the entire expanse was covered with cuts and bruises. His noble beak of a nose was broken, his lips were split and swollen, and the one eye that was still capable of looking up at her was curiously resigned.

“I ran into a door,” he said lightly, his voice muffled through the damaged lips.

“Who did this to you, Ashley?” she demanded, squatting down beside him, ignoring her dress trailing on the none-too-clean carpet as she took one hand in hers. He winced, and a deeper panic filled her heart.

“Did they hurt your hands, Ashley?” she demanded hoarsely. If Ashley could no longer paint they might just as well have killed him.

Slowly, painfully he flexed them. “Nothing permanent,” he reassured her, his wry smile macabre in his battered face. “Don't look so stricken, sister dear. These things happen.”

“Well, they shouldn't,” she said fiercely. “Especially not to my brother.”

He appeared to consider it for a moment, then sighed, a long, sad sound. “You're right, of course. I think I'd better learn to be more careful.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised one wounded hand in protest, the fingers trembling slightly. “Don't preach at me, I beg of you, Anne. I think I've reached about the limit of my endurance tonight.”

“I won't preach, Ashley. I never have,” she said. “I'm not about to ask you to change your life for me.”

“I don't think I could if I wanted to,” he said harshly.

“But I can ask you to take better care of yourself. I love you, Ashley, and I don't want to wake up one morning and find you dead in some alleyway.”

“You won't, Annie. It's not in my karma. But you have a point.” He sighed, and even that made his body shiver with pain. “Perhaps a bout of celibacy might do wonders for me. Abstinence of all sorts—I could go on a retreat to some secluded place. Perhaps a monastery in New Mexico.”

“Oh, no, the poor monks,” Anne shot back on a breath of laughter, and Ashley did his best to glare at her through his ravaged face.

“You lack respect, darling. Help me to my feet.”

“You're not going back to the party?”

Ashley smirked, the smile off center on the swollen lips. “It would make a gloriously dramatic touch, don't you think? But no. I would be more than grateful if you would help me back to my room. It's just down the corridor from the one Holly and Noah are sharing.”

There were times when Anne and her brother understood each other very well. “Yes, I know about that,” she replied calmly. “I just wonder where she's going to put Wilson.” He leaned heavily against her as they made their slow, halting way down the corridor.

“You made the break then? Good girl.”

“It was long overdue.”

Ashley sighed. “Maybe now she'll stop throwing Grant in your face all the time.”

“I think Noah's doing his part,” she said.

“Poor Anne. You're worth more than the lot of us put together, do you know that?” He shook his head sadly. “You should never trust us—we'll just use you and betray you when your back is turned.”

Anne smiled up at him, worry still clouding her eyes. “I trust you.”

“You shouldn't,” he said abruptly, halting outside his door.

“Do you want me to come in with you? Help clean up some of your cuts?”

He shook his head. “I can take care of it. What I need now is about forty-eight hours of sleep. Not that I'm going to get it. I'll be out for lunch tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said firmly. “Why don't you come alone and stay for a while? I can even get rid of Proffy and Holly if you want real peace and quiet. You know how peaceful the old house is.”

“I know.” He waited in his open doorway, his one undamaged eye sad and knowing.

“You're sure I can't do anything more?”

“Positive.”

“Then I'll see you tomorrow.” She was loath to leave him like that, but she had little choice. “And Ashley—”

“Yes?”

“I think New Mexico is a very good idea. As long as you keep your hands off the monks.”

He gave her a travesty of a grin in reply to her sally, stepped inside his room, and shut the door behind him.

“Is he all right?”

She should have known he'd be there. Indeed, part of her had been uncannily aware of his presence at the end of the hall, and Ashley of course had a full view of him just beyond her shoulder.

She turned to face him, her expression impassive. “I don't really know,” she replied. “I hope so.”

“What happened to him?”

“He wouldn't tell me. It sounds like it wasn't the first time something like that happened.”

“It probably wasn't,” Noah said coolly. “What are you going to tell the others?”

That was a new problem. “I don't know,” she said, turning over the problem in her head. “Maybe I won't have to say a thing. After all, Ashley delights in being eccentric—it's just like him to abandon his first opening in almost two years.”

He was curiously subdued, the man beside her, surprisingly uncertain of both himself and her. Gone was that bone-melting smile, that damnable self-assurance that held him back from her. In its place was a pain and vulnerability that matched her own. “Why did you leave like that?” he said suddenly, and Anne could feel what little color she had left drain from her face.

“I didn't fancy running into your roommate,” she snapped.

He flinched as if struck. “Anne,” he said, and his voice was low and troubled and deeply moving. “I have to—”

“There you are!” Holly swept down the hall, Wilson in tow, a fatuous expression on her face. “You missed all the excitement, both of you, and for the second time tonight.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say so,” Noah murmured, a trace of his old wicked smile lighting his face for a moment.

“Well, you missed a fabulous dinner!” Holly said. “It would have quite put you in the shade, Anne.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Noah drawled again, his hand reaching out for Anne's. Deftly she avoided it—the last thing she wanted was the demoralizing touch of his hand on her flesh. Noah ignored her skittishness, moving closer with a
casual grace, the closeness of his lean body lending a subtle support that she sorely needed. “Anything else earth-shattering besides the dinner?”

Holly giggled. “Of course, silly!” She waved her hand at him. Anne's ring now adorned her slender hand, the sparkle of the diamonds matching the brightness of her eyes. “We're going to have a double wedding.”

“A double wedding?” Anne echoed faintly.

“Proffy just made his announcement. Not that it came as a surprise to any of us. The Merry Widow is positively preening, and I think it'll be an absolute stitch to get married together. We'll have to hurry, though, if we're going to do it before…” The words trailed off as an astonishing guilt darkened Holly's eager face. “Before I have to go back on tour,” she continued firmly.

“That wasn't what you were about to say,” Anne said very quietly.

“You're not psychic, Anne,” Holly shot back with a little too much sharpness. “You'll help me with my wedding dress, won't you, darling? We can start planning tomorrow.”

“Are you coming out to the house, too?”

“For lunch,” she said, and the tension surrounding them was thick with hidden meanings.

Anne stared at her sister for a long moment. The source of the tension was logical—Wilson had made an obscenely fast switch of his affections, and heaven only knew what Noah was thinking. But there was something else going on, something she couldn't quite fathom. And she had little doubt that none of the three was about to enlighten her.

“Well,” she said finally, “congratulations. I guess I'd better go find Proffy and Letitia and wish them well.”

“I'll come with you,” Noah said with alacrity. “We still have something to talk about.”

“No.” It came out a little louder than she expected, and the three of them stared at her. There was no surprise on Noah's face, only a determination that didn't augur well for her success in avoiding him.