Annie's Song Part 26

She arched her back, her lungs whining for breath, as she strained helplessly to break his hold.

"Annie love, it's me." Alex reared up so his face was above hers. "It's me, sweetheart."

In the moonlight, her eyes were large, luminescent spheres in her pale face, her spiked lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Unable to move, she stared up at him. Slowly her expression went from one of panic to relief. With a ragged sob, she went totally limp.

Releasing her arms, Alex gathered her against his chest.

Like a terrified child, she looped her arms around his neck and clung to him, her entire body convulsing with sobs and a horrible shaking. Heartsick, he pressed his face against her sweet-smelling hair, knowing without having to ask that she must have seen Douglas in the hall. Seeking protection, she had come here, only to find him gone.

Taking care not to hurt her, Alex rolled onto his back, carrying her with him, never loosening his hold on her. He could only imagine how frightened she must have been.

Douglas, her rapist, inside the house. His guts knotted on a wave of shame. He was at fault for this. Cupping a hand over the back of her neck, Alex pressed a kiss to her temple.

Momentarily forgetting she couldn't hear him, he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, "Oh, Annie, forgive me. I'm sorry. So very sorry."

Her violent shivering didn't relent. Running a hand over her back, he felt coolness seeping through her flannel nightgown.

Hiding as she had been under the blankets, he knew she couldn't actually be cold. But there was still no denying that she felt chilled. Judging by the way she trembled, she was chilled clear to the bone.

Tucking in his chin, he repositioned her head on his shoulder so she might see his face. "It's all right, Annie. He's gone."

She gave a jerky nod and squeezed her eyes closed. Alex ran his hands briskly over her back and hip, trying in the only way he knew to restore her circulation. Despite his ministrations, her teeth continued to clack. When several more minutes pa.s.sed and she still hadn't stepped shaking, he began to grow alarmed.

"What you need, young lady, is a long, hot soak in the tub and some of Maddy's Irish coffee."

She clung more tightly to Alex's shoulders when he started to move.

"Annie..." Turning onto his side, Alex brushed his fingertips along her cheek and forced a smile. "I'm just going downstairs to get some hot water from the range reservoir. I'll be back before you can count to-" He nearly said "a hundred" but caught himself. "Before you can count to forty. You'll be safe here, I promise. Have I ever lied to you?''

She gave her head a little shake and loosened her arms from around his neck. The look on her face caught at his heart, and he kissed the end of her nose. "There's a good girl. I'll be right back. You stay here. Keep the blankets over yourself, all right?''

Again, her only response was to nod. Alex slipped from the bed, hating to leave her. When he turned to look back at her, though, the shuddering he saw going on under the coverlet convinced him he had no choice.

A few minutes later when he returned to the bedroom, he was carrying two five-gallon buckets filled with hot water.

After taking them to the water closet, he lighted the lamps in there and set himself to the task of preparing her a bath. When he had drawn enough cold water from the tap to partly fill the tub, he added the hot water from the buckets and tested the temperature with the inside of his wrist.

When he returned to the bed, he drew the coverlet down from Annie's face. "Up you go. Let's get you in the tub."

Teeth chattering, her small body shaking, she managed to sit up and swing her slender legs over the side of the mattress.

Alex helped her to stand and walk to the water closet. Afraid she might think he intended to disrobe her, he leaned slightly forward so she could read his lips as he explained, "While you're undressing and taking a soak, I'm going to go back down to the kitchen and make you some Irish coffee. Maddy's special recipe, guaranteed to warm you clear to the marrow of your bones."

At the edge of the tub, she reached to unfasten the small b.u.t.tons on the bodice of her gown, but her hands and body were shaking so badly that her fingers couldn't home in on their target. Alex smoothed her hair back from her shoulders and took over the task, his concern mounting with each b.u.t.ton he popped free. In his memory, he had seen only two individuals suffering from shock, and as he recalled, both of them had been stricken with violent shakes. Had Annie's terror of Douglas been so great that she was in shock?

Alex didn't know. He only knew that she seemed frighteningly fragile to him in that moment, swollen tummy and all. Slender little hands, lined with delicate bones. Narrow shoulders. Upper arms he could encompa.s.s with the span of his fingers. He wanted to gather her close and infuse his body heat into hers. To hold her until all thought of Douglas fled her mind.

As he finished unb.u.t.toning her gown, she plucked shakily at the wristband of one sleeve, her intent obviously to work her arm out. Looking on, Alex could see that she'd never manage to get the garment off by herself. s.h.i.t.

Ducking down to get her attention, he arched his eyebrows.

"You want me to help, sweet?"

Shivering violently, she shook her head, planted the heel of one hand against his shoulder, and gave him a little push. He recognized an invitation to leave when he received one. He just hoped she could manage without him. "I'll be right back, okay?" Grabbing a linen towel from the rack, he laid it over the edge of the oblong tub. "Cover yourself with that once you get in. It doesn't matter if you get it wet. That way, when I come back, you won't feel uncomfortable. All right?"

She nodded jerkily. Against his better judgment, Alex turned on his heel, closing the door of the water closet as he exited. En route from the bedroom, he paused at his armoire to grab a shirt, which he donned but didn't b.u.t.ton as he strode down the hall.

Once downstairs, he hastened to build a small fire in the cookstove to reheat the pot of coffee that sat on a burner. That done, he partially filled a mug, added a dollop of cream, and then topped off the cup with whiskey. After adding some sugar to taste, he headed back upstairs, expecting to find Annie up to her armpits in steaming hot water. Instead he found her sitting on the chamber pot commode, still wearing her gown, her arms hugging her middle.

"Annie..."

Alex set the mug of Irish coffee on the washstand and hunkered down in front of her. Never had he seen anyone shake like this. If the hot bath and whiskey-laced coffee didn't help, he would have to send for Dr. Muir. Given her pregnancy, he wasn't about to take any chances.

Fleetingly, Alex considered wakening Maddy to come help Annie into her bath, but he quickly discarded the thought. The housekeeper was sound asleep in another wing of the house. In the time it would take for her to get up, find a robe and slippers, and come to Alex's suite, the d.a.m.ned water would be getting tepid.

Grimly determined, he grasped one of Annie's hands, pried it from her ribs, and unfastened the b.u.t.ton on her cuff. "I'm going to help you just a bit," he informed her as he unfastened her other sleeve. At her dismayed expression, he flashed a grin.

"Honey, I'll have you out of that gown and into the tub so fast, all I'll see is a blur."

She didn't look convinced, but, concerned for her health, Alex gave her no opportunity to balk. Grasping her by the shoulders, he drew her up from the commode and got handfuls of the nightgown, all in one fell swoop. "Up with your arms."

He wasn't sure if she obliged him or if he dragged her arms up as he tugged the gown over her head. No matter. The instant she felt the hem lifting, she a.s.sisted him in the endeavor by jerking her arms free so she could attempt to cover herself. Alex couldn't help smiling slightly at what she chose to hide. Not her chest as most females might. Instead she angled one arm over her protruding stomach and clamped her other hand over the dark triangle of hair at the apex of her slender thighs. He was afforded a delightful display of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the tips of which had darkened with her advancing pregnancy to a deep rose.

He jerked his gaze away and made a valiant effort not to let it wander back. That proved a little difficult as he tried to a.s.sist her into the tub. Given her shaking, he didn't trust her footing or the strength of her arms to lower herself in. Where to grab a naked and very pregnant lady? Alex steered away from her waist, afraid he might hurt her or the babe. Her hips were out of the question. Too tantalizing. Too everything. He settled for grasping her under the arms.

Big mistake. He clenched his teeth and made a heroic attempt to think about baseball scores as he helped her step into the water. His palms felt on fire, and, facing her as he was, there was no place to put his thumbs but under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The silken brush of her skin against his knuckles brought beads of sweat to his brow. Ungainly and awkward, she bent at the knees, legs quivering. Alex continued to support her weight as she sank into the water. Baseball scores? Jesus. He couldn't even recollect the names of the teams.

"There you go. Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

The ache in Alex's groin made him think of the time a colt had kicked him in the crotch, but that seemed beside the point.

There was something seriously wrong with him, he decided. A normal man should not find a pregnant woman attractive. But to him, Annie was beautiful.

He sat on the commode lid and braced his elbows on his knees, hoping to G.o.d she hadn't noticed his arousal. His gaze shifted to the towel he'd left out for her, and he willed her to reach for it. Instead, shivering and shuddering, she pressed her back to the sloped end of the tub and sank down in the hot water, which came to her nipples and buoyed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Counting his blessings, however small, Alex was thankful that, from his present position, he could see her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the upper swell of her tummy, and nothing more. More, he couldn't handle.

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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 anch.o.r.ed 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

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 embarra.s.sed about being seen bare chested. In that stage of their development, there had been nothing for them to feel embarra.s.sed 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 a.s.sured 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s? He had expected her to be frightened, but instead she had watched him fumble with her b.u.t.tons 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s. What had she to hide? Little girls of six kept their lower anatomy covered because they were taught to do so from an early age. Shyness about their upper bodies came later, an att.i.tude that was taught to them by their mothers a year or so prior to their developing b.r.e.a.s.t.s. By the time Annie reached p.u.b.erty, 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.

"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 doork.n.o.b, gave it a vicious twist, and nearly tripped over his own feet getting out of there.

Twenty-one.

As Alex closed the door of the water closet, a rush of air swept across Annie's damp skin, raising goose b.u.mps 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 a.s.sociate 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 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 b.u.t.ton. With a trembling hand, she grasped the doork.n.o.b, 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 st.u.r.dy, 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 b.u.mping 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.