Sweet Annie Part 12

Her stomach fluttered crazily.

She touched his eyebrows next, so black, and yet they, too, were remarkably soft.

He circled her wrists and brought her palms to his cheeks to frame his face, and her skin felt cool against the divine heat of his. His ebony lashes swept down and his eyes closed.

He was beautiful, with strong sharply angled lines to his face, a soft sensuous mouth, hair and brows as black as midnight, his chin and jaw molded in clean lines. She could look at him forever. She could touch him forever. Her throat tightened with the sweet ache of emotion she felt toward this forbidden man.

What was it she felt? Grat.i.tude? Of course. Friendship? Not really, not compared to what she felt toward Charmaine or Diana. These feelings were more intense...more consuming...more-physical.

Was this l.u.s.t or love or a combination?

All she knew was that she couldn't get close enough, couldn't spend enough time in his company, couldn't draw enough pleasure from their touches and kisses to satisfy this wild greedy hunger she had for him.

"Come closer," she begged softly.

His eyelids rose and he slid from the keg to kneel on the braided rug at her feet. She turned her knees to one side to allow him to lean in close and he released her wrists to circle her waist.

She felt his mouth move over hers as much in her hands as against her lips. His jaw moved as he angled his head and parted his lips against hers.

His tongue dipped out to taste her, hot and satiny textured. Hesitantly she parted her lips and his next sweep brushed his tongue against hers.

The erotic contact reached to her very core. Threading her hands into his silky hair, she held him fast, returned his kiss, relished each thrust and foray and bewildering jolt of sensation.

His hands, bracketing her waist, rubbed up and down her ribs through the fabric of her dress and underthings. The heat melded right through the fabric to her flesh. His thumbs brushed the undersides of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and her heart hammered double-time.

She must have taken over someone else's body, someone beautiful and healthy and desirable for him to want her like this. Someone else must be occupying her mind for her to have cast caution and upbringing aside to engage in fleshly pleasures. Because she sure wasn't Annie, not the hesitant, self-conscious girl she'd been only a few months ago.

His attentions lent her boldness and confidence, and combined with the reactions of her body, she felt completely new-completely whole. She'd done things the way her parents expected her to for as long as she could bear. No matter how dangerous this was, she wanted it. She wanted Luke.

She pulled her mouth away and rested her forehead against his. "This was the longest week of my life."

"Once when I couldn't sleep for thinking of you, I walked over to your house in the middle of the night and watched the windows."

"You did?"

He nodded and her head bobbed against his. She smiled a foolishly giddy smile. "My room is downstairs on the east corner. Next time you'll know."

"You think there'll be a next time?" he asked, his lazy stroking through her dress keeping her nerves at a fevered pitch.

"Do you?" she countered.

"I hope not. I can't afford to lose sleep and I definitely can't afford to have your neighbors call the sheriff on me."

Finally, she reached for his hands, placed them firmly over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and leaned into him. She closed her eyes and absorbed the sensations. One summer when a temporary librarian had taken over for Mrs. Krenshaw, she and Charmaine had read the books they weren't allowed to check out. They'd found the anatomy books highly informative, and the fiction fascinating, though the romantic parts regarding physical details between men and women had been sketchy.

They hadn't been able to imagine how two people performed such acts with a straight face. Now she knew. She knew the pleasure and the heat, and she welcomed learning more, experiencing more.

Luke rose and guided her down upon the rough wool blanket that covered his bed. She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. This kiss was a wet fusion of lips and breath, and it was new in that he lay with his body molded along the side of hers, chest to breast, belly to hip, thigh to thigh, hard to soft, his head and shoulders above her in the golden lamplight.

She loved the feel of his muscled body pressed against her, the sc.r.a.pe of his chin on her neck, the pressure of his hand, molding and shaping her breast through layers of fabric. He pressed his cheek to hers and she found his velvety earlobe with her lips...her tongue.

He lifted a thigh over hers, shifting his weight, urging her down into the mattress with firm gentleness. "Does this hurt you anywhere?"

"Oh, no," came her hoa.r.s.e encouraging reply.

Their mouths fused, tongues and lips sleek and seeking. Annie rocked up against him, pressing as close as she could. His body stilled, then he ended the kiss with a series of plucks across her jaw.

Luke moved his weight to the side and drew her into the fold of his arm, stroking her shoulder, her hair, her cheek. Annie lay with her head against his chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his thudding heart as it slowed. She'd never dreamed of anything so good, of anyone so-alive. Alive and warm and exciting and real. Those were only a few of the words that described this man she wanted, this man she loved.

A cat meowed somewhere in the darkened depths of the stable.

"Luke, I lo-"

He pressed his fingers against her lips. "It'll only make it worse if we say it."

She pulled his hand away and tipped her head to look at him. "We?" she asked hopefully.

"Even if your family didn't hate me, I couldn't offer to marry you, Annie," he said, regret tingeing his words with roughness she knew he didn't intend. "I couldn't bring you here to live. I have to have a house first."

"It wouldn't matter to me," she said. "I would live anywhere with you."

"It would matter to me. And to your family. And to the people of Copper Creek. I have to do better than this for you."

She shifted and turned to her side, raising her head to see his face. "You talked about building a house."

"In the future. I spent every dime I ever earned and saved to build this livery. It's barely started to make money."

"The waiting is so hard," she said.

He curled a springy tendril of her hair around his forefinger. "You're not tellin' me anything I don't know."

"Well, why do we have to wait for a house? I'd have all I'd ever need right here."

"There isn't even a real stove."

"I can barely cook anyway."

He chuckled, but then sobered. "Annie, babies come when people get married. We couldn't bring a baby to this place."

Warmth seeped through her belly and her limbs at those astonishing words. Tears burned behind her eyes at the miraculous thought of having her own baby. She laid her forehead on his chest. "You're so sensible and so wise and...and I can't believe you want me. I've always thought no one would want me-that I couldn't have a life like other people. Now I believe I can."

She raised her head and met his glistening black eyes. "I believe you can, too," he said. "I believe you can do anything you want to."

"Well, I want to marry you," she declared.

He pulled her up for a sweet lingering kiss. "I want that, too. Let's be patient a while longer."

"They're not going to change their minds," she warned him. "I've been fighting their constraints my entire life."

"I know," he said, threading his fingers through hers, palm to palm. "But we have to wait, so let's hope that somethin' changes in the meantime."

Change didn't seem likely to her, but she guessed she could hope if he could.

"I'd better take you home," he said a short time later. "We both need our sleep. If your parents woke up, we'd both be in more trouble than we can deal with. We took a big chance tonight."

"I know. But I wish I didn't have to leave."

He stood and pulled her to her feet with a pained expression. "Let's go."

"We can do this again," she suggested.

"We have to be careful," he replied. "I don't want to give them fuel for their hatred."

"They don't hate you, really."

"They'd rather see me hit by a train than living in the same town," he disagreed. "It's cooled off out there, you'd better wear my coat for the ride home." He lifted a wool jacket down from a peg and held it out. Annie slipped her arms into the engulfing garment that carried his scent.

He saddled a different mount for the short ride home, helped Annie atop the horse's back from a barrel near the door, and led him outside. He climbed up behind her and she leaned back against him.

Luke buried his nose in her hair, inhaled her sweet fragrance, and wished their time together didn't have to be only a stolen hour here and there.

He walked the horse along the shadowy black streets, taking as long as he could to reach the lane where the stately Sweet.w.a.ter house stood. He never traveled this way that he didn't remember the day they'd met and think of the vivacious girl who had captured his admiration and interest.

Annie still possessed that same zest for life, the same youthful spontaneity and deep appreciation for things most people took for granted.

"It's torture not being together," she told him after he'd lifted her down and helped her into her chair.

"How well I know," he agreed.

"I'm so happy," she whispered, and he knelt in front of her to kiss her one last time. "Nothing has ever made me as happy as being with you. Not in my whole life."

"Then I'm a very lucky man." He took her hand from his cheek and pressed it against his heart. "You're in here," he told her. "I'm taking you with me."

"It's a good place to be," she said, closing her eyes in the moonlight. "Safe. Warm. Loving."

He kissed her lips. "Remember that."

When she opened her eyes, tears glistened. "I will."

"Shall I push you closer to the house?"

"Just a little."

He stepped behind her chair and propelled it toward the Sweet.w.a.ter home.

"That's far enough," she said and handed him his coat.

"Remember," he said into her ear from behind, then turned and loped back to his horse. From his vantage point, he watched through the trees and she rolled herself up the ramp to the porch. Several minutes later, the light in the window she'd indicated came on, and after a brief moment, was extinguished.

Shrugging into the coat that now smelled faintly of lilacs, Luke hauled himself up onto the gelding's back and with the command of his heels, rode away.

He turned the animal's head away from town and bent low over his neck, urging him to run. He rode with abandon, the instructions to the horse automatic, because his mind was anywhere but on the ride.

Leaving the road, he skirted the edge of a lake, pounded along a trail above a canyon, and continued on. They had taken a foolish risk tonight. What if someone had seen them-what if her parents had missed her and been waiting? What if they sent her away to keep her from him?

That had always been his fear, and now the fear of separation was greater. Would the fact that she was an adult keep them from sending her off? Perhaps they would have missed her as much as he would've, and that's why they'd never done it. He didn't want to take her from them. He just wanted to love her.

Because he did love her. As much as he directed his mind to steer from that thinking, the fact was inevitable. Indisputable. He loved her. He wanted her. He needed her. Annie. His sweet Annie.

He had reined in the horse and now walked him around the edge of the lake to which he'd somehow returned. His blood still pounded hot and thick in his veins. Even after the wind had seared his face and nostrils he could smell her on his hands and his clothes and see her face in the star-studded sky.

Luke stopped walking and stared up into the heavens. He hadn't told her. He hadn't said the words that would make being separated even harder. The words welled in his chest, burned on his tongue, blurred his vision and made the stars overhead streak together. They'd been there for so long, for an eternity, without recognition or expression. They tore from his throat like a volcanic explosion.

"I love her!" he shouted across the water and his tortured voice echoed back to him: I love her-er-er! "I love Annie Sweet.w.a.ter!" I love Annie Sweet.w.a.ter-ater-ater.

A frog or a turtle splashed into the water from the nearby bank.

The night remained as silent as death, the stars bright pinpoints of icy brilliance. She knew. And she felt the same.

Her frustration must be a hundred times as bad as his, because she couldn't ride out her release, couldn't shout to the heavens, couldn't work up a sweat over the forge and purge her mind and body with work.

The toe of his boot came in contact with a good-size rock. He kicked it and winced at the pain that shot through his foot. Picking up the heavy stone, raising both hands over his head, he heaved it as far as he could into the water.

After a satisfying splash, a ring of circles expanded in increasing sizes in the moonlight.

But she loved him. He'd stopped the words from falling from her sweet lips. In her heart she was his.

Now he had to find a way to make her his in all respects. He needed a house. That was the first order of business. And he set his mind to planning just how he could make that happen. He would build Annie a house. And then he would make her his wife. And then he could stop scaring night creatures and maybe even sleep...in her arms.

Luke mounted the horse and kicked him into a run.

Chapter Eight.

Luke sat in the lobby of the bank, the warmth of the summer morning not enough to cause the heat p.r.i.c.kling along his spine and the moisture forming on his upper lip. He withdrew the handkerchief he'd tucked into the inside pocket of his best worsted wool coat and dabbed at his skin, hoping no one noticed.

He'd never done this. He'd never had to ask anyone for money. He'd built his livery the hard way, the honest way, through sweat and labor, a dollar at a time, a horse at a time, a board at a time, until his dream had taken shape.

He'd hoped, planned maybe, in the back of his mind, that it would never come to this-that he'd never be sitting here-never be asking for a loan. But when life boiled down to just the bare facts, Annie meant more than his pride.

The man at the one open teller window cast him another quizzical glance from behind steel bars. The bald-headed man sitting at a desk outside Eldon Sweet.w.a.ter's office had been eyeballing Luke ever since he'd arrived forty-five minutes ago. Luke'd never been inside this bank before. He didn't trust his money here, and he'd never doubted the wisdom of that choice.

As luck would have it, Burdell arrived through the front door just then, did a double take when he saw Luke sitting in the straight-backed chair, and with a scowl, marched to his father's office and entered without knocking.