Annie's Song (25 page)

He brushed the backs of his knuckles along her cheek. Little tingles spread over her skin wherever he touched her. At any other time, she thought it would probably be a wonderfully nice feeling, but as angry as she was, all it did was make her want to shudder.

“Annie, about what happened to you up at the falls that day ... “He rubbed his thumb under her eye to catch a stray tear. “I don’t suppose it’s ever possible for a woman to completely forget something like that. But I want to make it clear to you, here and now, that I am nothing like my brother. What Douglas did to you was— well, it was despicable—and as long as I draw breath, no one will ever hurt you like that again. Do you understand me, Annie? Never.”

At his words, Annie’s heart started to jump around inside her chest like a frightened bird. The falls, that awful man. Douglas ... Alex’s brother.

“If and when the time comes that you and I—” He drew a fingertip across her lower lip, his amber eyes turning cloudy with what looked like tenderness. “Well, I guess it goes without saying that once you and I grow comfortable with each other, I’m hoping our relationship will change, that we’ll be able to enjoy the special kind of closeness that other couples do.”

Annie stiffened and tried to draw away. He tightened his grip on her chin, smiling gently. “Not right away, of course. Don’t fly into a panic. And only if it’s what you want as well. Unlike my brother, I’ll never be rough with you or cause you any pain. I promise you that. You have absolutely nothing to fear from—”

Annie jerked from his grasp and shot up from her chair. The room suddenly seemed airless, and her lungs grabbed frantically for breath. Pressing a hand to her throat, she retreated a step from him, her horrified gaze fixed on his dark face. As she moved away, he rose slowly to his feet.

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“Annie...”

She shook her head in violent denial, then spun and ran from the room.

When Annie ran, Alex went after her, a little amazed at how quick she was on her feet, especially when they reached the stairs. Like a gazelle, she took the ascent in graceful bounds. Right on her heels, Alex was about to catch her by the arm when she seemed to sense how close he was and turned to confront him. Pale with fright, she swung around, her small elbow glancing off his cheekbone. Alex knew it was an accident, but she was so appalled at having struck him, she nearly lost her footing. He reached to steady her. Seeing him make a move toward her, she flung herself beyond his grasp and literally scrabbled to ascend the rest of the stairs.

Afraid that she might fall, Alex wisely chose to let her get slightly ahead of him until she gained safe footing on the landing. As he resumed pursuit, he discovered that he had underestimated her speed. She reached the nursery well ahead of him, ran inside, and slammed the door. Just as he reached the room, he heard something thud against the wood. To his amazement, the door would only open about an inch when he tried it, and he realized the little minx had wedged a straight-backed chair under the knob.

“Annie?” Alex hauled in a calming breath and raked a hand through his hair. Of all the stupid, asinine stunts he had ever pulled, this took the prize. To drop it on her that way. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d done it. Sooner or later, preferably sooner so she didn’t learn it from someone else, he would have had to tell her about the marriage. But not like this. “Annie, honey, please open the door. Let me explain.

What I said downstairs? Well, you obviously mistook what I meant. If you’ll just give me a chance, I’ll clarify things.”

After delivering that nice little speech, it occurred to Alex he was talking to a deaf girl. Christ. He pinched the bridge of his nose and dragged in another bracing breath. What was she doing in there? His only comforting thought was that, no matter how frightened she was, she couldn’t leap out the window.

And wasn’t that a fine kettle of fish? He shoved against the door. The damned chair held fast.

He would scare her half to death if he shouldered his way into the room. The chair would undoubtedly go flying, the door would probably sustain damage again, and in addition to all that, such an entrance wouldn’t exactly pave the way for reassurance. Turning, Alex leaned his back against the wall, trying frantically to think of some way he might convince her to unblock the door. Since she couldn’t hear, eloquent speeches weren’t going to do the trick.

Ah ... but she could hear, he reminded himself. What he needed was some kind of noisemaker.

Something that would seem so wondrous to her that she wouldn’t be able to resist it. Unfortunately he didn’t have a church organ handy. Music, he guessed, would probably entice Annie to walk through fire.

Music ... Alex pushed away from the wall. Music! Of course. He raced down the corridor to his bedchamber.

Huddling on the nursery floor with her shoulders squeezed between the bed and the wall, Annie peered out over her mattress at the dense shadows in her room. Without a lamp burning, everything looked bathed in blue, eerie and slightly ghostlike. With her nerves still leaping from the confrontation with Alex, it was all too easy for her to think she could see monstrous creatures hovering in the dark recesses, watching her and waiting to pounce.

She shook away the thought, refusing to let her vivid imagination run away with her. Right now, the only thing that was likely to pounce on her was Alex Montgomery, and she’d do well to watch the door
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instead of the shadows. If he decided to come in, that puny little chair she’d wedged under the knob wasn’t likely to stop him.

His wife. Every time Annie thought the word, she cringed. And when she let herself ponder its implications, she started to sweat. A cold, shivery sweat that filmed her skin and ran in icy rivulets down her ribs. Douglas, her attacker, his brother. Oh, God! She’d guessed as much. From the very beginning, she’d guessed as much. But over time, she had stopped feeling constantly afraid.

Until now ... He wanted to be close with her? He had admitted as much. Close with her as Douglas had been that day at the falls, only, of course, he promised not to hurt her. Did he really think she was stupid enough to believe that?

Tears filled her eyes. Of course, he believed it. She was Annie the dummy, after all, and dummies believed whatever they were told. Right? Wrong. Even if she were that stupid, it would make no difference. As if the pain she had suffered that day had been the only awful part? She didn’t want to be touched like that ever again. Not ever. Not by anyone.

Memories slammed into Annie’s mind, harsh with clarity. Since that day, she had tried very hard never to think about what happened. But sometimes, like now, she couldn’t make the pictures go away. Alex wanted to do those things with her. And she was his wife.

Looking back on that morning now, it seemed so obvious. The minister, head bent and reading from the prayer book. Her mama making her nod her head. Her papa helping her to draw lines on the paper. She had been married that morning. To Alex Montgomery. That was why he’d brought her here, because he had made her his wife, not because she was fat and her parents didn’t want her anymore.

Furious—with herself, with her parents, with Alex— Annie scrubbed her eyes with her fists and held her breath to keep from sobbing. If she started making noise, her husband might come. Oh, God, her husband .. . Annie had watched her mama enough to know that husbands were always the boss and that wives scurried around, trying frantically to keep them happy.

Well, if she was going to have to scurry for the rest of her life, the very least she deserved for her trouble was a pretty white dress and a gift from somebody. She didn’t even care what it was, just as long as it was all wrapped up in fancy paper so she wouldn’t know what was inside until she opened it. Ever since she was a little girl, she had always liked surprises.

Just not the kind she’d gotten tonight.

A high keening sound suddenly pierced the silence to rake against her raw nerve endings. Annie had no idea what it was. Tipping her head, she stared wide-eyed into the deepening shadows, trying to guess from which direction it came. The sound trailed through the quiet to her again, strange and lilting, never ceasing.

Curiosity drew Annie from her hiding place between the bed and the wall. A narrow band of light from the hallway spilled into her room through the cracked door. Her gaze fixed on the opening, she moved slowly forward. A few feet shy of the chair, she drew to a stop, went up on her tiptoes, and craned her neck. Through the narrow opening, she could see Alex. He sat on the floor outside her room, his back pressed against the opposite wall of the corridor. In his hands was something long and silver, which he held at an angle to his lips.

Music.

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Annie stood there, transfixed. The sound made the little hairs on her arms stand on end. It was so very beautiful. Scarcely realizing she moved, she stepped closer to the door so she might hear it better, and still the lilting sound beckoned to her. She couldn’t resist inching just a little bit nearer. Then nearer still.

Before she knew it, her face was pressed to the crack, her gaze riveted to Alex. Nightmare or enchantment? To Annie, he seemed to be both, terrifying but tantalizing.

She could see his chest expanding, then expelling as he blew into the mouthpiece, his blunt fingertips gracefully depressing little round keys to produce certain notes. Sometimes, she couldn’t hear them. But most of the time, she could, and they were wondrous.

Suddenly he stopped playing and looked directly at her. Annie sprang away from the crack, her heart slamming, but even standing a bit away, she could still see his face. He was holding out the silver thing, his eyes compelling. “Would you like to play it, Annie?”

Play it? She pressed a hand to her throat, filled with a longing so sharp it nearly hurt. Music. To actually hold it in her hands ...

Alex sprang to his feet, which sent her staggering backward again in retreat. With a lazy, unhurried air, he approached the door and held the silver thing up near the opening. “It’s easy to play, once you get the hang of it.” He bent his head to peer through the crack at her, his smile reassuring. “It’s a flute. I used to take lessons as a young boy. I had nearly forgotten I still had it.”

Annie couldn’t tear her gaze from his. The flute would never fit through the crack of the door, and he knew it. For him to hand it to her, she would have to move the chair a bit, and while she was doing that, he could shoulder his way inside.

“Come on, Annie. I know you’re dying to try it.” He leaned closer and tapped on the edge of the door with a fingertip. Then he grinned, slowly and mischievously, his teeth gleaming white against the dark planes of his face. “Open sesame,” he said with a slight jerk of his shoulders, an indication to her that he had chuckled. “The famous words of Ali Baba, the poor woodcutter. Have you been told that story?’’

He held up the flute again to tempt her. “How long has it been since anyone told you a story, Annie love?

For that matter, have you ever made music? I’ll be happy to share both the story and my flute with you.

But, first, you have to open the door.”

Annie backed up another step and gave her head another shake. Clearly frustrated by her obstinacy, he ran his fingers through his hair, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then puffed air into his cheeks. Reaching up with a fingertip to tap the door’s edge again, he said, “I’ll tell you what. If you’ll open the door just a little wider, I’ll pass the flute through to you. You have my word I won’t grab you or force the door open. How’s that for a deal?”

She glanced at the flute. To her, it looked magical, catching the light from the hallway and shimmering as brilliantly as a mirror.

“Trust me,” he urged her. “My word is good. Wouldn’t you like to try the flute? It’s really sort of fun to play.”

Fitting it to his mouth, he drew in a breath and blew into the mouthpiece again. A shrill sound came floating through the shadows to her. And it kept coming. Flowing around, over and through her. Annie closed her eyes, scarcely able to believe she was hearing it. And, oh, she never wanted it to stop. She felt like an empty cup that was being filled.

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Lifting her lashes, she moved toward him, drawn by the music and his eyes, not entirely certain which had the strongest pull. When her knees bumped the chair, she halted, her gaze held prisoner by his, her senses spinning. He finally stopped playing and once again offered her the flute. This time, he actually tried to fit it through the opening, but the keys caught on the door frame.

“If you’d like to try it, you’ll have to open the door just a bit wider.” He tipped his head to peer down at the chair. “Move it about an inch toward you. I promise I won’t shove my way in.”

When she hesitated, he smiled slightly. “Annie, think. Do you honestly believe that chair could stop me if 1 wanted to get in? It would slow me down, but that’s about all. I haven’t broken the door down for one reason, and that was because I didn’t want to scare you. I don’t think it makes much sense that I’d decide to now.”

Annie knew the chair wouldn’t keep him out, not if he was determined. With shaking hands, she grasped the chair seat and lifted it slightly, drawing it toward her. Then she repositioned the head rail under the doorknob. Alex pushed the flute through the wider opening. After Annie took the instrument, he leaned a shoulder against the door frame, watching as she sputtered futilely into the mouthpiece.

“You’re not holding it to your mouth right,” he informed her.

She tried another way and blew with all her might into the hole, but no sound happened. He shook his head and started to reach to help her. The door was a barrier against him. “Can you open it just a little wider so I can show you how?”