Annie's Song (37 page)

Annie clawed at the door to Alex’s bedchamber. For a nightmarish moment, she thought it was locked.

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Half blinded by the darkness in the hall, she threw terrified glances toward the landing. Here. He was here. The door suddenly gave, and she spilled into the suite. Moonlight, feeble and patchy, fell across the room. She ran for the bed, her breath tearing from her chest, her movements jerky with hysteria.

Alex. Wildly, she patted the rumpled covers. Gone. She whirled and stared at the door, her hands over her mouth to stifle any sound she might be making. Douglas, here. If he heard her sobbing, he might come and find her. Had she made any noise? Oh, God ... She had to hide. She took several frantic turns, looking for a place. Then, too terrified to remain exposed, she dived into Alex’s bed, scrambling to get way down under the covers, to shrink into the mattress and make herself small.

The smell of Alex surrounded her. Alex. Shaking violently, Annie hugged her belly and drew up her knees. That man was in the house, and Alex was gone. She caught her breath. No sound. She couldn’t make any sound. She would stay here, safe in Alex’s bed, hidden. He would come back. He had to.

And when he did, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

Alex stepped into his bedchamber, closed the door, and leaned his back against the panel of wood for a moment with his eyes closed. Annie ... Now more than ever before, he ached to hold her. Suppressing the urge to go to the nursery, he imagined her smile—the way her mouth curved up so sweetly at the corners, the dimple that flashed in her cheek, her lovely eyes, so softly blue and utterly guileless. Picturing her made him feel less empty inside.

Pressing the barked knuckles of one hand to his mouth, Alex remembered once again how satisfying it had felt to pummel his brother’s face. That first punch had marked the end of a lifetime’s commitment, and now that it had happened, he felt oddly liberated. Sad, of course. And hollow. But undeniably free.

For the first time since the death of his father, his responsibility to his brother was finished.

Straightening from the door, Alex sauntered toward his bed, his gaze on the window and the swaying branches of the willow tree beyond the moon-silvered glass. Leaves, flattened against the pane by the night wind, made eerie squeaking noises that reminded him of fingernails trailing over a chalkboard.

Sound. Since knowing Annie, Alex had become acutely conscious of everything audible and frequently found himself trying to perceive the world as she must. Leaves trailing over the glass, birds in the trees, the wind blowing, all with no sound. For all his trying, he found total silence difficult to imagine. She was missing out on so much. So very much.

Sighing, Alex sank down on the edge of his bed and leaned over to yank his boots off. From behind him came a shaky squeak, which for a moment he believed was made by the tree branch outside. Then he froze. Skin prickling, he glanced over his shoulder.

Under the covers at the center of his bed, there was a lump. A trembling lump. Forgetting about his boots, he twisted around, bracing a bent leg on the mattress. As he lifted the coverlet, he heard a shallow panting sound.

“Annie,” he whispered incredulously.

With a little grunt, she came up off the mattress at him like a projectile from a slingshot, teeth and claws bared. Alex was so startled that she raked his jaw with her fingernails before he could react.

“Annie!”

Grabbing for her wrists, he ducked to avoid her blows. As he captured her hands, she let loose with a wail of terror. Using his greater strength and weight to best advantage, he quickly pinned her to the bed,
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holding her arms anchored above her head and immobilizing her thrashing legs with an angled thigh. 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 hoarsely, “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 passed 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.

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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 buttons 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 button 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 encompass 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 unbuttoning 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. Shit.

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 button 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...”

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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 damned water would be getting tepid.

Grimly determined, he grasped one of Annie’s hands, pried it from her ribs, and unfastened the button 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 assisted 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 breasts, 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 assist 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 breasts. 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 God 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 breasts. Counting his blessings, however small, Alex was thankful that, from his present position, he could see her breasts, the upper swell of her tummy, and nothing more. More, he couldn’t handle.

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