Annie's Song (40 page)

His face turned a dull red, and he chuckled. Envisioning what must have happened, Annie couldn’t help but smile as well. It had been a long while since a loud noise had startled her, but she could still recall the feeling.

“Let’s just say it scared the orneriness right out of me,” he said. “After that, all I could think about was playing a prank on my father to pay him back, doing him one better if possible.” His smile faded abruptly and the sadness returned to his eyes. “A few days after the outhouse incident, one of the men who worked for my father got creative with black powder and made this tiny explosive, enclosed in a minuscule wad of paper. After setting off a few of them, he made another and stuck it in the end of a fellow worker’s cigar. Later, when the man lit his smoke, he only took a few puffs before it blew up in his face. I thought it was hilariously funny, and since my father smoked cigars, I decided to load one of his with explosive. It was harmless. No injury would come of it. All I intended was to give him a good scare.”

Annie’s throat went tight at the haunted expression that crossed his face.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Since I wanted to catch him totally by surprise, I waited until I got home and loaded one of the cigars in his study. I figured he’d be doing his books some evening, and bang would go his cigar, right?” He looked into her eyes, not moving or speaking. “That wasn’t how it happened. He received a new order of cigars and put them in his cigar box. Not realizing that he rotated his stock, putting his fresh cigars under the older ones, I figured the one I had tampered with was probably clear at the bottom of the box.

Days went by, and like a kid, I forgot all about the prank. One evening, my father and Alicia were invited to the home of a friend. My father had the buggy brought around. They got in. Douglas and I were standing on the porch to wave them off.”

The muscles along each side of his throat grew distended. Annie guessed what he was about to tell her, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms to ease his pain. Only if she did that, she wouldn’t be able to read his lips, so she had to be content with holding his hand.

“Just before he reached for the reins, my father lit a cigar. He took a long drag. There was a loud bang and the horses bolted. When it was all over, he and my stepmother were both dead.” Turning loose of her, he turned his hands and stared at his palms as if he might find answers there. “I killed them.”

She put her hands over his, gripping tightly. “It was an accident.”

He shook his head. “Accidents can’t be helped. That could have been. If I hadn’t been so stupid, so thoughtless, it never would have happened.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“They were still just as dead.” He stared into the fire for a long while. When he finally looked back at her, there were shutters over his eyes, as though he’d closed his feelings away inside himself. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel sorry for me, Annie. I just hoped—well, that it might be easier for you to understand. About Douglas. About my giving him money tonight. I wanted to send him packing. Honestly I did. But I couldn’t.” He shook his head. “That’s the story of my life, never being able to tell him no. Out of guilt. Maybe if I hadn’t spoiled him so, he’d have turned out better.”

Annie pressed her lips to his knuckles and closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart she could turn back time for him and make everything better. When she looked at him again, she saw that his eyes held a distant expression, and she knew he was far away from her, remembering.

“From the day of our parents’ deaths, all I could think to do was try to make it up to Douglas. He was a frightened little boy—an orphan—and it was my fault. I could never forget that or forgive myself. Later, when he got older and his pranks became more serious, I blamed myself because our father wasn’t around to discipline him and set an example for him. So I tried to make up for that as well. Anything he wanted, he got. Anything he wanted to do, I allowed. If he got into trouble, I bailed him out. In short, I killed his parents, and then I ruined him. Douglas is what he is today because his every whim has been gratified for most of his life.”

Unable to bear seeing him this way, Annie caught his face between her hands. “No!” she cried. “Blame yourself for what happened to your parents, if you must, but not for the way Douglas is. Being spoiled doesn’t make people mean. Not the way he is.”

“I blame myself because he hurt you,” he admitted. “By then, I was beginning to suspect how vicious he could get, especially when he drank, but I refused to face it. If I had, I might have prevented what happened up at the falls that day.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Since words weren’t seeming to reach him, Annie looped her arms around his neck. He caught her close, his embrace almost painful, he held her so tight. She felt his chest vibrate against hers. She knew without seeing his lips that he was saying, “I’m sorry.” Over and over again. She didn’t want him to do this to himself. What Douglas had done—what had happened to her—none of that could be laid at his door.

Because she could feel that he was still talking, she drew back and took his face between her hands so she might see. Tears, shot through with gold by the firelight, trailed over his cheeks.

“Every time I think about him hurting you, I feel sick,” he told her. “Just the thought of him putting his filthy hands on you makes me want—”

Annie couldn’t bear to let him finish. Without weighing the possible consequences, she covered his mouth with hers and kissed him with a ferocity that startled her nearly as much as it seemed to startle him.

Whatever else he meant to say spilled with his breath into her mouth. He tasted warm and sweet. His lips beneath hers felt like wet silk. Remembering how he had kissed her that day in the nursery, she touched the tip of her tongue to his. She didn’t need ears to know that he groaned. It erupted from him, raw and ragged, with such force that it vibrated clear through her. Running a hand up her back, he made a tight fist in her unbound hair. With the force of his grip, he tipped her head slightly and resettled his mouth over hers.

Annie knew control had changed from her hands to his the instant he deepened the kiss. The sudden hardness of his body unnerved her. Beneath her hands, she felt the flesh over his shoulders bunch into steely knots. The muscles in his arms had tensed as well, their circle forming an unbreakable band around her. Steel and fire, need and urgency, possessiveness and determination, all were evidenced by the changes that came over him.

His mouth ground against hers, and suddenly his hands seemed to be everywhere. His touch was feverish, bold. There was nothing gentle about it. Annie had the terrifying feeling that he was no longer even aware of her as a person, that in a twinkling, she had become naught but a body to him. A body he meant to possess.

This was not the Alex she knew. A stranger had taken his place.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Alex had unbuttoned his wife’s nightgown and was groping for the hem when he came to his senses enough to realize exactly what he was doing and with whom he was doing it. Annie. He dragged his mouth from hers. His brain feverish with passion, his thoughts in a jumble, he blinked and glanced around.

Measure by measure, reality returned to him. On the floor? Jesus Christ. When he saw what he had nearly done, a chill as jolting as a dash of ice water washed over him.

Hauling in a ragged breath, he groped almost frantically for his self-control, which at the moment seemed as elusive as the sparkles in dust motes. Need. It burned in his guts like a hot coal. In his temples, his pulse went swi-swish, swi-swish, each thrum sending a knifelike pain behind his eyes. Annie. He blinked and tried to bring her small face into sharper focus, to concentrate on her and only her, a sweet, frightened, and very pregnant girl who not only deserved but needed gentle handling.

Somehow he had pulled her across his lap. His upraised knee formed a support for her back. His arm around her swollen middle was the anchor that held her fast. Glancing down, he saw that he’d jerked her gown up to her knees, that he’d been perilously close to fondling forbidden treasures. He swallowed and lifted a trembling hand to her rumpled hair. Beneath his fingertips, the strands felt like sun-warmed silk. Her eyes, wide and wary, jerked from his hand to his face. She clearly feared what he might do next. Alex couldn’t blame her. In another two seconds, he would have had her on her back and been driving it home.

“Annie,” he said in a throbbing whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, sweetheart. It’s just that—” He broke off, uncertain what to say, whether he should be brutally honest or lie to keep from frightening her even more. In the end, he decided on honesty. This girl had been held apart from reality for too many years already. “I want you very badly. I’ve been wanting you for weeks. When a man is around a woman for such a long period of time, as I have been you, and can never...” His voice trailed away. “I’m sorry. The wanting got away with me there for a minute, that’s all, and I nearly lost control.”

Alex almost made her a promise that he wouldn’t let it happen again but checked himself. The truth was that he might. She was one sweet armful. Everything about her tempted him, from the translucent pinkness of her small toenails to the glistening moisture on her full bottom lip. He’d never wanted a woman so badly.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Slowly—a little too slowly to suit him—the fear left her beautiful eyes. Alex smiled at her, feeling more than a little relieved when she smiled back. She still looked uncertain and a little shaken, but she seemed willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Thank God.

Feeling like a lowdown skunk, he cupped his hand over her cheek, his gaze holding hers. “That was, without question, the sweetest kiss I’ve ever gotten. I’m sorry I went after you like I did. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

A little hesitantly, she finally shook her head. He could see that she was trembling, and this time he couldn’t blame it on Douglas. Rubbing his thumb over her mouth, he whispered, “I know I don’t deserve it, but will you give me one more chance? To do it right this time?’’

Her eyes went dark, with fear or uncertainty, he wasn’t sure which. He held his breath, waiting for her answer. When she gave an almost imperceptible nod, he nearly whooped with relief, which wouldn’t have been at all the thing, considering her lack of enthusiasm for this undertaking. “Thank you.”

He made another pass with his thumb over her precious mouth. His guts knotted when he saw that her bottom lip looked slightly swollen. Though he had no clear recollection of having done so, he knew he must have ground his mouth against hers. What a prince he was. With one bit of encouragement, he’d gone after her like a bear for honey.

He had some fences to mend, no question about it. He instinctively knew it wouldn’t be wise to leave the task for later. Given too much time to contemplate his behavior, she’d very likely grow even more frightened at the prospect of making love. If there was anything he didn’t need right now, it was another hurdle to jump.