Magnolia Dawn (10 page)

Anna crossed to the open window. The night was clear and warm, the moon full. Its pale light fell over the plantation grounds, illuminating and shadowing, creating a dreamlike landscape, a strange and quiet kind of beauty.

Anna breathed in the night air, heavy with moisture and the scent of the night blossoms. A night for lovers, she thought. For a man and a woman, for whispered endearments and murmured promises. For kisses stolen under the pale gold moon.

For some other woman. Always some other woman.

Tears flooded her eyes. How long had it been since she'd allowed herself a romantic fantasy? How long since she'd indulged herself in a daydream?

Rush had called her a romantic that afternoon under Sweethearts' Magnolia. She supposed she had been, once upon a time. Until her dreams had been stolen from her, until the reality of life had crowded them out.

The tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She missed that girl. She missed feeling soft and warm and full of hope. Missed the feeling that someday she wouldn't be alone, that someday she would have someone to lean on and to love.

She sucked in a broken breath. And that someday she would be loved in return.

The fragrant night air tumbled through the window, drying her tears, bringing with it the songs of the cricket and bullfrog, the call of an owl, the sound of a barge out on the river. The warm, dark air beckoned her, promising comfort.

She thought of the vine-covered gazebo behind the house, of the wildflowers that grew thickly around it. And of the many dreams she had dreamed there as a girl.

Not pausing to question her own actions, she slipped on her robe and headed down the wide, curving staircase.

Within moments she was outside and heading across the lawn, the grass cool and damp against her bare feet. She had taken the path often and knew exactly where to step, which places to avoid. The gazebo stood behind the house, in the center of what had once been a lush garden. Now overgrown and tangled, more wild than manicured, the garden had the look of an uncivilized place—wild and remote.

Anna reached it, then stopped in surprise. Rush stood at the opposite edge of the gazebo, staring out at the dark fields. He didn't hear her approach, and Anna gazed at his back, not surprised to find him here. Maybe in some part of her mind, on some intuitive level, she had known he would be here and she had wanted to be with him.

She'd wanted not to be alone.

He turned and met her eyes, his shadowed. He wore as little as she: a shirt, unbuttoned, a pair of jeans that fit loose and low on his hips. His broad, muscular chest gleamed golden in the moonlight, and her pulse stirred.

A night for lovers.

“I couldn't sleep,” she whispered.

“Would you like me to go?”

“No, please…stay.”

He searched her expression, then turned back to the fields. She came up behind him, following his gaze, wondering what thoughts had kept him from sleep, wondering where the shadows in his eyes had come from.

She remembered the day they'd met, remembered thinking he hadn't told her the whole truth about his reason for being in Ames, remembered thinking that he was hiding something from her. The memory nagged at her, and she pushed it away.

“As a girl,” she murmured, “I came here often. To dream my silly dreams and when…Daddy was in one of his moods.”

Rush looked at her. “Moods?”

“Yes.” Anna crossed to the bench and sat, drawing her knees up to her chest. Her bare toes peeked out from beneath the hem of her white gown and robe. “I loved my father very much, but…he wasn't quite stable. He retreated into these black, black moods.” She met Rush's eyes. “When in those moods there was no pleasing him, no escaping his wrath.”

“So you would come here.”

“Mmm.” She tipped her head back. Time and weather had made its mark on the gazebo, and she could see the stars through the gaping holes in its roof. “I'd fantasize about the past of Daddy's stories. I'd place myself back then in a hoop skirt and crinoline, a handsome suitor at my side.”

Rush didn't smile. “You father drank, didn't he?”

Anna lowered her eyes for a moment, then lifted them back to his. “How did you know?”

Rush shrugged and came and sat beside her. “Things I heard in town.”

“We Ameses, we've always been a good source of information for the gossip mill. Sometimes I wonder what they would do without us.” She plucked a leaf from a vine that had wormed its way through the gazebo's lattice. “And yes, he drank. He was an alcoholic. Although I didn't realize until well past the age I should have. I was blinded by my own belief in what he was.”

She looked out at the moon-cloaked fields—land that had once been Ashland's. “I didn't realize,
either, that he gambled. His habits, his unhappiness, destroyed Ashland.” She dropped the bit of leaf and turned her gaze back to Rush's. “I don't know why he was so unhappy. I think Mama knew, but she never spoke of it.”

“Even with all his faults, you still loved him.”

She lifted her hands. “How could I not? He was my father. Do you find that so hard to understand?”

“Yes. I've always judged people by their actions.”

“Without emotion?”

“It's simpler that way.”

She shook her head. “You can't do that with family. It's different.”

Rush stood and crossed once more to the place he'd been standing when she found him. Something about his stance tugged at her heartstrings. “I wouldn't know,” he said after a moment.

So that was it.
Anna's heart went out to him. Even with all the trouble her family had given her over the years, even with the heartache Lowell had caused, she couldn't imagine not having a family. “You said before that you had no one. What did you mean?”

“Just what it sounds like. I have no one. I was an orphan.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged and looked over his shoulder at her. “It's no big deal. Life throws lots of different kinds of curves. You handle it.”

But it
was
a big deal, she thought. Otherwise, why would the line of his jaw be so hard, his eyes so soft and sad? She looked away, aching to murmur a word of comfort, knowing he would neither like nor appreciate the sentiment.

Silence fell between them. Clouds moved over the moon, blocking its light, and Anna shivered, thinking again of Lowell and his threat to sell half of Ashland. What would she do if she lost Ashland? Where would she go?

“Why did you come tonight?”

She looked up at him just as the clouds freed the moon, and moonlight flowed over him. Against the backdrop of the light night sky, his silhouette was broad and strong.

Anna tilted her head. Rush was a man a woman could lean on. A man whose arms were strong enough to catch her if she fell. Dangerous thoughts for a woman such as herself, she thought: a woman destined to be alone.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked against them. “I came here tonight because I needed a little of the girl I used to be. Because I needed my dreams.”

Emotion welled in her chest, and she laced her fingers in her lap. “Lowell dropped a bomb on me this afternoon, and I just…needed…”

She shook her head and looked away, unable to finish the thought.

Rush gazed at her, his chest tight. She looked so young and vulnerable, sitting there in that ruffly white gown, the moon spilling over her. A far cry from the woman who had faced him with the threat of dog and gun.

Both women stirred him. Both touched him in places and ways totally foreign to him. He should say good-night and walk away as fast and far as possible.

He crossed to stand before her instead. He lightly touched her hair. “I'm sorry, Anna.”

She looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. Something twisted deep inside him, and he moved his hand from her hair to cup her face.

She tipped her head into the caress. “For what?”

“I'm sorry he hurt you. That he keeps on hurting you.”

She drew a ragged breath. “Earlier today, you asked me what happened to turn Lowell into such a bastard. Daddy did.

“He was hard on Lowell. Disapproving. Critical. Downright cruel at times. I never understood it. Lowell was such a lovely, affectionate child. Although you'd never know it by the man he's become.”

She sighed. Standing, she crossed to the edge of the gazebo and stared out at the night, lost in memories. After several moments, she looked over her shoulder at Rush. “I guess that's why I can forgive him so much.”

Anna shook her head and turned back to the night. “I hated Daddy for what he did to Lowell.”

Rush crossed to her, stopping directly behind her. Unable to resist, he brushed his fingers through her hair. “What of your mother, Anna? Did she just… stand back and watch?”

“Mama tried to make up to Lowell for Daddy's…dislike. She doted on him. But for some reason, he despised her for it.”

Rush dropped his hands to her shoulders, gently massaging her tight muscles. Anna shuddered and eased against his chest.

“And what of you?” Rush asked. “Why does Lowell despise you?”

Anna tipped her face up to his, tears filling her eyes. “I don't know why. All I've ever done is love him.” The tears brimmed over and spilled down her cheeks. “He hates Ashland, and wants to sell it. That's why he was here today.” She brushed impatiently at the tears, hating her weakness. “He offered his half to Travis. For twenty-five thousand dollars.”

She laughed, the sound choked with tears. “A ridiculous price. But more than I have a hope of coming up with. According to Lowell, Travis is seriously considering the offer.”

“Oh, Anna… `According to Lowell' is a big one. I think Travis wants Ashland, but not that way. And who else is going to buy half a plantation? Nobody. Half a plantation isn't any good for anything. He's just trying to maneuver you into agreeing to sell with him.”

She covered her face with her hands. “I'm so tired, Rush. So damn tired of fighting.”

“I know, baby.” Rush turned her into his arms, his chest tight with emotion. Seeing Anna like this, vulnerable and frightened, brought out instincts in him he'd never felt before. The instinct to hold close and soothe, the instinct to slay whatever dragon necessary to protect the woman in his arms.

The emotion, the instincts, scared him silly.

But still he held her. He stroked her hair, murmuring words, sounds, of comfort.

She leaned into him. With a sigh, she slipped her arms around him and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. After a moment her tears eased, her breathing evened and she lifted her tear-streaked face up to his. “I lied to you that day you asked if I ever thought of giving up and selling Ashland. I do, Rush. Sometimes, when it's late and as dark as pitch and I'm so tired it hurts to even lay my head on the pillow, I think about it. I imagine what it would like to be free of Ashland, what it would be like to have nobody and nothing but myself to look after.”

Rush brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Of course you do. You're human, Anna.”

She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Maybe I should give up. Do as Lowell wants and sell the place.”

“You'd never forgive yourself.” Rush smiled tenderly, moving his fingers to her soft hair, burying them in the silky strands. “You love Ashland.”

“Maybe I love it too much,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes once more. “Maybe Lowell's right. He says I'll always be alone because…I have passion for nothing but Ashland. He says—”

“No, Anna.” Rush tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “He's wrong. You're not cold, not unfeeling. He only says those things to hurt you.”

She shook her head. “He does say them to hurt me, but…he's not wrong.”

Rush cupped her face in his palms and looked directly into her eyes. “You're a deeply passionate woman, Annabelle Ames. I see it when you look at Ashland. I feel it when you're in my arms.”

“You don't know,” she whispered. “You don't under—”

“What don't I understand?” He moved his hands, trailing his fingers down her throat, lightly over her collarbone. A sheen of goose bumps raced after his fingers, and she shuddered. “The way you respond to the lightest caress? The simplest touch? I understand that very well.”

Again he moved his hands, over the curve of her shoulders, down to the small of her back. She arched ever so slightly, making a small, involuntary sound of pleasure. “Or is it the way you melt against me that I don't understand? Or the way you whimper with pleasure every time I touch you?

“And what of these?” He drew slightly away from her. The peaks of her breasts stood out in hard points, pressing against the delicate fabric of her gown and robe. He moved his hands lightly across the points, and she bit back a moan as his flesh grazed hers. “You are a deeply passionate woman.”

“I want to believe you,” she whispered. “But I…know what I am.”

“Do you?” Rush cupped her bottom and drew her against him. “Do you know how much you arouse me, Annabelle? Can you feel what you're doing to me?”

Rush caught her mouth, her tongue, her strangled sounds of pleasure. She tasted of moonlight and secrets, and of her own tears. Strong and sweet and endlessly complicated, this woman moved him more than any woman ever had. She touched him in places and ways that he hadn't dreamed possible. Ways that told him she'd gotten too close, in too deep.

She would feel betrayed when she learned that he'd lied to her.

Rush moved his hands, pulling her closer. She was too vulnerable, too needy, for a man like him. A man who had nothing but passion—and the moment—to give. And she was a woman who would want everything.

But at that moment, none of that mattered worth a damn. He wanted her. In his arms, his bed.

He dragged his mouth from hers, breathing hard. “Let me show you, Anna. Let me show you how passionate you are. It would be good. Very good.”