Annie's Song by catherine anderson (3)

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 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.

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.

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?”

Annie had the awful feeling he was trying to trick her. Her thoughts must have shown on her face, for he rolled his eyes and said, “I won’t do a thing but teach you how to play it.”

She searched his gaze for an endless moment. Then she mouthed the words, “Do you promise?”

He pressed his face to the crack. “Come again?”

“Do you promise?”

He shook his head. “Slower. I can’t—”

“Do you promise!” As she repeated the words, Annie crossed her heart.

“Do I promise?” He pushed erect and raised his hands.

“Honey, I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die.” He made a snapping motion with his fingers. “I’ll go one better and swear it. On a Bible, if you have one handy.”

He looked so sincere that Annie nearly smiled. Then, against her better judgment, but following her heart, she removed the chair and drew the door open. Alex seemed startled that she had opened it all the way, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at a loss. Then he scratched beside his nose and stepped over the threshold.

Annie shoved the flute into his hands. He took it and grinned one of those wonderfully crooked grins of his. “Come over here.”

With that, he lit a lamp and went to sit on the bed. Patting the mattress beside him, he waited for her to join him. Annie glanced uneasily at the open door, not entirely sure she wanted to venture so far into the room while she was alone with him.

When she turned to look at him again, his grin had gone mischievous. “You, young lady, do not trust easily.”

Annie lifted one shoulder in an almost imperceptible shrug.

He narrowed an eye at her and extended the flute. “You can’t learn to play it standing clear across the room from me.”

That was true, and she knew it. And, oh, how she wanted to learn. Slowly, she approached the bed. It made her tense to sit beside him. In the shifting light, he looked unnervingly large.

“First of all, you have to hold it to your mouth correctly,”

he said, and with that he encircled her shoulders with one arm so he could help her hold the instrument.

At his closeness, Annie jerked. When she shot him a questioning look, she found his face hovering a scant inch above hers. Her heart did a flip-flop, lurched to a sickening stop, and then sluggishly began to work again, each beat bumping against her ribs.

“My word, remember?” He hunched forward so she could see him speak as he showed her how to use the flute. “You have to hold your mouth right.’’ To demonstrate, he drew his lips in over his teeth. “Then you press your mouth to the hole.

There you go. Now blow.”

Annie expelled air with all the force she could muster. No sound came out, but evidently something else did. Alex jerked his head back, laughed, and wiped under one eye. “Not that hard, goose. You’ll bust a vessel.”

Annie bent her head to try again. This time, Alex reared back out of the way, his eyes alight with silent laughter. A giggle wormed its way up her throat. Forgetting to stifle the sound, she gulped it back at the last possible second, nearly strangling herself in the process.

His smile suddenly vanished. “You can laugh, Annie. It’s not against the rules here. Laugh all you like.”

She grew still, staring at him over the flute keys, all urge to giggle gone. He glanced upward. “We have very sturdy rafters.

I promise, the roof won’t cave in. No one will get angry. I won’t punish you. This is your home now. Anyone who complains about any noises you make can go whistle Dixie in a high wind, and at my invitation.”

When she continued to stare at him incredulously, he shook his head. “Okay, fine. Don’t laugh. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

We’ll work our way up to it.” With a wink he added, “For tonight, we’ll settle for your driving Maddy to distraction with off-key notes.”

In the space of an hour, Annie was doing exactly that.

Maddy appeared in the doorway, her hands clamped to the sides of her head. “Oh, Master Alex, have a pity!”

Alex laughed and waved her away. “Stuff some cotton in your ears. We’re having fun.”

Annie blew with all her might on the flute. The most beautiful noise in the world reverberated through her head.

She hauled in another breath and did it again. She felt the bed shaking and knew Alex was laughing. She drew her mouth from the instrument and smiled at him.

Brushing away a tendril of hair at her temple, he smiled back. And then he took her totally by surprise by saying, “The flute is yours, Annie. You can play it all day tomorrow if you like. For tonight, though, maybe you’d better stop.” He glanced toward Maddy, then turned back so Annie could read his lips as he spoke to her. “Before a certain housekeeper I know decides to scalp us both.”

Annie lowered the flute to her lap and reverently stroked its keys. Alex had given her a wedding gift, after all, she thought.

Something no one else had ever even thought to give her.

Music ... Beautiful music, wrapped in magic.

Fifteen

On his way downstairs the following morning, Alex encountered the maid, Yvonne, standing outside the nursery with a stack of freshly laundered sheets in her arms. Upon seeing her, he inclined his head and smiled.

“I take it your mistress is being a layabout again this morning?’’

Yvonne shook her head. “No, Master Alex, she’s up and about. She just isn’t ready for her bed to be changed yet.”

Since the door was ajar, Alex doubted that Annie was dressing. Curious, he poked his head around the doorframe to see Maddy standing in the center of the room, feet slightly parted, arms akimbo. Upon spying Alex at the door, she nodded in greeting.

“She’s searchin’ through the bedclothes again,” she explained with a bewildered little shrug. “Every mornin’

without fail. It’s becomin’ a regular ritual.”

Moving into the room, Alex said,” Have you asked her what she’s looking for?”

“Asked her?” Maddy shook her head. “No, I can’t say as I have. It never occurred to me she could answer.”

Pleased to have an excuse, any excuse, to linger, Alex settled his gaze on Annie, who was going through her rumpled bedding with great care. As he’d noticed once before, her nightgown, though modestly cut, was thin and nearly transparent with wear. He made a mental note to add nightclothes to the list of things he wanted made for her. Not that he had any objection to sheer nightgowns. Far from it.

He was smiling with masculine appreciation by the time he drew up beside her. She gave a start when she spotted him and ceased patting the bedcovers.

He gestured at her bed. “What are you searching for, Annie?

Maybe Maddy and I can help you look.”

She drew her finely arched brows together, clearly unsettled, not only by his question, but by the fact that he expected an answer. Alex sighed. Patience had never been one of his virtues, but, since marrying Annie, he was beginning to see that it was one he needed to acquire. For fourteen years, she had been forced to follow strict rules, never making any sound or any attempt to communicate. He couldn’t, in all fairness, expect her to change overnight.

“Answer my question, Annie, as best you can. No one here is going to punish you, I promise.”

She looked none too certain of that. Alex hated to press her, but he knew it was either that or allow her to continue as she was.

“What are you looking for?” he asked again, assuming a stern expression that he hoped would encourage her to reply without frightening her half to death.

She plucked nervously at the bodice of her nightgown, which drew his attention from her face to her chest. At the sight he beheld, he clenched his teeth and jerked his gaze back to hers. Amazingly, she seemed totally unaware that his interest had momentarily strayed.

After what Douglas had done to her, he found her naïveté more than a little incredible. But, then, he was looking at things from his perspective, not hers. Obviously, Douglas’s violent attack on her had been just that, violent. No preliminary flirtation or attraction, only terror and pain, which had taught her to be wary of men, but had left her with little, if any, understanding of carnal pleasure or what led up to it.

Gazing down at her, Alex felt like the proverbial wolf stalking a helpless lamb.

His thoughts were snapped back into line by a movement of Annie’s lips, which, because of his musings, he nearly missed.

Fixing his attention on her mouth, he said, “Say it again, Annie.

Slowly, so I can follow you. I’m not nearly as good at lipreading as you are, I’m afraid.”

She glanced nervously at Maddy. Then she mouthed her reply again. When he couldn’t read her lips, his heart sank a little. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he had hoped.

Lipreading, which seemed to come naturally to her, was, for him, nearly an impossible feat. She said the words again, this time with exaggerated lip and tongue movements. He was still at a loss.

“Have you ever seen people play charades?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, then nodded with unmistakable reluctance. Alex guessed owledge of parlor games by spying on her parents when they had guests.

Evidently, that had been yet another forbidden activity in the Trimble home, one for which she would have been punished if caught.

“Good. Then act out the words you’re trying to say. Give me some clues.”

Forehead pleated in a frown, she gazed thoughtfully into space for a moment. Then she brightened and held up a small hand, forming a circle with her thumb and forefinger.

“A bracelet!” Alex tried. “You’re looking for a bracelet?”

She shook her head. Forming the circle again, she traced its shape with a fingertip, calling his attention to the fact that it was more oval than round. Alex stroked his chin. “A pendant?”

She made a moue with her lips and rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated at his dimwittedness. Pleased that she had dared reveal displeasure with him, even in so slight a way, he chuckled. “I know I’m slow. Be patient with me, hmm? After all, we’ve only just started, and if nothing else, we’re having fun. We can do this. It’ll just take some practice.”

“A locket!” Maddy suggested. Annie gave her head another shake. Then, looking absolutely adorable with her dark hair in disarray and a disgruntled expression on her face, she put her hands on her hips. After nibbling on the inside of her lip for a second, she seemed struck by sudden inspiration. Stepping back from Alex so she had a little room, she made a great show of pretending she held something in one hand. When he nodded his understanding, she pretended to tap the object against an imaginary surface, then break it in half.

Something about the gestures seemed very familiar, and Alex knew he should recognize them. At his blank look, Annie sighed. Then she tucked her hands under her arms and began to flap her elbows.

Alex hadn’t a clue what the hell she was doing, but wanting to encourage her, he cried, “Very good, Annie. That’s the spirit.”

Her smile deepened, flashing dimples in her cheeks that he hadn’t, until that moment, realized were there. Then, stretching her neck and bending her knees slightly, she began to walk in circles, still flapping her elbows.

So excited that he was almost yelling, Alex said, “A chicken!”

She nodded emphatically.

“A chicken, Maddy! She’s looking for a chicken!” Plainly baffled, the plump housekeeper nodded. “Of course! A chicken. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”

Annie gave her head a vehement shake. “Not a chicken,”

Alex amended. She held up her hand and made another circle with her thumb and forefinger.

“An egg!” Maddy fairly shrieked. “Crackin’ an egg! Yes!”

She clapped her hands. “That’s what she was doin’, Master Alex, crackin’ a bloomin’ egg!”

Annie nodded excitedly, then folded her arms over her waist, one small hand curled protectively over her swollen stomach.

“An egg?” Alex threw a nonplussed glance at Maddy. “An egg, Annie? In your bed?” She nodded again.

“I see,” Alex said, only, of course, he didn’t see at all.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Annie pointed to her abdomen, made another egg-shaped circle with her fingers, and then made a sweeping motion from her waist to the floor.

“Holy Mother, pray fer us.”

Alex turned a bewildered look on Maddy. “I’m not following.’’

Maddy looked mildly horrified. “An egg, don’t ye see? The baby! The lass thinks—oh, dear God. She thinks she’s goin’ to lay an egg!”

“What?”

At Alex’s appalled expression, Annie’s eyes went even rounder than normal, and she retreated a step. Striving to regain his composure, which was no easy task, Alex shifted his gaze to the bed. Remembering how carefully he had seen her searching through the covers, he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Oh, dear,” Maddy repeated softly. “The poor wee lass.”

Alex opened his eyes and hauled in a bracing breath. “Now, Maddy. There’s little point in making mountains out of molehills. Annie isn’t the first young woman to have reached adulthood without a clear understanding of certain biological functions. It’s a simple matter of addressing her ignorance.

She’s very good at lipreading.”

“A simple matter, yes.”

Alex smiled and started to leave the room, patting Maddy’s arm as he walked by her. “After you girls have finished with your talk, why don’t you join me downstairs for breakfast.”

Maddy caught the sleeve of his shirt and brought him reeling to a stop. “Oh, no, ye don’t! This is yer molehill to tend, not mine.’’

Alex patted her arm again. “Come now, Maddy. Don’t be a faintheart. If I could explain if to her, you know I would. But a subject of this nature is too delicate for a man to address.”

Maddy shot him a look that could have pulverized rock.

“Ye’re the lass’s husband, and therefore ‘tis yer duty, not mine.

If ye’ll recall, I was never married. What I know about such things could fit in a thimble.”

“You surely have a grasp of the rudiments.”

“Rudiments? Leave this room, and I’ll settle the matter by lookin’ in yon bedcovers for an egg, mark me words.”

“You wouldn’t’!”

“I would.”

Alex narrowed an eye at her. “Maddy, someone has to explain the facts of life to the girl, and it certainly can’t be me.

We can’t let her continue to believe she’s about to lay an egg, for Christ’s sake. It’s—well, it’s—” He broke off for lack of a word. Finally, he finished with, “Irresponsible, that’s what it is.”

“Then tend yer responsibilities.”

“This sort of thing is not my responsibility, not given the sort of relationship she and I have, which is no relationship at all.”

“Coward.”

“Don’t be absurd. It wouldn’t bother me to discuss the subject with her. The concern here is how she will feel if I do.”

Maddy folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Then have her mama come talk to her. The way I see it, ‘twas Mrs. Trimble’s duty to educate the lass in the first place, and seein’ as how she failed in that, it’s her mess to tidy.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Well, then?”

Alex threw up his hands. “All right, fine! But if she gets upset, the blame for it will be on your doorstep, not mine. A subject of this nature would best be handled by a kindly older woman, someone she trusts.”

Feigning a confidence he was far from feeling, he took Annie by the hand, led her over to the table, pushed her gently down onto a chair, and sat across from her. Resting his folded arms on the table, he leaned forward, holding her bewildered gaze with his. “Annie, honey, there are a couple of things you need to understand.” Listening from the sidelines, Maddy harrumphed and clicked her tongue. Alex chose to ignore her sarcasm. He would do this, and with a minimum of fuss.

“Babies and chicks—well, there are a few basic differences in the way they’re born.”

Those eyes of hers. Alex looked into them and felt as if he were shriveling inside. How could he possibly enlighten her about something so ... He couldn’t even think of a word. Base?

Personal? It was definitely not a subject men usually broached to young ladies. The trick, he decided, would be to give her an adequate explanation without becoming too explicit. Simple terms, that was his aim.

“You understand that there’s a baby inside you. Correct?”

She nodded.

So far, so good. Acutely aware that Maddy was watching with a smug look on her face, Alex tapped his fingertips on the tabletop. “Mothers,” he said softly, “have a special place inside them made just for babies. That’s where their babies stay and grow until they’re ready to be born, in that special place. Do you understand?”

Again, Annie nodded. Alex wanted to look anywhere but into her eyes. He saw so many questions there, and so much innocence. If he said the wrong thing—just one wrong word—he could send her into a panic and make this pregnancy one of dread for her.

“Good. I’m glad you understand.” He tapped his fingers a little more sharply against the wood. “Anyway, when your baby is finally ready to be born,” he went on, “the special place inside of you will open up and the baby will come out.”

At her look of bewilderment, he quickly added, “It’s a very wonderful thing, the birth of a baby! Everyone will be really happy, and we—” He broke off and threw a helpless look at Maddy. “We’ll probably have a big party to celebrate. Won’t we, Maddy?”

“A party.” Maddy pumped her chin up and down. “We’ll have a shindig such as ye never saw, to be sure. A grand day, it’ll be. A grand day!”

Annie’s cheeks flushed with pleasure, and her face went radiant with a sweet smile. Convinced that he had said just enough to clear up her misconceptions without adding to them, Alex was about to heave a sigh of profound relief when she frowned slightly, poked a finger into her bellybutton, and arched inquisitive brows at him.

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat, his fingers went on the tabletop, his gaze riveted to her navel. He greatly feared that if she didn’t stop drilling her finger so deeply into the depression, she might do herself an injury. Damn. Thinking back to his childhood, Alex could distinctly recall his own youthful misconceptions about the birth process, namely his belief that the baby inside his stepmother’s protruding belly would make its exit through her navel. At the time, it had seemed a perfectly reasonable explanation to him, and to this day, he could remember how shocked he had been when an older boy had told him differently.

“Not there, Annie,” he hastened to explain in a gravelly voice. “The baby doesn’t come out there.”

She ceased poking her navel and fastened a perplexed gaze on his, clearly awaiting further explanation. Rat-a-tat-tat.

Trying to think of a suitable way he might explain—or, for that matter, any way that he might explain without terrifying her—Alex swallowed a lump in his throat that felt as big as a rubber ball. Then, keeping his expression carefully blank, he pushed up from the table, brushed past Maddy, and descended on Annie’s bed.

“Now what are ye about?” Maddy demanded.

Alex’s only response was to gently lift one of Annie’s blankets and give it a careful shake.

Alex spent the remainder of the morning closeted in his study. After making arrangements for the attic to be cleaned, he dispatched two messages, one to Dr. Daniel Muir requesting that he pay a house call to Montgomery Hall posthaste, another to Hooperville’s one and only dressmaker, Pamela Grimes, saying that he wished to have his wife fitted for a new wardrobe.

Only after those three details were taken care of could Alex settle down to what he truly wanted to do, which was to pore over the Montgomery Ward & Company catalog for things he might buy Annie. Ear horns were at the top of his list. The company carried three styles, a trumpet-type contraption that came in three graduating sizes, a carryable horn in a convenient pocket size, and a conversation tube, one end of which sported a mouthpiece for the speaker, the other a listening device to fit into the deaf person’s ear. Uncertain which type might work the best, Alex ordered a dozen of each style and size, determined that Annie would have at least one effective hearing aid in every room of his house. Other people had their ears with them wherever they went, he reasoned, and so should she.

The cost of so many ear trumpets was substantial, and Alex had always prided himself on being a frugal man. When it came to Annie, however, money was the least of his concerns.

She had been given so little in her young life, and he had it in his power to change that. The way he saw it, he had been working his ass off all his life. And for what? So he might spoil his brother? Now, for the first time, Alex had someone in his life who truly had needs. He wanted to fulfill every single one of them.

Every time he remembered her parlor in the attic, his guts knotted. From this day on, he was making it his priority to turn the girl’s fantasies into realities. Beautiful clothes. Delicate china. Music ...

Remembering her enchantment with his old flute, Alex flipped to the musical section of the catalog. Before he was finished, he had ordered her a six-octave Windsor organ, a rosewood concertina with leather-bound bellows, a harmonica, a kazoo, a set of three-octave orchestra bells, a French horn, and a rack of musical sleigh bells.

From the music section he went to the toy section and ordered a toy zither, a game of Hopity, a parlor tennis set, a Ding Dong Bell game, tiddledywinks, a combination set of board games, including fish pond, checkers, and dominoes.

After tallying the amount of his order, Alex went from his desk to the liquor cabinet. Even as he poured himself a snifter of brandy, however, he knew he was more than happy to spend the money on her. In fact, he couldn’t recall having had so much fun in a very long while. One smile from Annie—just one—would more than make up for the expenditure.

Shortly after uir arrived. Once Alex had explained that he wanted Annie carefully examined and why, the two men went upstairs to the nursery. At first, Alex feared that, despite his earlier explanations to Annie, she might be frightened by the good doctor’s unwanted attentions, but he soon realized that he had sorely underestimated Daniel’s abilities. As he might have with a timid child, the doctor made the process seem more like a game than a medical examination.

To get a peek into Annie’s ears, he first did a magic trick, pretending to pluck a piece of candy from her ear and feigning astonishment. Annie, of course, was astonished as well, and before Alex knew it, she was allowing Muir to insert an instrument into her ear canal, presumably to see if more pieces of candy were rattling about inside her head. Annie seemed to think it was all great fun. Alex, who stood off to one side, couldn’t help but laugh at the amazed expressions that crossed her small face.

His urge to laugh faded abruptly when Daniel’s examination of Annie moved from her ears to her torso. Here, he felt sure, the physician would find himself with a panicked young woman on his hands, and Alex was dreading the moment that he would be called upon to help subdue her. But, again, Daniel surprised him. Continuing to use sleight of hand, Muir plucked candy from the neckline of Annie’s frock, from its sleeves, from under the hem. Before Alex knew it, the doctor had palpitated his wife’s breasts and abdomen, evidently to his satisfaction, and had listened to her heart. In the end, Annie had a sizable collection of hard candy lying on the table, which Dr. Muir allowed her to keep.

On their way back downstairs, the physician related his findings to Alex. “As far as the immediate concerns go, her pregnancy seems to be progressing normally,” he said.

“Without doing a pelvic examination, I’m unable to be absolutely certain of that, but at this point, I believe a closer look would do the girl more harm than good.”

Alex expressed his complete agreement with that and told the doctor of Annie’s revelation to him and Maddy that morning.

“An egg?” Muir chuckled and shook his head as they entered Alex’s study. “Ah, well, I can’t see as how letting her continue to believe that will hurt. At least she has the general idea and understands that there is a baby growing inside her.”

Alex felt a flush creeping up his neck. “She may be a little disappointed when it’s born, minus the booties and bonnet.”

He described the picture he’d drawn for Annie to explain her pregnancy to her. “At the time, not realizing she could read lips, it was the only way I could think of to get my point across.”

“It worked. That’s all that matters.” Muir deposited his satchel on the floor at his feet and sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs positioned before the hearth.

“You’re correct in your diagnosis, by the way. The girl is deaf.

It’s only my guess, mind you, but judging by the scar tissue, I would wager that the fever that robbed her of her hearing was probably caused by a very severe ear infection.”

“Which went untreated,” Alex said bitterly, unable to hide the resentment he felt toward the Trimbles.

“True,” Muir conceded, “but there’s nothing to say I could have prevented the hearing loss, even if I’d treated her.”

“They might have at least given you the opportunity to try.”

Daniel sighed. “In all fairness to Edie, Alex, chronic ear problems aren’t always easily detected by parents. I’ve seen cases where a child’s ears were so bad that they were bleeding, and the frantic mother and father still hadn’t a clue what was wrong. The child may be cranky, feverish, nauseated, yet manifest no sign of earache. One little boy I once treated was congested and had had a serious cough for days. In the mornings, when his mother found pus and blood on his pillow, she mistakenly believed that it was coming up from his lungs.

She was terrified he had consumption.”

“In other words, I shouldn’t hold Annie’s parents accountable?”

Muir pursed his lips and gazed sightlessly into the firebox for a moment. “For many things, yes, but not for the deafness.

If Annie’s middle ears were abscessed, which I believe they may have been, she could have run a raging fever until they broke and drained, which could have occurred in a matter of hours after the onset of the fever. Afterward, she may have seemed to be on the mend, and her mother may have believed she was fine. Kids get sick. Quite often, they run high fevers over the least little thing. A mother does her best, but she isn’t infallible. Neither am I, for that matter.”

Remembering Annie as he’d found her in the attic, Alex found it difficult to let go of his anger toward the Trimbles quite that easily.

“Would you mind my giving you just a bit of advice?” the doctor asked.

Alex smiled slightly. “Not at all. That’s why I sent for you.”

“Look forward,” Daniel said softly. “For years, I’ve had to watch that girl live half a life. Now you have a chance to give her so much more. Concentrate on that, not on the Trimbles and the dozens of ways in which they have failed. You can’t go back and undo all the injustices Annie has suffered. But you can try to make up for them. The girl can receive help now.

Think of it that way.”

“It’s my hope to give her as normal a life as possible,” Alex mused aloud. The admission turned his thoughts to other matters. Sitting straighter in his chair and clearing his throat, he said, “In regard to that...” He met the doctor’s questioning gaze. “If things work out well between Annie and me, and I’ve every reason to hope, will it be harmful to her or the baby if—”

Alex gestured vaguely. “I’ve heard it both ways, that it’s okay for pregnant women to have marital relations and that it’s not.”

Pressing his hands to his knees and pushing to his feet, Daniel chuckled. “Trust me, Alex, you’ll do no harm.” He gave him a rakish wink. “Just take care not to dislodge the infant’s booties. Annie may be a trifle upset if it’s born missing a sock.”

Alex grinned. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“I’d appreciate it. After all that candy I just plucked from her various orifices, she may expect me to go bootie hunting.”

Sixteen

Over the next two weeks, Alex found it incredibly easy to follow doctor’s orders and concentrate on Annie. As if he had a choice. From the time he opened his eyes each morning until he closed them at night, she was all he thought about. Other things he might buy her. Activities she might enjoy. About how her eyes lighted up when she smiled. He even began to contemplate building her a cage for her damnable pet mice.

Annie ... For the first time in his adult life, Alex had someone deserving to care about, someone who mattered to him more than his work. He quickly came to realize just how lonely and utterly meaningless his life had been before now.

He found himself spending less and less time at the rock quarry and the stables. After lunch each day, he closeted himself in his study with books that Dr. Muir had acquired for him. For three hours, without fail, he pored over the pages, trying to memorize the manual alphabet and learn how to speak sign language. Then he spent a half hour speaking to his reflection in a hand mirror to practice lipreading. At precisely three-thirty each afternoon, he abandoned those pursuits to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with his wife.

In the beginning, Annie seemed none too pleased to be blessed with his company, but after several days, she seemed to accept, if not to enjoy, his presence. If she was in the attic, he followed her there. If she was downstairs with Maddy, he spirited her away outdoors for long walks. In the evenings, he insisted that she join him at the supper table, where he made her pour tea, pass serving dishes, and practice good table manners. After the meal was finished, they adjourned to his study, where he taught her how to play simple games, such as jacks and checkers, both of which required a minimum of verbal communication.

During that time, the dressmaker came to take Annie’s measurements, and Alex ordered an entire new wardrobe for his wife, from the skin out. For a substantial bonus, Mrs.

Grimes agreed to hire extra help so she could deliver at least three of the dresses within a week. Alex could scarcely wait to see Annie’s eyes when she first saw the clothing. Though he’d had to choose styles with her steadily increasing waistline in mind, he felt sure she would be thrilled. No more moldy dresses spirited from dusty trunks in the attic. From now on, she would have beautiful gowns of her very own.

Madness ... Alex seriously began to wonder if he wasn’t losing his mind. He was falling in love, wildly in love, with a child-woman who believed the baby growing inside her wore a ruffled bonnet. The carnal bent of his thoughts was indecent, he felt sure, but when he looked into Annie’s eyes, he wondered how anything that felt so right could possibly be wrong.

As luck would have it, Edie Trimble finally gathered the courage to come calling on the same afternoon that Mrs.

Grimes arrived with the first finished garments of Annie’s new wardrobe. Alex, who had been left to cool his heels outside the nursery door while Annie tried on the dresses, heard Frederick speaking to someone in the hall and went to the landing to see who was there. When he saw Edie, he nearly ordered her out of his house. Only the anguish he saw on the woman’s face prevented him from doing exactly that.

“Mrs. Trimble,” he said coldly. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Leaning her head back to meet his gaze, Edie wrung her hands, clearly afraid he would invite her to leave before she had a chance to say her piece. “I know you despise me, and perhaps with good reason, Mr. Montgomery. But, please, I’m begging you, let me see my daughter. I won’t stay long. I swear it. And I won’t do anything to upset her. But, please, let me see her?’’

Alex curled his hands into fists over the banister rail, wanting nothing more than to tell the woman to go. But in the end, the pain in her eyes swayed him. Maybe Dr. Muir was right. Bitterness toward the Trimbles, no matter how well deserved, would only cast a pall over Annie’s future. She loved her parents, he felt certain, despite their many faults, and she would probably be delighted to see them. He had no right to deny her that. Edie Trimble was and always would be the girl’s mother, even though she had failed, more times than not, to behave like one.

“Right now, she’s trying on new dresses,” Alex finally said.

“Come on up. Maybe you can be of assistance in choosing appropriate accessories. The dressmaker brought quite a nice selection with her.”

Edie pressed a hand to her throat and closed her eyes, clearly overcome with relief. For a moment, Alex thought she might disintegrate into tears where she stood. But she finally managed to regain control. After handing her cloak to Frederick, she lifted her skirt and ascended the stairs. When she reached Alex on the landing, she met his gaze squarely.

“Thank you,” she said shakily. “I know you’d much rather that I never see my little girl again and if you’re correct about the deafness, I don’t suppose that I can blame you.”

“I’m absolutely correct,” Alex couldn’t resist saying. “I’ve had her examined. Dr. Muir concurs with my diagnosis completely.”

Tears welled in Edie’s eyes, and her mouth began to quiver.

“Deaf,” she whispered. “All these years, and she was only deaf? God forgive me.”

It was those last three words, spoken with such heartrending regret, that softened Alex. For totally different reasons, he had felt much the same way himself a few times over the years because of Douglas. “We all make mistakes, Edie,” he said huskily. “Some worse than others, but the bottom line is that we can only do our best. Given the fact that Annie can register certain pitches of sound, I’m willing to concede that it may have appeared to you that she could hear. You acted out of ignorance, and in doing so, you made some grave errors. Let’s leave it at that and move forward from here. Shall we?’’

She gave a tearful nod and wiped her cheeks with tremulous fingers, making a visible effort to gather her composure. Alex waited until she had calmed down before he showed her to the nursery. Mrs. Grimes called out to him when she glimpsed him outside the door.

“Do come in, Mr. Montgomery, and tell us what you think.”

Alex pushed the door farther open and preceded Edie into the room. The sight that greeted him brought him to a dead stop. Annie ... only not the Annie he had come to know.

Maddy and the dressmaker had combined their respective talents, finishing off her outfit with complementary accessories and styling her hair. The tousled child had disappeared. A lovely young woman had taken her place.

She stood in the center of the room, a vision in sapphire-blue.

Her gown had a fitted bodice, just as Alex had specified, with a softly gathered skirt that fell gracefully from just beneath her breasts to the floor. Lace of a darker shade of blue edged the low scoop neckline, enough to draw the eye to her face, but not so much as to overwhelm her delicate features. Her large, luminous eyes clung to his, silently seeking his approval.

“Oh, Annie,” Alex said softly. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

A blush flooded to her face, flagging her cheeks with two bright spots of color. Alex gave her a slow grin, then motioned with his hand for her to turn in a complete circle. Catching the skirt to hold it wide, she turned on one toe, craning her neck so she might watch his reaction. It surprised and pleased Alex that she cared so much about what he thought. That told him more than she could know, and undoubtedly far more than she might wish—namely that his deepening feelings toward her weren’t completely unreciprocated. He took more pleasure from that discovery than he did from the transformation the clothing had wrought.

Edie, who until that moment had lingered in the hall, finally entered the room. Upon seeing her daughter, she halted abruptly and stood there in frozen silence.

A joyous expression swept across Annie’s face. Clearly eager to embrace her mother, she started forward, but before she could take more than a few steps, Edie clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, then whirled and fled from the room. The stricken expression that crossed Annie’s face nearly broke Alex’s heart.

“Annie love, she’s crying because she’s happy,” Alex assured her. Closing the distance between them, he cupped her chin in his hand, determined that this moment was not going to be ruined for her. Forcing her gaze from the door to him, he looked deeply into her eyes. “She didn’t know, sweetheart. She never knew that you were deaf. Seeing you like this makes her feel sad because she knows you should have had pretty dresses all along. Do you understand? She feels guilty. In a few minutes, she’ll come back, and the two of you can have a lovely visit.”

Tears filled her beautiful eyes. Alex gave her a confident smile. “I’ll go get her, all right? Meanwhile, you put on another dress so we can see how beautiful you look in it when we come back.”

Chin atremble, she gave a halfhearted nod. Alex shot a meaningful glance at Maddy, then quit the room. He found Edie downstairs in the hall, clinging to her cloak, which hung from the coat tree, her face buried in its black folds.

“God damn you,” Alex ground out at her shaking back. “For once, just once, can’t you put that girl before yourself? This is the very first time in her entire life that she’s been given some beautiful clothes—something other girls take for granted, I might add—and you have to ruin the moment for her?”

Edie hunched her shoulders, sobbing wildly. Between ragged breaths, she managed to cry, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!

Seeing h-her like that. Oh, dear God, what have I done? My little girl... What have I done?”

Alex hauled in a deep breath, fighting to control his anger, acutely conscious and deeply grateful, for once, that Annie couldn’t hear. “Mrs. Trimble, I realize that this must be difficult for you, but this is not the time to purge yourself. That girl is standing up there in the first pretty new gown she’s ever owned and tears are streaming down her cheeks. Get a hold of yourself.”

“You d-don’t underst-stand,” she cried. “I thought—oh, God, I thought she had inherited Uncle Maxwell’s madness.

All these years! All the w-wasted years!”

Alex sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in sympathy.

Taking the woman’s arm, he guided her to his study, where she might at least weep in private. She sank weakly onto a chair, her face pressed to her knees. After a few minutes, when she had sobbed herself dry, she began to speak in a hushed, tremulous voice.

“I truly believed she was mad,” she told him.

“I know you did,” Alex admitted, sitting on the arm of her chair so he might place a hand on her shoulder. “I realized it from the first. Why you thought that, I’m not sure, but I believe you honestly did.”

“I thought it for a hundred different reasons,” she said shrilly. “The awful sounds she made. My uncle made sounds almost exactly like them, animallike utterances and grunts.

My aunt had to have him bound to a tree until attendants from a madhouse could come and get him!” She pressed her hands over her face. “And the kittens. Oh, God, the kittens.”

“What kittens?”

“She strangled and crushed two kittens,” Edie said raggedly.

After having witnessed Annie’s incredible gentleness with the mice in the attic, Alex found this story difficult to believe, but he didn’t interrupt the woman.

“It was horrible. Horrible! I only left her alone with the litter for a little while, never dreaming she might hurt them. She seemed to love them so! And when I came back, she’d killed two of them. Killed them!”

She looked up, pinning Alex with an agonized gaze. “I was terrified that James would find out what she’d done.

Absolutely terrified! I lied and told him a tomcat had sneaked into the house. After that, I encouraged Annie to play in the woods, as was her wont, for I reasoned that the less she was about the house where he might accidentally witness her mean streak, the better. He would have sent her away. Don’t you see? To one of those nightmarish places! I realized if I didn’t restrict her activities, if I wasn’t very, very stern, that she’d very likely end up living out the rest of her life in a cell. I couldn’t bear for that to happen. Not to my little girl.

“That’s why I wouldn’t allow her to be examined by a physician. That’s why I was so secretive about her activities in the attic, stressing that no one else could ever know. Don’t you see? She’s incredibly talented at sketching. And then there were the make-believe games and her pretending to talk. That wasn’t the behavior of an imbecile! And because she seemed to hear when I called to her, I didn’t believe she was deaf.

What other explanation was there for her strangeness, if not that she was mad like my uncle?”

For the first time, Alex could begin to see things as Edie must have. A beautiful girl who behaved abnormally, who seemed unable to grasp the simplest concepts, whose ability to speak had steadily deteriorated. Yet in the attic, in her make-believe world, that same girl exhibited signs of keen intelligence.

“Now I realize that my fear made me blind, that if I’d only listened to Dr. Muir, we might have learned the truth years ago.

But I couldn’t take that chance. I was convinced she had inherited the illness from my uncle and that it would eventually progress to a point that I could no longer keep it from James. The way I saw it, the only thing I could do was delay that from happening for as long as possible.”

A burning sensation came up the back of Alex’s throat.

“Which is why you stressed to me that I should enforce your rules while Annie was here,” he said softly. “You thought if I didn’t, that I’d soon realize the truth and tell James she was crazy.”

“If you’ll recall, I originally didn’t want her to come here at all.”

Alex remembered that all too clearly.

“It was nothing personal,” she rushed to explain. “From the beginning, I could see you had a kindly nature, and that you felt sorry for Annie. I was afraid that, in a misguided attempt to make retribution for what Douglas had done, you might indulge her.”

Alex smiled slightly. “Spoil her rotten, in other words?’’

“Yes,” she admitted. “I hoped that strangers who knew nothing of the circumstances would be more likely to follow my wishes and be regimental with her.” She closed her eyes.

“All I could think about was James learning the truth and sending her away. Someplace awful, where she’d be confused and alone, possibly mistreated.”

Alex tightened his hand over her shoulder, understanding all too well now what had driven the woman. After several minutes of silence, during which she grew calmer, he said,

“You did what you thought was best for your daughter, Edie.

It’s terrible that it happened the way it did, yes. But for all of that, I believe she was reasonably happy in her own simple way. Now that part of her life’s over. We have to put the past behind us and concentrate on her future. She can have a wonderful, reasonably normal life from here on out, if we all work together to make it happen. A moment ago, you expressed a fear that I might indulge her. I’m doing my level best to live up to your worst expectations. Care to lend me a hand?”

She fastened a hopeful gaze on his. “Oh, Alex, will you allow me that? To be a part of things? I have so much to make up for. So very much.”

Relinquishing the last traces of his anger, Alex sighed.

“Edie, your daughter loves you. I’m sure she wants to see you.

I think it’s time that all of us start paying attention to Annie’s wishes for a change. Don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

Drawing a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, Alex set himself to the task of cleaning up her face, a service he seemed to be providing to females frequently of late. Until now, he’d never realized the woman wore paint. A subtle amount, to be sure, but there were definite traces of kohl on her cheeks.

“May I take the liberty of giving you a bit of well-intended advice, madam?’’

“Not to cry in front of my daughter again?”

“That, too,” he said with a half smile. “But I was thinking more along the lines of some marital advice. After you leave here, you need to go home and have an honest discussion with your husband. He is as much to blame for this tragedy as you are, if not more so.”

“Oh, but I can’t!” she said shrilly. “James—he doesn’t know! About my uncle, I mean. When he asked me to marry him, I neglected to tell him. And, later, I couldn’t find the courage.” She gave her head a decisive shake. “You don’t know James. If he even suspected that madness runs in my family, he’d divorce me. If he did that, I don’t know what I’d do! Where would I live? How would I earn my keep?”

Alex pushed to his feet. “Edie, if the man tosses you out, you can always come to me. You are my wife’s mother. I would see to it you had the necessary funds to get by.”

She stared at him incredulously. “You would?”

He gave a startled laugh. “Yes, madam, I would. But I assure you, it won’t come to that. For all his faults, and I could list a host of them, James cares for you. You say that I don’t know him. I think it may be more accurate to say that you don’t. And it’s high time you do. Talk to him. Tell him everything you’ve told me. I think you may be surprised by what he says.”

“You know something I don’t.”

“Let’s just say that as much as I dislike the man, I understand how he thinks.” With that, Alex helped her up from the chair. “Now, let’s go upstairs and share in a special moment, shall we?”

She nodded.

“No more histrionics?”

“None, I assure you.”

Alex could only hope.

After Edie and the dressmaker had departed, curiosity prompted Alex to bring one of the barn cats into the house.

Seeking his wife, he found her in the kitchen with Maddy, who was overseeing the preparations for supper. Looking lovely in a pink, high-waisted gown, her hair caught up in a cascade of sable curls at her crown, Annie was perched on a stool at the counter. In the crook of one arm, she held a green crockery bowl from which she was scraping bits of cookie dough with a long-handled spoon. When she spotted Alex, she froze, the spoon partway to her mouth, her eyes fixed on the cat.

At her obvious fascination, Alex couldn’t help but grin. The girl didn’t just like animals, she adored them. After seeing her with the mice, he couldn’t believe, even for an instant, that she would ever inflict harm on any small creature, at least not deliberately.

“This is Mama Kitty, queen of the barnyard cats,” Alex told her. “If not for her, we’d be overrun by”— catching himself just in time, he finished with—”grasshoppers.”

Maddy slanted him a look, then shook her head. Annie, thank goodness, didn’t seem to notice his sudden change of words. She was gazing in fascination at the tabby, the cookie dough forgotten. Alex gestured with a nod. “Sit at the table, Annie love, and I’ll let you hold her.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Setting the crockery bowl on the counter with a resounding thunk that made everyone else in the kitchen wince, she slid off the stool and hurried to the table where she enthroned herself on a straight-backed chair. Scratching Mama Kitty behind an ear to keep her calm, Alex strode across the room. Annie reached for the cat with welcoming arms. With a smile, he relinquished his burden to her and took a seat nearby so he might observe her behavior with the animal.

Her small face aglow with pleasure, Annie immediately began stroking the cat’s silken fur. Mama Kitty, unaccustomed to such loving attention, arched her back and rubbed a whiskered cheek against Annie’s bodice. Then, so loudly that Alex could hear her, the tabby began to purr.

Feeling the vibration, Annie ran her hands more firmly over the cat’s body. A wondrous expression entered her eyes, and she glanced up at Alex, clearly amazed.

“She’s purring,” he explained. “Cats usually do when they’re petted.”

A maid bustled by with a tray of unbaked bread, her destination the oven. “All of them usually shed as well,” she commented. “If there’s hair in your soup tonight, don’t be blaming me.”

Alex chuckled. Then he returned his attention to Annie.

What he saw made his heart catch. She hugged the tabby close to her breast, one cheek pressed against its ribs, her expression one of bedazzlement. Alex realized immediately that she was utterly captivated by the cat’s purring, a sound she could feel even though she was unable to hear it.

The mystery of Annie and the suffocated kittens was solved.

Alex could almost see her as a very young child, deaf and utterly captivated by the vibrations she felt when she held the kittens, her small hands and arms squeezing too tightly, her curiosity and elation making her forget to be careful. The kittens hadn’t been killed with malicious intent, but by a deaf child’s unbridled affection. Older now and more in control, she was being incredibly gentle with this cat, taking care not to hug it too tightly or to touch it too roughly.

Watching her with the cat brought home to Alex just how easily this girl was seduced by any sound that she could faintly hear or from which she could detect vibrations. And it explained so much. Her love of the woods, where she felt the wind on her skin. Her fascination with the waterfall, where she no doubt could feel the vibrations made by the water plunging against the rocks. Annie and the kittens. Annie and the church organ. All along, there had been so many signs of her deafness.

His throat suddenly tight with emotion, Alex swallowed and looked away for a moment. Funny that. Before meeting Annie, he hadn’t felt close to tears since early childhood. Now it seemed to him that he was blinking away suspicious moisture or gulping back a lump in his throat more often than not.

Watching her ... coming to understand what her life had been like ... Alex supposed that it would take someone with a heart of stone not to be affected, and when it came to this girl, his heart was definitely not made of stone.

In that moment, Alex accepted intellectually what his heart had been telling him for over two weeks. He was in love with her. Impossibly, hopelessly in love. He found her too incredibly sweet and precious to resist. If that was lecherous ...

if it was an unforgivable sin ... well, then, he guessed he was doomed.

Contrary to the old saying, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d go to hell with a smile on his face. Given Annie’s effect on him, there was every possibility he’d have tears in his eyes when the moment of reckoning came. His only consolation was that they would definitely be tears of joy, not sorrow.

Seventeen

Time. . . For Annie, time, at least as it was interpreted by others, was a concept she didn’t understand. For her, there were no clocks, no schedules, no calendars by which she could mark off the days, the weeks, the months. She only knew that the long, lazy days of butterfly season had grown shorter, that the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn color, and that the air had become cooler.

Rainy season was coming; she felt it in her bones. But for the first time in her memory, the thought didn’t depress her.

Alex’s house, unlike that of her parents, was a place of excitement and discovery. She spent hours sitting on her bed each day, blowing on her flute. When she grew bored with that, she could sketch to her heart’s content, for Alex had discovered her penchant for drawing and supplied her with charcoal pencils and sketchpads. In addition to that, her mother visited every few days, usually of an afternoon. She was trying to learn how to lip-read, and for the first time in years, Annie could actually communicate with her a little.

With so much to occupy her time, she didn’t dread being confined indoors as she once had.

Not that she would be confined. In addition to drawing supplies, Alex had also given her an odd-looking contraption he called an umbrella, which Annie likened to a roof with a handle. According to him, when it rained, one opened the umbrella and held it over one’s head, the result being that it rained all around a person but not on him. With the umbrella, she would be free to go walking in the rain whenever she wished without becoming wet.

If she was still able to walk by the time the rainy season arrived. Her stomach was growing so enormous she already felt as if she waddled like a duck. Going down the stairs worried her the most. Being front heavy as she was, she had to lean slightly backward to keep from losing her balance on the steps. It was ever so troublesome.

It was also becoming worrisome. Because of what Alex had told her—about babies being born in a different way than chicks—she no longer believed she might lay an egg. But, even so, there was no question in her mind that there was a baby growing inside her. Sometimes she could even feel it wiggling around, as though it were becoming anxious to get out. Given its size, Annie was beginning to wonder how it would ever manage. Not through her bellybutton, that was a certainty.

She wished she could ask someone how human babies were born, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think how. Her mother was only just beginning to lip-read. Alex was much more accomplished at it, but not so much that he could grasp everything she said yet. Those few times when she had tried to act out her questions about babies for him, he didn’t seem to understand. In fact, sometimes Annie got the feeling he didn’t want to understand. That troubled her and gave her cause to wonder if having a baby wasn’t a rather awful experience for the mother. Not that it mattered. She wanted a baby, and if she had to go through a bit of unpleasantness to get one, she was prepared to do whatever was necessary.

Late one afternoon, a time that Annie usually spent with Alex, he received a message requesting his immediate presence down at the stable. Shortly after he left the house, Annie grew bored and, since she’d been allowed more freedom of late to venture outside alone, she decided to take a stroll around the property. In her wandering, she ended up at the stable.

Immediately upon entering, she came to an abrupt stop and tipped her head, held in thrall by a faint sound that broke through the silence that always surrounded her. Since she was so seldom able to detect noise, this was not only a novelty but also a curiosity. It was a shrill sound, unlike anything she could recall ever having heard. Drawn to it, she moved hesitantly through the stable, her footsteps picking up pace slightly as it became louder and easier to follow.

Halfway down the shadowy alleyway that ran through the stable, Annie came to an intersecting corridor. To her left, she saw a bright dome of lantern light, men milling about in its nimbus. Fascinated, she moved toward them. As she drew close enough to see, she realized they were gathered outside a horse stall. Craning her neck to look past them, she saw Alex kneeling beside a prostrate mare inside the enclosure.

The shrill, piercing noise was coming from the horse. The poor animal was screaming, throwing its head, and trying frantically to gain her feet. Alex, face contorted and neck veins bulging, was straining to help the mare stand. During those intervals when the horse fell limp with exhaustion, he stroked her swollen belly and said, over and over, “It’ll be okay, girl.

It’ll be okay.”

Following the movements of his hands, Annie noticed that his arms were smeared with blood to his shirt sleeves, which had been shoved back to his elbows. Concern etched the chiseled lines of his dark face, and when she caught a glimpse of his eyes, she saw they were filled with sorrow. Her gaze moved to the horse. Something was terribly wrong with the poor thing, Annie realized. Judging by the blood, she guessed that the mare had been injured somehow.

“Easy, girl. Easy.”

Behind Alex, Deiter, the stable master, was wrestling frantically with some sort of pulley contraption that had been attached to the rafters. Annie guessed, by the mechanism’s design, that the canvas straps would be fitted around the mare’s body so she could be hoisted to her feet.

Her heart aching for the poor mare, Annie drew closer so she could see better. The mare chose that moment to give a powerful lunge, throwing Alex aside as she pushed to her knees. At a shout from Alex—Annie knew he shouted by the way the muscles along his throat grew distended—Deiter abandoned what he was doing and ran to help. With the assistance of both men, the horse staggered to her feet.

Frantic—probably with pain—the mare seemed not to appreciate the help of the men and wheeled about, throwing her head and lashing out at Alex with a forehoof. The stable master, trying to dodge her feet, grabbed for her harness but missed. The animal, in her frenzy to escape, came about yet again, this time turning her hindquarters toward the open stall door.

Annie nearly fainted. The mare’s backside was dilated and streaming blood, and from it protruded miniature horse legs, the hooves of which were covered with white stuff that resembled clumps of clabbered milk. A baby ... The mare was giving birth.

Annie stood paralyzed, her gaze riveted. The mare’s sides were heaving and lathered in sweat. Alex grabbed one of the straps hanging from the ceiling and quickly looped it around her girth. When he got the band fastened, he ran to the wall, unhooked a pulley rope, and, leaping high into the air, pulled on it with his entire weight.

As he tied off the hoist, he glanced over his shoulder at Deiter. “Get the foal turned! Hurry, Deiter, or we’re going to lose her, goddamn it!”

Provided with a perfect view of the mare’s backside, Annie watched in horror as Deiter shoved his arm, clear to the elbow, up inside the mare. Inside of her! Black spots swam before Annie’s eyes. An awful, rubbery feeling attacked her legs. A baby, the mare was having a baby. A baby that had been growing inside her in a special place. Only it wasn’t wonderful, as Alex had told her. It was horrible. More horrible than anything Annie might have imagined. The mare was suffering, suffering terribly. And if Alex and Deiter couldn’t do something to help her, she was obviously going to die.

A strong hand clamped over Annie’s elbow. Blinking to see through the spots that swam in her vision, she looked up into the concerned face of a man she’d never seen. He said something to her, but she was in such a state, she couldn’t focus on his mouth.

All she wanted was to get away. From the man. From the stable. From Alex, who had lied to her. Away to someplace safe—someplace where she could hide— someplace where the screams welling within her could be released without anyone hearing.

She whirled and ran, blindly and in a panic, the thought going through her head that maybe, if she ran fast enough, she could escape the fate that nature held in store for her. As she exited the stables, however, all thought of running fled her mind. Her legs felt like melted rubber, wobbly and incapable of bearing her weight. The world around her seemed to be doing a slow, undulating turn, vertically one minute, then shifting on its axis, making her feel as if she were being flipped upside down and then sideways.

And she felt sick, so awfully sick. In the blur of her vision, she saw the house, and she broke into a staggering run toward it. There was a hiding place there. A safe place.

Alex had just finished washing up and was drying his arms when Maddy came tearing into the stable, her green eyes bugged, her face blanched. As she skidded to a stop before him, she began working her mouth, but several seconds passed before any sound came out.

“Annie,” she finally managed to cry. “Up in the attic! She’s screamin’ and carry in’ on somethin’ awful. Come, Master Alex. Come quick!”

One of the hands, who had washed up just before Alex and stood nearby rebuttoning his shirt, said, “Oh, damn.”

Both Maddy and Alex whirled toward him. At their questioning stares, he shrugged. “The missus was in here a little bit ago,” he explained, looking shamefaced. “She seemed purty upset when she ran out.”

“In here?” Alex barked. “What d’you mean, in here, Parkins? You mean she saw the mare?” At the man’s nod, Alex nearly snarled. “Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you was busy. With the mare and all. If I’d’ve bothered you, we would’ve lost her for sure.”

Alex had an unholy urge to knock the man’s teeth down his throat. “My wife is far more important to me than a damned horse, Parkins. She shouldn’t have been in here. The minute you saw her, you should have—”

Alex broke off, realizing how futile it was to jump all over the fellow. The damage had already been done. Tossing down the towel he’d been using, he pushed by Maddy and broke into a run for the house.

The instant he entered the hall, Alex heard the screaming. It was like nothing he had ever heard in his life, a horrible, demented wailing that reverberated eerily along the landing arid down the stairway. Grasping the banister rail, he swung onto the first step and took the others in flying leaps, his heart slamming like a sledge against his ribs. When he reached the second flight of stairs, the screams seemed louder, more frightening, shrieks one moment, guttural moans the next, the intermittent sobs so deep and tearing that he began to fear Annie might do some serious harm to herself.

Tearing along the third-floor corridor to the west wing.

Hitting the narrow, dangerously steep staircase. Falling to one knee. Scrabbling to regain his feet. Alex moved in a blur, scarcely conscious of anything but the screams and his sense of urgency to reach his wife.

He hit the closed attic door as though the barrier of wood wasn’t there. Darkness. Objects in his path. What he couldn’t leap over, he plowed through, scarcely noticing the pain as sharp projections barked his shins and slammed into his thighs.

Annie ... Dear God. The panic and pain he heard in her cries nearly dropped him to his knees. The mare, he thought wildly.

She had seen the mare giving birth. That she had come into the stable, that she had witnessed something so awful, made him feel sick. Physically sick. No pregnant woman should see something like that, least of all someone like Annie.

Alex finally reached the dividing wall that separated her small parlor from the rest of the attic. As he staggered around the partition, Annie’s screams came to a sudden stop. The silence was so absolute it seemed deafening, crashing against his ears, resounding. Dimly, he was aware of the rasp of his own breathing.

The fading light of the late autumn afternoon spilled anemically through the dormer windows, doing little to illuminate the room. Alex searched the gloom, trying frantically to locate her. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he finally spotted her pale oval face. Stepping closer, straining to see, he began to make out her features.

Thinking only to comfort her, he ate up the distance with three strides to where she sat huddled in a corner. “Annie, sweetheart.” He grasped her violently shaking shoulders.

“Honey ...”

It hit Alex then. The silence. The sudden and awful silence.

Dear God, she was holding her breath. To stop herself from screaming. She was afraid. Of him. She had broken the rule of silence, and now she thought he might punish her.

“Annie, no. Sweetheart, go ahead and cry. I don’t care.”

In her panicked state, Alex didn’t think she was registering anything he said. Her slender body jerked fiercely with suppressed sobs. He stared down at her, helpless to breach the chasm that stretched between them. Deafness. A lifetime of observing rules and being harshly reprimanded when she broke them. Even in the dimness, he could see her pinched little face turning a frightening, dull red. The veins at her temples and along her throat bulged, bluish purple beneath her skin, throbbing and swelling with pressure.

Impotent rage exploded within Alex. He shoved to his feet with such suddenness that his head spun. James Trimble. The goddamned razor strop.

He turned and ran from the attic, taking the narrow, steep staircase as though it weren’t there. Almost immediately after his departure from the attic, Annie began to cry again. Bless her heart, she had no way of knowing how loud her screams were.

Nearly blind with tears, he passed through the house, feeling as if he were slogging through waist high molasses, each step an effort, every movement agonizingly slow. Alex hit his study like a man gone mad. The strop.

That damned strop. He couldn’t remember where he had put it.

When he reached his desk, he began jerking drawers open with such force that they departed from their runners, spilling the contents onto the floor. Dimly, Alex realized that Maddy had run into the study. As if from a distance, he heard her talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. What she was saying didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to him at that moment but the girl upstairs.

He finally found the razor strop in the bottom right drawer of the desk. He closed his fist around it and raced past Maddy, never sparing her a glance. Retracing his steps, he returned to the attic. He knew now that Annie would quiet the minute she saw him. That was the rule.

Well, he had had it with the Trimbles’ idiotic rules, and he was going to show Annie that, once and for all.

When he stepped into her parlor again, she reacted just as she had before, gasping and then holding her breath to stifle any sounds that tried to erupt. Alex strode directly to her wobbly three-legged table. With a violent sweep of his arm, he sent her mismatched collection of china flying. Cups and saucers hit the wall, shattering upon impact, particles and shards ricocheting. He didn’t care. He could buy her more china, a whole houseful of it if that would make her happy. But he couldn’t buy her another chance at life!

Shaking with rage, Alex slapped the strop across the table’s surface. Then he fished his pocketknife from his trousers.

With jerky movements, he unfolded the blade, and then he set upon the length of leather in a frenzy, hacking it into pieces, then hacking the pieces into pieces.

“Scream!” he roared at her. “Scream, yell, cry! I don’t care, Annie! Do you understand me? I won’t punish you for making noise. I will never punish you. Never!”

Hack, hack, hack! In his frenzy, Alex mutilated the length of leather until it lay before him in minuscule bits. Then, and only then, did he stop. Tossing down the knife, he planted his hands on the tabletop and hung his head, breathing as though he had run a mile. When he finally looked up, he saw that Annie was still huddled in the corner, her slender arms locked around her knees. Against her breathlessly red face, her gigantic, tear-filled eyes were inky splashes of blue.

Alex held her gaze. “I love you, Annie,” he whispered hoarsely, and then he opened his arms to her.

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Alex waited, silently praying for a miracle as he hadn’t since childhood.

Just one little miracle.

“Please ...” he whispered raggedly. “Come here, Annie love.”

With a low, broken cry, she pushed up so suddenly from the floor that she seemed to move in a blur. Then she launched herself at him, plowing into him with the foremost part of her small body, which at this stage of pregnancy happened to be her belly. Afraid she might hurt herself, Alex gave with her weight to lessen the impact and nearly lost his balance in the attempt. Catching her against him, he staggered back a step, then managed to regain his footing.

Annie . . . Her slender arms were hooked around his neck, clinging to him as though she hung off a cliff and he were her only purchase. Her deep, shuddering sobs, which she still stifled against his shoulder, weren’t that loud, but they jolted through him. He was just glad she no longer held her breath.

“Oh, God, Annie...” Gently, Alex gathered her closer, if indeed that was possible, for she had melted against him like a pat of butter on a hot griddle cake.

“Forgive me, sweetheart. Forgive me.”

With her face buried in his shoulder, Alex knew she couldn’t know what he was saying, and perhaps that was just as well. Before he could hope to soothe her, he had to calm down himself, and right now, he was far from calm. This was all his fault. He’d had an opportunity to sit down with her once and explain the birth process, and out of some misguided sense of chivalry, he’d shirked the responsibility, telling himself ignorance was bliss.

How wrong he had been. By avoiding the issue, he’d left her vulnerable in a way that no woman should be. Because of him and his stupidity, she was terrified now and in a panic.

Senseless and totally unnecessary. If he had only talked to her.

All it would have taken to avoid this mess was a little honesty.

Nearly frantic in her attempt to get close to him, she stepped up on the toes of his boots and clung more tightly to his neck.

Her weight was so slight that Alex scarcely felt the pressure on his feet. Angling an arm under her rump, he lifted her against him, smiling through tears at how sweet she felt. Annie, big belly and all, was the most precious armful he’d ever held. As he pressed his face against her hair, she let loose with a wail. A terrible, tearing cry that came jaggedly from her chest.

To Alex, the sound was heartbreaking, not a practiced cry designed to gain sympathy, not a delicate sob, carefully measured to seem feminine. This cry came from her soul, raw with pain, ugly in its honesty. Nothing was held back or modulated. Even so, to Alex, it was the most beautiful sound on earth. The very fact that she had dared to utter it was a gift of trust.

That realization brought fresh tears to his eyes. Forgetting her delicate condition, forgetting everything, he tightened his arms around her, acutely conscious of the fragile ladder of her ribs beneath one of his palms, of the narrow span of her shoulders, of her lightness. There wasn’t much of her, but somehow, she had filled up his world. To hold her in his arms.

To know that she trusted him as she had never trusted anyone else . ..

The gift of Annie . . . Holding her as he was now, Alex could scarcely believe that there had been a time when he had railed against fate, when he had viewed his marriage to her as an obligatory sacrifice to set a wrong right. He had wrongs to rectify, certainly, but they had nothing to do with duty and nothing to do with sacrifice. Loving this girl, being a part of her world, was a blessing.

Bending low, Alex swept her into his arms and carried her to the rocker in one corner of the room. Sinking down on it, he cradled her across his lap, letting her head rest against his arm, not so much so that he could see her face, but so that she might see his. Her eyes, dark with panic, clung almost desperately to his. Until that moment, Alex had intended to talk to her, to explain away what she’d seen in the stables. But that look in her eyes silenced him. Now was not the time for talking. At least not in the conventional way.

Instead, he gathered her close, much as he might have a child, and began to rock her. As he rocked, he whispered words he knew she couldn’t hear. But it wasn’t what he said that mattered. What Annie needed right now were messages that couldn’t be expressed with words, anyway. With a shaking hand, he stroked her hair. Then he pressed his cheek atop her head and closed his eyes, not at all surprised when he felt more tears running down his cheeks. Each one of her sobs cut through him like a knife.

He had felt guilty a few times in his life, but never more so than now. Because he knew she needed to, he allowed her to cry. God knew she deserved that much. When she finally began to quiet, he resettled her in his arms so their faces were only inches apart. “Annie,” he said, and hauled in a deep breath, “I think we need to have a talk. About the baby, and what it will be like when—”

Her eyes going wide with unmistakable dread, she gave her head a violent shake. “Naa-ooh!”

Alex caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. When she finally grew still and he felt he had her full attention, he said, “Have I ever told you a lie? Ever?”

Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.

“Then trust me not to lie to you now. Having a baby is not” —he stressed the word not, saying it slowly and with exaggerated clarity—”like what you saw happening in the stable.”

Her gaze clung to his, filled with questions and disbelief.

Alex swallowed, not looking forward to this conversation, but knowing he had to get through it. Uncertain where to start, he simply began talking. Word for word, he wasn’t certain exactly what he said, only that he told her about the foal’s breech birth, following up with a description of normal childbirth. He held nothing back and was completely honest, even about the pain of labor. As he explained how the child would exit her body, her eyes grew dark with fear, which caught at his heart but also made him smile.

“Annie love, your mama gave birth to you. Mine gave birth to me. All the living things we see around us were born, and in much the same way that your baby will be born. It may not be pleasant, but you’re going to survive it, and I’ll be there to help you, I promise.” He traced a fingertip along the hollow of her cheek. “It’s going to be beautiful, sweetheart, not awful. Trust me on that. And when it’s all over, you’re going to have a baby all your very own to love.”

At that bit of news, she looked dubious. Alex couldn’t help but grin. “Do you think I’d fib to you?”

When she continued to look doubtful, he said, “Well, it looks to me as if a walk to the stable is in order. Breech birth and all, the mare is fine. And she’s the proud mama of the cutest little colt you ever saw.” Determined, Alex set her off his lap and pushed to his feet. “I’ll prove to you I’m not lying.”

She gave her head a vehement shake, clearly frightened at the thought of returning to the stable.

Alex took her hand. “Trust me, Annie. You saw the worst thing an expectant mother can possibly see. Now I want you to see the sweetest.”

The last place Annie wanted to go was back to that stable.

But Alex insisted, and since he was a good deal larger than she, she had no choice but to comply. To her surprise, darkness had fallen during the time she was indoors. Moonlight and shadows fell across them as they stepped out into the dooryard.

As if he sensed her jumpiness, Alex curled an arm around her shoulders and drew her against him as they walked.

His unaccustomed closeness served to distract her from her worries more than anything else he could have done. Where her shoulder pressed against his side, he felt like lightly padded silk over steel. His arm around her felt wonderfully strong and warm. As they moved in unison through the dark garden, it occurred to her that he must be matching his stride to hers, for his legs were longer, by far, than her own. The rotation of his hip bumped against her side at a point well above her waist.

She sneaked a glance at his dark profile, unnerved by him in a way that she’d never felt before, sort of fluttery in the stomach, yet oddly excited. As if he sensed her regard, he looked down, caught her gaze, and smiled one of those slow, slightly crooked grins. “We’ve never walked together in the moonlight, have we?”

Annie shook her head.

His long fingers shifted where they were curled over her shoulder, and the friction of his touch through the sleeve of her dress made her skin tingle. “We’ll have to do it more often.

You’re beautiful in the moonlight. Absolutely beautiful.”

Somehow, Annie doubted that. Though she had not indulged in bouts of weeping very often, the few times that she had, she’d looked awful afterward, all puffy-eyed and red in the face.

As though he guessed her thoughts, he chuckled, the low laugh vibrating into her shoulder and radiating down the length of her arm. “You are beautiful, Annie love. Trust me on that. Without question, one of the loveliest young women I’ve ever had the pleasure of clapping eyes on.”

A hot feeling crept slowly up Annie’s neck and pooled like fire in her cheeks. She glanced quickly away. She immediately felt his body shift, and the next thing she knew, he’d stooped down and forward to put his face in front of hers. She reared back in startlement, which made him laugh again.

“I’m talking to you, goose. How can you know what I’m saying if you don’t look at me?”

As he straightened, Annie followed him with her gaze, about to smile in spite of herself. Since the last thing she’d felt like doing a few minutes ago was smile, that gave her pause.

“That’s better,” he said. “I feel like a damned fool, walking along in the dark, talking to myself.”

Her mouth quivered at one corner. He touched a fingertip to the dimple in her cheek. “You also have the most glorious smile I’ve ever seen, by the way. The kind of smile that drives grown men to make utter fools of themselves.”

Annie shook her head. He nodded just as emphatically.

Gulping back a giggle, she shook her head harder.

He arched an eyebrow and assumed a disgruntled expression. “My God, our first argument.”

At that, Annie lost control. The giggle she’d been swallowing back erupted from her throat. At the sound, Alex spun to a stop. Annie’s first thought was instinctive, that he was going to reprimand her. But even in the moonlight, she could see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Was that a laugh I just heard?” Tightening his arm around her shoulders, he drew her gently against him. “Nah! Not my Annie.” He studied her for a moment. “You poor girl, you’ve got the hiccups, don’t you? The bane of every expectant mother’s existence, chronic indigestion.”

Annie giggled again. She couldn’t seem to stop herself. And when she did, the most incredible thing happened. Alex’s grin vanished, and after gazing down at her for what seemed to her several endless seconds, he got tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. Only that, just a simple “thank you.”

But to Annie, those were the two most wonderful words she’d ever seen spoken, and they meant more to her than a thousand others might have. With them, he told her a wealth of things, namely that he had meant everything he’d said to her in the attic, that he not only wouldn’t punish her for making noise, but that he wanted her to.

A wondrously free feeling filled her, a light sensation, almost as if she’d become buoyant. She could trust this man, she realized. With everything. And with his gaze to embolden her, she dared to mouth the words, “You’re welcome.”

Incredibly, he seemed to read her lips, for his smile deepened. Catching her chin on the edge of his hand, he tipped her face so the moonlight fell across it. “Say it again.”

Annie obliged him. As she finished, he slanted his thumb across her lips, his eyes warm with laughter as they delved into hers. “Isn’t that just like a woman? Encourage her to talk, and the first thing you know, she’s a chatterbox.”

With that proclamation, he shook his head and drew her back into a walk. Fixing her gaze on the stables, Annie realized that she no longer felt afraid to go there and see the mare. Even if Alex was wrong, and the horse was in pitiful condition, she could face it.

As long as Alex went with her, she thought she could face almost anything.

When they entered the stable, Annie’s courage dwindled. It was so dark inside the building. And utterly silent. It was how she imagined death would be, black nothingness. For a few moments, Alex left her standing there in the void alone. She had no idea why, only that he’d left her and she felt as though her skin was going to turn inside out.

Then he was beside her again. Big and muscular and warm.

He took her hands and placed them on something made of metal and glass. Annie searched out its contours with her fingers and identified it as a lantern. She smiled slightly at his thoughtfulness. By letting her touch the lamp, he was explaining why he’d left her for a minute.

Clutching his arm, she leaned against him as they walked, wishing he would decide they didn’t have to do this, after all.

No such luck. He pressed forward, drawing her along beside him in the blackness. When they turned left, she knew they had entered the intersecting corridor and that the mare’s stall lay just ahead. Peering futilely through the blackness, she tried to see Alex’s face. She wanted, no, needed to see him.

As he drew to a stop, he pulled away from her again. Never in her life had Annie resented her deafness so intensely. It seemed to her that the silence had become a living thing with cold, clawing fingers that were curling around her. Alex? Oh, God, he had left her. All alone. She groped a little wildly. Her palm encountered rough wood.

The next instant, light exploded beside her. Startled, Annie leaped back. Then she saw that Alex had only struck a match.

Amber flickered across his dark face, making his eyes glow eerily. Lifting the lantern globe, he touched the flame to the mantle, and a blinding whiteness flared. Waving the match out, he stuck the hot end in his mouth to make sure it was dead out before he tossed it away. After turning the fuel valve to adjust the light, he hung the lamp from a long nail protruding from a wall stud above, him.

He said something to her. Then, when she didn’t react, he placed his hands on his hips, his weight on one booted foot, his other leg slightly bent. Clenching the match between his teeth, he spoke again. Because he was talking through his teeth, Annie had no idea what he was saying, only that he was getting aggravated because she wasn’t complying. When he started to speak again, she stepped quickly forward and jerked the match from between his teeth.

He looked nonplussed for a second and then slowly grinned.

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“I was telling you to take a look and see for yourself.” He inclined his head at the stall. “Mama and baby, safe and sound.”

As Annie turned to look over the gate, he stepped up behind her and encircled her waist with his strong arms, one large hand splayed over her swollen stomach, his fingertips lightly caressing. For just an instant, she stiffened, unnerved by the familiarity. But then she felt her tension slipping away under the gentle strokes of his hands. Alex. She leaned back against him and closed her eyes, imagining that she felt his strength seeping into her. Against her shoulder, she felt the steady thumping of his heart, a sturdy, soothing rhythm that seemed oddly harmonious with the flutter of her own pulse.

A smile touched her mouth, and, opening her eyes, she looked into the stall. The mare stood in the center of the enclosure, her liquid brown eyes resting curiously on the two humans who had intruded upon her peace. Beside her, his long, gangly legs spread wide for balance, was her colt. Head tucked under his mama’s belly, he was eagerly suckling, his small broom of a tail uplifted and making quick little rotations.

Alex leaned forward so she could see him. “See that tail?

It’s his pump handle. Every time he sucks, his tail goes up and down.”

Annie giggled.

“I’m glad you like him. Before winter’s over, he’ll probably seem like part of the family. He’s out of season. Most foals come in the spring, which gives them plenty of time to mature before harsh weather hits. We’ll have to pamper this little fellow.”

That said, Alex hunched his shoulders to rest his chin beside her ear. Just below her temple, she could feel the slight rasp of whiskers. The scent of bergamot from his shaving cologne filled her senses.

Suddenly, as though disturbed by the unaccustomed weight of his hands, the baby inside her wiggled. Not a little wiggle as she usually felt, but a big one. She jumped with a start, and she felt Alex’s chest jerk with a laugh, the deep vibrations of it moving through her like sunshine.

Repositioning his hands, he gently palpitated her hard roundness. The baby accommodated him, shifting to escape the intrusive pressure. Annie felt a warm flush creeping up her neck.

Alex must have felt the heat rising against his cheek, for he leaned around to regard her face with twinkling amber eyes.

“Don’t be shy, Annie love. This is my baby, just as you are mine. Feeling the life inside you is like touching a miracle.”

Placing her hands over his, Annie let her eyes fall closed again. For reasons beyond her, being held like this by him felt absolutely right. Wonderfully right. She didn’t want to move, never wanted him to take his arms away. Their baby. The sweetness of that nearly brought tears to her eyes again, only this time, tears of happiness.

For a long while, they simply stood there, Annie leaning against him, he supporting her weight. The feeling that filled her was very like the feeling she got when she watched the sunrise, as if God had sent her a song.

As they left the stable, Alex’s thoughts were focused entirely on the girl who walked within the circle of his arm.

She had made no objection when he told her the baby was his, that she was his. He prayed to God she had no objections. He was in too deep to turn back now. Head over heels in love.

Irrevocably so. She had brought joy into his life beyond his wildest dreams, a sweet, wondrous joy that made every breath he took seem worthwhile. Seeing the world through her eyes had given him a new appreciation of it. Newborn foals. Mice in the attic. Waltzing to silent melodies. Drinking tea that didn’t exist. She was both child and woman, wrapped up in one, a delightful blend, and he loved both.

To lose her now ... Just the thought made Alex ache, so he pushed it from his mind. She belonged to him in the eyes of God and man. The child she carried was his. Nothing was ever going to change that. He wouldn’t allow it to, because to lose her, now that he had found her, would be to die inside.

Eighteen

The following morning, a wagonload of merchandise was delivered to Montgomery Hall, all of it for Annie. Alex felt like a kid at Christmas as he directed the men through the house to his study, which from now on was going to be a combination study and music room.

When Maddy saw the organ, she raised dubious eyebrows.

“Master Alex, are ye sure ye want a noisemaker like that in yer study? How will ye ever be able to concentrate?”

Alex intended to have complete concentration, just not necessarily on his accounts. Weeks ago, he had decided that the way to court his wife was with sound. He’d be damned if he’d put all his lures in another room.

“Where is Annie now?” he asked Maddy.

“Up in the nursery. Drawing again, I think.”

Alex smiled, so anxious to show Annie all that he’d bought her that he ran out to the wagon and grabbed a crate of merchandise himself. “We can git it, Mr. Montgomery,” one of the men assured him. “This is our job.”

“I don’t mind helping.”

Alex carried the box into his study and set it on his desk.

Fishing his knife from his pocket, he cut the binding and tape, then folded the lid back. Ear trumpets. Almost reverently, Alex lifted one from the box. He flashed a grin at Maddy.

“Annie’s hearing aids! Now I can start her lessons.”

“You playin’ teacher! Rememberin’ yer marks in school, that’ll be a sight to see.”

“I’m going to teach her the manual alphabet and sign language,” Alex pronounced. “Just you watch. I’ll be a great tutor. I just didn’t want to start until these came.” He held up an ear trumpet. “With any luck at all, Maddy, she’ll be able to hear with these. Maybe not clearly, but anything will help.”

Maddy moved to the desk and took a medium-sized ear trumpet from the box. Peeling away the paper, she inserted the earpiece into her ear. Alex leaned forward and said “hello”

into the bell flare. She jumped, jerked the trumpet from her head, and cried, “Blessed Mother!”

Alex laughed and grabbed the horn from her. Putting it to his ear, he said, “Say something to me.”

“Ye busted me eardrum!” Maddy nearly shouted.

“Jeee-sus Christ!” He rubbed the side of his head, gazing at the trumpet with new respect. “That’s amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

After the deliverymen left, Alex spent nearly an hour arranging all Annie’s instruments about the room. He refrained from trying any of them out, fearful that she might hear the sounds and be drawn to the study before he was ready for her.

Finally, the moment of presentation arrived. So excited to see her face that he could scarcely bear the suspense, Alex took his seat at the organ. With a deep breath and a prayer, he experimentally worked the foot pedals. Then he began to play.

Well, not exactly play. He hadn’t a clue how to make music on the damned thing. But the noise was glorious. Within just a few minutes, the door to his study crashed open and Annie came in, hands folded over her swollen waist, eyes round with wonder.

Alex continued to fill the room with sound, grinning at her over his shoulder. As though mesmerized, she moved toward him, her gaze glued to the organ. When she was finally within arm’s reach, she put out a hand, touching the polished wood almost prayerfully. Then she moved closer, running both hands over the organ’s surface. The look that came over her face made foe organ worth every penny he’d spent on it.

Blissful, that was how she looked. Absolutely blissful.

Keeping her hands pressed to the wood, she closed her eyes, her rapturous smile so sweet that he ached.

Alex stopped playing, grabbed her hand, and drew her down to the bench. “You play it,” he encouraged her.

She folded her hands again and pressed them to her bodice as if she were afraid to touch the keys. Alex clasped her wrists, forced her arms down, and guided her rigid fingers onto the slats of ivory. After catching her eye, he said, “It’s yours, Annie. I bought it for you.”

She gave him an incredulous look. Then she swung her gaze back to the organ. Chuckling, Alex showed her how to work the thing. Within seconds, she was about to blast him out of the room. He stood back to watch her. Of all the things he might have given her, he realized, the musical instruments had been inspirational.

In the organ, Annie had found a dream come true. That seemed fitting. Since knowing her, she had made some dreams come true for him as well. Impossible dreams. Finding and marrying an angel. Loving someone more than he loved himself. Having a real reason for living.

Until suppertime, Annie stayed in his study, not because he insisted this time, but because nothing could have dragged her away. From the organ, she went to the sleigh bells. From that instrument, she moved on to others.

The house was filled with noise. A rather earsplitting, awful noise, to be sure, but it was made beautiful for Alex by one fact, that Annie could hear some of the chords. He didn’t care that she quickly learned how to strike those notes she heard best and repeated them, over and over, over and over. She was having the time of her life.

At mealtime, Alex made her stop playing with the instruments long enough to eat. As they began to partake of the first course, Maddy came in with a pot of tea, which she sat in the middle of the table with a rather loud plunk. Alex shot her a questioning glance.

“Is something amiss, Maddy?”

“Eh?”

Alex repeated himself.

Maddy cocked her head. “What’s that ye say?”

Convinced she was being sarcastic about all the noise Annie had been making, Alex settled back in his chair, eyeing her with a level gaze. “I don’t find this amusing, Maddy.”

With a disgruntled frown, the housekeeper poked a finger in one ear, fished about for a moment, and plucked out a ball of cotton. “I’m sorry, Master Alex. I didn’t catch that.”

Alex stared at the woman for a moment, then threw back his head and barked with laughter. Annie, busily shoveling food into her mouth so she could finish eating and return to the study, never looked up.

The following morning, Alex decided it was high time that he begin Annie’s lessons. The instant he tried to act on that decision, however, he found himself with a very unhappy young lady on his hands. Annie, fascinated with all the noisemakers he had provided for her, wanted to do nothing but play with them. When Alex drew her to his desk and made her sit down, she got a mutinous expression on her face and then proceeded to pout. Actually pout. His angel, Alex realized, was getting just a little spoiled around her edges.

Drawing up his chair, he sat down beside her and reached for the publications Dr. Muir had procured for him, James S.

Brown’s A Vocabulary of Mute Signs and W. P. Clark’s The Indian Sign Language which, to Alex’s delight, contained about a thousand verbally described entries and related each to the equivalent in American Sign Language, thus making the book a dictionary of both Indian and American sign. In addition to the publications were two carbon copied pamphlets that had been compiled especially for Alex by a woman in Albany who worked extensively with the deaf in a classroom environment.

“Work before play,” he told his wife firmly. “It’s time you began filling that pretty little head of yours with some knowledge, Annie love.”

He opened a publication and began leafing through the pages to locate the manual alphabet. When he glanced back up, Annie had lifted an ear trumpet off his desk and was blowing with all her might into the earpiece. Alex watched her for a moment with an indulgent smile, then he plucked the hearing aid from her hands and poked one end of it in her ear. Holding up his right hand, fingers folded against his palm, thumb extended upward and pressed against them, he leaned forward and boomed into the flare bell, “A!”

Annie jumped as though he’d stuck her with a pin and jerked the trumpet from her ear to stare at it. After a moment, she thrust it into her ear again, her expression expectant. Alex realized she thought the trumpet had made the noise all by itself.

“No, no, Annie love. That was me.” Elated that she actually seemed to have heard him, Alex made certain she kept it in her ear while he made a great show of putting his mouth to the flare bell. “That was me, Annie,” he yelled.

She jumped again. But this time she didn’t pluck the horn from her ear. Instead she grabbed Alex by the hair of his head and stuffed the lower half of his face into the bell. By this point, he was laughing so hard he couldn’t have spoken if he tried.

As his mirth subsided, he met her gaze over the bell wire. All urge to laugh left him. Her eyes held more raw emotion than he’d ever seen before. Guarded hope. Disbelief. Wary joy. His chest tightened. Drawing back so she might see his mouth as he spoke, he loudly proclaimed, “I love you.”

She stared at him for a moment, tears gathering and sparkling like diamonds in her blue eyes. Then, to his dismay, the tears spilled over her lashes to run in glistening rivulets down her cheeks. As he watched, it seemed to him her entire face began to quiver, first her mouth, then her chin, then the little muscles beneath her eyes. Alex drew back from the trumpet bell. “Honey, don’t cry. I thought this would make you happy.”

The trumpet went flying as she launched herself into his arms. Shaken by her reaction, he pressed a hand over her back and ran his other through her hair. He felt her body jerk with a sob. Then, as though her heart were breaking, she scrambled out of his arms and ran from the study.

Concerned, Alex followed her upstairs, only to find that she had once again levered the door closed with a chair. And this time, no matter how he tried to tempt her, she wouldn’t open it.

Annie sat in the middle of her bed, rocking back and forth, hands covering her face. Holding her breath to stifle her sobs, she wept disconsolately. He loved her. He had told her as much the night before last. But until a few moments ago when she’d looked into his eyes as he said the words, she hadn’t thought about the consequences of such an attachment—not for herself, but for him.

He loved her. Seeing his expression as he said the words—oh, God! Annie choked on a strangled breath, recalling the sense of helplessness that had filled her when she couldn’t say the words back to him.

Half a person, that was she. Deaf. Nothing he did, nothing he gave her, could ever change that. Nothing. All her life, she’d been shunned by normal people, an outcast wherever she went, unable to make friends, unable to attend church, forbidden even to go to town. Not that she’d really wanted to do any of those things, for doing them only brought her pain. It wasn’t any fun to be gaped at and tormented, or to have people whisper about her, thinking she didn’t know what they said.

She did know because, whispers or no, she could read their lips. There’s that Annie Trimble, the dummy. Poor thing.

Annie the dummy. Annie the dummy.

Was that to be her gift to Alex? Nothing but pain? Was that what she wanted to bring into his life? To avoid hurt, she’d been content to stay apart from people, content to live half a life. For years, she’d understood that half of a life was all that she could expect. But Alex could have so much more. Fresh tears filled Annie’s eyes, setting fire to the back of her throat.

Alex was wonderful. Not just handsome, but gentle and kind as well. He could have any woman he wanted. Annie felt certain that every pretty lady in town would adore being in her shoes, the sole recipient of all his attention. Why should he have to settle for a deaf girl? Not only a deaf girl, but a girl who couldn’t even tell him she loved him.

Annie knew what would happen if she let this situation continue. Soon people would start to shun Alex, not over anything he’d done, but because he was associated with her.

Before he knew it, he’d have no friends. He wouldn’t even be invited to go to people’s houses to visit. And no one would want to visit him here because of her. Annie the dummy. All she was good for, all she’d ever be good for, was to give people something to stare at.

Annie had never known anyone quite like Alex. Since she’d come to Montgomery Hall, he had changed her life. She loved him better than she’d ever loved anyone. She couldn’t bear to see bad things start happening to him because of her. He needed someone else to love. Someone who could make him happy, not the other way around.

Having reached that decision, Annie cried until she was exhausted and had no tears left to shed. Then she contemplated ways in which she might inform Alex of her feelings. He wasn’t good enough at lipreading yet for her to communicate with him that way, and trying to act it out would be impossible.

Pondering the problem, she suddenly remembered the night he had drawn her a picture to tell her about the baby.

Alex paced. Across the hall. Up the stairs. To the nursery.

Then he retraced his steps. Again and again. Then again.

Pretty soon, he lost count of how many times he ascended the stairway. Something was horribly wrong. He’d seen it in her eyes. But he couldn’t imagine what. He’d thought the ear trumpets would make her wildly happy. Instead she had burst into tears. Why? No matter how Alex circled it, he could find no answer.

When he finally heard the telltale creak of door hinges, he was midway up the staircase, executing what seemed to him the thousandth climb. The slight sound of her opening the door sent him flying up the remainder of the steps. Racing along the hall, he braked to a stop outside her door. Annie stood just inside the room, her small hand on the doorknob, her face as white as milk. By the redness around her eyes, he knew she’d been crying.

Backing up a step, she motioned for him to come in. Alex had a bad feeling about this. She avoided his gaze as he stepped into the room. Then, with a decisive little click, she closed the door behind him. Still not looking at him, she crossed quickly to the table where she picked up a sheet of paper and held it out to him.

“What’s this?” Alex closed the distance between them and took the paper in a tense hand. After studying the drawing she’d done, he said, “Annie, this is astounding. You’re very talented.”

She had sketched their head-and-shoulder likenesses, and her attention to detail was incredible. Aside from the work of professional artists, Alex had never seen such mastery. With nothing but charcoal and paper, she’d brought him to life. He smiled slightly at the expression she’d captured on his face.

Did he truly look at her that way, with a rakish grin and a lascivious gleam in his eyes? He supposed he must and couldn’t help but marvel that she hadn’t slapped him silly a couple of times for the affront. Not that Annie would recognize lecherousness if it ran up and bit her on the behind.

His gaze drifted to her image, which seemed a little off-plumb to him somehow. After studying the likeness for a moment, he realized that she had captured herself on paper much as she probably appeared to herself in a mirror, unsmiling, with no trace of the innocent sweetness or candid expressions that had stolen his heart. The eyes held no emotion or sparkle. No dimple flashed in her cheek. Annie, with no lustrous glow, still beautiful, but a face without any soul.

There was something else that didn’t seem quite right.

Something missing. But for a moment, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. After studying the drawing awhile longer, Alex finally noted the flaw and looked up at her, his heart in his throat.

Annie had drawn herself without ears.

With a trembling hand, Alex put the drawing back on the table. He was about to speak when she snatched up another and shoved it into his hands. He glanced down and saw another perfectly executed sketch of Annie’s face, only it was minus the ears as well as a mouth.

Alex’s first instinct was to rip the drawing into tiny pieces and tell her to stop being ridiculous. But the bruised look in her eyes forestalled him. This was very serious business to her, and judging by the pinched tightness of her mouth, calling attention to what she obviously believed were her inadequacies was painful for her. Extremely painful.

Tossing down the drawing, Alex sat on one of the chairs.

Patting a knee, he said, “Come here, sweetheart.”

She folded her arms under her breasts and shook her head, the stubborn set to her chin making her look more adorable than anything else. Alex also couldn’t help noticing that the position of her slender arms was causing an upward thrust of certain parts of her anatomy. The dressmaker, following his explicit instructions, had cut the necklines of her gowns a bit low. Nothing immodest, but low enough to provide a lovely display of her feminine attributes, which had become more generous with her advancing pregnancy. The way Alex saw it, if he couldn’t partake of the meal, the least he deserved was an occasional glimpse of the menu.

He patted his knee again. “Come on, honey. I just want to talk with you.” That was, without a doubt, the biggest falsehood he’d ever told.

She shook her head and mouthed the words , “I want to go home.”

With daily practice, Alex’s lipreading skills had improved to a point that he could, with great effort, make out simple sentences. “Home? To your parents, you mean?”

“Yes.”

He had only one answer for that. “Absolutely not.” Leaning forward, he grasped her wrist and drew her to him. Ignoring her protests, which was rather easy to do since she didn’t voice them aloud, he pulled her down onto his knee and curled an arm around her. “This is your home now. You belong here with me.”

She jerked her gaze from his lips and stared resolutely at the window. Realizing immediately what her game was, he tugged gently on a curl at her temple. When she still persisted in not looking at him, his mouth quirked at the comers.

Catching her by the chin, he forced her face back around to his.

“Annie, I don’t care about your being deaf. You’re beautiful and warm and funny. Being with you makes me happy as I haven’t been in a very long—” Alex saw that she was staring fixedly at his nose. He chuckled in spite of himself. “You little minx. So, it’s your plan to ignore me, is it?”

Tweaking the tip of her nose, he succeeded in reclaiming her attention. “I love you,” he whispered hoarsely. “If you go away, Annie, you’ll break my heart. Is that what you want, to make me sad?”

Shadows of pain shifted in her lovely eyes. Touching a small hand to his jaw, she said, “I want you to be happy. You can’t be with someone like me. You should find someone who can hear, someone who can talk.”

Following her lips movements, Alex struggled to make sense of the few words he’d been able to make out. The effort gave him cause to appreciate Annie’s intelligence. So many of the mouth positions that formed certain sounds looked exactly like those that formed others. Yet Annie managed to lip-read with amazing adeptness. He knew that to do so she not only had to keep up with the speaker, but had to second guess him half the time to figure out any unclear words.

“Someone else can’t make me happy,” he assured her when he had finally made sense of what she’d said. “Only you, Annie. So, you see? You can’t leave me. If you do, I’ll be sad forever.”

“I can’t hear. I can’t talk. People think I’m an idiot, and they hate me. If I stay with you, they’ll hate you, too!” She made a frustrated little gesture with her hands. “I want you to be happy. Let me go home.”

Those last four words were easy enough for Alex to interpret. “No,” he shot back. “Never. If you leave, Annie love, I’m leaving with you.”

A glisten of tears touched her luminous eyes. She gazed at him for several endless seconds before a smile started to quirk at the corners of her lips. Finally she said, “You are the stupid one, not me.”

After stumbling his way through that sentence, Alex grinned. “Stupid, yes. A big, bungling oaf without any sense whatsoever. I guess you’ll just have to stay here and look after me.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated with his logic. Or perhaps with his lack of it. “I can’t stay here.”

He had other ideas, and sliding his hand around to the nape of her neck, he quickly acted upon them, settling his mouth over hers. There were more ways for a man and woman to communicate than simply with words, and he was determined she should learn that lesson before he finished with her. No mouth? The girl had a mouth most men would kill for.

Fully expecting her to resist his kisses, Alex tensed his arm at her back, prepared to subdue her until she began to relax.

But, to his pleasant surprise, she acquiesced, allowing him to part her lips and touch his tongue to the moist recesses of her mouth.

Dear God. Just that quickly, and Alex was lost. Never had a kiss been so wonderfully sweet. She surrendered to him like a blossom to sunshine, opening, pressing upward, so soft and delicately fragrant that he felt intoxicated. His heart started to pound. His breath became ragged. Tightening his arm around her, he slid his lips from her mouth to her throat. He wanted her. Like embers fanned to a sudden flame, the passion he had so ruthlessly tamped for weeks ignited within him.

At the touch of his lips on her throat, Annie leaned her head back and moaned low in her chest. Alex lifted his free hand to her bodice. The tempting softness of her breast filled his palm.

Obviously aroused, she began to breathe in quick, whining little pants. The sound alone was enough to drive Alex half-mad. With a practiced touch, he grazed his thumb across the peak of her breast, delighting in the instant hardening of her nipple. But there were too many layers of cloth. He wanted so badly to feel the silken warmth of her skin that he burned.

The buttons at the front of her bodice were frustratingly small. He fumbled, managing to unfasten one, then two, his sense of urgency mounting. In the back of his mind, he kept expecting Annie to start struggling, and he was prepared to stop himself if she did. But instead she ran her small hands into his hair, her breathing still as fast and irregular as his.

Finally Alex slipped the last button free. Gently, his senses electrified with anticipation, he drew the panels back and encountered ... a chemise.

“Shit.”

He drew back to survey the undergarment, acutely conscious of Annie’s blue eyes, large and feverish, on his face.

Pleased to find that her chemise had a drawstring neckline instead of damnable buttons, he seized the ribbon and tugged sharply. Instead of pulling free, the strands of satin knotted.

Alex clenched his teeth, biting back another curse, knowing, even as he began to untangle the snag, that Annie might regain her senses during the delay and start to panic before he ever got her breasts bared.

Taking a deep breath and giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Alex leaned farther back so he might see better. Then he set upon the knot, so frustrated that it took all his restraint not to rip the chemise off her. Keep smiling. After all, it was just a little knot, he told himself. He felt sweat start to bead on his forehead. One stubborn knot. He could scarcely believe his miserable luck. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen was sitting on his knee, not only willing but patiently waiting for him to get her clothes off her, and he was fumbling around like a goddamned idiot!

Alex glanced up to find that Annie was watching his hands, her beautiful eyes filled with bewildered curiosity, her mouth slightly pursed. She didn’t seem in the least afraid, and for that, he was grateful. On the other hand, he wasn’t at all sure she knew what he meant to do, either. Whatever Douglas’s offenses against her had been, he had clearly not trespassed on her upper torso, at least not in such a fashion that he had left Annie with an aversion to being touched there.

Alex felt a pang of guilt as the knot finally came loose. But he chased it away. The girl was deaf, not dead from the eyebrows down. And at twenty, she was no longer a child. In addition to that, she was his wife. Another man, given the opportunities Alex had had , would have long since consummated the marriage. Besides, it wasn’t as if she were struggling. Or frightened. She only seemed curious about what he found so fascinating beneath her chemise.

Alex was more than willing to satisfy her curiosity.

His heart was slamming inside his chest like a threshing machine as he loosened the gathered neckline of the chemise.

The white cloth fell loose to underscore her breasts. Milky white globes with swollen pink crests. Reverently, Alex brushed a fingertip across her skin. It was warm and silky, just as he had imagined. He trailed his touch lightly to her nipple, watching the swollen aureole grow pebbled, the peak erect.

Annie jumped when he captured the sensitive protrusion between his thumb and forefinger. Her startled eyes flew to his.

As he rolled her flesh gently, she made tight fists in his hair and her eyes darkened to a stormy blue, her lashes drifting low over her pupils.

Bending his head, Alex flicked her other nipple with his tongue. She emitted a strangled little cry and arched her back to better accommodate him, her sudden yearning expressed to him in a language as old as womankind. Alex was happy—no, elated—to attend her needs. In fact, he couldn’t quite believe that she had surrendered to him so easily and was responding as she was, pressing herself forward, eager for his touch and the ministrations of his mouth.

Taking care not to hurt her, for he guessed her breasts were probably tender, he nibbled the swollen bud of her nipple.

When it grew distended and hard, he captured it between his teeth, then started to tease it mercilessly with his tongue. He knew exactly how sharply to nip that sensitive flange of hardened flesh, exactly how hard to suckle it, to drive her beyond reason. With quick relentless flicks of his tongue, he rasped the responsive tip, making it swell until it throbbed with her every pulsebeat. Then, and only then, did he deliver the killing blow to her senses, tugging hard on her with his teeth.

With the first tug, Annie shrieked. Not a little, whimpering cry. An earsplitting, rafter-shaking shriek. Caught off-guard, Alex was so startled, he jerked back and nearly dumped her on the floor. He might have if she hadn’t grabbed him by his ears.

“Annie, hush!” Her head was thrown back and her eyes were closed, so she couldn’t see him speaking. “Annie, don’t scream.” Alex threw a horrified glance at the door, which was unlocked. Clearly frustrated, she wrenched on his ears and arched upward, offering him her breast in a very determined way. “Maddy’ll come barging in on us, sure as—”

Her nipple grazed his lips. At the contact, she mewled with urgency and jerked him forward by his ears. “Ah—hhh!” she caterwauled.

“Jesus Christ.”

In one fluid motion, Alex pushed up from the chair, lay her atop the table on her back, sending paper and charcoal flying, and clamped a hand over her lips. Then, and only then, did he give her what she wanted. It was the first time in his life that he had ever been laughing when he drew a woman’s nipple into his mouth.

With the first rasp of his tongue over her crest, Annie shrieked into his palm and twisted on his ears again. Alex decided his ears could take the punishment. In a heartbeat, he could no longer even feel his ears, anyway.

Annie was like a miracle unfolding in his arms. So incredibly sweet, so absolutely guileless. No stranger to women and ways to please them, Alex knew exactly where and how to touch her, and she responded to each new sensation with hungry eagerness and complete trust.

When she was panting and trembling with need, he ran his free hand under her skirt and up her leg. Imagining his goal, the apex of her thighs, he groped for the slit in her bloomers, so eager to run his fingertips over her warm wetness that he was nearly mindless. So mindless that it took him several seconds to realize that Annie had gone rigid and was pushing in earnest against his shoulders. He reared back and fixed passion-glazed eyes on her fearful ones.

Looking, into her eyes, slowly registering her reaction, he froze and hauled in a deep breath, trying to get control of himself. Then, with great reluctance, he drew his hand from under her skirt. It seemed that Douglas’s ghost was going to haunt them, after all.

“It’s all right, sweetheart.” Braced on an elbow, Alex leaned a hip against the table and bent his head to kiss her swollen mouth. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

The tension slowly eased from her body. The fear slipped from her eyes. Lying there on the table, her lovely breasts bared and only inches from his lips, she tempted Alex in a way no woman ever had, and he congratulated himself on his almost saintly forbearance. Remembering how the little minx had nearly yanked his ears off, he gave her a heavy-lidded, satisfied smile, confident that the moment would come, and soon, when she wouldn’t call a halt to their lovemaking. All he needed was patience and other opportunities to arouse her.

He started to push up. At his movement, Annie grabbed the front of his shirt and held fast. He arched a questioning brow.

“What, sweet?”

She silently whispered something, but in his feverish state of unsatisfied passion, he had difficulty concentrating on her lip movements. “What?”

Her eyes darkened to a cloudy gray blue. Then she brushed her fingertips over her nipple and dimpled a cheek at him.

Alex’s gaze shot to her breast. As he watched her tease her own nipple erect, he felt a certain part of himself getting painfully more erect as well.

“Annie, no,” he said hoarsely.

She tugged urgently on his shirt.

“I can’t,” he said with a ragged laugh. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She pouted her lips and looped her arms around his neck.

“Please?”

Grabbing her above the elbows, Alex hauled her up to a sitting position, pretending he didn’t understand. It was a lie, of course. But the way he saw it, all sin was relative, and it was better that he lie to her by omission than risk becoming so aroused that he lost control. To force himself on her would be unforgivable and cause irreparable damage. She was only just now starting to trust him.

With trembling hands, Alex groped for her chemise ribbons, which was no easy task with Annie’s slender fingers running interference. He glanced down to see what she was doing and nearly groaned when he realized she was lightly tweaking the swollen peaks of her breasts. Jerking his gaze back to her face, he took measure of her expression, which was drawn taut with desire, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark with need.

“Christ!”

He caught her wrists and drew her hands away. He had clearly opened a Pandora’s box, he decided, and set himself to the task of putting his treasures back where he had found them.

As he tightened the drawstring of her chemise and drew a bow, she sighed resignedly.

“You liked that, did you?” he couldn’t resist asking.

She smiled an angelic little smile and nodded. Alex drew her bodice together and began fastening buttons as though his life hung in the balance. “Well, we’ll have to do it again sometime,” he said in an oddly twangy voice.

She nodded again. He grinned and met her gaze as he worked the last button into its hole. “Next time, don’t ask me to stop, and I’ll show you how nice the other things can feel.”

A troubled frown drew her delicate brows together. Alex bent to kiss the wrinkles away. When he straightened, he rasped the back of his knuckle across her lower lip. “Trust me, Annie. What I would have done if you hadn’t stopped me would have felt a hundred times nicer.” When she looked unconvinced, he said, “Maybe even a thousand times nicer.”

She still looked dubious. He studied her for a long moment, and then he said in a monotone, “You can’t count.”

She whispered, “I can so.’“ Then she promptly held up a fist and began unfurling her fingers, one at a time.

“One— two— three—’’

Alex closed a hand over hers, laughing in spite of himself.

“Never mind, you’ve convinced me. How high can you go?”

“Forty,” she informed him proudly. “No mistakes.”

“Forty? As high as that?” He considered that for a moment.

Then, determined to explain things in terms she could grasp, he said, “What we just did? It was”—he held up a finger—”one nice feeling. But what we could have done?” He held up all ten fingers, then folded and unfolded them three times in quick succession. “What we could have done if you hadn’t made me stop would have been forty nice feelings.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Seriously. Lots and lots of very nice feelings,” he assured her. Bracing the heels of his hands against the table on either side of her, he brought his face within inches of hers. “And let me tell you, sweetheart, if the time comes when you want more of that, I’ll oblige you, anyplace, any time.”

She wrinkled her nose, which set him to laughing again.

Then he caught her chin on the edge of his finger and tipped her face up. “As for your going home, forget it. I love you, Annie. It doesn’t matter to me that you can’t hear. Not a whit.

Understand? And as for your not being able to talk, you’ll learn because I’m going to teach you.”

She looked troubled by that pronouncement.

“Until you can talk,” he whispered, “you have a beautiful mouth, and I can think of dozens of nice uses for it besides talking.”

With that, he settled his lips over hers to prove his point.

Nineteen

For Alex, the word courtship took on new meaning over the next few weeks. Instead of wooing Annie with softly spoken words of love, he made cacophonous music. Instead of writing her romantic poems, he drew letters for her and painstakingly tried to teach her the manual alphabet. Instead of entertaining her with brilliant conversation, he stuck a horn in her ear and yelled, or he fixed one eye on a book and, as he read, awkwardly tried to execute signs according to the instructions.

In the beginning, Annie was an unreceptive pupil. While he was in a sweat, trying to make a sign perfectly, he would glance up and discover that her attention had drifted to the window behind him or that she was eyeing one of her noisemakers with abject yearning. On occasion, he even caught her looking at him with the same longing, which played havoc with his nerves. Since that day in the nursery, he had initiated no more embraces, not because he didn’t want to hold her in his arms, but because he feared he might lose control if he became too highly aroused.

Annie had no such concern, apparently. To her, the foreplay they had engaged in had been a highly pleasurable experience, and she obviously made no connection between their doing that and Alex longing to do more. Unfortunately, there was a connection, a rather strong one, and Alex was determined not to engage in activities that might get out of hand. Not until he felt certain Annie was ready to consummate their marriage.

One morning in the middle of a lesson on the manual alphabet, Alex glanced up from the instructional guide to find Annie leaning across his desk, her weight resting in equal part upon her elbows and her swollen stomach. Her mischievous grin and the sultry gray cast to her eyes set his heart to thudding.

“Annie, we’re supposed to be working,” he said sternly.

The dimple in her cheek deepened, and as she gazed at his mouth, he got the distinct impression she was thinking about other things besides lipreading. Lifting one hand to her bodice, she toyed with her buttons, then lifted her darkened gaze to his, her smile filled with unmistakable invitation. Jerking his eyes from hers, Alex started leafing almost frantically through the pages of the book. The little minx scooted closer.

“Annie ...” He glanced up. “Please get off my desk. You’re going to scatter my papers everywh—” His gaze dropped like a rock to her slender fingers, which had moved from the line of small buttons on her bodice to the crest of her breast. Through the layers of her clothing, she was lightly stroking herself.

Alex could see her nipple thrusting against the material, a sharp little peak that beckoned to him irresistibly. “Annie, don’t. That isn’t—”

She smiled and caught her bottom lip in her teeth.

Alex shoved up from his chair and took a turn before the window. “You mustn’t—” He couldn’t keep his eyes off her hand and what she was doing. His guts knotted painfully. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that such behavior was unladylike, but in truth, as long as she only did such things when they were alone, he didn’t find it objectionable. Far from it. “Don’t ever do that in front of other people,” he amended hoarsely. “Not in front of Maddy or anyone. You understand?”

She nodded. Alex dragged in a shaky breath. “As for doing it in front of me,” he went on, “you have to understand that if I should take you up on your offer, I’ll want to do the other things we talked about. Last time, when I tried, you grew frightened. Unless you’ve had a change of heart, then I’d suggest you stop”—he swallowed, hard—”issuing me the invitation.”

She stood up so suddenly that he felt sure it made her head spin. Watching her sultry expression change to one of wariness, he gave a halfhearted smile. “Somehow, I was afraid that would be your reaction.” He glanced at her bodice.

“Which is a shame. Making love to you is one of the few activities I’d deem worthy of interrupting our lessons. As I explained before, it’s extremely pleasurable.”

She promptly sat down and looked pointedly at the lesson book. Alex chuckled and resumed his seat as well. Ignoring her resigned expression, he relocated his place in the manual.

Five minutes later, Annie was yawning and gazing out the window again.

Alex began to despair that he would ever be able to impart to her the importance of what he was trying to teach her, that if she would only pay attention, a whole new world could be opened up to her. Then one morning, quite by accident, he hit upon the strategy of teaching her signs that were meaningful to her. Midway through their lesson, which had thus far inspired Annie to do nothing but fidget, Alex glanced over and saw her gazing with longing at her organ.

Capturing her attention with a wave of his hand, he said,

“Would you like to play the organ, Annie?”

“Yes!” she said, and pushed eagerly up from her chair.

“Not so fast,” Alex said, feeling more than a little out of sorts with her. “First you must ask permission.”

“Please?”

He shook his head and tapped the book. “In sign.”

She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know the sign.”

Nearly as accomplished at lipreading now as she, Alex hooked an arm over the back of his chair and fixed a challenging gaze on her. “Then you’ll just have to learn it, won’t you? It’s either that or give up playing the instruments.

From now on, unless you ask permission in sign, you can’t play them.”

Her eyes widened with incredulity. Alex grinned at her and began flipping pages. He located the sign he was looking for.

“Make.” He placed his right fist upon his left and made a twisting motion as though he were unscrewing something.

“Music.” He waved the flat of his right hand from left to right in front of his flattened left hand, palm facing right. “Please.”

Smiling, he made a counterclockwise circle with the flat of his right hand over his heart. “That’s all there is to it.” Making the signs again, this time more rapidly, with no hesitation between, he repeated the words, “Make music, please?” Settling back in his chair, he eyed her with lazy arrogance. “Now, you do it.

Or forget playing the organ today. Your choice.”

Mouthing the word, make, Annie stacked her fists and gave a pretend twist. As she said, music, Alex guided her through the hand movements. The only mistake she made signing the word please was going clockwise as she circled the flat of her hand over her heart. He corrected her error.

“Now do it with no help,” he challenged.

Frowning in concentration, she executed the sign again, this time perfectly and without his assistance.

“Very good, Annie! Perfect!” Alex slapped the book closed and glanced at his watch. “For that, you deserve a ten-minute break.”

To his surprise, she didn’t immediately move from her chair.

Swinging his gaze back to her, he arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to play the organ?”

She nodded, but her expression said otherwise. In her eyes he saw a certain guardedness, but he also saw yearning. “What, sweet?”

She inclined her head at the book. “I s there a sign for love?”

Alex’s chest tightened. “I’m sure there is.” Feigning a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he reopened the book.

“Let me see. Ah, here it is.” He crossed his hands over his heart, palms toward his chest. “Love. That’s a simple one.”

She leaned slightly forward, looking frustrated. “Is there a sign for I love you’?”

“That’s simple as well. To speak in sign, you string the signs together much as you do with words. To say ‘I love you,’ you first make the sign for I.” To demonstrate, he placed his folded right hand against his sternum, palm facing left, thumb touching his chest, little finger thrust upward. “Then you make the sign for love, which you just learned.” He showed her the sign a second time. “Then you make the sign for you.” With a slow grin, he pointed the index finger of his right hand at her.

“And I do love you by the way.”

Her cheeks turned a pretty pink, and she averted her face.

Alex waited, expectant, filled with yearning, wanting her to tell him she loved him in sign more than he could recall ever having wanted anything. He waited in vain. After a moment, Annie pushed up from her chair and wandered to the organ. A few seconds later, the room was filled with deafening noise.

The cacophony lasted for only a few minutes, however, before Annie pushed up from the bench and wandered back to Alex’s desk, her gaze fixed curiously on the book that lay beside him. Toying with the lace at her neckline, she finally looked into his eyes. “How do you say ‘Alex’?” she asked.

He shoved his account book aside. “There aren’t any signs for most names. They have to be spelled out.” Grabbing another book, he flipped it open to the section that contained the manual alphabet. Slowly, so she could absorb the hand positions, he spelled out his name, saying each letter as he made the sign for it. “A—L—E—X.”

Annie sat down across from him, her attention shifting rapidly from his hand to his mouth, her expression intent.

Then she duplicated the hand motions and smiled at her accomplishment. “Alex!” she cried, looking inordinately pleased. “I spelled Alex!’’

“You certainly did! But, Annie, that’s only a beginning.

With the manual alphabet, which is simply a collection of signs for the regular alphabet, you can learn to spell every word in our language. Did you know that? Once you’ve memorized the alphabet, you’ll be able to master reading.” At her uncomprehending look, he gestured toward his bookshelves. “Books, Annie. You’ll be able to read books.

There are wonderful stories in some of them, about exciting people and faraway places.”

She glanced at the book-filled shelves. “Me? I can learn to read?”

“You certainly can. You’re a very intelligent young woman.”

She made a face, clearly unconvinced she was even halfway smart. “Stupid” she said. “Mama says I’m stupid.”

Alex sighed. “You are not stupid. Trust me on that. And your mama doesn’t say that you are. Not anymore. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but if you pay attention during lessons and work very, very hard, you can learn to read, Annie. And you can learn to write as well.”

Looking suddenly purposeful, she folded her arms and sat perfectly erect. “Teach me, then.”

He chuckled. “Well, we won’t accomplish it this morning.

We can only make a start.”

“Teach me!” she repeated. “Please?” And to Alex’s delight, she made the sign for please as she mouthed the last word.

Trying not to reveal his sense of victory, Alex set himself to the task of doing just that.

Learning to speak in sign ... It was the most difficult thing Annie had ever tried to accomplish, but it was also the most fascinating. Under orders from Alex, her mother and everyone at Montgomery Hall began studying the manual alphabet so Annie would one day be able to communicate with them. To that end, they all studied the alphabet at least one hour every day. Henry and Deiter, neither of whom could read or write, were the only individuals in his employ who were excused.

Within two weeks, Edie Trimble, Annie, and everyone who lived at Montgomery Hall had memorized the manual alphabet. Once that was accomplished, Alex compiled a list of words he insisted Annie learn to spell before she advanced any further in her lessons: sick, help, hot, cold, drink, eat, and Alex, the last because he alone could read lips and, if summoned, would be able to understand what she needed if no one else could.

It was a heady feeling for Annie the first time she entered the kitchen and was able to ask for a drink. The maid to whom she spelled out the word immediately understood and drew her a glass of water. It was the first time in over fourteen years that Annie had been able to ask anyone for anything. After drinking the water, she left the kitchen, sought privacy in the nursery, and wept. To speak, even if it was with her hands, was to her a priceless gift.

Thinking back to her early days at Montgomery Hall, Annie remembered how angry she had felt when she first learned that she was married. She had believed then that she had received no gifts on her wedding day and had felt cheated. Now she realized she had been given a priceless gift, a tall, tawny-haired man with amber eyes and a lazy grin. He was, without question, a maker of miracles. Knowing him had altered her world in so many ways that she could no longer even count them.

Loving him as she did put her in a difficult position. On three different occasions, he had expressed, ever so clearly, his desire to be close with her, not just by kissing and touching her bubbies, which she’d found delightful, but down below as well, as his brother Douglas had once done. Annie couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone, not even Alex, do that to her again.

But he wanted to. Lately, she sensed that whenever she was with him. The message was there in his eyes when he looked at her, in his hands when he touched her, and it was always in the air between them, a heavy, expectant feeling.

The most difficult part was that Annie wasn’t entirely certain that being close with Alex would be so terrible. That day when he had touched her and kissed her in the nursery, it had been glorious, and because it had, she couldn’t help wondering if the other things he wanted to do would be delightful as well. According to Alex, they would be, and as far as Annie knew, he had never lied to her.

What a quandary ... She wanted to make Alex as happy as he had made her, and she sensed that he would be very happy indeed if she would let him put his hand under her skirt. The question was, could she bear it once she let him? Annie didn’t know, and because she didn’t, she procrastinated about reaching a decision, one way or another.

September gave way to October, October to

November—Annie knew the names of the months now because Alex had made her memorize them—and the days grew increasingly chilly. When the last cutting of hay had been baled, Alex spent less time working, and more time with Annie. On some afternoons, he bundled her up in a cloak he’d had made for her and took her for long walks. On others, they stayed in his study by a warm fire and engaged in pleasant pastimes, sometimes playing games, other times simply talking. He had become very accomplished at lipreading, and both of them were becoming fluent in sign language.

One afternoon, he asked her, “If you could name one thing that you want more than anything else, Annie, what would it be?”

Annie gnawed her lip. Alex had given her so much. So very much. It seemed ungrateful to admit there was anything else she still yearned for.

“Come on. This is a time for honesty.” Sitting close to the fire as he was, the golden light from the flames played over his dark face and flickered in shadows across his cream silk shirt, which complemented his broad shoulders. His gaze searched hers. “Jewelry?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No, not jewelry. Where would I wear it?”

“You’d like to go to town,” he guessed. When she shook her head, he said, “To a dance, then?”

“There’s nothing I really want,” she fibbed.

“Annie ...” he said in a scolding way. “Tell me.”

Already loving the child within her, Annie pressed her hands over her stomach and drew up her shoulders in a shrug.

“When the baby comes, I probably won’t even want one anymore.’’’

“What difference does that make? Tell me.”

“A dog.”

He narrowed an eye. “A dog? They’re big, hairy, drooling, and ill-mannered. Why on earth would you want a dog?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just always wished for one.”

He shook his head and gazed into the fire for a moment.

When he glanced back at her, she asked, “And you? If you could name one thing you really, really want, what would it be?”

His gaze delved deeply into hers. “You won’t like my answer.”

She rolled her eyes. “That isn’t fair. I told you.”

He didn’t release her gaze. “I want you.”

Annie felt a flush sliding up her neck.

“In my arms, in my bed,” he said. “I want to make love to you, Annie. I want that more than anything in the world.” His gaze touched on her swollen waist, then returned to her eyes.

“I love you. And I love our baby. I want us to be a real family.”

His eyes ached with yearning. “All my life, I’ve been alone.

Until you came, I didn’t realize how empty I felt. Now you and the baby are bringing about changes. Good changes. Maybe it’s greedy, but I’m like a kid in a candy shop. I want it all.

Does that make sense? A real marriage, you in my arms when I go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning.”

She finally managed to jerk her gaze from his and stared into the flames. She jumped when he touched her cheek to draw her face back around.

“I know you’re frightened, “ he whispered. “And I don’t blame you for that. But I think I’ve earned your trust, if nothing else, so will you at least think about it?”

Her face felt as though it had been smeared with egg white.

“I’ll make you a promise,” he told her. “If you’ll trust me enough to let me try, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. And if you ask me to stop, I swear I will.”

Annie could scarcely bear looking into his eyes. In them, all she saw was love for her. How could she possibly deny him the one thing he had ever asked of her?

“As I said, just think about it. There’s no need to give me an answer right now. Will you do that? Think about it?”

She nodded.

He rewarded her with a slow smile. “While you’re thinking about it, think about how nice it was that day in the nursery. I guarantee you that what comes after is even better.”

Annie wished she could be certain of that. Oh, how she wished she could be certain.

Twenty

A sound jerked Alex from a deep sleep. Momentarily disoriented, he rolled onto his side and gazed through the darkness. Blessed with good night vision, he had little difficulty seeing even on a moonless night, which tonight definitely was not. Silver light bathed his bedchamber, pooling on the floor before the armoire and casting dappled shadows over his dresser.

Annie ... Remembering their talk that afternoon, he allowed himself to hope she might be sneaking into his room. His heart sank when he glanced at the door and saw that it was firmly closed. Not Annie. He frowned slightly and pushed up on an elbow, trying to estimate the time. Midnight, perhaps a bit later, he decided. He didn’t feel as though he’d been sleeping very long.

The sound that had disturbed his rest came again, a muted thumping and rattling from somewhere downstairs. Slipping from bed, he bypassed his robe in favor of trousers and boots.

In the event that he had to confront an intruder, he wanted to be halfway prepared. Not that he believed someone had broken into the house. He’d lived at Montgomery Hall since birth, and never in all those years had there been any trouble.

The people in and around Hooperville were a wholesome, God-fearing lot, and crime was almost nonexistent. Douglas had been the most frequent perpetrator of foul deeds hereabouts, and now he was gone.

Douglas ... Alex’s pulse quickened. Then he discarded the thought. For all his faults, his brother was no fool. No, it was probably one of the servants, he decided. Sometimes Frederick had trouble sleeping and rattled around in the kitchen during the wee hours to heat himself some milk.

En route down the hall, Alex made a quick stop at the nursery to be certain Annie was all right. Walking lightly, he approached her bed, assured himself she was sound asleep, then retraced his steps, quietly closing the door as he went back out into the hall.

The steps on the stairway creaked under his weight as he crept downstairs. During the day, Alex never noticed the noise, and he made a mental note to have a carpenter check the stairwell supports. A place the size of Montgomery Hall required constant maintenance.

As he gained the hall, Alex froze. Something about the sounds he heard raised gooseflesh along his arms. It wasn’t the haphazard rattling about that one would expect from a servant.

It was more a stealthy sound, as if someone were searching for something and desperately afraid of being heard. Alex followed the noise to the dining room.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside. Enough moonlight came in through the partially draped French windows to illuminate the room, which made lighting a lamp unnecessary. A man hunkered before the sideboard. Beside him on the floor rested a white bag, into which he was stuffing objects he withdrew from the cabinets. Recognizing him instantly by the tawny cast of his hair, Alex wasn’t certain which emotion was stronger within him, anger or sadness.

After loving his brother so long and so well, it was no easy task to completely despise him, no matter what he had done.

“Douglas,” he finally said, “what the hell are you doing?”

His brother withdrew from the cupboard so abruptly he cracked his head. Swearing under his breath, he clamped a hand over the smarting spot. “Alex?”

“Who do you suppose?’’ Alex folded his arms over his bare chest. “You should probably wrap the crystal in something.

The good linen, perhaps? Clattering around in that bag, some of the pieces may get chipped.”

“What crystal? A few pieces, and that’s it. And hardly any silver. I swear Alex, for a man of means, you spare pitifully few coins for finery.”

“I apologize. How shortsighted and inconsiderate of me.”

Douglas pushed to his feet. After standing there for a second, looking defiant, he rubbed his nose with his sleeve. “As you have probably guessed, I’ve met with financial difficulties.”

An ache filled Alex’s chest. If only his brother would beg for forgiveness and promise to straighten up. If he’d just reveal some sign of guilt or—Alex cut the thought short. It was a path he had walked a thousand times, and he knew where it would end. The heartbreak of it was that, regardless, he wanted and needed to forgive him. This was his brother, not some stranger.

He had told him bedtime stories when he was small, taught him to ride his first horse, watched him grow to manhood. To forget all that, to pretend it had never happened, was impossible.

“If you need some money, Douglas, I have some loose cash in the safe,” he offered gruffly.

“You’d give it to me? When I saw that you’d changed the safe—well, I figured it was because—”

“I might be afraid you’d sneak in and steal me blind?” Alex finished for him.

Douglas had the good grace to look a little shamefaced. “I would’ve taken only enough to get by.”

Alex was tempted to say that he also believed pigs could fly.

But his brother’s lack of compunction was beside the point.

Not that he was entirely sure what the point was. Aside from the fact that he was a fool, of course. Where Douglas was concerned, it seemed he always would be. Since the day of their father’s death, Alex had been trying to atone for the loss, never able to forget, even for a moment, that he was responsible. Guilt had a way of grabbing hold of a man and never letting go.

He sighed and thought fleetingly of Annie. Loving her as he did, it was wrong to give Douglas anything. Wrong. If she saw his brother in this house, Alex doubted she would ever forgive him, and he wouldn’t blame her. Douglas had raped her, cruelly, consciencelessly. To help him in any way was a betrayal of the worst kind, and Alex knew it. On the other hand, he couldn’t hate his own brother so much that he would see him beggared and starving.

“Come to the study. I’ll give you some cash and a bank draft.

Then I want you out of here, Douglas.” Hearing a slight clatter, Alex turned back from the doors in amazement. “Leave the silver, for Christ’s sake. I said I’d give you some money.”

Praying that Annie, with her uncanny ability to detect vibrations in the floor, wouldn’t awaken and wander out to the landing to see who was there, Alex hustled his brother through the hall and into his study. Closing the doors, he wasted no time in approaching the safe. As he turned the dial, taking care to conceal its face, he heard Douglas’s weight settle onto one of the leather chairs.

“Don’t get comfortable.”

Douglas laughed. “Oh, yes. I don’t suppose your little wife would like it too well if she found me here. I understand, Alex.

All men have their priorities. It’s obvious what yours are.”

The door to the safe swung open at just that moment. His body suddenly rigid, Alex turned and asked in a deceptively calm voice, “Just what the hell does that mean?”

“Nothing! Don’t be so touchy.” In the moonlight, Douglas’s face seemed featureless from across the room. He finger combed his hair and stood up. Strolling casually to the mantel, he lit a lamp, then turned to survey his surroundings. “Lord, how I’ve missed this study. I’ll bet I’ve imagined being here a dozen times. When did you get the organ?”

“Only recently.”

Taking in the other instruments, he said, “Developing an interest in music, are you?”

“You might say that.”

Douglas trailed his fingertips over the small table that sat between the two chairs before the hearth. “Do you remember all the times I beat you at chess, sitting right here before this fireplace?”

“I remember how often you cheated.”

Douglas chuckled. “That, too. Moving the pieces when your head was turned was the only way I could win.” A moment of silence ensued. Then he added, “Those were good days.”

“Those days are over, and it’s entirely your own fault that they are.” Alex took the small packet of money from the safe.

Crossing to his desk, he said, “I’m going to write you a sizable bank draft. Handle it wisely. Once this is gone, you’ll get nothing more. I never want to see you here again. Is that clear?”

There was an echo in those words. With relentless clarity, Alex could recall saying them to Douglas once before and believing with all his heart that he meant w here he stood, handing over more funds. It made no sense, not even to him, and yet he felt powerless to do otherwise. He pictured himself, a dozen years from now, reenacting this same scene for the dozenth time, mocking himself for repeating the same meaningless words.

Douglas leaned a shoulder against the rock face of the fireplace. “Jesus, Alex, I am your brother. I realize I committed a grave sin by raping the girl. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t. But I can’t undo the past. Haven’t you got it in your heart to forgive me?”

Alex looked up from the draft he was signing.

“Unfortunately, yes. But I’ve always been a fool where you’re concerned, haven’t I? Do you know that I sometimes lie awake until nearly dawn, asking myself what I did wrong in raising you? Blaming myself. If I had been sterner, stricter, if I had kicked your ass from here to hell and back a few times, would you have turned out differently?”

“You did a fine job of raising me,” Douglas assured him. “I just did something stupid, that’s all. It wasn’t your fault.

Maybe it wasn’t even mine. I was drunk. Not thinking straight.

It just happened, Alex. Before I knew what I was doing. You know how I get when I drink. Mean as a snake. I admit it.”

Knowing where his brother was headed, Alex said,

“Douglas, don’t. A pretty speech can’t make everything better between us, not this time. You’ll only succeed in making it worse.”

“Worse?” His brother moved a step away from the hearth, his hands uplifted imploringly. “At least listen to me. I’ve lain awake at night, too. Feeling bad. Not just over what I did to the girl, but for disappointing you. Please, give me one more chance. Just one more. I’ve sworn off drinking. I haven’t touched a drop since I left.”

“Oh? And what was that I smelled on your breath in the dining room? Tea?”

“It’s freezing out tonight. I took one little nip to stay warm, that’s all. One little nip.”

Alex shook his head. “Was I really such a fool that you can stand there now and actually expect me to believe this horseshit?” He raked a hand through his hair. “You’re right, you know. I think liquor is three-fourths of your problem, that when you drink, you do things you’d never do otherwise.

Unfortunately, the other fourth of your problem is that you will always be able to justify taking just one little nip. And then another. And then another. Lie to yourself if you must, but not to me.”

“Alex, please. Give me another chance. Just one, and I’ll never ask again. I swear, this time I won’t mess it up. I won’t so much as touch the whiskey. I won’t. Not for any reason, not ever!”

With grim determination, Alex resumed writing the draft. “I can’t do that, Douglas, and you know it. It isn’t just myself I have to think about now. I have a wife. I owe her my loyalty, first and foremost. Quit drinking, if you can. Straighten out your life, if you can. But do it away from Montgomery Hall.”

Douglas straightened his jacket, a heavy wool garment that had seen better days. “Ah, yes. Your wife. Abbie, isn’t that her name?”

“Annie.”

“Right. Annie. How could I forget? Although I must admit, the most memorable thing about her was her legs.”

“Don’t,” Alex warned him softly. “I have very few fond memories left of you. Don’t destroy them by lashing out.”

“Lashing out?” Douglas said bitterly. “You’re turning your back on me. I’m your brother, for Christ’s sake.”

Alex’s stomach did a slow revolution. He quickly finished filling out the draft, ripped it from the book, and slid it across the desk. “There you are. Take it and get out.”

Douglas walked slowly to the desk. He picked up the draft, folded it precisely into thirds, and slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket. Their gazes met, amber striking amber.

Alex had seen that look in his brother’s eyes before and knew it portended some form of retaliation. No big surprise. When Douglas didn’t get his own way, when Alex denied him anything, he always retaliated.

Smiling slowly, Douglas said, “Annie ... Nice little ass, if I remember right. Are you enjoying your little idiot, Alex?

When I plowed her, you called it rape. When you do, I suppose it’s a noble sacrifice. Good old Alex, cleaning up his brother’s messes. What a cross for you to bear.”

Alex braced his weight on his hands, which had suddenly formed fists. It always came to this, he realized. Staring at Douglas, trying to understand him, and running facefirst into a brick wall. Some things were beyond understanding. “Don’t,”

he said again, knowing even as he spoke that Douglas would have his pound of flesh before he left. That was his way. It always had been.

“Don’t what? Confront you with the bald truth?” His eyes aglitter, Douglas said, “You’re pathetic, you know that?” He indicated the well-appointed study with a sweep of his hand.

“What if the brat she whelps is a girl, Alex? Ever thought of that? Being half a man like you are, how will you sire a son?

Or don’t you want a male heir?”

Alex couldn’t speak. And even if he had been able to, there were no words.

“At least with me around, you might get another brat or two out of her. Or maybe you’re just too selfish to share that sweet little honeypot of hers. I’ll bet you’ve been wetting your nose in it every night since you married her.”

Alex had started to shake. A horrible shaking.

Douglas smiled. “Or are you one of those men who prefers that particular service to be rendered? I can almost see you, a snifter of brandy in one hand, the other holding her by the hair of her head to show her how you like your—’’

Alex planted his fist squarely in his brother’s mouth. Just that quickly. Without forethought, without intent. He simply hit him, throwing all his weight into the blow. With a startled look on his face, Douglas staggered backward. Scarcely realizing he moved, Alex vaulted over the desk after him. In a flurry of motion, the two of them collided and hit the floor rolling. Gaining the advantage, Alex sprang to his feet, drew back a leg, and buried a boot in his brother’s midsection. Then he grabbed him by the hair of his head and jerked him to his feet.

While pummeling his face, he roared, “You miserable little sack of shit! You aren’t fit to kiss that girl’s feet, let alone speak her name!”

To Alex, time seemed to move as slowly as a fly crawling over tacky paper. Each time he drew back his fist, it seemed to him he moved a fraction of an inch at a time. He was out of control, and he knew it. His brother’s face was turning to a bloody pulp under the punishment of his knuckles. If he didn’t stop, he’d kill him. But his conscience seemed to have taken leave. The next thing he knew, he had Douglas pinned on his back to the floor and was strangling him. As if from a distance, he watched his hands squeezing, watched his brother’s face go from dull red to swollen scarlet.

Alex wasn’t sure what finally brought him to his senses. A fleeting thought of Annie? Of what might happen to her if he ended up swinging from the gallows? He didn’t know. He only knew that something, perhaps the Almighty Himself, made him jerk his hands from his brother’s throat.

Douglas rolled to his side, clawing at his larynx and making horrible gargling noises as he struggled for breath. Alex pushed to his feet and turned away, not caring if his brother lay there and suffocated. Not caring, and almost hoping he did.

Bracing his hands on the desk, he hung his head and closed his eyes. When the rasping noises began to subside, he said, “Get out. Get out before I kill you.”

He heard Douglas scramble to his feet. But he didn’t hear him running for the door.

“I mean it, Douglas. I’ll murder you with my bare hands.”

Staggering footsteps. The creak of hinges. The resounding slam of the doors. Alex expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then, feeling as though his lungs were being ripped from his chest, he sobbed. A dry, horrible sob.

His knees buckled and he sank down to cradle his head on the desktop.

Death. Not of a man, but of love. The end did not come easily.

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