If he lived to be ten thousand, he thought wryly, he was fairly certain he still would not understand women. How much of what Cheryl had said was true feminine insight of another woman, and how much pure lies invented to destroy his peace? She hadn’t told him everything that had passed between them. He knew that, but she could hardly have picked anything more guaranteed to unravel the fragile bond between them.
He must have been in his cups to have told Cheryl anything at all about his wife, he thought angrily. He could not recall having done so. Had she been snooping? Or had she merely been around long enough to piece some parts of the tale together?
Did it matter now?
He couldn’t think of anything he could say that would undo the harm Cheryl’s comments had done. Unfortunately, he could not delude himself with the thought that it hadn’t created insurmountable doubts in Anna’s mind.
He was still deep in thought when he heard footsteps in the show room. After listening for a moment, it dawned on him that he’d heard the bell above the front door tinkle as someone entered--and he’d just fired Cheryl.
Before he could get up, he heard Anna hurry from the back.
As tempted as he was to allow her to handle the customer, she wasn’t dressed for it, had no training, had no idea what the price was for any of the pieces.
He didn’t particularly want the damned sale either, but he knew Anna would be distressed at trying to handle something so unfamiliar to her. Pushing himself up from his chair, he opened his door just as the customer greeted Anna.
“I needed to talk to you.”
The voice went through him like an electric shock. His gaze zeroed in on the woman who’d spoken and recognition dawned. After a frozen moment, he stepped back very quietly and just as quietly eased the door closed once more, leaving only a slight crack between the door and the frame.
“Ms. Bridgewater,” Anna responded after a stunned moment. “How did you find me?”
“I wasn’t supposed to? I had no idea you were trying to keep your whereabouts secret.”
“It’s not that. I was just surprised.”
There were several moments of silence. “I was awake half the night thinking about that bracelet. What do you think its worth?”
Anna shook her head. “I don’t know how to appraise things like that. All I can say is that its value only lies in the gold and the stones themselves. Its significance as an antiquity was destroyed when it was altered.”
Liz frowned, obviously displeased. “I believe you. The thing is, it does match the other pieces even if it isn’t authentic and I’m thinking about buying it anyway. Except, I don’t want to over pay that crook.”
Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! She supposed though that Liz soothed her conscience with the fact that she’d paid for them. “I wish I could help, but I don’t actually know anything about jewelry. Maybe you could get one of the pieces appraised by a jeweler based on the weight of the stones?”
“And maybe I could end up in jail,” Liz snapped.
Anna sought patience. “Isn’t there anyone you could trust to appraise the pieces for you? Or, maybe you could go to one of the finer jewelers and find something similar enough to get some idea?”
“Maybe,” Liz said thoughtfully, irritation still evident in her voice. She let out a huff of displeasure. “I guess I can give you a call here if I need to get in touch with you again.”
It didn’t escape Anna that she’d said ‘if’. “I don’t honestly know how long I’ll be working here, but for now, I suppose it would be alright. I’d have to ask my boss about personal calls.”
“He must be a total asshole if you’ve got to ask,” Liz snapped.
Anna contained her anger with an effort. “It’s his phone and his business. He’s not an asshole. He is the kindest, most generous man I’ve ever known. He probably wouldn’t mind at all. I’m just not in the habit of making free with things that belong to other people.”
Liz chuckled, but it wasn’t a particularly pleasant sound. “Your ethics would impress me more if I didn’t know you so well. They’re sort of convenient, aren’t they?”
Anna’s lips tightened. The poor couldn’t always afford to be totally scrupulous, not if they wanted to survive. “Was there anything else I could help you with?”
“You haven’t actually been that helpful,” Liz snapped, turning on her heel and stalking out of the shop.
Anna winced as she slammed the door hard enough to rattle the glass. After glancing uneasily at Simon’s office door, she turned and went to the back again, wondering if he was in his office or upstairs.
She hadn’t heard him go up, but she had certainly heard Cheryl’s departure. Had Cheryl quit, she wondered? Or had he fired her? And in either case, why had he not come out to see about his customer?
Chapter Nine
Anna looked up from her work to discover that Simon was leaning against the door frame watching her, his arms folded over his chest, his expression unreadable. She would’ve given much to know what thoughts were running through his mind.
He smiled wryly when he noticed he had her attention. “I’ve need of a sales clerk. Are you game for training?”
She was more than willing to do anything he wanted her to do, frighteningly so, but she had some doubt that she could master such a job without a lot of training. “Cheryl isn’t coming back?” she asked a little doubtfully.
“No.”
It took an effort to keep from asking him why, but she had a feeling it had to do with her and that she might not actually want to know the details.
She would still have liked to know whether Cheryl had quit because of her, or if he had fired the woman because of something she’d said.
“I’ll try. I’ve never done anything like that before, though.”
His smile warmed. “Come on. I’ll take you to lunch and we’ll start with a shopping expedition.”
Dismay filled Anna. She looked down at her clothes. They were clean and free of stains, but hardly the sort of thing for anything more high class than a fast food restaurant, let alone a clothing store. “I could pick some things up,” she said uncomfortably.
He pushed away from the door and moved toward her, looping his arms loosely around her waist and pulling her closer. “You’re not comfortable with the idea of me buying things for you?”
It wasn’t really a question. “No.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
That was what she was afraid of. She decided it was pointless to argue, though. If he needed her for the clerk job, she had to be dressed decently, and she couldn’t afford to part with any of her nest egg for something like clothes.
When he’d locked up, he escorted her out the back and into his car. They ate at the mall. It was a lot like eating at a fast food joint, except that she felt exposed and uncomfortable with so many people passing through the dining area. It was still a rather special treat for her for all that and she enjoyed the experience.
The shopping was more of an ordeal. She didn’t know what sizes she wore. The clerks practically drooled all over Simon--and they kept dividing speculative glances between her and Simon, as if they were trying to figure out the relationship.
Simon seemed to have something particular in mind. They went into and came out of a half a dozen stores. When they arrived at a shop selling goth wear, he studied the clothing in the display window for some time and finally dragged her inside.
She would’ve never guessed he was ‘in’ to that sort of stuff. Occasionally, he wore casual knits and jeans or carpenters, but mostly he wore dress shirts and trousers. It occurred to her after he’d chosen the dresses, though, that they were ‘right’ for the job in that they had an old time look about them. After choosing five ankle length dresses for her and two pairs of shoes that she made the mistake of stopping to admire, he guided her toward a women’s lingerie shop. He seemed far more comfortable in the shop than she was and Anna couldn’t help but wonder if that was because he was familiar with the store because he had frequented it with other women.
She dismissed the thought when she saw that Simon had no more idea of what the clerks were talking about than she did when they began to discuss demi cups and underwires, and whether or not she liked bikini, thong or high legged briefs.
Simon liked the looks of the thongs.
He also liked the demi bras designed to lift and bring the breasts together for cleavage.
She didn’t like the looks of either, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be happy wearing them, but since he was paying she let him choose. He seemed a little taken aback to discover that the less fabric used to make the article, the more it cost, but finally merely shrugged and dropped the cash on the counter.
The clerk looked his bank role over and batted her eyelashes him, flashing him a come hither smile, which, to his credit, he seemed completely oblivious to.
For herself, Anna was just plain appalled at the money he had dropped in the mall in a handful of hours. Feeling rather overwhelmed, Anna settled in the car when they left the mall and headed toward Simon’s place again, mentally tallying the money he’d spent at each shop and wondering if it was supposed to come out of her pay as the other expenses were, or if she should consider the clothing a gift, or if the wardrobe was actually in the nature of a ‘loaner’ that she was supposed to wear for him and leave when she left.
She discarded the last fairly quickly. Even the dresses couldn’t be considered ‘uniforms’ and certainly the underclothing couldn’t. Should she thank him? Or would that sound as if she expected to get the things for free? Maybe she ought to offer to pay for them?
With what?
She wasn’t going to part with her nest egg. She would just have to feel badly, feel obligated.
He slid a glance over at her as they paused at a traffic light. “You’re very quiet.”
“I was just thinking,” she said uncomfortably.
“I can see that. When a woman spends that much time thinking it usually spells trouble.”
She gave him a look.
“What will make you most comfortable about the shopping trip?”
Relieved, she smiled at him. “Could you take it out of my salary a little at the time? Maybe a quarter each week--including the money you already advanced me of course, and the hospital charges.” She thought it over. “I suppose you should also take my share of the rent out of my salary every week, too.”
He studied her thoughtfully for several moments. “I could do that,” he said finally.
His voice sounded a little strange when he said it. She examined his profile for a moment and finally dismissed it. Profoundly relieved that they’d gotten that out of the way in an agreeable fashion, she reached for one of the bags in the rear seat and dragged it into her lap, examining the lingerie happily. It was pretty even if it did look uncomfortable. It smelled new. It looked new. She could barely remember a time when she’d had anything new.
The more she looked at it, the more excited she got, deciding that she would try everything on as soon as they got back to the apartment. Finally, she shoved the lingerie back into the bag and put the bag in the back seat, grabbing one of the dress bags. When she glanced at Simon, she saw he was smiling faintly.
“I’m being silly,” she said self-consciously.
He glanced at her. “No.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“I didn’t realize I was.” He sent her another glance. “Maybe because it pleases me to see you happy?”
When he parked the car behind the shop at last, she tossed her seat belt off and bounced into the seat on her knees, throwing her arms around his neck exuberantly and hugging him tightly before she loosened her grip on him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, thank you! That was the best time I’ve had--ever.”
He chuckled, grabbing her and turning her so that she was wedged between his chest and the steering wheel, laying half across his lap. “Ever?” he asked, his eyes gleaming teasingly.
She blushed. “I meant that kind of fun,” she amended with a chuckle.
He shook his head. “Why are you thanking me? You said you were paying for it.”
“But I couldn’t if not for you, and anyway, I never would have gone if you hadn’t taken me. And it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun if you hadn’t been with me.”
He gave her a look. “You looked like someone was dragging you to the guillotine.”
“I did not!” she said indignantly. “Alright, maybe I was a little uneasy at first.”
“You looked so pale when I bought the dresses I thought I was going to have to catch you.”
“They’re beautiful, though.”
He sobered, stroking her cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers. “You’re beautiful. The dresses are only beautiful when they’re on you.”
The compliment made her distinctly uncomfortable, dousing her enthusiasm. She managed a smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, struggling to get out of his lap. He was frowning, she saw when she looked at him again. “I should try them on, don’t you think?”
He smiled faintly. “Again?”
“I had other things on my mind when I tried them on before.” Like the price tag, and the way the girls in the store were checking him out.
Reaching behind the seat, he handed her the bags. “Are you going to model them for me?”
“Yes--uh...” She saw he was holding the lingerie bag on one finger. “Those?”
He waggled his dark brows at her and she laughed, no longer certain of whether he was serious or not.
Once they were inside, he dropped onto the couch while she took the bags to her room. He looked her over curiously when she reappeared. “I thought you were going to model for me.”
“You don’t really want me to, do you?”
“You think I’ll mind looking at you waving your beautiful tush in front of me?”
“Be serious.”
“I am being serious--most earnestly serious. It’s an extraordinary tush.”
“You’ll have to wait for me to primp first,” she said warningly.
He looked at his watch. “In that case we should discuss dinner first.”
“Omelet?”
“Impertinent wench. How about take out since you find my cooking so offensive?”
“I do not find your cooking offensive. I love your omelets.”
He got up and moved into the kitchen. Pulling out a drawer, he gathered a handful of take out menus and looked them over. “Fine. I’ll order omelet for you. I’m having something more exotic.”
“Pizza?” she asked hopefully.
He gave her a look. After examining her expression for a moment, however, he sighed in defeat. “Pizza it is.”
“We don’t have to get pizza.”
“Go--primp. But I warn you, if you come out wearing any of those bloody expensive scraps of fluff I bought today you’ll be eating it cold.”
“Promise?” Anna asked daringly.
His eyes gleamed. “Promise.”
Warmth washed over her, but an uncomfortable sense of shyness, as well. She looked away as he picked up the phone to dial the number. Remembering the bill she’d stuffed in her jeans pocket, she dragged it out. “I’m buying,” she said, holding it out.
He frowned as he looked at the bill.
“I …uh … did a reading yesterday,” she explained. Dropping the bill on the counter, she headed to her room for a quick shower while he was occupied with the phone order.
As tempted as she was to test the promise, in the end Anna couldn’t quite get up the nerve, acknowledging that she simply didn’t have it in her to be a temptress. As badly as she wanted to, she knew she could never pull it off. Instead of slinking down the hallway like a femme fatale, she would lose all coordination and be so busy trying to cover herself he would be embarrassed for her.
She was still kicking herself when she returned to the living room and discovered the pizza had arrived.
Simon gave her a look, but smiled faintly. “Shot down by a pizza,” he murmured.
She blushed faintly, but returned the smile. “You knew I wouldn’t.”
“Yes, but hope springs eternal.”
She studied him thoughtfully. “I think you were more interested in seeing whether or not you could get me to do it.”
To her surprise, he frowned faintly. “You think it was in the nature of a test then?”
Gathering plates and glasses, she set the table, considering the remark. “I guess. Sometimes I feel like you’re sort of testing me to see if I’m the person you think I am, but I’ve never tried to pretend I was something I wasn’t. Maybe I’d be better off if I did.”
He stiffened slightly. “That’s what people do when they don’t know each other, isn’t it?”
“I suppose. I wasn’t complaining, but you know a lot more about me than I know about you.”
He settled back in his chair, his expression a curious mixture of speculation and wariness. “What do you want to know about me?”
Her gaze flickered over his face. Everything. He fascinated her, but she wasn’t certain if it was because he seemed so dark and mysterious, or because he was just plain fascinating. She focused on the food while she considered the offer, but she didn’t think he really wanted to tell her about the things that she was most curious about. Maybe he’d tell her if she asked, and maybe not. Finally, she realized that what she really wanted was for him to trust her enough, to feel comfortable enough with her, to tell her. She smiled, shaking her head. “When, and if, you want to tell me, I guess you will.”
* * * *
Elspeth didn’t know that she was crying until the tears rolling down her cheeks began to drip onto her hands. Scrubbing her cheeks against her shoulders, she looked around for Maude. “Did ye find Anne, then?”
Maude shook her head. “Is he any better?”
Her hands, arms, and shoulders ached from dipping the cloth and wringing it out again. “No,” she said, sniffing back the urge to burst into wails of fear and grief. “He’s delirious. I don’t understand it. The wound looks like its healing.”
“Let’s give the tea another try. Mayhap it will break the fever.”
She did not want to be left alone with him. She was terrified that he would die.
Sniffing back her tears, she leaned over him to bathe his face again as Maude left to brew the tea. He was muttering Anne’s name beneath his breath and it was all she could do to keep her tears in check.
“Hush, love,” she murmured quietly, stroking his hard cheek soothingly. “She is coming. She had to...” She could not think up a reasonable lie to tell him to explain Anne’s absence in his sick room--her absence from what might well be her husband’s death bed.
She had fled when he had passed beyond knowing whether she was with him or not. Elspeth had not wanted to leave him with only the maid to attend him while she searched for her sister. As frightened as she was about being alone with him if he died, she simply could not bring herself to leave him.
He caught her hand with surprising strength. “Anne?”
Elspeth swallowed, staring sorrowfully at his wide, beautiful eyes, so glazed with fever she knew he could not see her. What difference would it make if she lied to him? He would never know and it might comfort him some, might help to quiet him.
“Yes, my love? I am here. Ye must rest so that ye can get better.”
“Do not leave me.”
“I would not, not for all the world,” she murmured, settling on the bed beside him and brushing his dark hair from his temples with the damp cloth that was already heated again from his skin.
“Ye know that I love ye? I know I should of told ye as much. I was afraid to tell ye because I thought ye did not love me. But I have tried to be a good husband to ye.”
Elspeth could not take it anymore. His desperation to speak sounded so like farewell that she buried her face against his chest and burst into tears. “My love, do not! Please do not speak so. I could not bear it if....”
* * * *
“Anna!”
Anna glanced up at Simon blankly, struggling to redirect her attention from her thoughts to the task at hand. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled for the fifth time.
The impatience in Simon’s eyes subsided. “What’s wrong?”
Anna shook her head. She’d had little respite the night before from the dreams and felt as if she hadn’t slept at all.
“You’re upset because I went out last night. I told you that it was business.”
“No!” Anna lied quickly. “I wasn’t … I’m not. I just didn’t sleep very well. Nightmares.”
He frowned. She could tell by his expression that he wasn’t convinced … possibly because she had been upset when she had discovered that he was going out. She had tried to make herself believe that it really was business, but since she couldn’t think of any sort of business that he might transact so late in the evening she hadn’t been terribly successful.
Especially since he had gone out almost every night since she’d moved back in a few weeks earlier.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was as much to avoid her as anything else, but then they spent all day together in the shop. Spending their evenings together on top of that was probably way too much togetherness for someone who had lived alone so many years. She could see where it would chafe him.
It was beginning to get on her nerves, too, but mostly because he was so distant even when he was around her that she was thoroughly confused. One minute he would be teasing her and looking at her in such a way that she thought he might throw her down on the nearest flat surface and fuck her brains out and the next he was out the door.
The dreams were almost too much on top of her other anxieties and it didn’t help, at all, that she’d begun waking up at odd hours during the night, probably because of the dreams, and having to get up and go pee.
She wasn’t really surprised when she’d begun having the dreams again after she’d read the earrings. She would have been more surprised if she hadn’t. The thing was, they were either getting worse, or she was remembering more about them after she woke. She wasn’t certain which it was, but it disturbed her and when she woke in the mornings after the dreams she was as exhausted as if she’d been running around in her sleep doing the things she dreamed, not just dreaming them.
“What sort of nightmares?”
“I never remember in the morning,” Anna hedged, studying the cash register keys that Simon had been trying to teach her for days. The problem wasn’t just her distraction and it wasn’t because she was stupid. The problem was that there were rarely more than a handful of customers that came in on any given day and she hadn’t used the register enough to memorize it.
Apparently Simon made most of his money through the transactions he handled at night, and/or when he took clients out to eat.
“I think I’ve got the hang of it now,” she added after a slight hesitation.
He didn’t look convinced. “You can call me if you have a problem.”
Anna watched him walk away with more than a touch of dismay. Since Cheryl’s departure, she’d been stationed in the front and Simon handled everything in the back. She really thought he was a lot more qualified to handle sales than she was. “I could do some packing,” she called after him.
“You’re not dressed for it,” he pointed out without turning or even slowing his stride.
“I could change.”
He ignored that.
He liked the dresses on her. She could tell by the way she caught him watching her that he found the dresses much more appealing.
She preferred her jeans and t-shirts. She thought the dresses were beautiful, and she really enjoyed the way they looked on her, the way they made her look so--feminine, but she wasn’t used to wearing anything like it and she wasn’t comfortable and she had to stay on guard all day long to keep from snagging the flowing skirts on something.
As irritated as she was that he wouldn’t consider switching jobs with her, Anna was almost relieved when he had vanished toward the back. She felt like hell and she had the feeling she looked worse.
She didn’t want to talk about the dreams. She wanted to forget them. In time, she knew they would go away. They had before when she had read the necklace. She hadn’t had a single dream connected to it for almost two weeks, until she’d touched the earrings.
She no longer wasted time speculating on such things. When she’d been younger, she had been convinced every time a piece haunted her that there was some connection to her and that was why it teased her dreams. Not once had that proven to be the case, though, and she’d come to realize they were nothing but aftershocks. The stronger the emotional vibes attached to the piece, the more vivid the dreams, and the longer they bothered her. It was as simple as that.
The necklace and earrings together were obviously far more potent than anything she’d encountered before. Between the images that had pelted her at the readings and the dreams, she knew a horrendous tragedy was wound tightly around them. She didn’t especially want to ‘relive’ it, but she knew from hard experience that she probably would before the tragedy ceased to haunt her.
Chapter Ten
Anna couldn’t claim a good deal of experience in relationships, especially not between herself and a man. Except for David, whom she’d lived with for a blessedly short period of time, she had not even had an actual relationship with a man to claim. She’d hooked up with a couple of different guys, but that had been strictly for sex, and it hadn’t been mutually satisfying enough for either her or her partner to consider any repeat encounters.
She did know when a man looked at her and wanted her, though. She might not be experienced, and she might not be beautiful, but she knew the look.
She thought she had, anyway, until Simon. She was either getting her signals crossed or Simon desired her but he didn’t want her. Or maybe he desired her but he thought she didn’t want him? Or maybe he did want her but he had some reason why he thought that it was a very bad idea to act on his desires.
Or maybe since she’d fled after that first time he thought he had to take it really slow?
She couldn’t honestly say that she had a clue. She was going nuts, though, wondering about it and the longer she worried over it the more certain she became that he was waiting for her to make the first move.
Maybe.
And then again, maybe not. She’d been trying to nerve herself to take the leap the next time he gave her one of those looks but before she could think of anything to do or say to take things to the next level, he seemed to withdraw behind a stone wall. Even without moving so much as an inch in any direction, she felt it.
They didn’t have a relationship. They couldn’t, she knew, unless there was some intimacy between them. As it was, they were roommates and nothing more.
Maybe that was why he wouldn’t do anything? Whatever it was that he did with his time, he clearly did not welcome her intrusion into it and he was concerned that he could not hold her at a distance if they were lovers because she might begin to get possessive and want to know where he was going and when he would come back.
Short of strolling around the damned apartment naked, she couldn’t think of any way to tempt him beyond his iron self-control, however. She wasn’t altogether convinced that even that would do it, for that matter.
She couldn’t bring herself to do anything so outrageous even if it would work. She was just too shy and she couldn’t overcome that shyness around him when he was so withdrawn. She might, if she felt more certain her overtures would be welcome, but she certainly couldn’t with so much doubt hanging over her.
After a week of almost no sleep, though, she finally decided she would have to do something drastic. If she fell on her face, she would just have to live it. She couldn’t live with quaking in her shoes and doing nothing at all.
She compromised by filching one of his undershirts from the laundry. It was skimpy enough, she thought, to possibly awaken some interest, but not overtly seductive. When she’d showered and combed the tangles from her hair, she put on a pair of the thongs he’d bought for her and the T-shirt and strolled through the living room where he was talking on the phone.
Too nervous to glance at him, she headed for the refrigerator and opened it, bending down to study the shelves without any interest at all. Finally, she selected an apple. Simon was standing on the other side of the counter when she straightened and turned around. He had that feverish look in his eyes that she’d begun to doubt was desire as she’d thought.
He swallowed audibly. “You’ll spoil your dinner.”
Irritated, feeling as if she’d been relegated to the status of naughty child, her uneasiness disappeared. “Actually, I’m not really hungry. I’m tired. I think I’m just going to have the apple and go to bed.”
Let him see how it felt to sit by himself for a while, she thought angrily.
“Just an apple?” he said disapprovingly. “I already ordered dinner while you were in the shower.”
“Sorry. Just put it in the fridge. If I get hungry later I’ll eat it.”
She was so upset, she dropped the apple. She was tempted to just leave it, or to kick it down the hallway. Grinding her teeth, she bent over and scooped it into her hand, resisting the urge to turn around and hurl it at him.
Had he gotten the idea she was jail bait, or something, she raged inwardly? He certainly behaved as if he thought she was a kid.
He caught up to her before she could go into her room and slam the door, catching her arm and dragging her to a stop. “What are you so pissed about?” he asked angrily.
“I’m not pissed! I’m horny, damn it!” She could’ve bitten her tongue off the moment the words were out of her mouth but it was far too late to retrieve them.
That rocked him back on his heels, almost literally. Finally, his expression of shock gave way to a faint look of amusement. “Is that what this is all about?” he asked, gesturing at the t-shirt.
“I swear to god, Simon, if you laugh at me I’m going to punch you out!” she growled. Snatching her arm free, she stalked into her room, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
He tapped on the door.
“Go away!”
“You’re being childish,” he growled, his amusement apparently not having outlasted having the door slammed in his face.
Two black eyes for that one, she thought darkly, indulging briefly in the fantasy of giving them to him. “I’m tired.”
“You are not.”
“I am, damn it! And I don’t want to talk.”
She was so humiliated she wanted to cry. So much for the asinine idea of trying to seduce him. She’d known she couldn’t pull it off. All she’d managed to do was embarrass herself and she didn’t know how she was going to look him in the face again.
Fortunately, the buzzer downstairs rang at that moment and Simon left to take care of the delivery.
While he was gone, she piled the furniture and boxes in the room in front of the door for good measure, in case he took it into his head to intrude where he was no longer welcome.
Discarding the t-shirt and the thong, she went back into the bathroom, locked that door and ran a hot bath. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have considered a hot bath even so late in the summer, but the air conditioning kept the apartment comfortable and she knew the hot water would help her to relax.
She was tired. She was, in fact, overtired and totally wired after the confrontation with Simon. She wasn’t going to get any rest at all if she couldn’t get rid of some of her tension. When she’d soaked until she’d begun to feel like hot wax, she dragged herself from the tub and dried off. Spurning Simon’s t-shirt, she donned one of her own and the thong she’d discarded and sprawled out on the bed. Images began to fill her mind even before she dropped over the edge of consciousness and into oblivion.
* * * *
Anne had ceased even to make a pretense of interest in Lord Westmoreland’s condition, disappearing for long periods of time, but rarely coming near the chamber where he fought for his life. Elspeth worried over it when she could spare the time to consider it. She doubted that Lord Westmoreland knew enough of what was going on to realize his wife was most notable by her absence, but there would be a reckoning, she knew, if he recovered. The servants would talk, even if he did not remember himself.
It seemed more doubtful that that was a worry she need concern herself with as time wore on. Neither she nor Maude had slept more than a few minutes at a time in days. They had tried every remedy that either of them could think of and nothing seemed to have much effect. The fever rose and fell. Hope rose and fell accordingly.
She knew he could not last much longer if he did not begin to mend. The bouts of fevered delirium were becoming more frequent. His lucidity between those bouts was less and less. Mostly, he was either delirious or asleep.
Her exhaustion had pushed her further and further beyond restraint. She’d finally realized that there was little point in trying to maintain the polite lie that she was merely concerned for her sister’s husband. It was true that he had been kind to her. After their father had died, leaving her unwed and without male protection, he had brought her to share the home with him and Anne.
It was torture. She had almost managed to convince herself that she merely admired him, that she felt nothing for him that she should not. And yet, the more she had watched the two together, the more deeply she had come to care for him and the harder it was for her to remain a bystander.
Worse, she had been drawn by her affection for both him and her sister to deceive him, fearing he would discover what Anne had been up to and slay her for her faithlessness, unwilling to wound him with the truth when she could see how deeply devoted he was to his wife.
That devotion had made it easier for her in a sense, for it kept her at a distance, made her take care in the way she behaved around him, made her take care not to draw his notice--not that there was any danger of it.
She began to think she would go mad with her grief and exhaustion. He was dying before her eyes and nothing she could think to do seemed to give him peace, or her hope of a happy outcome.
Her anxiety for him made it impossible to lie to herself any longer. She loved him. She had no right to, and she knew it, but that did not make it not so.
She didn’t realize that she was crying again until the tears rolling down her cheeks began to drip onto her hands. Scrubbing her cheeks against her shoulders, she looked around for Maude. “Did ye find Anne, then?”
Maude shook her head. “Is he any better?”
Her hands, arms, and shoulders ached from dipping the cloth and wringing it out over and over in a fruitless attempt to bring his fever under control. “No,” she said, sniffing back the urge to burst into wails of fear and grief. “He’s delirious again. I don’t understand it. The wound looks like its healing.”
“Let’s give the tea another try. Mayhap it will break the fever.”
She did not want to be left alone with him. She was terrified that he would die.
Sniffing back her tears, she leaned over him to bathe his face again as Maude left to brew the tea. He was muttering Anne’s name beneath his breath and it was all she could do to keep her tears in check.
“Hush, love,” she murmured quietly, stroking his hard cheek soothingly. “She is coming. She had to....” She could not think up a reasonable lie to tell him to explain Anne’s absence in his sick room--her absence from what might well be her husband’s death bed.
He caught her hand with surprising strength. “Anne?”
Elspeth swallowed, staring sorrowfully at his wide, beautiful eyes, so glazed with fever she knew he could not see her. What difference would it make if she lied to him? He would never know and it might comfort him some, might help to quiet him.
“Yes, my love? I am here. Ye must rest so that ye can get better.”
“Do not leave me.”
The plea brought a painful knot into her throat. For several moments, she couldn’t trust herself to speak. “I would not, not for all the world or even hope of heaven,” she murmured, settling on the bed beside him and brushing his dark hair from his temples with the damp cloth that was already heated again from his skin.
“Ye know that I love ye? I know I should have told ye as much.” He thrashed his head against the pillow, throwing the covers off. “I’ve faced many men across the battle field in my time and felt only certainty that I could best them, but I have never been more fearful of anything in my life than thinking I might fail to win yer heart no matter what I tried. I thought it would be enough that I loved ye, but tis worse hell than I’ve ever known to feel as I do and doubt that ye feel the same. I have tried to be a good husband to ye.”
Elspeth could not take it anymore. His desperation to speak sounded so like farewell that she buried her face against his chest and burst into tears. “My love, do not! Please do not speak so. I could not bear it if ye left me here to face this life alone. If ye go I must follow.”
She felt his hand move caressingly along her back. She closed her mind to the sin of it. Just a little for myself, she thought brokenly. Only let me know his touch.
His arms tightened around her. Without warning, he rolled, carrying her with him until he loomed above her. She gasped, her attention abruptly drawn to his wound. “Ye’ll hurt yerself. Ye mustn’t!”
His face hardened, his eyes gleaming with something besides the fever as he stared down at her. “Ye canna confess yer love and run away without giving me a taste of it,” he said harshly.
“Yer fevered, my lord! Please, let me up before ye hurt yerself. I’m not....”
She lost the thread of her thoughts as his mouth covered hers. Tensing, she struggled beneath his weight, fearful of hurting him and just as fearful that he would reopen his wound if he persisted.
Or that Maude would return.
Warmth filled her, though, in spite of everything. Temptation supplanted caution as he kissed her, as his tongue invaded her mouth like a conqueror and his need sparked a spiraling desperation inside of her.
It was only a kiss, unwise, not hers, and not hers to enjoy, but she could not help but enjoy the essence of him, his possession.
She was lost and she didn’t care.
He was rough, clumsy in his need, and she didn’t care.
Just a little, just a taste of what she would never have and she would do penance for her misdeed.
Doubts invaded her as she felt his hand along her thigh, felt him push beneath her skirts and skate his bare palm upward. A jolt went through her as his fingers found her woman’s place.
She broke the kiss abruptly. “Ye mustn’t. Ye don’t know what yer doin’.”
He caught her wrists, pinning them to the bed with surprising strength. His mouth descended again, weaving a trail of fire along her neck and the upper slope of her breasts. The blood rushed into her breasts, making them ache for his touch. Almost as if he knew what she so desperately needed, she felt the rake of his tongue along the neck of her gown, felt him delving the barrier and the teasing touch of his tongue on one taut peak.
She gasped as he released her and dragged her bodice down, pushing at him half heartedly, trying to gather her wits.
Her eyes widened as he wedged his knee between her thighs and she felt his swollen manhood butting against her cleft. “No! My lord! Ye mustn’t. Ye must let me go.”
He covered her mouth as he found his goal, thrusting into her in almost the same moment. Discomfort filled her, driving the pleasure away, but it was as nothing compared to the pain that wrenched her when she felt him breech her maidenhead. She gasped into his mouth, struggling harder.
He hesitated when he tore through her maidenhead and she thought for several moments that he would stop. She stared up at him when he lifted away from her.
“Yer my wife,” he growled, caught between the effort to control his desire and anger that she was struggling against him.
Her breath caught on a sob. “I’m not,” she whispered hoarsely as he fell heavily against her and began to thrust into her with the urgency of his need.
She lay stunned for many moments when he had finished and rolled off of her, too distraught to move. She had no idea how long she lay weeping before a sound penetrated her remorse and pain.
Maude, she discovered, was standing beside the bed, a look of horror on her face.
“What has he done to ye!” she exclaimed.
Biting back her misery, Elspeth shoved her skirts down. “Hush. Ye mustn’t speak of this!”
“But, my lady…! He’s … despoiled ye!”
Elspeth reddened. Despite everything, she didn’t feel despoiled. She felt a fierce gladness. He had taken her. No one could take that away from her, not even him. “He thought I was Anne. He … I think he was remembering his wedding night. Ye mustn’t say anything, not to anyone. He will never know if ye don’t and he would … ye know he’s a man of honor. He would not be able to live with it if he knew.”
“But … what about ye, my lady? Ye know. Ye’ll have nothin’ to show yer groom on yer own weddin’ night.”
Elspeth fought a round with her tears. “It does nae matter. I will think of something. I canna let him bear the shame of somethin’ he had no notion he was doin’.”
* * * *
A sob wrenched Anna from her sleep. She lay staring up at the darkened ceiling, rubbing the painful tightness in her chest. The urge to curl up tightly and yield to the heartbreak that lingered from the dream was strong still. She fought it, trying to clear her mind of the dream and the pain that had come with it.
She had sensed that she didn’t want to know what tragedy haunted the jewels. She had been right. Now that she knew she didn’t think she would ever be completely free of it again.
Not one of those whose lives had been recorded in the emotions woven tightly around the jewelry had not known heartbreak.
Slowly, the tightness eased from her chest, but sleep eluded her. Glancing at the clock beside her bed she saw that it was two o’clock in the morning. She was going to be exhausted again tomorrow--today--if she lay awake the rest of the night and yet she was almost as reluctant to try to sleep again as she was desperate for rest, fearful that the dream would come back the moment she dropped off again.
Finally, she rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom to wash her face. She felt very little better, though, once she had.
As much as she hated drugs in any form, she was sorry she didn’t have anything that would knock her out, give her just one dreamless night.
Sighing tiredly, she left the bathroom again, deciding to sit up a while, maybe find a snack. She’d forgotten she had formed a barricade against the door, though, and she stared at it for some time, wondering if it was even worth the effort of moving it.
After a few moments indecision, she set about returning everything to its place and opened the door. The apartment was as silent as the grave. Either Simon had gone out again, or gone to bed, for there were no lights burning.
Feeling her way along the hall with one hand, she rounded the corner when she reached the living area. The moon was full and spilled pale light through the drapes at the tall windows, lightening the living area so that she could see the shadowy outlines of the furnishings. She moved more surely then, following the long counter and entering the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she simply stared at the shelves for several moments. Nothing particularly appealed to her. She pulled a couple of grapes off of a bunch on one shelf, popping them into her mouth. They were cold and sweet but still tart enough to set her teeth on edge.
Not the grapes.
Opening a pizza box, she tore off a corner of one slice and munched on that as she moved to the cabinet and found a glass.
She didn’t want the pizza either.
Deciding she was just thirsty, she poured a glass of juice and closed the refrigerator again, leaning against it while she sipped the chilled drink and contemplated whether she wanted to go back to bed or try the TV.
Simon was liable to come back if she plopped down on the couch and think she was laying in wait for him.
That clenched the matter. Setting the glass in the sink, she headed back toward her room. She’d just come even with the couch when her hand was grabbed and she was yanked completely off her feet. She let out a startled yelp as her thigh hit the arm of the couch and she tumbled against warm flesh. He twisted as she fell into his lap, depositing her on her back on the couch and then sprawling on top of her, pinning her to the cool surface with his body.
Above her, she saw the shadowy outline of his face looming above hers.
“Simon?”
Before she could say more, he descended upon her, his mouth hot with need as it captured hers. She didn’t have time to remember that she was embarrassed or angry. The heat and hunger of his mouth as it moved over hers possessively sundered a dam of yearning. Fiery need flooded every pore of her flesh, aroused every nerve ending to acute sensation, overwhelmed her senses as his taste and scent enveloped her in an embrace as potently enervating as the feel of his arms and his body curled around hers.
Uttering a muffled sound of urgency, she kissed him back, sucking his tongue as he thrust it into her mouth and raked it along hers, curling her arms around him tightly.
He skimmed a hand up her body, plowing beneath her t-shirt and cupping one breast, massaging it, teasing the sensitive tip with his fingers. A wave of excitement washed through her, forming a heated pool in her epicenter.
She dragged in a desperate breath as he abandoned her lips and sought the nipple he had been teasing with his thumb. A jolt went through her when the moist heat of his mouth closed tightly upon the keenly sensitive bud, suckling it, drawing a moan of delight from her.
She felt faint, dizzy, drunk with the excitement and pleasure that pooled in her mind and body. Feverish with the need, she searched blindly over him for an opening and burrowed her hands beneath his shirt, sighing with pleasure as she felt his hot skin against her palms and finger tips.
Releasing her, he leaned away briefly, peeling his shirt off and then pressing his skin against hers. A shiver went through her as he found her other nipple and teased it as he had the first.
“Doux ! Vous êtes si doux. Je ne peux pas attendre,” he muttered against her skin, dragging his mouth along her breast to her throat as he fumbled with the fastening of his trousers and then pressed his erection against her belly.
It lay heavily upon her, scorching her with the heat of his desire. Her body quaked with the need to feel his flesh inside of her.
Almost sobbing with the desperation of her own needs, she struggled beneath him to shift her weight, to open herself to him, arching against him when he wedged his hips between her thighs.
Groaning, he reached between them, sucking a love bite along the side of her neck as he pushed her panties aside and parted her nether lips with the head of his cock, traced her cleft to the mouth of her sex and probed her.
She gasped, lifting to meet him, panting as she felt him breach her, felt her flesh stretching to accommodate his.
Withdrawing slightly, he thrust again, impaling her upon his engorged shaft with hard, desperate plunges until she felt his cock head butting against her womb. Her belly spasmed, the walls of her sex fisting more tightly around him.
He ground his hips against her, stilled for a handful of heartbeats and then withdrew slowly, plunging into her again and again, swiftly, desperation quickly driving him to move with hard, pistoning strokes that had her gasping, laboring for breath, struggling to keep pace and counter each thrust as the pleasurable tension wound steadily tighter inside of her.
The tautness building inside of her snapped abruptly, recoiling with pounding waves of bliss that dragged cries of ecstasy from her and pushed him over the edge. Shuddering with the force of his own release, he finally stilled, holding himself poised above her for many moments afterwards, breathing harshly. Finally, struggling in the confined space, he moved off of her. Getting to his feet with an effort, he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her from the couch, holding her against his chest as he left the living room and strode down the hallway to his own room.
The trek roused her from the lethargic haze of sated bliss sufficiently for doubts to begin to filter into her mind over the tempestuous coupling that had caught her up so completely that she had thought little of the fact that they had not even bothered to discard their clothing. When he settled her in his bed and pulled her tightly against his body, though, she dismissed the nagging uncertainty, melting against him, reveling in the soothing stroke of his hands over her.
She had almost drifted to sleep when he rose and she heard the rustle of his clothing as he discarded his trousers. Kneeling beside her on the bed, he peeled her thong from her hips and down her legs and then pushed her shirt upward. Shifting, she struggled out of it and tossed it aside.
He gathered her close again, nuzzling his face along her neck, almost lazily sucking love bites along the side of her throat and shoulder. “Je pense que je suis perdu et je ne m'inquiète pas,” he murmured raggedly.
Before when he had spoken in a language she couldn’t understand, she had felt that the words themselves were more of a barrier between them than her inability to understand them. Now, the melodic words washed over her bringing warmth, comforting her. Even though she couldn’t understand them, she felt them inside her as a benediction, sensed that he had given up whatever struggle he had been fighting.
As if to support her thoughts, he sought her lips, covering them with his own, kissing her with a languid ardor that was nevertheless heated, possessive. He made love to her, slowly, caressing her with such tenderness that she knew that he was making love to her, not merely assuaging his needs.
* * * *
Simon was gone when Anna woke. She tensed at the realization, struggling against the sense of abandonment that filtered through her residual satisfaction from the night before insidiously, resurrecting all of the doubts that had been plaguing her. Once she had reached the shop, she hesitated in the hallway uncertainly, but she needed reassurance that the feelings that she had sensed in him the night before wasn’t all in her mind, a product of wishful thinking and not reality.
He looked up as she peered into the workroom, his expression far from welcoming. She paused, wondering whether to retreat or to continue and risk relieving her mind of all doubt.
When he looked away again, focusing on his task, she moved toward him hesitantly and ran a hand caressingly along his back. He stiffened at her touch.
Hurt, confused, angry, she withdrew her hand and pivoted on her heels, heading for the door in full retreat.
“Anna!”
She stopped in the doorway. When he said nothing else, she turned to look at him. There was pain, regret and confusion equal to her own in his expression, but it did nothing to sooth her own hurt. “I know you don’t understand any of this,” he said slowly.
“You’re right. I don’t,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could say more. “Because you haven’t explained anything to me. All I do know is that every time you let down your guard and let me come close, you turn around and push me away again in the next breath. Are we just … room mates? Because if we are, I don’t think we should be fucking. It confuses your roomy.
“Fuck buddies? Because if that’s what you have in mind, then we’re going to have to set some ground rules so that I’m working on the same page. It needs to feel a lot more impersonal. The way you bound out of bed as soon as you’re done and disappear is a nice touch, but no more kissing, a little less foreplay, and certainly no cuddling afterwards. I think I could be satisfied with once or twice a week, but once in a blue moon just throws me totally out of kilter.
“I understand that everyone’s libido is different, but I think we could work out a compromise if we set our minds to it. Or, if you prefer trolling in between for another piece of ass, I suppose I could find someone to take care of my itch between times.”
Anger glittered in his eyes. By the time she’d run dry of anything else to say, his expression was stony and his fury was barely within his control. “I swear to you on my honor that I have not touched another woman,” he growled. “Do not let your anger lead you to do something we will both regret, Anna. I will not tolerate you taking another man into your bed.”
Anna gaped at him, torn between outrage at his demands when he had given her nothing to hold onto and a wholly unwelcome flicker of hope. She quashed the hope ruthlessly. “Do you think you own me because of the money? Because if that’s it, you’re dead wrong! I’m not for sale, damn you! I’ll repay the fucking money, but I won’t be obligated beyond that. I didn’t ask for your help. You insisted on it and I’m not going to be tied by obligations I’ve got no reason to feel.”
He paled at that. “You know damn well the money has nothing to do with anything,” he ground out. “Is that how you saw it? As an attempt to buy you?”
“What else am I to think when you give me nothing else and act as if you own me?” She whirled at that and stalked outside to her car, opening the door and digging around her hiding places for the nest egg she’d protected so assiduously. She saw when she turned that he had followed her. Wadding the bills up, she threw them at him. “Take it! If it isn’t enough, I’ll pay the rest later.”
Scooping the money off of the pavement, he followed her as she stalked around the car, bracing his palm against the door when she tried to jerk it open. She shoved at his hand, glaring at him when she couldn’t budge him. “Let go of the damned door!”
He did, grabbing her shoulders instead and tightening his hold almost bruisingly when she tried to twist out of his grip. “Listen to me, at least. I don’t know if it’s in my power to give you what you want. I know what I’ve done to you is wrong when I can’t give you any promises, but … before God, I couldn’t help myself. I never meant to hurt you.”
She stared at him, searching for any sign that he was being dishonest with her. She saw nothing but anguish in his face, though, and the certainty grew in her that his past haunted him and he was still struggling with it. Some of the angry tension eased from her. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she finally said, controlling the wobble in her chin with an effort, swallowing against the tears that threatened to spill over.
“Don’t say that, Anna.” He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I know I’ve behaved like a madman since the day you walked into my life. Half the time I think I am mad. I can’t seem to pull my wits together and think or behave at all rationally, but you must at least believe that I am trying very hard to do what is best for you. Just give me a little more time.”
She tilted her head to look up at him.
He swallowed audibly. “Please.”
He was asking her to risk unbearable pain for him, but she realized it was already too late for her to avoid it. Whatever happened would happen and she would either be left with a broken heart or not. She’d already given it into his keeping. She didn’t know how to take it back. “It would be easier if I at least understood some of it.”
Looking away, he sighed heavily, the sound laced with impatience. “You only think that it would. I’ve made such a mess of my life, Anna, I’ve no notion how to fix it.” When he looked at her again, his expression was tense. “I can’t take what I want if taking means that you’ll suffer for it. I know I should never have touched you at all when there was so much uncertainty. I should have kept my distance, but I’m a selfish sod. I just … couldn’t bring myself to let you walk out of my life again. With the best will in world, I couldn’t, but I made a vow long ago and I’m afraid its one that I can’t break.”
Anna felt like crying all over again. “To your wife?”
He paled. “Cheryl told you that?”
“Cheryl said that she died years ago. I can understand how it would be hard to let go, but how could you still be bound by any promises?”
His expression became guarded. “I would rejoice if it were as bloody simple as that.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can’t explain something to you that I don’t completely understand myself. Just give me a little more time so I can try to work it out. Promise me that you won’t just leave. If I see that it’s not something that I can do, I won’t try to hold you any longer. I’ll make it easy for you to walk away.”
She shook her head. “You can’t make it easy for me, Simon. It’s too late for that.”
* * * *
Simon hesitated at the door. Anna, sprawled on the couch with the remote in her hand, looked away before he could catch her watching him. After a moment, he strode back to the couch and crouched down in front of her. “I have to go out for a while.”
Anna nodded, a little surprised that he’d even made that much of a concession to her when it seemed to her that he had been at pains to distance himself from her, to go about his life as if she had no part in it.
Which, she supposed, she didn’t, not really.
He frowned. “I’m not bloody looking for a piece of tail, all right?”
Anna couldn’t help but smile. “It sounds so much more high class when you say it with that very proper British accent.”
He looked a little disconcerted, but he also looked relieved. “I’ll be back late.”
“I know. Be careful.”
He tilted his head questioningly.
She touched his lean cheek lightly with her fingertips. “Just take care of yourself for me, all right?”
He caught her hand, curling his around it and turning his face to place a kiss in her palm. “I’m not doing anything that will place me in danger, Anna.”
She had to take his word for it, though, and his idea of no danger and hers might differ drastically. She wasn’t particularly comforted by his promise therefore.
She got up when she heard the rear door downstairs close and moved to the window in her bedroom. A strange sense of panic washed over her as she watched him cross the rear parking lot and unlock his car. Impulsively, she whirled away from the window, raced from the apartment and down the stairs. She caught a glimpse of his tail lights as his car rounded the building.
Pulling the door closed behind her, she ran to her car and got in. When she reached the street, she paused, scanning the road in both directions. She saw his car as it made a right at the next corner and stepped on the gas, almost sideswiping a car as she pulled out.
Adrenaline sent a cold rush through her. Shaky now, she followed more carefully, turning at the intersection to discover Simon had been caught by the traffic light the next block down. She relaxed fractionally, until she began to worry that she would catch up to him before he pulled out again.
She didn’t want to get too close. He would almost certainly recognize her old heap, even in the rearview mirror. He didn’t seem to be traveling evasively, though, and she decided he must not have spotted her, not yet anyway.
She’d been following him for almost an hour, caught up in watching his car without getting too close and watching the traffic moving around her, before she realized that he was heading out of the city.
More confused instead of less, she slowed, debating with herself whether she should continue trying to follow him or not. She thought she had plenty of gas, but that really depended on how far he was going. Finally, she decided to just keep an eye on the gauge and turn around if it looked like his trip might exceed her fuel.
After a time, he turned upon the road she usually took to Liz Bridgewater’s house. She didn’t think much of it until she saw him slow when he neared the entrance to the gated community. Panic hit her then. The guard shack wasn’t manned beyond dark. After that, the residents had to use their key cards to enter and leave.
Simon would be turning around … and he would pass right by her.
She slowed, trying to remember if there was anywhere she could turn off, even though she knew already that there were no bisecting roads for miles. She saw no driveways, though, no pig trails, nothing. She reached the turn off and glanced over to see why Simon hadn’t passed her just as he retrieved a card from the security sensors and the automatic arm lifted.
Shielding her profile with one hand, she stepped on the gas, hoping he wouldn’t glance in the rearview mirror. She drove on for several miles, glancing in the rearview mirror every couple of seconds. Relief flooded her when she saw no headlights turn out of the residential area. Slowing as soon as she saw a break in traffic, she pulled off on the side of the road and did a U turn.
Why was he going there? How had he managed to get a key card? Maybe more importantly, who might have given him one?
Slowing, she checked her gauge nervously and finally did another U and pulled off the road as far as she could. Unless Simon decided not to return to the apartment when he’d done whatever it was he’d come to do, she didn’t think he would be able to see her car.
She really wanted to go in and drive up and down and see if she could find where he’d parked his car. She couldn’t get through the gate with her car, though, and it was a huge subdivision.
She didn’t want to take a chance that Simon would drive by while she was walking along the street trying to spy on him.
She rubbed her temples, wondering what insane impulse had her spurred into following him at all. If she waited until he came out, she wasn’t going to be able to beat him back to the apartment and he’d know she had gone out.
It really wasn’t her business what he was doing. He’d said he wasn’t chasing women, and obviously he wasn’t--not in the usual places, any way.
She wondered if he’d qualified that because he already had one.
She was still trying to decide what to do when she heard a sound right outside her car.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
Anna nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled to gape at Simon, wondering how he’d managed to come up behind her. There was no car. She would’ve heard one. She would’ve seen the lights.
He’d seen her, she realized. He must have, and then he’d circled around on foot and come up behind her--scaring the shit out of her, she mentally added.
She glared at him. Obviously a lie wasn’t going to work. She decided to try anyway. “One of my clients called and I--uh--was going to go and do a reading, but then I realized I didn’t have enough gas and I pulled off to see if I had some cash on me.”
“Where does this client live?”
Shit! She only had one in the area and she couldn’t give him Liz’s address. “I don’t remember the house number.”
His lips tightened. “Go home, Anna. And stay there.”
She was too discomfited at being caught to argue with him. “Fine. I’m going.”
“Do you need money for gas?”
“No,” she said sullenly.
He caught her jaw, leaning in the window to give her a quick kiss. “I will tell you everything when the time is right.”
Chapter Eleven
It would have been hard to name all of the emotions that roiled inside of Elspeth as she stood watching Westmoreland’s army beyond Bainbridge castle. The force should have struck nothing but terror in her heart all things considered, and yet even now, even when she had deceived him, her heart soared with pride as she watched him commanding his army. On his great warhorse beyond their gates rode the warrior of the bard’s tales that had so enthralled her as a young maiden, the man she had admired long before she had known him as a man at all and come to love him as a woman.
And she had still betrayed him and most likely she would die because she had.
Anne’s moan drew her gaze at last from the window and she moved to her sister’s side again. She didn’t regret her loyalty to her sister, especially now when Anne needed her. She regretted that her devotion to her sister and her loyalty to the great Westmoreland were mutually exclusive.
“Water?”
Anne nodded and Elspeth lifted her head and held the glass for her.
“Where is Dafydd?” she asked plaintively.
“Defending us,” Elspeth said, keeping her voice neutral with an effort.
“We are being attacked?”
“Westmoreland came more than a month ago and lay siege,” Elspeth reminded her.
Anne’s eyes widened. “He is here?”
“Shhh. Do nae distress yerself. Lord Bainbridge will keep ye safe.”
Anne quieted. Elspeth had just decided that her sister had drifted off again when she opened her eyes and stared at her, seeming perfectly lucid for the first time in days. “You regret coming with me.”
She regretted many things, but she could not see any way she could have made things turn out differently. Anne was too headstrong to listen to reason. When she wanted a thing, she went after it, and damn anyone who stood in her way. “I am glad that I am here. I would have been worried sick about ye if I had nae come.”
“Did ye come for me? Or because ye did nae want to stay and explain to Westmoreland why I’d gone?”
There was a hint of amusement in the question and Elspeth felt a tentative ray of hope that perhaps she was taking a turn for the better. The indignation the questions also aroused, she ignored. “Both,” she responded.
“An honest answer, though it would have been kinder to say it was only for me.”
“Ye would nae have believed me if I had said I had nae fear of facing Westmoreland’s wrath when he found ye gone.”
“I am sorry I dragged ye into this, Elspeth. Truly I am, but ye know he would have figured out the child was nae his.”
He would not have found out if she had not spread her legs for Bainbridge, for then the child would have been her husband’s, but there was little point in saying it now. “I know.”
Anne rubbed her stomach uneasily. “He has nae moved in days, Elspeth. I’m thinkin’ somethin’ is wrong.”
It took an effort to pretend she did not share Anne’s anxieties. She forced a smile. “He has nae room to move. I’m thinkin’ it’s a great strappin’ lad ye’ll be givin’ Bainbridge. He’ll be that pleased with ye, he will.”
“Aye, he will,” Anne muttered, drifting away at last.
Pressing her hand into her back to relieve the pain, Elspeth arched against it and finally rose to empty the water heated by Anne’s fever and pour fresh water into the basin. She was amazed she had not taken the fever yet herself. Three quarters of the folk in the castle were down with it and it had become a race to see if Westmoreland would slay them before the fever.
In the late afternoon, Westmoreland proved the winner of that race when his army finally breached the south wall and poured through the break in the castle’s defenses. Anne was blessedly unaware, so wracked with fever she had no idea of where she was any longer and kept asking for their father when he had been dead going on three years.
Elspeth was not so fortunate, for she knew it was only a matter of time before the last defense fell.
Almost upon the thought, she heard the horns blowing and the rush of the defenders to flee into the stronghold of the keep itself. Any hope that the day would end there and they would have a few more hours was quashed when the main doors below gave way and the sound of fighting filled the lower regions of the keep.
Bainbridge rushed into the room just as the dying sun spilled through the west window of Anne’s chamber, bolting the door behind him.
When he had barricaded it, his gaze moved to Anne and finally to Elspeth, who stared back at him in abject terror. A ghost of the cocky grin she had so often seen curled his lips. “I’d nae much likin’ for the thought of dying in my bed anyway,” he muttered.
“How is she?”
Elspeth swallowed with an effort and finally shook her head. “She’ll nae last long if I canna get the fever to break.”
His gaze flickered to Anne’s face briefly and then settled on the mound of her belly. “I would’ve been a good father.”
The comment moved her to pity, though she had felt nothing but contempt for him since she had been dragged unwillingly into his scheme to provoke Westmoreland by dishonoring his wife.
She did not have long to dwell upon it. The thunder of feet as the army surged up the castle stairs drove all thoughts from her mind except the certainty of imminent death for them all.
Moments later a pounding commenced upon the stout oak door as the men outside slammed against it with their shoulders trying to break it down. There was a brief lull as they found something to use as a ram, and then the pounding began again, far harder than before.
Elspeth felt her knees turn to water as the door finally gave way to the pounding upon it with the sharp crack of splintering wood. She collapsed on the mattress beside Anne, her arms covering her sister protectively.
Anne’s only response to the gesture was to groan and struggle to move away, for it pained her even to be touched lightly. She began muttering under her breath again, about the heat, about the babe, about the pain--about Lord Bainbridge, who stood now at the foot of Anne’s sick bed, braced to defend the woman he had taken.
The cloth in Elspeth’s hand that she had been using to try to cool the fever was nigh as hot now as her sister’s flesh, but she bathed her sister’s face anyway, trying to soothe her, trying not to think about the babe.
Abruptly, the soldiers filling the doorway parted and Lord Westmoreland stepped through the opening. Her heart seized in her chest for she saw death in his expression, saw such rage in his eyes that they scarcely seemed human. His gaze flickered briefly toward the bed where Anne was thrashing about feverishly, moving over Elspeth as if he did not even note her presence, before fixing upon Lord Bainbridge.
With a feral roar, he lunged forward, swinging his long sword in a deadly arch toward Bainbridge’s neck. Elspeth covered her mouth to stifle a scream as Bainbridge engaged his blade, blocking it.
Soldiers crowded the opening, jockeying for position to watch the furious battle between Westmoreland and Bainbridge as they struggled back and forth across the room in a macabre dance of death, both men using their heavy swords to hammer at each other as if they were more intent upon beating each other to a bloody pulp than hacking with the blades. The ring of metal against metal quickly became near deafening as sword struck sword or armor plating. The grunts of exertion and pain, the growls of fury from the two men and the shouts of encouragement from Westmoreland’s men vied with the steady, pounding ring of metal until Elspeth wanted to cover her ears and close her eyes to shut herself away from the savagery.
She had no idea how long she remained frozen in her terror, unable to move, hardly daring to breathe as she watched the deadly battle. As Bainbridge stumbled back against the bedstead where Anne lay, however, she was jarred into awareness of her own and her sister’s danger.
It still took all that she could do to move. Struggling with her sister’s weight, she began trying to drag Anne to safety. “Anne! Help me,” she cried tearfully when she saw that she was making no progress. “We will be hacked to pieces if we do not get out of the way and I cannot carry you.”
The urgency in her voice roused Anne slightly, but she merely opened her eyes and stared blankly at her sister for a long moment. Finally, to Elspeth’s relief, she began trying to move, pushing along the bed as Elspeth pulled on her until she thought her arms would separate at the sockets.
If anything, though, the pain steadied her, brought her focus more firmly to the need to escape the battle. One of the men at the door, finally noticing their plight, darted past the combatants and caught Anne beneath the arms, pulling her to the far corner and then kneeling before her to protect her with his body as shield. Elspeth followed, scooping Anne’s head and shoulders onto her lap and holding her tightly for her own comfort as much as to protect her sister.
“He has come?” Anne muttered weakly.
Elspeth sniffed at the tears that crowded close, burning her eyes, making her throat close painfully. “Aye.”
“I do not want to die. Do not let me die, Beth.”
“Shhh,” Elspeth said soothingly, her voice breaking on a sob. “I am here, Anne. I will protect ye.”
Rocking Anne in her arms as if she were a child, she watched the fighting men worriedly. Blood now trickled from fresh wounds on both of them. Even from across the room she could hear that both were breathing heavily with effort, weakening from blood loss, tiring from swinging their heavy blades over and over.
A different fear invaded her, pushing her fear for herself and Anne to the back of her mind. Westmoreland had already been fighting for hours. He was a big man and a fierce and skilled warrior, but Bainbridge was nearly as large and not weary from battle.
Even as the fear tightened painfully around her heart, though, Bainbridge began to waver on his feet. He went to his knees, barely managing to block the blade Westmoreland swung at him as he went down. “Quarter!” he gasped. “I will yield if ye’ll give me quarter.”
“No quarter,” Westmoreland roared furiously. “Ye have taken what is mine. My lady lies near death because of yer vendetta against me. I will have yer life!”
Uttering an enraged roar, Bainbridge launched himself upward, slamming his shoulder into Westmoreland’s middle so hard he carried him several feet backwards, ramming him into the wall. “Tis yer own doing that she is ill and nigh starved unto death. Tis because of your determination to take her back when she wants none of ye!”
“I will see ye die slowly if ye have befouled her with yer touch!” Westmoreland growled.
Bainbridge laughed without humor. “Tis my son that grows in her belly, fool!”
“Nay! Tis a foul lie, you black hearted knave!” Elspeth screamed fearfully as Westmorland’s gaze slid toward them, her arms tightening in instinctive protectiveness around her sister.
She cringed inwardly as his flickered to her face briefly before he looked away again. Squeezing her eyes closed, she clung to Anne, praying as she had never prayed before.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the fight had ended. Westmoreland stood looking down at his foe for several moments and finally turned, striding toward them. Kneeling stiffly, he pulled his gauntlet from his hand and ran a shaking hand over Anne’s forehead.
“How long has she been ill?”
Elspeth stared at him, trying to kick her sluggish brain into working. “I … do nae know. Days. Perhaps a week.”
“We must get home.”
Elspeth scrambled to her feet as Westmoreland lifted Anne carefully, holding her protectively against his chest. “She is too weak to travel, my lord,” she said a little desperately. “She should nae be moved.”
Westmoreland halted, pivoting to look at her. “She canna stay here. The place is a shambles. There is no food, little water. We will move slowly, but she must be moved.”
He was right and she knew it. The fever was here. It would do her no good to stay, but it might do her more harm to move her.
Still, she didn’t argue further. He was as headstrong as Anne and could not be dissuaded once he had decided upon a thing.
They stayed the night in Westmoreland’s tent and struck camp the following morning on the return trek to Westmoreland. Elspeth spent the days in the wagon attending Anne, watching as the life slowly seeped away from her.
The had camped near an ancient circle of stones, three days ride from Westmoreland when Anne breathed her last and joined her unborn infant and her lover in death.
Elspeth looked up with a mixture of fear and pity when Westmoreland entered the tent. She said nothing. She didn’t have to. Westmoreland stared at her face for several moments and finally went down on his knees beside Anne, pulling her into his arms and rocking her.
The tears she had been too shocked to shed before came as she saw his face crumple with grief. “Leave us!” he roared without even glancing at her.
She fled tent, yielding to her own grief when she had found a place of privacy in the wagon that had carried her and Anne so far, falling asleep at last from sheer exhaustion.
When she woke at dawn, she braced herself for what needed to be done and returned to Westmoreland’s tent to prepare her sister’s body for burial. She discovered a guard posted at the tent when she arrived. Forbidden to enter, she stared at the man without comprehension for some time before she finally went away again.
Each time she returned, she was sent away again. By dawn of the second day, her grief over her loss had begun to give way to fear for Lord Westmoreland. The guard had been ordered to prevent anyone from entering. She couldn’t even gain access to the tent to try to reason with him. Appeals to his captain had no better effect, for the captain refused to even consider ignoring the order.
On the third day, she discovered when she went to Westmoreland’s tent that the guard had vanished and so, too, had both Westmoreland and her sister.
She found them in the ring stones nearby. Westmoreland had very carefully placed her upon the stone altar and knelt beside it, praying.
To her knowledge he had not eaten, nor slept since Anne had passed. She stayed, joining him in prayer for time, watching him worriedly when she at last yielded to pain and exhaustion from kneeling on the hard ground so long and rose.
Seeing at last that he had no intention of leaving, she went to search for food for both them.
He ignored the food she brought him.
He ignored her attempts to speak to him, to try to draw him away. By the fourth day she was so desperate to reach him it completely overrode her own grief. She spent most of the day pleading with him, trying to coax him to eat, to rest.
“Come away, my lord, I beg you. Ye’ve not eaten days. Ye’ve not allowed anyone to attend yer wounds. Please, let me at least see to yer hurts.”
He glanced at her finally, but she felt more terrified than relieved when he did for his eyes were dead as if he had ceased to live already. “I am not hurt.”
Elspeth burst into tears. “She is dead,” she sobbed. “Please, my lord. Let us take her to Westmoreland and lay her to rest.”
The look Westmoreland turned upon her made her knees give way beneath her. “Nay! She is not dead. She sleeps,” he roared. “Her soul lingers still.”
Elspeth stifled her sobs with an effort, staring at her sister in the flickering lights of the torches that surrounded the great stone altar where Anne lay. She could not understand herself why death had touched her sister so gently, why she looked as if she was merely sleeping, but she knew Anne was dead.
“Yer ill, my lord,” she said more gently. “Even I who loved her dearly cannot fathom the depth of yer loss, for I know how much ye cherished her, but we cannot stay here. Let us take her home. Please. It does no good to continue to pray over her. She will not come back. She is gone.”
“Leave me. Go to my captain and tell him to take the men to the keep. I will stay with my beloved until she wakens. I cannot take her from here. Ye must see that. The old gods still walk here. They have power. This place of the old ones is what keeps her soul here.”
She stared at him hopelessly, frightened by the blasphemies he uttered, more than half expecting God to smite him for his defiance. He would die here with his Anne. Already the snow had begun fall and he refused to leave her side to eat or to sleep. His eyes were fevered, red rimmed. He was growing thin before her eyes.
His grief had taken his mind and she could think of nothing to do for him.
After a time, she got to her feet and went to search for his captain. “Lord Westmoreland sent me to tell ye that we’re to return to the castle without him,” she said, watching the man’s face carefully.
Alarm flickered in his eyes. He lifted his head, staring toward the standing stones. “He will stay?”
“He will stay until he dies!” she said sharply. “He will not eat, will not rest. We must do something!”
He frowned at her. “What are we to do?”
“We must make him go back if we cannot make him see reason.”
Alarm filled the man’s eyes. “It will mean my life if I try to remove him by force.”
“It will mean his life if ye do nae!”
He studied her for several moments and finally left her, striding toward the stones. She watched him go, feeling hope surge as he stopped near the altar and spoke with Westmoreland. After a few moments, he returned. “He says he will not go.”
“I told ye that!” Elspeth cried. “Ye do nae mean to follow such an order?”
He looked torn. “I have never disobeyed an order from my lord. Let alone he would have the skin flayed from my back if I even considered it, it is a matter of honor. I have given him my fealty.”
“He is not himself! Can ye nae see that? He is mad with grief and he will grieve himself to death if we do nothing.”
He frowned. “He is not armed,” he said slowly. “I do nae mind telling ye I’d not even consider it if he was.”
“Ye could jump him from behind and he’d nae know who had done it.”
He sent her a look that was a mixture of revulsion and horror. “Attack him from behind? Ye’ve no sense of honor a’tall!”
Elspeth sought patience. “It is nae an attack on yer lord! If ye hurt him I’ll take a sword to ye myself! Ye must come upon him enough men to take him and bind him. He’ll nae let me take Anne home to bury her and I can nae more leave her like this than I can bear to leave him.”
Despite her certainty that it was the right thing to do, Elspeth watched the plot she had hatched unfold in abject horror. He fought them. For a time it seemed that he would not be taken down even by a dozen men, but at last they managed to subdue him and bind him.
He watched her with hate in his eyes as she directed the men to lift Anne from the altar and carry her body to the wagon, calling down curses upon them all.
“Ye canna take her and seal her in a vault to die. She is alive, damn ye!”
“She is dead, my lord,” Elspeth cried out, weeping for his pain, struggling to breathe for the pain in her own chest at what she’d had to do to him. “Ye must let her go.”
“I canna let go!” he growled, furious at his impotence in stopping them. “I will never rest until I hold my beloved in my arms again. By the gods, I will not!”
* * * *
Just about the only thing Anna hated worse than drugs was the people that dispensed them. Fortunately, she was healthy. She had never spent a day at the hospital in her life, and she rarely even had to go to the clinic. It said a lot for her state when she began to seriously consider going to the clinic in the hope that they might give her something to help her sleep.
She toyed with the idea off and on for over a week before she finally decided she needed to at least try. She didn’t want to be a pill popper, but she was having the dreams almost every night, had been since she’d done the reading for Liz, and she simply wasn’t getting enough rest. She was so tired all of the time that it was all she could do to drag herself out of bed in the mornings and she felt like a zombie in the afternoons.
If they would give her something so that she could sleep deeply even a few nights a week she thought it would help her tremendously. Sooner or later the dreams would begin to go away as they always had before and then she wouldn’t need anything to help her sleep.
The problem was that she had to ask Simon for the time off and she was reluctant to tell him the real reason she needed to get off. She finally settled on a ‘sort of the truth’.
“I wondered if I could take the afternoon off?”
Simon was sitting at his desk, going over his books and for several moments he merely stared at her, his mind obviously still on whatever it was he was calculating. “The afternoon?”
“I wanted to go to the clinic and it’s a walk-in, which means I might have to wait a while.”
“Are you ill?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather.”
He looked so concerned she felt horribly guilty. She hadn’t expected he would be alarmed. “Do you have a fever?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. Maybe it’s like allergies or something. Or maybe I just need vitamins.”
His expression turned disapproving. “Considering your diet, I wouldn’t doubt it,” he said dryly. “You don’t take care of yourself like you ought.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. She hadn’t come in for a lecture. It was nice, really, that he seemed so concerned. She wasn’t used to having anyone worry about her, though, and it was almost as irritating as it was comforting to feel that he cared enough to worry. Besides, he had a very bad habit of treating her to the ‘I’m older and wiser’ routine. She knew he was older, and he was probably a lot wiser, but she didn’t particularly care to be treated like a child--even if she did occasionally act like one.
“Go,” he said finally. “I can handle the shop. Unless you’d rather I take you?”
“No! I can manage.”
She was still irritated when she reached the clinic, and not only because of the remark about not eating right. She felt guilty for lying and it annoyed her that she did when he was so secretive about everything he did. She should not feel guilty.
She fell asleep waiting her turn. Fortunately, she had not reached the dream state when they called her number. Unfortunately, she’d been sitting in one position so long that her butt and feet had gone numb. Still groggy from being wakened so abruptly, she staggered to the back and flopped ungracefully in the chair the nurse indicated.
“What’s the problem today?” the nurse asked just as she stuck the thermometer in her mouth.
“Tired,” she mumbled around the plastic wrapped stick.
“I mean why did you come in?”
Anna gave her a look. “I can’t sleep.” She frowned. “Actually, I do sleep, I just don’t rest. I’m tired all the time.”
“Hmmm.”
Anna watched her scribble on the chart. “Come on to the back.”
She fell asleep on the table while she was waiting for the doctor to finally get around to seeing her. She didn’t know why they continued that subterfuge. Everybody knew the clinic was only made up of various wait stations. You waited in the reception until you were contemplating walking out, and then they took you to another room and took your clothes and made you wait again.
“What seems to be the problem?” the doctor asked as he breezed into the room, another annoying habit designed to make it look as if he was just so busy that was why you were kept waiting naked on a table under a spot light for damned near an hour.
“I’m not sleeping well. I need something to help me sleep so I won’t be so tired all the time.”
He frowned, reading her chart, and then proceeded to ask her a lot of really weird questions, seemingly at random. He made her sit up and did a little of the routine poking and prodding. “When was your last cycle?”
“Cycle?”
“Your period.”
Anna mulled that over. “Actually, I’m irregular. I don’t remember. But I’m on birth control.”
His brows rose. “Where do you get it?”
He was looking at her frigging chart for cripes sake! “Here.”
He frowned again and Anna was beginning to get distinctly uneasy. “When was the last time you came in?”
Anna shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
He tapped the chart with his pen. “This says last year.”
Anna gaped at him. “Oh that’s wrong. It’s got be wrong. I’m on that six month thingy.”
“Not anymore.”
“What do you mean, not anymore?”
“It should have been replaced three months ago. Let me get someone in here to do a blood work up.”
“For what?”
“To see if you’re pregnant. I can’t give you anything until I’m sure.”
Anna sat bolt upright on the table. “I can’t be pregnant.”
“You haven’t had intercourse?” he asked doubtfully.
Anna reddened. “Uh--maybe once or twice.”
He smiled. “It only takes once.”
“But--you don’t understand! I can’t be pregnant!” she exclaimed, feeling a horrible sense of unreality wash over her. Simon was going to be furious. He was never, ever going to believe she had just forgotten. He was going to think she’d done it on purpose.
Or worse, he would think it belonged to somebody else, David for instance because she knew he hadn’t believed her when she’d said she had broken it off with David a long time ago.
It had pissed her off that he hadn’t believed her, but she’d known he had reason to doubt her word. He’d caught her lying way too many times to believe anything she said. And then there was the little fact that David had acted as if they were still together. When she added to that the fact that she’d just been too pissed off and insulted that he doubted her word to try to explain herself, it almost seemed inevitable that he would decide it had to be David’s baby.
The doctor was probably just guessing she was pregnant because she was young and sexually active.
He did a pelvic, which was the most embarrassing thing she’s ever had done to her.
“Hmmm. I’m guessing a couple of months.”
“A couple of months what?”
“Pregnant. I’ll have to wait to get the tests back to be positive, but your uterus is closed and slightly enlarged.”
“Maybe it’s just--a tumor or something?” Anna asked weakly.
“Does your family have a history of uterine tumors?”
Anna sniffed. The shock was already beginning to wear off enough to allow room for fear and self-pity, which made it difficult not to whine. “How the hell would I know? I grew up in foster care.”
“Hmm. Mood swings,” he murmured, scribbling furiously on her chart. “I should probably give you something for that.”
She wanted to punch him out. Mood swings? How would he like to be hit with news like he’d just given her, she wondered? “I’m not moody!” she snapped. “I’m tired and I’m scared.”
He studied her thoughtfully for several moments. “You don’t know who the father is?”
She glared at him angrily at the insult. “Exactly why would you think that?”
“I thought that might be why you were so upset.”
She burst into tears. “Simon is going to be so mad with me.”
“You think he won’t take the news well?” he asked, snatching a handful of tissues from a box nearby and thrusting them into her hands.
“When has a man ever taken that kind of news well, I’d like to know? Of course he isn’t going to take it well! He’s got enough problems as it is.”
“Well, if you’re considering aborting, you don’t have a lot of time to think it over. I’m guessing you’re already well into your first trimester.”
A fresh shock wave went through her. Her tears dried instantly. “Abort?”
“You have that option.”
“No, I don’t! It’s Simon’s baby. I couldn’t do that!” she said angrily, outraged that he would even suggest it.
He patted her in a fatherly manner. “I’ll send a nurse in to give you something to calm you down a little.”
“I have to drive. I’m calm,” she said as he darted out the door with the air of someone desperate to shake the dust and closed it firmly behind him.
The moment he left, Anna scooted off of the table and headed for the dressing area. The nurse arrived before she could finish. “Did the doctor tell you to get dressed?” she demanded.
“I’m a big girl. I don’t have to ask permission.”
“Well, he sent me to give you this.”
“I’m driving. You can’t give me anything that will make me drowsy.” She knew it wouldn’t take much. She’d already reached a point where all she had to do was be still for a handful of minutes and she dropped off. If they ‘relaxed’ her, she wasn’t going to make it out of the parking lot.
She got the shot anyway, a bag full of pills, and another appointment. Once she was in her car, she simply sat staring into space, trying to come to grips with her situation.
What was she going to do when she got back to the apartment? Simon was bound to ask what the doctor had said and as bad a liar as she was in general, she was pretty sure she was in no state to pull it off now.
The alternative was unthinkable, though, especially when the doctor wasn’t a hundred percent positive anyway. She certainly didn’t see the point in stirring things up when there might not be anything to tell.
She might not have to even if the doctor was right. She and Simon had come to sort of an understanding after the blow up almost a week before, but she still didn’t know where she stood with him. For all she knew, they might not be together a month down the road. They might not be together next week, or even tomorrow.
That was a scary thought considering she might be pregnant. She could barely take care of herself. What was she going to do with another person that had to be taken care of, a baby? She knew babies had to be watched all the time, and they were very fragile, and pretty much all they did as infants was eat, pass, and squall. She’d had to help take care of the younger foster children in every home she’d lived. She wasn’t worried about how to take care of a baby. She not only knew how to do it, she’d had hands on experience. But how could she do all of that and make the money to pay for food and shelter? And who would take care of it while she was out trying to make the money?
She covered her face with her hands, deciding she just couldn’t deal with worrying over all that right now.
She didn’t think she could bring herself to terminate the pregnancy, not when it was Simon’s, and she sure as hell wasn’t putting any kid of hers through the system. It’d be better off not being born at all than to have to grow up like she had.
As badly as she hated to do it, she would just have to ask Simon to help her. He was a good man. He had a good heart, whatever his faults might be. She knew he wouldn’t just dump her like so many guys did and leave her to deal with it all by herself.
She didn’t think he would.
She wasn’t under any illusion, though, that learning about it would be the final straw. The relationship between them was shaky enough as it was. When he started looking at her as a baby machine, he was going to be doing it going the other way.
As miserable as that realization made her, she felt calmer once she’d thought everything over, not nearly as frantic as she had at first anyway. She could do this. She could figure out a way to deal with it and in the meanwhile she saw no reason to let it ruin what she had.
Regardless of what the doctor had said, she knew she couldn’t be more than a few weeks along if she was pregnant at all because she hadn’t been with Simon much more than a month and she hadn’t been with anyone else before him for a very long time.
She spent the drive back to the apartment rehearsing the lie she was going to tell him. Delivery was everything. She just had to not look guilty when she told him it was nothing.
At least now she knew why she felt like hell.
* * * *
Simon was in the back room working when she came in. He looked up in surprise as she passed the door. “I thought you were going to be gone all afternoon?”
“It didn’t take as long as I’d thought it would,” she said, breezing past the door.
“What did they say?”
She paused with one foot on the stairs, glancing toward him as he stepped to the door of the workroom. “He said I needed vitamins,” she said easily, shaking the bag in her hand.
“That’s a relief. So you’re just run down?”
“Yep. All the wild partying,” she said lightly, heading up the stairs. “I’m just going to go up change and I’ll come down and handle the front room.”
“Why don’t you just go ahead and take the afternoon off and rest?” he said, following her to the foot of the stairs and watching her as she went up.
“I’d be bored. I can handle it,” she tossed back at him over her shoulder.
To her relief, he didn’t seem to notice that she was in full retreat. He didn’t follow her upstairs. She was shaking by the time she got to her room. When she’d changed into one of her dresses, she took a few minutes to calm her jittery nerves and headed down again.
She would’ve liked to rest, but she was afraid that would only encourage Simon to think she needed to be coddled and she needed some space until she came to grips with her situation. Otherwise, she was bound to give herself away.
She was careful to descend quietly, afraid that if Simon heard her come down he would come back up front to demand more details. As luck would have it--since she didn’t have any--she’d no sooner reached the showroom than the bell over the door tinkled as a customer came in.
Her neck cracked as she whipped her head around to see if Simon had heard it. Deciding, maybe, that he hadn’t, she moved quickly across the showroom to intercept the customer. Her heart failed her when she saw it was Liz.
“Why haven’t you called me?” Liz hissed as Anna reached her.
Taken aback, Anna merely stared at her for several moments. “Was I supposed to?” she asked, looking Liz over in surprise and discovering Liz was looking less than her usual perfect self. She had dark circles under her eyes. Tension was evident in her taut lips and the strain around her eyes.
She waved the question away. “I can’t sleep for having the most awful dreams. I needed to talk to you about those pieces I bought,” she said nervously as the sound of footsteps came to them from the rear of the store.
Both women immediately fell silent, turning.
Simon had stopped halfway between the rear entrance to the showroom and the middle where she and Liz stood. He had the look of someone who’d just hit a brick wall they hadn’t expected to be there.
Anna stared at him in surprise for several moments before she realized he wasn’t looking at her with such a stunned expression. He was looking at Liz.
When she turned to see Liz’s reaction, she saw the woman was staring at him with an almost identical expression of shock. Abruptly, Liz giggled, a sound that wasn’t amused so much as the product of hysteria. “It is you! My god!”
Stunned, Anna followed Liz as she strode right up to Simon and looked him over, walking around him as if she was admiring a prize stallion. “Still keeping fit, I see.”
She stopped when she’d made a circuit, staring up at his face. She shook her head in disbelief. “You haven’t changed at all. Did you get a lift? Your plastic surgeon must be a lot better than mine. Jesus fucking Christ it’s been … years.” She frowned, obviously probing her memory for a calculation.
Baffled, Anna stared at Simon’s stony face for several moments before returning her attention to Liz. As if she sensed Anna’s gaze, Liz looked at her and chuckled. “Now I don’t feel nearly as badly as I did about taking your discard. You’ve got mine, don’t you?”
Liz and Simon? Was that how Simon had gotten the key card? Was Liz the reason he disappeared almost every night? But that didn’t make sense when Liz referred to him as her discard--unless he’d hooked up with someone else out in rich town? Anna felt nauseated. “What is she talking about, Simon?”
“Simon?” Liz asked with a giggle. “My god, you’ve got balls! You’re still using the same name?”
A flash of cold went through Anna and then heat and then cold again, creating a trembling in her belly that began to spread throughout her body. “You know her?” she mumbled, wondering why her voice sounded so strangely distant.
Liz sent him a cat that ate the cream smile. “Of course he does. He’s my husband, aren’t you darling?”
Chapter Twelve
Feeling her knees give way as darkness abruptly descended, Anna reached out blindly for support. Her hand made contact with the Chippendale buffet she was standing beside, but she felt her fingers slipping down the front as she crumpled.
The next thing she was aware of was the feel of arms around her shoulders. They were shaking.
Or maybe she was still trembling?
She struggled to sit upright.
“Be still. You fainted.”
It was Simon’s voice. She opened her eyes with a great effort. As they focused, she saw his face, taut with worry, just above hers and Liz’s curious one peering at her from behind his shoulder.
“You do that a lot. You shouldn’t have touched the buffet.”
Simon turned his head to glare at Liz.
“I’m all right,” Anna said a little stiffly as memory began to flood back.
Ignoring her assurance, Simon scooped her off of the floor and hefted her against his chest, heading for the stairs. Still more than a little dizzy, her head pounding, Anna leaned her head against his shoulder as he started up the stairs.
“I’ll get her a cold drink,” Liz, who’d followed them up, volunteered, glancing around the apartment with interest before heading for the kitchen.
Simon settled her on the couch, stacking a couple of the throw pillows behind her head. “Did you hit your head?”
Anna felt her head. She had a knot on the back. When she winced, Simon pushed her hands away and examined it himself.
“Ow!” she exclaimed, sending him a glare as he drew back.
“It doesn’t look like anything we need to worry about,” he said, sounding relieved.
Liz arrived with a glass dripping water down the sides. She looked like she was trying to decide whether to hand it to Anna or dash it into her face. “Don’t you dare throw that at me!” Anna snapped, jackknifing upright and reaching for the glass.
Liz’s brows rose, but she handed the glass to Anna.
Anna set the glass on the coffee table. “What is going on?” she demanded, glaring angrily at Simon. “You told me your wife was dead!”
His lips tightened. His expression had gone stony and uncommunicative again. “Cheryl told you my wife was dead. You made assumptions when you didn’t have all the facts. I told you I would explain everything to you in time.”
Liz looked stunned for a moment, and then sent Simon a look of pleased amusement. “He’s the one that’s supposed to be dead.” She glanced around the apartment assessingly. “My, my how the mighty have fallen! Is that why you faked your death? Don’t tell me I’ve spent years trying to track down all your lovely money and it was gone all the time?”
“Simon! What is she talking about?” Anna demanded, anger and fear playing havoc with her emotions.
Liz settled confidentially at the other end of the couch. “Aren’t you going to tell her, dearest?” she asked sweetly. She studied Anna with the same look of amusement. “I know you wouldn’t believe it to look at him, but he’s … probably a little older than he told you.”
Anna glanced at Simon and saw that he was looking at Liz as if he was struggling to keep from choking the life out of her. As if he sensed that she was staring at him, he glanced at her and then away, striding toward the nearest window and bracing his palms against the wall on either side of it. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he said tightly.
“Don’t believe him, sweety,” Liz said in a loud stage whisper. “We lived together for years. I know all about him. The things I could tell you!” She looked at Simon then, hoping for a reaction, no doubt. She was disappointed. He continued to ignore her.
“You’re saying he … faked his death?” Anna asked bewilderedly.
“Obviously. He doesn’t look dead to me. Does he look dead to you? I expect it was some sort of scam, although I suppose it might have been a cowardly attempt to escape me because he just didn’t have the balls to ask for a divorce--of course I would probably have annihilated him in court. Anyway, he was always into something. Very secretive. Not that I cared as long as there was plenty of money, but I suppose he managed to fumble the ball somehow and decided it was time to move on and start over. Fortunately for me, he had very good insurance. I thought ten million was pretty paltry at the time, but now that I see how he’s been doing I suppose I got the better end of it.”
Simon turned to glare at her. For several moments he seemed to wrestle with himself, but apparently he felt the impulse to defend himself more strongly than the need to try to maintain the lie. “You had twenty million in the bank. That should have been more than enough to support even you for the rest of your life. You were hardly left destitute.”
“Excuse me,” Anna said, abruptly leaping from the couch and racing down the hall. She barely made it to the bathroom. By the time she’d stopped gagging into the toilet, she didn’t have the strength to get up.
“Something I said?” Liz asked with patently false sympathy from the doorway, having followed her from the living room.
Wiping her mouth, Anna flushed the toilet and struggled to her feet. Turning the faucet on, she rinsed her mouth and splashed water over her face. “Go away,” she muttered without looking up.
She heard Simon as he joined Liz at the bathroom door. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not fucking all right. Both of you, just go away!”
“Call me,” Liz said. “I really do need to talk to you. I think I have a problem with the you-know-what. And from the looks of things you’re going to be needing some money.”
When she’d departed, Anna stalked to the door and grasped it to shut it in Simon’s face.
“We need to talk,” he said grimly.
Anna gave him a look. “Now we need to talk? Well, you know what? Now I don’t want to.”
Closing the door, she locked it and returned to the lavatory to brush her teeth and get rid of the horrible taste in her mouth.
After a while, she heard Simon leave and her shoulders sagged with relief.