Annie's Song (41 page)

Very gently, he moved his hand from her cheek to her neck, running his fingertips around to her nape.

Pressing the pad of his thumb against the underside of her fragile jaw, he lifted her face. Angling his head, he touched his mouth lightly to hers. For an instant, she stiffened, but when he didn’t increase the pressure or drag her back into his arms, she finally began to relax.

Doing it right. It wasn’t as simple as it sounded. He wanted her. God, how he wanted her. With a feverish urgency. There was nothing gentle about his need or anything gentlemanly about the thoughts that kept sweeping through his head. Kissing her breasts until she was mind less. Tasting the honeyed wetness nestled between her silken thighs. Driving his shaft into her slick, hot channel. Nibbling lightly at her mouth when he really wanted to devour every inch of her was not the easiest thing he’d ever done.

The end result was ample reward for the effort, however. The tenseness slowly eased from her body, and like a child seeking warmth, she pressed against him. Alex steeled himself against the urge to take advantage of her acquiescence. Not yet, he cautioned himself. He had to gain ground inch by inch, not by leaps and bounds. Otherwise, he’d frighten her again. If he did that, he wouldn’t achieve his ultimate goal, which was to make love to her. Not tomorrow. Not next week. But tonight.

And so he kissed her. Slowly. Gently. As if that were all in the world he wanted to do. One minute .. .

two ... Kisses so whisper-soft he scarcely felt them. Like the silken brush of butterfly wings. When she finally looped her arms around his neck, he pressed his face against her hair for a moment, inhaling the scent of her, smiling tenderly at the trusting way she molded herself against him. Very carefully, he looped an arm around her waist, and splayed a hand over her side, slowly tightening his hold. Her spine gave way to his arm, and her head fell back slightly. Alex kissed the hollow of her throat, taking measure of
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her pulse with the tip of his tongue. Fast, irregular. He smiled again, savoring this one small taste of her, his mind leaping ahead to other places he hoped to kiss.

Moving back so she could see him, he said, “I don’t want you to get chilled, honey. Let me put some wood on the fire.”

Her expression still a little guarded, she blinked as he set her off his lap. He pushed quickly to his feet and added logs onto the grate, nudging them with his boot to position them. Sparks shot up the flue. Then the flames caught on the wood. Alex rubbed his hands clean on his trousers as he turned back to his wife, who knelt on the rug, looking a little too innocent for his peace of mind. Gilded by firelight, in the flowing white gown, with her hair like a cloud around her shoulders, she might have been a religious painting. Or an angel. Sweet, so impossibly sweet. He felt as though he were about to defile something sacred, not a good feeling to have when his conscience was at war with pent-up passion. Whether she was angelic or not, he meant to have her, the devil take his scruples.

He held out a hand to her. “Come here, Annie, love.”

As though she sensed his intent, she searched his gaze. Alex bent slightly and grasped her by the upper arms, taking the choice away from her by pulling her to her feet.

“I don’t want you to get cold,” he said as he drew her closer to the fire.

Blue eyes, shot through with gold from the firelight... Looking into them, Alex accepted that she had every reason to be wary. Given his behavior a few minutes past, he was fortunate she wasn’t panicky.

She had given him her trust, which he knew hadn’t come easily, and he’d nearly broken it. Now, though he was far from deserving, she was willing to trust him yet again.

When he contemplated that, Alex found it a little overwhelming. Trust was a gift, and coming from her, priceless beyond measure. He swept his gaze slowly over her. In his frenzy a few minutes ago, he had unbuttoned her gown, which saved him the trouble of having to do so now. With a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he unfastened one of her cuffs, tugged it off over her hand, and began working her arm out of the sleeve.

“Let’s get you out of this, shall we?”

Her pointed little elbow caught in the armhole of her gown. He made fast work of wiggling it free. Then he turned his attention to her other sleeve. From the corner of his eye, he saw her lips moving and knew that, as much as he might wish to, he couldn’t ignore her protests. He stopped what he was doing to search her gaze.

His voice oddly thin, he said, “Sweetheart, if you’re afraid and want me to stop, all you have to do is say so.”

Alex felt fairly certain that she’d been telling him exactly that, right up until he looked into her eyes. But now she said nothing. He waited, in an agony of suspense, determined to work her arm back into her sleeve, refasten her cuff, and take it with good grace. Instead, she raised her chin a notch, took a deep breath, and squared her small shoulders. ‘‘No, don’t stop.”

Alex knew what it had cost her to say those three words. To him, making love with her was a natural culmination, but to her? “You won’t be sorry. I swear it.” Not wanting to draw out the torture for her, he quickly maneuvered her other arm out of its sleeve. “There we go-”

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Reaching down, he grabbed handfuls of cotton, studiously avoiding eye contact with her as he drew the hem of her nightgown upward. At the last second, her courage deserted her. Knowing how frightened she must be, Alex was half expecting some reflexive resistance, and when she tried to foil him by grabbing handfuls of cloth, he gave a jerk, successfully breaking her hold. In one smooth motion, he drew the gown off over her head and gave it a toss.

When he turned back, his heart skipped a beat. Though she made a valiant attempt to hide herself from him with crossed arms and splayed hands, she was still a vision, naked and gilded by firelight. Swollen pink nipples peeked out at him through the parted curtains of her sable hair. Helpless to resist, he reached out and brushed the backs of his knuckles over a sensitive crest. At his touch, she jerked as if he’d stuck her with a pin.

He lowered his gaze, filled with tenderness as he observed her frantic attempts to conceal more territory than two small hands could possibly cover. By the way she tried to hug herself, he guessed she couldn’t decide what part of her was most important to hide, her protruding belly, her navel, or the tantalizing triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs.

In the end, she hugged one arm over her belly and clamped her other hand over her navel, a choice that stymied him. But he couldn’t quarrel with the result. No man in his right mind yearned for a glimpse of bellybutton when he had an unobstructed view of—

No suitable word came to his mind for that tantalizing thatch of sable curls. In the past, Alex, like most men, had referred to that particular part of a woman’s body with little reverence, the list of names as base as they were numerous. To even think one of those words in connection with Annie seemed a sacrilege.

He raised his gaze to her swollen waist, a perverse curiosity niggling at him as he studied the hand she held clamped over her navel. That she was bent on hiding something was blatantly obvious, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think what. One navel looked pretty much like another. Dying to know what she felt so embarrassed for him to see, he barely resisted the urge to pry her fingers away.

Given the feast of sights she was providing him with, however, he decided he could allow the poor girl one secret. For the moment, at any rate. Later, there would be no room for secrets between them.

Even hugging herself as she was, a wealth of her skin was left bare. The color of cream, it looked luminescent in the light cast by the fire. Like shimmering silk. Or a trembling leaf...

With a start, Alex realized she was shaking. Jerking his gaze to hers, he saw in the depths of her eyes that she was perilously close to bolting. Not that he blamed her.

He was gaping at her like a damned idiot. Jesus. From the get-go, he hadn’t handled this well, and judging by her expression, things were quickly going from bad to worse.

For all his experience with women over the years, he suddenly felt like a bungling oaf. So horribly nervous. His voice a throbbing whisper, he said, “I’m sorry for—for staring at you, sweetheart. It’s just that—my God, Annie, you’re so beautiful. I can hardly take my—”

Her small face flooded with scarlet. His gaze darted to her protruding belly and her ineffectual attempt to keep it hidden with her thin arms. Stupid. So stupid! He nearly thumped himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. The girl was in the advanced stages of pregnancy. Naturally she didn’t feel very beautiful.

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Only she was. The most beautiful thing he’d ever clapped eyes on, barring none. So, tell her that, you damned fool. Alex tried to moisten his lips with a tongue that had gone as dry as beef jerky. He wasn’t much good at spouting flattery. Never had been. For some reason, he’d always felt a little silly when he tried to get poetic.

“Annie, don’t feel self-conscious about your stomach,” he started. “I think it’s—cute.”

Her big blue eyes went bright with a rush of tears. Alex couldn’t feel the rug under his feet. Christ. At least he could see his feet.

“Sweetheart, your tummy is beautiful. Honestly.”

Actually, now that he was taking its measure, he might have added that it was remarkable as well. She looked about ready to pop her seams. Beneath the hand that she held over her navel, dark hair ran in a tapering line down to her pelvis.

“Annie ...” He stepped closer. With hands that were suddenly shaky, he brushed the tears from her cheeks, wishing with all his heart that he knew what to say to her. There was no denying the fact that she was misshapen and ungainly. But that didn’t dampen his desire for her. If anything, it heightened it. His wife, heavy with child. To him, that was a miracle beyond measure. If given half a chance, he’d worshipfully kiss every inch of her. But he wasn’t sure how to convince her of that.

It occurred to Alex that he might be going about this all wrong. Annie wasn’t stupid. She knew her feminine shape was temporarily distorted, and no pretty words were likely to convince her otherwise. It might be more fruitful if he were to make light of the situation and try to tease a smile from her. If he seemed to take her pregnancy in stride, perhaps she would relax about it as well.

Bending to plant a kiss on the end of her nose, he flashed her a slow grin. “It has just occurred to me that there seems to be something coming between us.”

Her eyes went huge. Then she blinked, spilling another rush of tears over her lashes. The next thing Alex knew, she planted a hand in the center of his chest and shoved him with surprising strength. Caught unprepared, he staggered a step. Annie, still hugging her belly, made a dash for her discarded nightgown.

Alex caught her wrist just before she reclaimed the garment.

“No, sweetheart, don’t,” he said, forcing her to straighten. “Please?”

She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp. Taking care not to bruise her with his grip, Alex held fast.

“Annie... You’re being silly about this. It isn’t as if I’ve never seen a nude pregnant woman before.” That was one of the biggest whoppers he’d ever told. “And, whether you believe me or not, I think you’re beautiful. Honestly, I do!”

Her mouth quivered. The next thing he knew, the spasm spread to her small chin. Alex nearly groaned.

Releasing her wrist, he framed her face between his hands and set himself to the task of kissing her tears away. In between kisses, he drew back so she could see his mouth and whispered, “Honey, I’m sorry.

Forgive me? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I think you’re beautiful. I swear it.”

She attempted to twist her face from his grasp. “I’m not beautiful. Ugly, I’m ugly.”

“Ugly? Honey, no. Pregnant women are ... special.” Alex nearly winced at that. Special? A sheer genius
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with words, that was he. “To me, seeing you like this is—”

“You haven’t seen my bellybutton!”

Alex traced the arch of her brows with his lips, then leaned back. “I’ll bet you have a gorgeous bellybutton.”

“It pooches!”

“It what?”

“Pooches!”

Tiny muscles had begun to jerk beneath her eyes, a sure sign to Alex that she was perilously close to weeping. She was clearly very upset about her navel, which seemed a small point to him, considering her impressive girth. “It pooches? What do you mean, it pooches?”

“It’s turned inside out!”

Convinced he’d misread her lips, he said, “I beg your pardon?’’

“Inside out!” she repeated.

Alex glanced down between their bodies. Feeling certain that, in her self-consciousness, she was exaggerating the condition, he drew her fingers away from the spot. Mouth and chin atremble, Annie stared down at the protrusion. His heart caught at the distress on her face. “Honey, it’s not that bad.”

“Ugly, ugly, ugly!”

“No! How can a bellybutton be ugly? I think it’s sort of—’’ He broke off, groping for a word.

“Adorable. That is, without question, the cutest bellybutton I’ve ever clapped eyes on.”

Not stopping to think about how she might perceive the move, he gathered her close and pressed his face against her hair. He ran a hand up her silken back, learning her spine with searching fingertips, his eyes falling closed on a wave of contentment. To hold her like this, to feel her softness pressed so firmly against him, was as close to heaven as he ever hoped to get.

“Don’t cry, Annie, love.” It suddenly struck Alex that he was whispering into the ear of a deaf girl. Sheer frustration crashed over him, and he drew back again so she could see his face. Feeling a movement between them, he glanced down to see that she was pushing at her protruding navel with a fingertip, trying without success to tuck it back where it belonged. Afraid she might hurt herself, he brushed her hand aside and covered the spot with his own. Tenderness swamped him as he looked into her eyes.