Housebound (6 page)

“But Anne, my precious, you know as well as I do that it won't have to come to that,” Ashley murmured. “The house is in all our names, with the stipulation that if the majority of the heirs wish to sell it, they may. So if Proffy, Holly and I decide we could use several hundred thousand dollars a bit better than a crumbling pre-Revolutionary War farmhouse there won't be a damned thing you can do about it. You know it's going to have to come to that, sooner or later. It's inevitable.”

Anne fought back the panic that threatened to engulf her, and she managed a stiff smile. “You are a nasty wretch, Ashley,” she said in an unconcerned voice. “You love to pick out someone's vulnerable spots and then stick pins in them. Stick away, brother dear. This house has belonged to Kirklands for over a hundred years, and it will be for a hundred years more.”

“That's a lovely thought, darling, but impractical. Granted you'll pop out the requisite two point three babies, but they'll be Engallses, not Kirklands. And I'm afraid my life-style and preferences do somewhat preclude procreation,” Ashley said lightly, casting a contemptuous glance at his companion's flushed face. “So it will be up to Holly, and unless she chooses to do it out of wedlock, they'll have their father's name also. So why bother to hold on to the old ruin?”

Anne set her glass down with a snap. “All right, Ashley, enough. You got to me. I give in. Choose some other helpless victim, will you?”

“Besides, I probably will have my children out of wedlock,” Holly interrupted saucily. “I don't know if there's a man I could bear to put up with for even nine months.” She cast a sneaky glance at Wilson to gauge his reaction.

Wilson didn't disappoint her. “You may think that kind of pertness is appealing, brat,” he said heavily, “but there are some of us who find it in extremely bad taste. Don't we, Anne?”

Anne was aware of Noah's curious eyes on her. “Wilson, you should know by now that Holly doesn't mean half of what she says. She likes to shock people, so she says outrageous things for effect, and I'm afraid that over the years you've proven to be one of her favorite victims. You shouldn't rise to the bait.”

Wilson seemed to be listening to her with only half an ear, his brown eyes disapproving, with some other hidden emotion in their depths. “Her favorite victim, am I?” he murmured. “I think I'll have to teach you respect for your elders, brat.”

“Try it.” Holly stuck out her tongue at him.

“I think I'll get the dessert before you resort to throwing food at each other,” Anne said lightly, pushing back her chair and refusing all offers of help. She needed a moment or two alone, and for more than one reason. She needed to get over the shock Ashley's malicious words had given her, and she needed time to ponder the startling possibility that Noah had hinted at and suddenly seemed all too likely. That hidden emotion in Wilson's usually bland brown eyes when he surveyed Holly was a great deal warmer and livelier than when they surveyed her. Impossible as it might seem, Anne
had the sudden suspicion that his feelings for Holly might be just a trifle more heated than that of a disapproving older-brother type.

And Holly's pertness had reminded her of nothing so much as adolescent flirting. If you couldn't get the boy's attention by being sweet, the next best thing was being a brat. Even if he scolded you, at least he knew you were there.

But heavens, what an absurd mismatch that would be, Anne thought, fetching the strawberry Bavarian cream from the refrigerator. Neither of them would be likely to change for the other, and they'd doubtless fight like cats and dogs. And anyway, it was probably all a figment of her imagination. Nothing would have been quite so neat and comfortable as having her fiancé and Noah's pursuer fall in love. It was just too convenient to be remotely possible.

“Do you need any help?” Speak of the devil, Anne thought with a sigh of acceptance.

“No,” she said resignedly. “But now that you're here you can carry the liqueur glasses; I forgot to put them on the table earlier.”

“I knew I'd come in handy for something,” Noah said with an engaging grin. “Your sister and fiancé have an interesting relationship, don't they?”

So he'd noticed it, too. She smiled blandly. “Do they? They've known each other forever, of course. And they've always fought like cats and dogs, I'm afraid. Not very comfortable at the dinner table, but then, we're used to it. And anything's better than Ashley's tongue.” A sudden shadow darkened her usually pale face. “Actually, Wilson and Holly are just like brother and sister. Despite her teasing she was delighted when we got engaged.”

“Eighteen months ago,” he said impishly. “About the time
you said she started acting jealous. Well, they don't look like any brother and sister I've ever seen. I'd be willing to bet she wasn't as delighted as she said she was.”

“And I'm willing to bet you that you're just hoping she'll be distracted enough to let you escape,” Anne shot back, ignoring her own suspicions.

“Perhaps,” he said, unconvinced. He started toward the narrow kitchen steps and she followed him, the Bavarian cream in her hands. When he stopped short, blocking the doorway, she nearly careened into him, flattening the Bavarian cream on his back. Luckily she was adept enough to catch herself in time, and she contented herself with a mild curse.

“Do you really care so much for this house?” He had turned back and was looking at her out of troubled blue eyes.

She didn't hesitate. “Yes. This house means more to me than anything.”

“More than your family?”

“It depends what you mean. If one of them was ill, or really needed something, then they would come first. But if it's a question of Ashley and Holly wanting an extra thousand to keep up their extravagant life-styles and not wanting the considerable bother of a house this size, then yes, the house would mean more to me than them.” She took a deep breath. “I can't expect you to understand, but this house is part of my family. It's my child, my mother, my security and my happiness.”

“And you'll sacrifice everything for it?” Despite the lightness in his voice there was no mistaking the dead seriousness behind his question.

“I haven't made any sacrifices I haven't wanted to,” she said, firmly believing it. “And I never will.”

“I wish I could believe you,” he said enigmatically. And then he turned and continued up the stairs, leaving her staring perplexedly after him.

Noah Grant stretched out in front of the fire, reveling in the unexpected solitude of the moment. Though he could have wished for one certain companion, the silence was nevertheless welcome. He warmed the brandy in his hand, taking another small sip as he stared meditatively into the flames. The Kirkland family was not at all what he had expected, and he could feel himself being drawn in against his will. It was hard to remember that he was here to do a job, not to get involved in the various emotional entanglements that ran rampant. And that included the wistfully beautiful woman who'd run and hidden in her room the moment her younger sister drove off with that pompous idiot.

Not that Wilson was really that bad, Noah conceded. A little stiff, a little unimaginative, but definitely not a stupid man. Except for the fact that he didn't seem to have noticed that he was in love with the younger sister, not with his fiancée, he was really quite astute. It hadn't taken him long to figure out why Noah was really there, even if Annie still remained mercifully in the dark.

As for Holly, she'd certainly forgotten her determination to seduce him once Wilson appeared on the scene. It was a good
thing his masculine ego was reasonably secure, he thought wryly, remembering her haphazard attention throughout the evening. Looking into Holly's distant, unhappy blue eyes, Noah had little doubt that she knew the depths of her feelings. It was no wonder she was such a brat—she couldn't help but suspect Wilson's feelings might be warmer than he let on. It must be incredibly frustrating for her—no wonder she was eager to take out all those untapped sexual energies on the first willing man. Except that he wasn't particularly willing.

He had always chosen his sexual partners carefully, for their invulnerable hearts as much as for their various attractions, but his ego did draw the line at being someone's substitute in bed. Even if he deliberately steered clear of any sort of commitment, he still wanted some level of honesty in bed, and Holly Kirkland wasn't going to provide that. Her sister was another, far more dangerous matter.

Leaning back, Noah wondered idly whether the kindest thing he could do would be to leave Anne strictly alone. No, perhaps the kindest thing would be to distract the voracious Holly. He wouldn't put it past her to ignore any sisterly loyalty if Wilson gave her encouragement. And if Anne really loved the man…But she couldn't, he told himself. It would still come as quite a blow to her pride, if not her heart, when Wilson finally recognized what he was really after. Noah could only hope it happened before the long-postponed wedding and not after.

Of course he could be noble and disinterested and point it out to her. He'd already dropped a few hints, but she'd turned that pale, distant face on him and shrugged her shoulders. Those deep-green eyes of hers could be so deliberately bland. Until he kissed her, which he'd done far too often and not
anywhere near enough in the past twenty-four hours. And then her eyes would widen and stare up at him, all vulnerable and yearning, that clever mouth of hers would soften and tremble, and…what the hell was he doing, sitting here having erotic fantasies? He should have outgrown that by now. Maybe he should reconsider the far too willing Holly.

But the dangerous fact remained that Annie moved him more than any woman had in years. Since Nialla. And he was here under false pretences; in effect, lying to her. He'd better keep his damned roaming hands off her. Apart from the deceit involved, she was exactly the sort of woman he always steered clear of. Vulnerable, loving. Clearly wanting children, despite that oaf of a fiancé's dictatorial pronouncements. And there was nothing he could offer her but pain.

Would she be asleep already, he mused, taking another sip of the cognac, lying curled up on that ridiculously narrow daybed, with the moonlight streaming in that wall of windows, silvering her sleeping body and throwing the rest of the room into shadows? Did she wear anything when she slept? And if he went for a midnight stroll around the back of this rambling, tumbled-down estate, would it be ridiculously perverse to find himself outside her window?

“That's a damned strange expression on your face, Grant.” Ashley's lightly affected voice broke through his erotic fantasies, and Noah glanced up at him with a distinct lack of welcome. “What are you doing here, dear boy? Mooning over my sister? I wouldn't have thought it likely.” He sauntered into the room, his pale eyes shadowed, his mouth discontented. “Where is she, by the way?”

Noah could play games, too. “She's driven Engalls home.”

“I wasn't referring to Holly.”

“Weren't you? And what makes you think it wouldn't be Anne driving her fiancé home? Wouldn't it be more logical that she'd be the one?”

“Much to Holly's dismay. And don't give me that innocent look. You know as well as I do what's going on in that particular ménage.”

“I don't know if anyone actually does, particularly the principals. To answer your question, Anne disappeared into her bedroom the moment Wilson and Holly left.”

“Jealous, do you suppose? Maybe she's finally catching on.” Ashley slouched into a chair by the fire.

“She's certainly not unobservant. But I don't think that's why she went to her room. She'd hiding from me.” Now why did he say that? Noah cursed himself. Ashley Kirkland was the last person he should be frank with. He forced himself to laugh lightly. “She doesn't trust my reputation.”

Ashley wasn't fooled. A light filled his pale eyes. “Oho. Sits the wind in that quarter? I'm surprised at my cloistered Anne. I thought she had taken a vow of celibacy. The only thing that ignites her passion is this damned house.”

“Why?” Despite his distrust of the man, Noah couldn't control his curiosity.

“Why the house, or why the lack of men?” Ashley countered. “The first is easy. Our mother died when Anne was twelve—a very impressionable age. Proffy never was terribly practical, even twenty-some years ago, and he'd always pretty much ignored her. I was the golden, talented firstborn son; Holly was the darling baby girl. We must have been pretty overwhelming siblings for anyone to have. Anne was rather solemn and awkward, almost a changeling, and I'm afraid Proffy treated her as such. So she turned to the house for
comfort, and when Mother died she became the perfect little mother and housekeeper. She's a very strong woman, you know. She mothered all of us, Proffy included, and the house became a minor obsession. The only time she's ever left for any extended period of time was during college.” He paused, cocking an eyebrow at the fascinated Noah. “Any more of that cognac? It looks a bit better than the stuff Anne usually forces on her seedy older brother.”

“It is,” he replied shortly. “But I'm afraid I just finished it.” The lie came easily—for some reason he didn't want Ashley swilling Anne's precious cognac.

“Oh, well. I suppose I've had more than enough to drink. Anyway, as I was saying, Anne might have succeeded in breaking away from this house and her voracious family if she'd only chosen a bit more wisely.”

“Chosen what?”

“Her first love, dear boy. But I'm afraid her taste—as always, when it comes to men—was execrable. She developed a mad crush on some mindless jock, allowed herself to be seduced and pretty much abandoned when something more desirable came along.”

“And she developed a pathological hatred of men and a demented devotion to this house ever since?” Noah mocked. “Sorry, Ashley, I'm afraid it just won't wash. Anne's too wise and warmhearted to fit the picture you've drawn.”

“I didn't say she hates men. She just keeps them in their place, and keeps her heart secure. Which is a neat trick—I wish I could master it. Her involvements in the last dozen years have been abominably civilized—I think she deliberately chooses the most boring men she can.” Ashley crossed his ankles with elegant preciseness. “Of course, it
could be that she doesn't want to compete with me. I rather like that notion.”

“Don't count on it,” Noah said dryly, draining his cognac and wishing there was some way he could sneak some more without Ashley's pale eyes discovering him.

“Well, then, we can simply accept the fact that she prefers to live a boringly mundane life. I'd watch myself if I were you, Grant.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may remind you that I know as well as anyone exactly why you're here. And it wouldn't do for you to get either emotionally or physically involved with my older sister. Holly's a different matter, she knows the score. Leave Anne alone.” All mockery had left his voice, and Noah looked at him curiously.

“You are a protective older brother after all,” he mused.

“Only when I don't have to exert myself too much,” Ashley replied with an airy wave of his hand, taking up his decadent persona once more. “Anne's going to be hurt enough as it is; I don't want to see it made any worse than it has to be.”

Noah looked up from his abstracted perusal of the fire. “Why does she have to be hurt? Have any of you really tried to talk with her about the house? She's a very bright lady—surely she can see as well as the rest of you that the house has become unmanageable. I can't believe she wouldn't listen to reason.”

“Can't you? Then you haven't tried to discuss it with her. You heard her reaction at the dinner table tonight, you saw the blind panic. This house is her entire life—all her myriad other talents she relegates to minor status.”

“Other talents?”

“Anne has more ability in her little finger than the rest of her family put together. Holly's a brilliant cellist, I'm a mag
nificent painter, Proffy was a great teacher. But Anne can do just about anything. She runs this house single-handedly, doing all the repair work; she paints, quite well, as a matter of fact, plays the piano. You've noticed Holly's rather dashing dresses? Anne designed them and made them. I've been trying to get her to do something for me but she's been too busy so far.”

“And those things aren't enough to fill her life without the house?”

“She won't let anything fill her life. I think she deliberately picked a dull stick like Wilson because he wouldn't interfere with her precious house. But she'll have to face reality sooner or later. The sooner the better. Nothing would be worse for her than to let this current state of affairs continue for another five years. By then I don't think she could leave.” Ashley sighed.

“But you think she'll leave now, if she has to,” Noah prodded.

“She'll have to. She'll hate us for a while.” His eyes met Noah's, an enigmatic expression in their pale depths. “She'll especially hate you. I trust that doesn't disturb you?”

Noah shrugged. “Why should it?”

“I don't know. Just an impression I got. That you may be somewhat enamored of my quiet little sister.”

Noah grinned. “I don't think so, Ashley. I'm sorry Anne is going to get hurt, but it really has nothing to do with me.”

Ashley was unconvinced. “No, I suppose it doesn't. Still, I'm not often wrong in matters of the heart. I could have sworn that there was something going on between you and Annie. But I suppose I'm just becoming sentimental in my old age. Aren't I?”

Noah met his pale eyes across the room, and said nothing at all.

 

T
HE MOONLIGHT SHONE BRIGHTLY
in her eyes, and not for the first time Anne regretted the fact that finances had prohibited curtains for the expanse of windows. Usually there was no need for them—it was the rare combination of moonlight reflecting off the snow and the presence of Noah Grant in the house that was effectively destroying her peace. Not to mention the surprising situation that seemed to have sprung up with her sister and her fiancé. It would require very clever handling, much tact and a fair amount of subterfuge to gracefully transfer Wilson to Holly's eager arms. She was too tired to figure out how to do it and too restless to keep it out of her mind. Indeed, it was preferable to lying there in bed, thinking of Noah Grant's blue, blue eyes.

A drink and some company might help, she realized belatedly. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in refusing a late-night cognac. After all, Proffy had only just gone to bed, and doubtless Ashley and Steve would still be wandering around. Add to that Holly's imminent return and she would have been completely safe.

Of course, Holly had already been gone more than an hour on a drive that should normally take fifteen minutes. And Ashley and Steve were involved in their own little scene, whatever that was. Anne had the uncomfortable feeling that she didn't want to know. And there was Noah. When he looked at her out of those Celtic Gypsy eyes of his, he could be trusted about as far as her own determination went. Which wasn't very far.

It didn't even go far enough to keep her in bed, safe behind a locked door, she realized with a sense of fatality as she threw aside her quilt and swung her bare feet to the floor. She
was going to calmly dress, go up to the living room and drink a glass of cognac. And if Noah happened to be there, alone, she might very well sit with him for a while, waiting for Holly to return. After all, he wasn't that dangerous—she'd never even tried telling him no. He'd probably back off immediately if she pulled away. More's the pity.