Nan Ryan (23 page)

“I’m sorry to hear you aren’t feeling well, Annabelle.”

She patted the velvet cushion beside her and said, “I hated to have to bother you, Hunter at this late hour, but my heart is threatening to jump out of my chest. I was terrified.”

“I’m sure you were,” Hunter smiled and sat down beside her. He took the stethoscope from his bag on the table and by the time he turned back to Annabelle, she had pulled the satin robe back, ready for him to listen to her heart. Under the robe, she wore only a sheer gray lace nightgown and it barely covered the tops of her full breasts. Hunter felt his own heart speed up as he leaned over her to examine her. Trying to find someplace for his eyes to go other than the tempting flesh under his nervous hand, he looked at her face and she was smiling up at him in a teasing, inviting way. Without realizing it, Hunter was smiling back at her, mesmerized by her lovely gray eyes. When he started to moved the stethoscope away, her hand came up and covered his, “Hunter,” she whispered.

Like a bolt of lightning, Hunter was on his feet. “Anna-belle, your heart sounds fine to me, I must go.”

She rose and put her hand to his shoulder, “Hunter, it’s so lonely way out here, please stay for a few minutes. Have a glass of brandy with me, please.”

“I can’t, I have to go. I’m sorry,” and the confused young doctor was down the stairs and out of her house as fast as his long legs would carry him.

Annabelle had seen the look in his soft brown eyes and smiled to herself after Hunter left. He was weakening, she was sure of it. The next time would be different. She climbed into bed and went to sleep, still smiling, planning for the next evening visit of the man she’d become infatuated with.

Hunter was again called to the Thompson mansion one evening three weeks later. Kathleen was already in bed asleep, completely unaware that he had left the house. When Hunter arrived at Annabelle’s country home, he made no pretense of taking his black bag inside. Annabelle herself met him at the front door and without a word they strolled into the big library together. Not a servant was in sight. Hunter took a seat while she poured them both a glass of brandy, then she came to sit beside him. They sat holding hands, drinking brandy, and talking in a comfortable, relaxed way. When Hunter left, Annabelle stood close to him at the front door and raised her face up expectantly. Hunter smiled and kissed her forehead. “I enjoyed it, Annabelle. And if I’ve never told you before, I think you’re incredibly lovely and if I were not a married man, I …” The muscle in Hunter’s jaw twitched involuntarily and his eyes smolderd. He turned and went down the steps to his horse. Annabelle stood watching him gallop away, turned and went back inside, smiling broadly.

“Darling,” Hunter said to Kathleen as she bent over Scott in the nursery. “I’ve some news for you.”

“Really, Hunter?” She turned to look at him.

“As you know, I’ve been spending a lot of time on my research to find a cure for yellow fever.”

“Yes, you’ve been on it for ever so long, are you making any progress?”

“Well, there’s still no cure, but we are learning more each day and I’m hopeful it won’t be too long before we find the cure. There’s to be a seminar of many prominent physicians in New Orleans the last of this month. I’m very honored and flattered that they’ve ask me to read a study I’ve prepared at the meeting.”

“Hunter, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you. You’re a fine doctor, Hunter Alexander.”

Hunter smiled, pleased with her praise and said, “Well, darling, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you go with me to New Orleans? Many of the doctors will be bringing their wives along and it would do you good to get away from Sans Souci for a while. In fact, both of us could use the rest.”

“Hunter,” Kathleen said, frowning, “I can’t leave Scott.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, of course you can leave him. Kathleen, our son will be two years old next month. You haven’t been away from him for a minute. You know he’ll be well looked after while we’re gone. Please say yes.”

“No, Hunter. I just can’t. I’d love to really, but …”

“Then do it,” Hunter said and took her arm, “Please, Kathleen, you’ll never know how much it would mean to me, I want …”

“No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to leave Scott! You go on and enjoy yourself.”

“I will,” Hunter answered coldly and left the room.

The next day after work, Hunter left his office, but he did not go home. He rode straight out into the country to Anna-belle’s estate. She saw him coming up the walk and rushed out to meet him.

“Hunter, Hunter,” she smiled, “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I can’t stay,” he said when he reached her. He raised his hands to her shoulders and said, “Annabelle, I’ve something to ask you.”

“Anything, Hunter, you know that.”

“Annabelle, I want you to meet me in New Orleans the last week of July. I’m going down for a seminar, but I’ll have plenty of free time. I want to be with you, dear. I need to be with you.”

“Oh, Hunter,” she said and put her arms around his neck. “Yes, yes. You know I’ll go. I can’t wait. Please come on in and we’ll talk about it. I’m so excited.”

“I can’t, I have to get home. But I want you to make all the arrangements and I’ll take care of the expenses. I’m staying at the Creole Hotel, so book a room in some other nice place. We can’t go down on the same boat, you understand, but I promise as soon as I get to New Orleans, I’ll find you.”

“I can’t wait, darling. I’ll get a suite at the St. Charles and I’ll be waiting right there for you when you get to town. And, Hunter, it will be a wonderful week, I guarantee it. What day do you leave?”

“July 22nd.”

“I’ll leave the 21st.”

“Good, until then,” he said and turned to leave.

Annabelle refused to release him. “Hunter,” she said and stood on tiptoe, “don’t you want to kiss me goodbye?”

“But the servants, it’s broad daylight, I …” but he bent and kissed her tenderly, then whispered, “Just a preview of what it will be like in New Orleans.”

“Hunter, darling, I’ll make you happy.”

“I know you will,” he said and was gone.

Hunter had to go to dinner with the other physicians on his first night in New Orleans. Distracted and anxious for the evening to come to a close, he sat through innumerable boring speeches, knowing the beautiful Annabelle was awaiting his arrival at the St. Charles Hotel. Finally, at 11:30
P.M.,
he stood outside her fourth floor suite, his heart beating furiously in his chest. She answered the door herself, looking lovely. She giggled and drew him inside, locking the door behind her. They stood looking awkwardly at each other for several minutes, neither speaking. Slowly, he took off his jacket, walked to her, and took her in his arms. He kissed her tenderly at first, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, Anna-belle.” She smiled and before she could answer, he was kissing her again, his hands moving lightly up to her hair. He undid her pins holding it in place and pulled back a little to watch it cascade down around her shoulders. He picked up a long dark curl and lifted it lovingly to his face. He breathed deeply and kissed the silky hair. Still holding the tendril, he kissed her again and felt her lips part under his. He pulled her closer as the fire in him grew and his kisses grew more intense, leaving her bright-eyed and breathless. When at last his lips left hers, he looked down into her smiling, beautiful face and whispered, “Annabelle, I’ve wanted you for so long … so long,” and his mouth went to her neck. She stood against him, yielding gladly, wanting more and more of the handsome, lean body pressed to hers. Hunter could feel the rapidly beating pulse on her neck under his lips and her small hands clutching tightly to his back. He felt the hands leave his back and slip between them to his chest. He raised his head to look at her and saw she was slowly unbuttoning his white shirt. He stood completely still and watched her, enjoying every second as her tiny fingers deftly unbuttoned all the buttons. Without a word, he raised his wrist to her and she took out his shirt studs, tossing the onyx links on the table beside them. She pulled the shirt away from his body, then down over his shoulders while he stood watching her, smiling. Annabelle sighed and put her hands on his chest, gently caressing and stroking it. Hunter enjoyed it as long as he could, then once again pulled her against him and his fiery kisses were demanding. “Take off your dress, Annabelle,” he murmured against her lips, and she said, “Yes, darling, Yes.”

She pulled away a little, saying, “Darling, just let me go into the next room and put on something else. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Hunter smiled and kissed her again, “I hope I can wait five minutes,” he whispered hoarsely.

While Annabelle was in the bedroom changing, a knock came on the sitting room door and Hunter jumped nervously. Annabelle called to him through the open double doors, “Get that, will you, darling? It’s a surprise for you. I’ve ordered a midnight supper for us. Champagne, oysters, everything.”

“Good for you,” he smiled and opened the door.

A white-jacketed man wheeled in a linen-covered table and placed it near the open windows. He was gone as soon as the table was in place. Hunter locked the door and turned back to the table. White roses were in its center, a candelabra on its edge, a magnum of champagne cooling in a silver bucket. Then Hunter looked at the beautiful place settings for two. His chest tightened and he felt a queasiness in the pit of his stomach. It was the solid gold service, a specialty of the hotel, used only on special occasions. It was the same tableware he and Kathleen had eaten from at their honeymoon supper. It brought back with distinct vividness the happiness and love of that memorable time together. Hunter sighed as all the passion of minutes ago drained away. He knew it was no use. He couldn’t do it. He was in love with his wife. With Kathleen, now and forever. There could never be anyone else as long as she was in the same world with him.

Annabelle came to him wearing the most revealing gray negligee he had ever seen in his life. She was beautiful, alluring, eager, and ready. Hunter looked at her sadly and said, “Annabelle, I’ve done you a terrible injustice.”

Seventeen

Dawson lay in bed, his arms behind his head. He had just put out the lamp to go to sleep. Bright moonlight streamed in the many windows of his big bedroom located at the back of the house. The sheer brown curtains blew gently in the ocean breezes and the sound of the breakers on the beach had a lulling effect on Dawson. He was tired; it had been a long, strange day. The lovely girl asleep in the room across the hall had sat on the veranda with him until very late. She asked few questions, but told him more than he wanted to know about her own life.

When he’d asked, “Maria, will your mother be worried? Don’t you think we should tell her where you are, ask if it’s all right for you to stay here?”

“She will not be worried, Dawson. I am gone many nights, she is used to it. I spend the night with …”

“Say no more, Maria, I understand. That’s all going to change. I don’t want you going to the cantina again and I …”

“Oh, you want me for yourself, Dawson? That’s nice, you are so much more handsome than some of the men I …”

“No, Maria. I don’t want you for myself.”

“Why? Do you not think me pretty?”

“You’re lovely, Maria, but …”

“Then I do not understand. Why do you bring me here?”

“Dear, I brought you here because I want to help you, to make it possible for you to have a better life.”

“But you buy me pretty dresses and perfume. Surely you expect something in return,” she looked at him questioningly.

“I do expect something. I expect you to let me teach you many things.”

“Oh, Dawson, I know all about …”

“No,” he shouted, “you don’t understand! I’m going to teach you good manners, how to dress and act. I’ll teach you about music, art, literature. I’ll make a lady of you, Maria, if you’ll let me and I’ll help you to realize your dreams, to have a good, happy life.”

She listened intently, her eyes wide, and she said, “Why are you so good to me, Dawson? You do not even know me, why should you help me?”

“Maria, I was raised in much the same way you were, but for a man it is easier to rise above it. My dear, sweet mother was a girl very much like you, young and beautiful, and a good woman, but she died in poverty because there was no one to help her. She deserved better, should have had an easier life.”

“But your father, didn’t he help?”

“My father died when she was eighteen years old, then she was alone with me to care for.”

“I am eighteen, Dawson. Do you know by the time my
madre
was eighteen, she already had me and two others.”

“How old is she now, Maria?”

“She is thirty-three or thirty-four, I think.”

Dawson drew in his breath and shook his head, sadly. “I don’t intend to let that happen to you. When you are her age, you will still be a beautiful woman and have a life of ease.”

“But how, do you plan to marry me?”

“No, dear,” he laughed, “but trust me. Now it’s time you went to bed. I think I will, too. You know where your bedroom is. Delores is asleep, do you think you can undress yourself?”

Maria laughed and said, “I’ve been dressing and undressing myself since I was three. I believe I can manage.”

*   *   *

Dawson lay awake now thinking about Maria and the hard life she had lived. And he promised himself he would help her and her brothers and sisters. He would not let Maria become an old woman at thirty-three. A soft knock on his bedroom door shook him from his thoughts.

“Yes,” he called. The door opened and Maria came inside. She was wearing her new white nightgown, lace ruffles at its high neck and at her wrists, her feet were bare, and her dark hair was floating loosely around her shoulders and down her back. “Maria, what is it?” Dawson asked, raising himself up.

“Dawson,” she walked to the bed, “I am lonely, can I sleep in here?”

“Good Lord, no, Maria!”

“But, Dawson,” she said and came directly to him, “I was never in a bed alone, much less in a room.”