by Anne Stuart
He collapsed on top of her, and they fell flat against the mattress, his arms tight around her, the fingers almost cruelly possessive for a too brief moment. And then he released her, rolling to one side, an arm flung up to shield his eyes against the brightness of the hotel-room light, his warm, smooth chest rising and falling rapidly.
Reality was returning with distressing rapidity. Anne opened her weary eyes to watch him, eyes filled with an inescapable love and sorrow. Slowly she tried to edge away, but his arm shot out and caught her, dragging her willing body against his.
There was nothing either of them could say. Anne was too profoundly shaken by the last few minutes, by something she’d only dreamed existed. She couldn’t guess for one moment that Noah was suffering the same wonder and amazement.
And then his breathing slowed, his heartbeat lessened, and she realized with a combination of tenderness and annoyance that he had fallen soundly, blissfully asleep. It was far too easy to pull out of his arms then—his hands clutched at her instinctively before falling back to sleep once more. Slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb him, she slipped from the bed. Scooping up her scattered clothes from the floor, she made a silent exit into the bathroom. Much as she wanted to stay in that bed with him, curled up against the warm strength of his beautiful body, she knew if she stayed it would take nothing short of physical violence to dislodge her. She had to keep reality firmly in mind.
Quietly she closed the bathroom door behind her, then turned to the mirror to survey the ravages the last hour had wrought on her body. She looked well and truly loved, she noted with a sigh. The kiss-swollen lips, the faint redness from his closely shaven beard, even the tiny mark of his teeth on her shoulder. Her green eyes were smiling and sultry, and she might as well wear a scarlet “A” on her chest if she thought she had a chance in hell of fooling her inquisitive family.
Still smiling, she reached for a towel. And for the first time saw the reflection of the lavender silk robe in the mirror. The robe she’d given Holly for Christmas two years ago.
Looking down, she noticed her sister’s jumbled cosmetics littering the top of the sink. She stared at them numbly, as her clumsy fingers pulled the emerald dress around her shivering body. Her evening sandals were on the bathroom floor, inches away from Holly’s slippers.
With a low moan of pain Anne slammed barefoot out of the bathroom, her dress held clumsily about her shivering body. She didn’t even look at the figure of the man sitting bolt upright in the bed, watching her out of darkly troubled eyes as she scooped up her cape with shaking hands. A moment later she was gone, the door slammed behind her, racing down the deserted hallway as if the hounds of hell were after her.
Noah stared after her. The scent of her perfume was still in the air, the feel of her was still imprinted on his flesh. Never had Nialla seemed farther away.
Punching up some pillows behind him, he leaned back against the headboard and longed for the cigarettes he had given up five years ago. His mind was still clouded with sleep and Anne’s precipitous exit, and it took him a moment to realize how alone he was. Even Nialla was gone, his constant companion of the last few years. The anger and rage had left him, finally, after all his efforts to banish them. Left him with a fond and sad memory of a love that had died, leaving him behind to go onward.
Leaving him behind to make an even bigger mess of things than he would have imagined. And at this point there was nothing he could do about it—he was going to betray Anne on her most fundamental level.
He stared at the door, more alone than he had ever been. “Annie,” he whispered, uselessly, belatedly. The room only echoed its silence.
Chapter Twelve
It was very late when Anne finally joined the third stage of Ashley’s celebrations. Her face was pale but perfectly composed as she glided into the elegantly seedy ballroom, and even the sight of Noah Grant, impeccably dressed and seemingly completely at ease, failed to put a dent in her composure. Besides, he was easy enough to ignore, absorbed as he was in conversation with a short, dapper man whom Anne failed to recognize. The noise of the celebrations had risen proportionally to the amount of spirits consumed, and Anne could only thank heaven that she’d availed herself of both aspirin and a tranquilizer before returning to the bosom of her family.
“Where the hell have you been?” Holly demanded in a loud whisper from directly behind her. “You’ve been gone for hours. I wondered for a while when I saw Noah was missing, too, but he’s been back for ages now. Were you off with him?”
“No,”
“Then have you seen Ashley?”
“Ashley? Isn’t he here?” Anne scanned the crowd with worried eyes, her gaze slipping over Noah’s lean shoulders with indecent haste.
“Didn’t even make it through dinner. He was very drunk, Anne, and acting sort of crazy, even for him. Wilson went looking for him, but he couldn’t find any trace of him.”
“Did you tell Proffy?”
Holly snorted inelegantly. “He’s too busy flirting with the Merry Widow. I’m afraid we’re about to have a wicked stepmother.”
“She’s welcome to him.”
“Has she seen him?” Wilson joined them, his handsome face creased with worry, and without thinking he slid his arm protectively around Holly.
A small, resigned grin lit Anne’s face at the naturalness of the gesture. “Not a trace,” she said. “Did anyone see him go? Was he alone?”
“He must have been—no one else seems to be missing except you. I’m sure he’s all right,” Wilson insisted, giving Holly’s narrow shoulders a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at him, love and gratitude shining out of her china-blue eyes, and Anne felt a sudden, unworthy pain near her heart. Damn it, Holly shouldn’t have everyone, she thought morosely.
“Of course he is,” she agreed, squashing down that nagging jealousy. “In any case, I might go check the lobby.”
“That’s the first place I looked,” Wilson said.
“Well, I can look again,” she replied mildly, heading off toward the door. She could feel a tall figure following her, and even though her senses told her no, she hoped and dreaded it might be Noah.
But it was Wilson’s hand that stopped her just outside the ballroom. “Anne, I have to talk to you,” he began, tension giving him a faint wheeze. “You’ve been incredibly elusive these past few weeks, and I’ve let this go on far too long. Anne—”
She put one slim hand to his lips, a rueful smile playing about her mouth. “There’s no need, Wilson,” she said lightly. “I just hope she doesn’t lead you a merry dance.” And slipping off the pearl-and-diamond ring, she placed it in one limp hand, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips in a sweet, grateful farewell. As she looked up, her senses once more betrayed her, and from across the room she could see Noah staring at her out of fathomless, wintry eyes.
Let him think what he wanted about that kiss, she told herself grimly as she escaped from the bemused Wilson, who stood there looking after her, the ring still clutched in one hand. Noah was about to lose both Kirkland women. Not that that should bother him—doubtless he already had replacements lined up around the block in New York. And there was always Nialla’s sacred memory, she added bitterly, ashamed of herself for her jealousy.
It was well after midnight, and the lobby of the Elgin Hotel was dimly lit, the darkness covering some of its seamier qualities and giving it a mysteriously elegant air. The place was deserted; no sign of her brother or even a desk clerk to be seen. Anne hesitated, common sense telling her she should rejoin the party, even if it was the last thing she felt like doing, an eerie sixth sense warning her to wait.
She listened to that sixth sense for a brief moment. Just long enough to hear the faint voice that floated toward her from a darkened corner of the lobby. Even in that thin thread of sound she recognized Ashley’s mocking drawl, and she rushed across the deserted lobby.
He was huddled in a chair in the surrounding darkness, the back shielding him from pryi
ng eyes. The light was dim in the corner, but not dim enough to hide his condition from his sister’s worried eyes.
“Oh, my God, Ashley, what happened?” she breathed, almost afraid to touch him.
There didn’t seem to be a part of his body that was undamaged. The black silk suit was in tatters around his scrawny frame, his hands were cut and bloody, his entire body seemed to vibrate with pain. His face was the most horrifying of all—one eye was completely closed by the purplish swelling, and the entire expanse was covered with cuts and bruises. His noble beak of a nose was broken, his lips were split and swollen, and the one eye that was still capable of looking up at her was curiously resigned.
“I ran into a door,” he said lightly, his voice muffled through the damaged lips.
“Who did this to you, Ashley?” she demanded, squatting down beside him, ignoring her dress trailing on the none-too-clean carpet as she took one hand in hers. He winced, and a deeper panic filled her heart.
“Did they hurt your hands, Ashley?” she demanded hoarsely. If Ashley could no longer paint they might just as well have killed him.
Slowly, painfully he flexed them. “Nothing permanent,” he reassured her, his wry smile macabre in his battered face. “Don’t look so stricken, sister dear. These things happen.”
“Well, they shouldn’t,” she said fiercely. “Especially not to my brother.”
He appeared to consider it for a moment, then sighed, a long, sad sound. “You’re right, of course. I think I’d better learn to be more careful.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised one wounded hand in protest, the fingers trembling slightly. “Don’t preach at me, I beg of you, Anne. I think I’ve reached about the limit of my endurance tonight.”
“I won’t preach, Ashley. I never have,” she said. “I’m not about to ask you to change your life for me.”
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” he said harshly.
“But I can ask you to take better care of yourself. I love you, Ashley, and I don’t want to wake up one morning and find you dead in some alleyway.”
“You won’t, Annie. It’s not in my karma. But you have a point.” He sighed, and even that made his body shiver with pain. “Perhaps a bout of celibacy might do wonders for me. Abstinence of all sorts—I could go on a retreat to some secluded place. Perhaps a monastery in New Mexico.”
“Oh, no, the poor monks,” Anne shot back on a breath of laughter, and Ashley did his best to glare at her through his ravaged face.
“You lack respect, darling. Help me to my feet.”
“You’re not going back to the party?”
Ashley smirked, the smile off center on the swollen lips. “It would make a gloriously dramatic touch, don’t you think? But no. I would be more than grateful if you would help me back to my room. It’s just down the corridor from the one Holly and Noah are sharing.”
There were times when Anne and her brother understood each other very well. “Yes, I know about that,” she replied calmly. “I just wonder where she’s going to put Wilson.” He leaned heavily against her as they made their slow, halting way down the corridor.
“You made the break then? Good girl.”
“It was long overdue.”
Ashley sighed. “Maybe now she’ll stop throwing Grant in your face all the time.”
“I think Noah’s doing his part,” she said.
“Poor Anne. You’re worth more than the lot of us put together, do you know that?” He shook his head sadly. “You should never trust us—we’ll just use you and betray you when your back is turned.”
Anne smiled up at him, worry still clouding her eyes. “I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” he said abruptly, halting outside his door.
“Do you want me to come in with you? Help clean up some of your cuts?”
He shook his head. “I can take care of it. What I need now is about forty-eight hours of sleep. Not that I’m going to get it. I’ll be out for lunch tomorrow.”
“Good,” she said firmly. “Why don’t you come alone and stay for a while? I can even get rid of Proffy and Holly if you want real peace and quiet. You know how peaceful the old house is.”
“I know.” He waited in his open doorway, his one undamaged eye sad and knowing.
“You’re sure I can’t do anything more?”
“Positive.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” She was loath to leave him like that, but she had little choice. “And Ashley—”
“Yes?”
“I think New Mexico is a very good idea. As long as you keep your hands off the monks.”
He gave her a travesty of a grin in reply to her sally, stepped inside his room, and shut the door behind him.
“Is he all right?”
She should have known he’d be there. Indeed, part of her had been uncannily aware of his presence at the end of the hall, and Ashley of course had a full view of him just beyond her shoulder.
She turned to face him, her expression impassive. “I don’t really know,” she replied. “I hope so.”
“What happened to him?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. It sounds like it wasn’t the first time something like that happened.”
“It probably wasn’t,” Noah said coolly. “What are you going to tell the others?”
That was a new problem. “I don’t know,” she said, turning over the problem in her head. “Maybe I won’t have to say a thing. After all, Ashley delights in being eccentric—it’s just like him to abandon his first opening in almost two years.”
He was curiously subdued, the man beside her, surprisingly uncertain of both himself and her. Gone was that bone-melting smile, that damnable self-assurance that held him back from her. In its place was a pain and vulnerability that matched her own. “Why did you leave like that?” he said suddenly, and Anne could feel what little color she had left drain from her face.
“I didn’t fancy running into your roommate,” she snapped.
He flinched as if struck. “Anne,” he said, and his voice was low and troubled and deeply moving. “I have to—”
“There you are!” Holly swept down the hall, Wilson in tow, a fatuous expression on her face. “You missed all the excitement, both of you, and for the second time tonight.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say so,” Noah murmured, a trace of his old wicked smile lighting his face for a moment.
“Well, you missed a fabulous dinner!” Holly said. “It would have quite put you in the shade, Anne.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Noah drawled again, his hand reaching out for Anne’s. Deftly she avoided it—the last thing she wanted was the demoralizing touch of his hand on her flesh. Noah ignored her skittishness, moving closer with a casual grace, the closeness of his lean body lending a subtle support that she sorely needed. “Anything else earth-shattering besides the dinner?”
Holly giggled. “Of course, silly!” She waved her hand at him. Anne’s ring now adorned her slender hand, the sparkle of the diamonds matching the brightness of her eyes. “We’re going to have a double wedding.”
“A double wedding?” Anne echoed faintly.
“Proffy just made his announcement. Not that it came as a surprise to any of us. The Merry Widow is positively preening, and I think it’ll be an absolute stitch to get married together. We’ll have to hurry, though, if we’re going to do it before…” The words trailed off as an astonishing guilt darkened Holly’s eager face. “Before I have to go back on tour,” she continued firmly.
“That wasn’t what you were about to say,” Anne said very quietly.
“You’re not psychic, Anne,” Holly shot back with a little too much sharpness. “You’ll help me with my wedding dress, won’t you, darling? We can start planning tomorrow.”
“Are you coming out to the house, too?”
“For lunch,” she said, and the tension surrounding them was thick with hidden meanings.
Anne stared at her sister for a long moment. The source of t
he tension was logical—Wilson had made an obscenely fast switch of his affections, and heaven only knew what Noah was thinking. But there was something else going on, something she couldn’t quite fathom. And she had little doubt that none of the three was about to enlighten her.
“Well,” she said finally, “congratulations. I guess I’d better go find Proffy and Letitia and wish them well.”
“I’ll come with you,” Noah said with alacrity. “We still have something to talk about.”
“No.” It came out a little louder than she expected, and the three of them stared at her. There was no surprise on Noah’s face, only a determination that didn’t augur well for her success in avoiding him.
“Yes,” he said just as firmly, catching her arm in an iron grip and half dragging her down the hallway as Wilson and Holly looked on, bemused.
They were at the end of the hall when she made her move. His skin seemed to burn through the light silk of her dress, his nearness an intoxication that threatened to overwhelm her. If she didn’t break free soon she’d be lost, and she didn’t think she could bear the sweet, soul-destroying agony of it again.
“No,” she said.
It took only a moment. Bringing her heel down sharply on his instep, she yanked her arm free, lifting her skirts and racing down the hallway. Proffy and the Merry Widow could wait—no doubt they’d be there for lunch along with the rest of her motley clan. In the meantime she needed most of all to keep out of Noah Grant’s seductive reach. Her hotel room was back in the other direction, past Noah’s long reach, and nothing on God’s green earth would make her head back that way. Besides, she was in no mood to put up with the Merry Widow’s girlish glee as she contemplated husband number three. Or would Proffy make number four? It scarcely mattered. What mattered was getting back to the comfort and safety of the house. If she left right now she could make it there in under an hour and be blissfully alone, with no intrusive family to interrupt the healing flow of the house’s energy around her.