Darling Annie

by Raine Cantrell

  Annie lay on a quilt dappled by shadows from the leaves of a cluster of young saplings. From where he stood and watched her, she was in profile, holding a whispered discourse with butterflies that hovered near a cluster of wildflowers. It was a charming scene. Part of him wished she didn’t look so innocent.

  Her high-buttoned shoes were neatly placed side by side on the far edge of the quilt, but it was the slight breeze fluttering her dark stockings hung from a limb above her that sent Kell’s gaze skimming over the water again. Annie at play. Too easy to imagine. And need arose that he had not been here to capture the image.

  He had told Li the truth. He didn’t fully understand what Annie did to him.

  The blue ruffled folds of her skirt were bunched above her knees, a spilling froth of white petticoats nestled her hips, and her bare legs, slender ankles, and dainty curved calves languidly moved back and forth like a lazy pair of scissors. Propped on her elbows, she held her chin in her hands. Her head was tilted to one side as she watched the butterflies, unaware of his presence.

  Innocence. Nothing sexual at all. But he found his senses seduced as though by the first sweet, heavy lungful of opium. There was the same raking pain inside his chest as the initial taste had brought, but Li wasn’t here to steady him as he had been then.

  With the same kind of sharpened clarity that opiated senses sometimes gave, Kell saw her innocent pose so firmly etched that he realized he was an intruder on more than this scene. This was a time and place for a lover to come courting.

  Annie denied him the status of lover and he had no intent to perform the rituals of courting.

  It had been too many years since he had allowed a woman to make this kind of an impact on him. Annie, with those wide bluebell eyes full of a woman’s sensual secrets, would not stay out of his mind.

  Kell backed away, resolved to leave this unspoiled place, when fate—laughing cruelly at his attempted noble gesture or smiling kindly with pity on his starved senses, as Providence was wont to do—intervened.

  A brownish blur shot out of the woods between them, and hot on the rabbit’s powerful hindquarters came the town mongrel. With a beastly growl, the dog lunged at his prey, and Annie cried out, turning and shouting for the rabbit to run faster. The chase sat too close to her own predicament.

  The rabbit veered off around the deeper water in the middle of the meadow, but the dog’s momentum carried him forward to be bogged down by the mud and grasses. The rabbit was gone by the time the dog slunk out of the water, and Annie, feeling pity for his hunger, tossed him the uneaten chicken from her napkin.

  Following the mongrel’s progress into the woods with his prize, Annie saw Kell standing in shadow.

  Some hunters lost their prey and others caught it. The thought lodged itself in her mind, but she couldn’t decide which applied to her. To see the object of her long afternoon’s contemplation in the flesh—Annie, Annie, how the lofty are fallen to think only of flesh—raised the welter of emotions she had almost ruthlessly dealt with. And since the flesh was gloriously packaged in the lithe, shadow-graced form of Kellian York, she could not deny herself the sight of it.

  The cost of her gazing at him was nearly the shredding of her carefully rebuilt moral fiber. He didn’t move and Annie blessed whatever held him still, allowing her time to adjust to the stirrings of her poor overworked body. Blood flowed like a newly primed pump until its warmth and speed made her dizzy. The sultry air, charged as if a storm brewed, offered no surcease to her laboring lungs. Longings, apparently suppressed forever, awakened and whispered through her. Their coaxing entreaty blended with yearnings she could not fully name yet denied until she trembled.

  But it was Kell’s continued, absolute silence that gave her pause. She was reaching conclusions about his sudden appearance with all the base substance of a cloud. He could have been out walking and found her by accident. He could have come looking…

  “Has something happened? Is that why you’re here?” she called out.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Kell answered. But something had happened. Fate decreed confrontation, his purpose at the start, but as he walked toward her, he knew nothing would ever be simple again. His instincts were strangely silent, but it was the absence of the warning crick in his neck that worried him. Annie had not moved, but her every breath started a war with his emotions too complex to sort out now. Perhaps, as any good gambler did, he should stand pat and let her decide the ante.

  “Spending the day in prayer and reflection?” he asked. He’d stopped short of the quilt, his gaze drawn to the bare length of her legs. “You’ve chosen a quiet spot where the view is … breathtaking.”

  Annie, following the direction of his gaze, knew the exposure was accidental. She had twisted around quickly to watch the dog and never realized that Kell was close by. But that did not explain why she was so slow now to shift and free her petticoats and skirt to cover her legs.

  Embarrassed that he had watched, she sat up and clasped her knees, the move protective. “I needed a great deal of time today to do that and more. Did you know,” she asked, wanting a safe topic, “that when I was little Aunt Hortense told me butterflies received their name because they’re milk thieves. How could anyone think these delicate creatures are elves or witches in disguise, come to steal milk or butter?”

  “Now that is a subject worthy of hours of discussion. May I join you?” He lowered himself to the quilt, facing her with his long legs stretched out, his head propped on one hand. “Perhaps someone began the tale because of their color? But then all things with butter would mean that elves or witches were concealed within.”

  “Like butter-and-eggs which is just toad-flax?”

  “Or butter-ale? I’ve never had it. Somehow flavoring ale with butter, spices, and sugar doesn’t appeal.”

  The whimsy in his voice invited her smile. Annie shot him a smug look. “And the butter-bean, butter-boat, and butter-box.”

  “Ah, you require a man to be sharp. Let’s see … there is a butter-bird.”

  “Butter-bird? You are making that up.”

  “Swear it’s true. There is a bunting in Jamaica called a butter-bird.”

  “Have you been there?” she asked, eyes bright as she turned to look at him.

  “A long time ago. A lifetime, it seems. The island is lush and lovely, with water so clear you can see beneath it.” And the shades of blue would match every emotional change your eyes reflect, Annie.

  “I’ve never left Texas. But I’d bet I could still name more buttery things than you.”

  Safe. Her protection. His choice. Kell smiled at her. “Bets need a prize for the winner.”

  “Well, I shall choose mine if I win and you decide what you would like.”

  “Fair enough.” Annie, he thought, what am I going to do with a woman who has the survival instinct of a week-old kitten? And it was the other side, the needy one, that refused to let him ask her.

  “Shall I begin? It’s only fair to warn you that I have four already and you only two.”

  “Since I’m putting my reputation in your hands, Miss Muldoon, you must promise not to take advantage.”

  “As you do?” Annie glanced away, sorry she had spoken.

  “Not today, Annie. You have all the advantage on your side.”

  Wishing it were true, unwilling to pursue it, Annie hugged her knees and faced him. “Buttercup, buttermilk, and a butterbox.”

  “Butterfly and butter-fingers.”

  Her gaze went immediately to his long fingers. She would bet they were never clumsy no matter what use he put them to. Annie reached out one hand and picked up a twig. She pushed the edge of the quilt on her side closer so she could keep score.

  “Don’t you trust me to keep count?”

  “No, and I’m still ahead. Make up your mind to lose, for I have buttermold and butter-pot.” She thought a moment. “And butter tongs.”

  Kell racked his mind for something els
e. “Butter, butter everywhere,” he muttered, turning to lie on his back with his hands cradling his head. “In the city a butterman sells butter.”

  “That gives you one more.”

  “Well, I’m trying, Annie. Butter’s not my—”

  “Cup of tea?” she finished, laughing at his mock scowl.

  “You’ll pay for that one, Muldoon. There’s butterscotch candy and a butter tub and we need someone to make all this butter, so let’s try a butterwoman.”

  Annie pounced on him before she thought. “No. You can’t be so desperate to think I’d allow that.”

  “If we have a butterman, we need to give him a butterwoman, Annie.”

  “We have—” Annie lost her thought with her breath. She lay across Kell’s chest, her mouth inches from his lips. All she could think about was the buttery shades of his hair that her fingers wanted to touch.

  Kell, feeling the spreading need from where she rested against him to every nerve ending in his body, held his breath lest she leave him. “A man for a woman,” he whispered, his gaze holding hers. “If you’ve won, tell me now what you’d have as a prize, or I’ll claim the win is mine.”

  To herself, Annie wouldn’t lie. She had known what she wanted. Two words would give it to her. The expression in his eyes dared her.

  “Ask me, Annie. Just ask me.”

  With all the languid substance of smoke, his husky voice whispered through her. Just ask. “A kiss.”

  The breath he had been holding eased out, and with it went the tension that gripped him. “Remember you’ve got to close your eyes, Annie.” He reached out with one hand to slide his fingers into her thick, loosely coiled hair, angling her head to one side and dragging her closer. His gaze played over the feathered velvet of her brows and lashes and the deep satin rose lips. Shadows drifted across her brow, her cheek, and hid the faint freckles from him.

  Her half-closed lids flew open when he brought his other hand to her cheek, one finger smoothing over her skin. She thought he would kiss her quickly, but his eyes were narrowed, filled with a drowsy look that, far too late, set off an alarm.

  “One kiss, Kell. Just one.”

  “Enough to challenge a saint, darlin’, but I’ll try. Just see if I don’t. We need to arrange you a bit closer.” One finger trailed suggestively over the most sensitive fold of her ear. Kell didn’t count the tiny shiver as a reward for his effort. Her skin flushed under his gentle touches, her lips slightly parted and waiting for his kiss. But waiting, Kell had learned, heightened pleasure immensely. With his thumb he coaxed the trembling swell of her bottom lip, and she leaned forward, eyes enormous before her lashes drifted down to hide them.

  “One kiss, Annie. Only one to pleasure you.” He slowly dragged her mouth across his. “And me. There’s pleasure here for me, too.”

  Kell traced her mouth with his fingertip, and Annie’s move to follow brushed her lips against his. Hesitantly, her hands came up to frame his face, and with a sigh her breath mingled with his. She had never initiated a kiss in her life, but the idea tantalized her. Kell was so much more skilled than she. The teasing touches of his mouth circling hers provoked a rising need to feel his lips on hers. One kiss. That was all she wanted. The problem was not impossible to resolve. After all, she was on top. She could hold his head still. She could … just do it, Annie.

  Wiggling to settle her weight on him, Annie slid her hands into his hair, making him still. Her eyes closed, and releasing a shaken breath for what she was about to do, she aligned her lips with his and kissed him.

  There was nothing to fear, she was in control. But her soft, tentative kiss to his enticing mouth that languidly altered pressure only made her want more. Dreamily parting her lips for his voluptuous pleasuring, Annie relinquished herself to him. His slow, compelling rotation of her head deepened the kiss, filling her with wild, sweet imaginings and the promise of unveiling answers to all the forbidden riddles.

  Warmth rose within, but Annie was suspended in tenderness, as desire softened and shaped their mouths and she opened to the heavy stroke of his tongue.

  And she learned that the ancient force of passion, once unleashed, would wrest control from her foolish belief that she could bend it to her will. For surely it was this force that brought her hands twisting into the thick, silky length of his hair, fighting to heighten their kiss.

  Each moment both sated and increased her need until she felt helpless. Her body was ruling her mind, hushing the voice of caution that warned she was stepping over a line of safety. But her blood was spinning through her with aching pleasure, Kell’s hands a whisper against her body, drawing it more fully into alignment with his. Shocked and burning with budding desire, his hot, open scattered kisses coursed over the flushed skin of her cheek, the sensitive curve of her chin, murmuring pleasure sounds into her ear before he reclaimed her mouth.

  She was drifting and turning, lifting heavy-lidded eyes to see him above her, freeing her hair from its pins. His thumb stroked her bottom lip and his head dipped down to taste. She knew she should stop him. Annie willed herself to say the words. But his eyes, dark green and brilliant with desire, brought only his name.

  “Kell?”

  “Who’s counting? One kiss? Two? You’ve won, Annie. Give a beggar a prize.” He cradled her head, nibbling at the paleness of her exposed throat, feeling her swallow beneath his mouth. His tongue stroked the light pulse of blood so close to her skin and felt the soft moan that escaped through her parted lips.

  He kissed her with a caressing intensity that stole her will, and Annie knew Kell was wrong. She was the beggar who wanted more of his mobile mouth tutoring hers with kisses that left her trembling.

  Through the fine linen weave of his shirt, Annie felt the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Tempted to explore the powerful hardness of his body, yet unsure, her hands slid over his shoulders, stilling to feel a tremor.

  “Annie. Annie, don’t stop. Pleasure,” he murmured, glistening her lips with the tip of his tongue, “that’s you touching me.” Kell allowed her the needed escape to turn her face, but cradled her cheek with one hand.

  “Do men … like … I can’t say this,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.

  “This man does. A lot.” Her shyness was touching. She was so anxious to give pleasure and so uncertain how. Kell leaned back and gently lifted her hand to his mouth. “Look at me, Annie. Let me,” he coaxed softly, turning her slender hand palm side up, “show you how pleasurable touching can be.” And he waited until she turned back to watch him with sensual curiosity that tightened every nerve ending in his body. With his gaze holding hers, he pressed an openmouthed kiss to her palm, calling forth an involuntary shiver from her. Using the tip of his tongue, he circled the sensitive skin before he gently bit the fleshy pad below her thumb. Her blue eyes dilated, and Kell smiled to know how intensely aware she was. “That’s pleasure, Annie.”

  “Yes.” The word was a mere whisper of sound, and Annie couldn’t look away.

  “Someday darlin’, you’ll do that for me. But not now.” He drew her hand around his neck and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Soft heat curled inside her. The taste of him swept over her as she learned to savor again the hot glide of his tongue over hers. The delicate twinings and retreats brought to mind a graceful duel, but Annie knew she was an uneven match for his skill.

  Deliberately Kell shifted his hands, arching Annie against him. For a moment she twisted, then her hands were searching over his back, fingers digging into his hard flesh under the explosion of passion. He encouraged her with hoarse words, the deepening bite of her fingers a hot promise he wanted, needed to have.

  The feel of his strength covering her body raced through Annie, making her moan deep in her throat. It was the only sound she was capable of making, because her mouth was wholly involved with the taste of him in an utterly new way. With the violent clarity of lightning against a night sky, her shocked senses absorbed
the hard smoothness of his lips and the primitive serrations of his teeth as he caught her lower lip. The sensual roughness of his tongue brought a hunger to capture the heat and taste of his mouth biting into her. She tried to get closer to him, wanting to burn him as he was burning her.

  Kell felt the instant change in her body as she released conflicting emotions and surrendered herself to the desire that had her body a taut, supple curve branding him from his knees to his mated mouth. Hunger prowled in a wave of heavy, wild heat bringing a groan of need. There was the rational caution that whispered he couldn’t take her here, in an open field where anyone could discover them. But he couldn’t order his hands to stop caressing her resilient body, couldn’t stop rocking his violently aroused flesh against her hips.

  This is what he wanted.

  Not here. Not now.

  Chapter 14

  “Kell?” Annie whispered his name against his cheek, her rioting senses making every word a struggle. “You said nothing would hurt. But I ache, Kell. I—”

  At war with himself, Kell rested his forehead on hers. “Annie, I never meant things to go so far. I didn’t want … Christ!” he groaned, his hands stilling the provocative arch of her body to his. Her eyes revealed confusion and he released an explosive breath, counting, and needing more to still the fever raging through him. “It’s all right. I’ll make it all right,” he promised recklessly. “Show me where you ache, Annie,” he murmured, easing his body to her side, unable to let her go. He curved his hand over her slender waist, scattering kisses on her flushed face, while he closed his eyes for a few moments denying himself the sight of her breasts stirring with her ragged breaths.

  Unknown need dictated her move to draw his hand up to rest below her breast, where blood seemed to rush and swell that most delicate feminine flesh. Twenty-eight years of moral lessons struck a warning for her brazen manner, but Annie, nestled in desire’s cloud, sought her pleasure from his lips again.