Frannie slapped the light panel at the same time bare feet took the familiar small stairs to pounce onto the bed, landing carefully on top of him, her knees hugging his hips and palms up to pin his hands above his head.
“Hah! Frannie, the sneaky, wins! Now to decide the spoils of my victory!”
“Frannie the sneaky is gonna get the buttons chewed off her dress,” Donovan murmured into the bodice leaning on his face in her effort to hold his hands in place. His laughter was deep and genuine when she yelped and straightened up, giving him the moment he needed to toss her to the bed and reverse their positions.
“That was…” Frannie glared up at him. “Incorrigible.”
“I prefer devious,” Donovan kept his weight on his knees, both her palms held in one of his hands at her waist. “Now…about those spoils…”
Frannie met the burst of fire in his eyes, her breathing slowed when his free hand tried to open the top button of her dress.
“Let me…” She said softly when his larger fingers had a problem with the loop. He released her hands and sat sideways on the large bed, watching as she moved to her knees across from him, her fingers up and on the top button. The button was slipped from the tiny loop holding it in place when she spoke. “A new game…it’s interactive…and the only rule is there can only be one curse word used through the whole game…”
Donovan felt his body tense, his feet kicking his shoes off as he moved to sit as she was on the large surface of the bed. He held still when she reached out and opened the top button on his shirt, his breath catching in his chest when her fingernails drew a line along his flesh. Wide green circles met his gaze in quiet fascination.
“Once upon a time…there was a girl who lived in a quiet tower…” Frannie brought her tongue out for moisture, her hand returning to the top of her dress, fingers poised over the second tiny button.
“She was the kind of girl who could drive a man mad with her wiles,” Donovan picked up the story, his voice low and husky. “She could lead him to the edge of a high cliff…”
“Or take him through the deepest, darkest forest. But she never left him when he needed her most,” she released the second button and reached for his shirt again.
“Even when he felt himself lost in memories, she would appear and guide him to a place of safety and calm.”
“Yet there was something he didn’t know…something he hadn’t thought of on his many journeys…” Frannie put her fingers on the third button.
“To him…she was magical…” his palm rose to touch her head. “With golden hair and eyes the color of the warmest seas…she taught him things about life that had long evaded him…”
Frannie released the next button, her hands moving to his shirt and pushing the sides wide with the last button. Flat, warm palms caressed over his chest.
“He was strong and handsome…so used to keeping his thoughts a prisoner…learning to share took time…wanting to share took courage,” she whispered, leaning over she dropped soft kisses along his collar. “She had only one question….”
“Only one? I can’t picture you without questions…”
“Tell me you have protection in your pockets…”
“Shit.”
Frannie dropped her head to his chest.
“The single curse word I was fearing,” she peeked up through her lashes at the closed eyes seconds before his palms came from his legs and cupped her shoulders, setting her back away from him.
“Frannie…I…” Donovan shook his head and pushed off the bed, straightening his jeans with a growl as he paced the room. “I don’t know what I was thinking…”
“Passion tends to block thinking, I’ve only recently noticed that,” she said softly, quietly buttoning her dress. “Unless you want to be the one holding my hands nine months from now, Donovan…” she stopped when he faced her, crossing the room in several long strides to take her face in his hands. His lips touched hers gently, his tongue out to trace over the fullness before settling down hungrily.
“Don’t tempt me, Frannie…that is far from the worst thing I could imagine for us,” he whispered hoarsely. “But I’d prefer we spend a year or so alone…learning…talking and just…being together.”
“Thank you, Donovan,” she kissed him and smiled. “Then I suppose the game begins again tomorrow…” she laughed at the flare of excitement she saw burst into his eyes. “I think you like my games, Donovan Banner…”
“I think I like you…and all that encompasses…and I’m going to my room before I lose what’s left of my sanity,” he kissed her hard and backed up quickly. “I’ll take care of the protection, Frannie,” her walked to the doorway, pausing. “The nightmares…”
“I’ll be there for you, Donovan,” she answered seriously without hesitation, accepting his nod.
“Stay with me, Frannie…until dawn…please…” He saw his answer in her eyes before he turned and went down the winding stairs and along the corridor to his room.
She dressed for bed and went to her study, preparing a cloth for later. Just in case, she thought, slipping it into a small plastic bag and going to her bedroom. She could still smell the after shave he wore, a tiny smile on her face at the enjoyment she felt in him when they played. How was it adults left fun get so distant in their lives when it held such a vital part of them locked inside?
Frannie bolted upright almost breathless. She grabbed the bag she had prepared and ran down the stairs faster than she had before. Whatever had a hold of him, was stronger than the last nightmares. She closed the door behind her and moved on her knees across the bed behind him. She opened the bag and placed the soothing herbs on his forehead. Sliding beneath the blankets, she held him tightly, frowning at the way his feet were kicking out. Frannie placed her leg over his, letting her foot massage firmly down his leg and twining their feet.
****
Donovan felt the anger inside him as he stood before the house for several long minutes before he moved forward. Everything inside him was screaming at him to turn and leave.
But he knew these people. He’d been to their make-shift home many times. He knew the children that played in bombed out rubble with a scant few toys the soldiers had given them over the last year.
In his minds eye, he could see them playing, see them running and laughing. A part of him felt he would never laugh again, never allow himself the simplicity of playing. If they could no longer play, what right did he have at enjoyment like that?
He felt his heart stop, his breathing ragged when he saw the sparkling white dress covered with an old fashioned apron moving inside the building. She would bend down, gently touch the face and move to the next body.
He shouted. He knows he shouted loud and furiously but she only shook her head and smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. They hadn’t cleared the building, he shouted at her, ordering her out of the inside. His breath caught painfully when he saw her lift her hand, the soft palm coated with the blood of the children she was kneeling beside.
Frannie tightened her hold on his shoulders. He wasn’t coming back to her and she didn’t know why.
Then he heard her voice, firm and strong inside him.
“It’s a dream, Donovan…it isn’t real…whatever you see…whatever it is…change it…make it different…you’re here with me, safe…no one can harm either one of us,” she whispered fervently. “I promise you…no one can harm us.”
Donovan ground his teeth and glared at the house half ablaze. Suddenly, Frannie wasn’t inside the building. Abruptly, she was standing at his side, her hands clean and taking both of his. She led him away from the building, one of her palms on his face when he tried to look over his shoulder as they walked. He saw her lips moving, heard her voice.
“You’ve done what you can. You didn’t cause this,” she whispered honestly. “Please, Donovan…please…”
Frannie closed her eyes, her sigh long and heavy. His body stopped moving, stopped fighting her. She felt his breathing slo
w, felt him slip into a calm, deeper sleep. She slid her hand from his for a moment, flexing her fingers from the strength that had been crushing them. She lay quietly against him, her lips against the back of his throat as she fell asleep.
He woke slowly, lying on his left side with a soft mass of blond curls beneath his chin, the sweet smelling herbs she’d used during the night on the towel above his head. He closed his eyes, the all too vivid dream still fresh in his mind. His arms tightened protectively. She had slid one covered leg between his, their feet touching beneath the blankets as she stirred and straightened with tiny mewing noises that made him grin. The music had come on from the clock radio, her lashes fluttering and blinking with a momentary confusion wrinkling her brow.
“G’morning…” Donovan said when she tipped her head back, the sudden realization of where she was in her eyes.
“Hi…” She answered, sighing and cuddling back down into the warmth. “You’re toasty warm…”
“Glad I can be of service,” he said huskily, kissing the top of her head.
“No…I can’t be warm…gotta move…shower…shampoo…” Frannie pushed against his chest and threw back the blankets, shoving her feet over the side and stretching her arms high above her head.
Donovan saw the pale silver pajamas she wore, a tank top thing that stopped beneath her breasts and a pair of loose fitting harem pants that clung possessively to the swell of her hips. He had thought about what she said the night before. He thought about holding her hands while their child was born and felt a lurch inside him at the vision of Frannie carrying their baby sometime in the future.
“See you at breakfast,” he called as she exhaled and launched herself to the floor, making a quiet exit with a nod of the wild blond hair and a flippant wave of her slim fingers.
Donovan was on his second cup of coffee, discussing the latest political upheaval when she wandered in, her tote and cloak laid on a chair before going to pour herself some juice. She wore a copper and brown shaded dress today, the little pouch at her hip, large glasses on her nose and small hardback volume in her hand.
“Good morning,” she said absently, looking up and frowning before going back to reread something that interested her.
“Not eating?” Alister asked with a fatherly shrug and smile at Donovan.
“Oh…yes…of course…” Frannie lifted a slice of toast and bit down, closing her book and setting it aside with the glasses. “Well…oh, I’ve invited a couple friends of mine to dinner on Friday. I spoke with Nancy about an easy buffet kind of thing and she’s thrilled. They’re very interested in winter planting on their new garden beds. I was searching for the books you had…”
“I’ll ferret them out before then, dear. Not to worry. Friends from the resort?”
“No…no…a couple I just met,” she said vaguely. “Very nice…” She popped the last bite of toast into her mouth as Donovan stood up. “Off to work,” she kissed her father lightly and went to gather her things, meeting Donovan at the door.
“Your timing is improving,” he said as they walked to the waiting SUV.
“Must be your sterling influence,” she answered with a grin, the feel of his very large hands on her waist and lifting her lightly to the seat. “Thank you.”
Chapter Twelve
Donovan strode purposely into the main entrance of the health center shortly before one. He wasn’t looking forward to this, but he knew he would rather it him that told her.
“Does Francine Kendall have an office here?” He asked the receptionist, glancing around impatiently.
“Dr. Kendall? Yes, she’s in the back…can I tell her your name?”
“Is she alone?” He knew his voice was terse but right now he didn’t seem to care.
“I believe she is…” His badge registered in her mind, so she knew he would have access to anything he wanted.
“Which office?” He moved through the small gate and looked down the corridor.
“All the way at the end,” she answered immediately.
“Thank you.”
Dr. Kendall. She’d never told him. Never corrected him. In his world, status was everything. But he was crossing worlds and wanted more than anything to be with Frannie in both.
He looked straight ahead, the open large glass window showing him where she was. She stood talking with a young woman dressed in office scrubs. Frannie wore one of those stark white old-fashioned aprons like he’d seen her wear at the birth. It had wide pockets in front and he could see a stethoscope dangling around her neck. A bright smile greeted him when she looked up as the woman left the office, her hand up and waving him inside.
“Donovan!” She went to him and hugged him. “What’s wrong? You have a look…” She stepped back, a frown rapidly replacing the excitement at seeing him there. “What is it?” She demanded firmly when he hesitated.
“Patricia Morris is in the emergency room,” he said bluntly, watching the wide eyes immediately move to the door.
She was out of the office and heading down the opposite corridor without speaking, long legs covering the distance and speeding up slightly.
“Frannie…”
“She’s my patient…what happened?” Came the brusque demand to the man striding along at her side.
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I didn’t wait for the story. The shuttle bus driver broke in on Greely attacking her. The police and Cassidy are on their way.”
“Anya?” Frannie called as she entered the emergency room, several heads going in the direction she wanted to know. She peered cautiously around the thick drape before striding inside. “Patsy…” She whispered painfully, her palm out for the weak hand that was lifted off the gurney.
“I’m okay…” She whispered hoarsely, pale amber eyes blinking as Anya cleaned a cut at the side of her face. “This is nothing, Frannie…” she said with a crooked smile.
“Oh, Patsy…I’m so sorry…” Frannie took over cleaning the scratches, removing bits of rock and dirt while Anya moved to the very swollen ankle.
“It’s not your fault, Frannie,” Patsy said firmly. “It isn’t. It’s his.”
“What happened, Patsy?” Cassidy came around the drape, steeling herself as she turned the small recorder on in her pocket.
“I went shopping…I just…I wanted a new outfit, you know…” she looked from one to the other. “I…I have a new boyfriend, Frannie. He’s sweet and quiet and nice…we talk about everything…and we were going out tonight…’cause I have an evening off.”
“It is badly swollen and sprained…but it is not broken,” Anya said quietly, beginning the wrapping process.
“Go on, Patsy…”
“I was talking to the driver…a really nice guy…reminds me of my dad…and I started to the mall and…and Daniel grabbed me and started hitting me…that’s all he can do, Frannie. I won’t go back to him. He said it’s all your fault and if you weren’t around, I’d cave but he’s wrong,” she said angrily, looking at them all with her head held high. “I won’t ever. He had pushed me to the ground and…I felt him kicking my ankle when Bill came back to the bus…he took a bat out of the bus and chased him off…and brought me back here.”
Frannie dropped the gauze onto the tray and dabbed antiseptic over the scrapes, unaware of the tears running down her face until Patsy took her hand.
“I’m okay, Frannie. I’m free,” she said happily.
“Where is she?” Came a loud voice from outside the drape.
“It’s Andy…” Patsy looked toward the opening.
“Patsy,” the young man crossed the floor in three steps, taking the hand she held out.
Cassidy took the photos she wanted quickly and left Patsy and Andy alone behind the drape while Anya finished the ankle.
“One of Mac’s guys,” Cassidy said with a sigh, her palm up on her neck. “I’ve checked with the police every day. He’s avoiding them. They’re not sure how and there isn’t money in the damn budget for more than ‘whe
n he surfaces’ kind of police work. I’ll file another complaint, just so we have all the charges possible when they do get him.”
“He wants me,” Frannie said in a low growl. “He wants me,” she repeated, pulling the stethoscope from her throat and stalking off down the corridor toward her office.
“Damn it,” Donovan went after her, catching up with her and gripping her hand. “Stop a minute. Stop and breathe,” his hands went to her shoulders. “Look at me, Frannie…promise me…promise me, Frannie…you won’t do anything to…hell…”
Frannie stepped into his arms, her head on his shoulder, her palms against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, the same as she did at night when he slept. Only this time, she needed it to calm her anger.
“I have patients this afternoon,” she said after a long sigh, lifting her face and smiling. She went to her toes and kissed him. “I’ll be good, I promise, Donovan. I promise…” She touched the side of his face. “Later.”
He watched her go off to the clinic, skirts swirling around her ankles. And he laughed. No shoes. Low riding pink socks, at least, he thought, his head shaking as he went to his office.
Donovan had intentions of meeting her outside the health center, but he had no idea what her schedule was or where she wandered to during her day. He left the main entrance behind the resort, heading to the employee parking lot when he saw people staring and pointing. Inhaling slowly, he turned his head toward the people trying to look casual in their interest.
The large light poles were set in concrete and had a small ledge of about five inches two feet off the ground and another a few inches higher. He watched the winds off the Sound catch the ends of her cloak and send them swirling around her ankles. She had her hands in her gloves and behind her, holding to the light pole as she stared out into the Sound, perched on the narrow ledge.
WindSwept Narrows: #7 Francine Kendall Page 11