Child Bride

by Suzanne Forster

  She knuckled away the wetness from her eyes, and felt Shadow’s fur brushing her leg. That same aching loneliness welled up inside her as she knelt to pet the dog. She wanted to hug his quivering body close and cry until she was emptied of anguish. But she didn’t dare. The hurt went deep, deep enough to shatter with the slightest pressure. There would be nothing left of her but broken pieces.

  “Annie, what happened?” Chase pressed.

  She looked up at him for a long time. At last she responded, “The nuns found out I was alive, and in custody. They got me out, but not before the police had their pound of flesh. They have some very ingenious methods of interrogation.”

  “Oh ... God.”

  “It could have been worse, I suppose. They took into account that I’d lost my parents to the guerrillas, and that I was little more than a child. So they spared me some of the nastier inducements. I wasn’t raped, and I wasn’t physically tortured ... much.”

  “Much? What did they do?” His fist clenched as he asked the question. “Annie, tell me.”

  “Starvation and isolation. When that didn’t work, they threatened to break every bone in my face. They said I’d be so ugly, no one would ever want to look at me again.” She pointed to the bridge of her nose. “They started here.”

  He shook his head, horrified. “Annie, I didn’t know. You’ve got to believe that.”

  She turned to the dog, gathering herself. “I do,” she said with some effort. But as she stood and faced him, a painful question formed in her mind. “Would it have been any different if you had known?”

  His dark eyes and lean, rugged countenance took her back to a sweeter time, an indelible moment of courage, a memory of hope. But his hesitation hurt her so much that she looked away before he could answer. She didn’t want to be robbed of her last illusion. At sixteen she’d lost everything—her parents, her identity, and him. The one thing that had kept her alive through the nightmare was the dream that he would come back for her. She still wanted to believe he would have if he’d known. She wasn’t ready to let that dream die. And she wouldn’t let him kill it for her.

  Chase’s overwhelming impulse as she stood trembling before him was to take her into his arms. There was confusion in his mind, conflict locked in his heart, but he was strangely beyond the reach of those concerns. He could feel the astonishing depth of her pain, and he was beginning to understand that he was at the source of it.

  “Annie,” he said, wanting badly to touch her. “When I woke up in the hospital, they told me you’d been killed. I had very little choice but to believe them. I couldn’t remember anything that happened on that mission. I still can’t.”

  She stared at him, her eyes swimming with pain as the pupils constricted to pinpricks. Even his explanation seemed to bring her anguish. “I’m sorry,” he told her.

  “Don’t be sorry. It can’t be helped now.”

  “No, maybe it can.” He held out his hand to her. “Maybe it can be helped. ... ”

  But Annie couldn’t take his hand. She felt a stab of despair even at the thought. It was everything she’d longed for, the shelter of his arms, the warmth of his body, the strength. But she couldn’t let herself accept his comfort now. She was too raw with memories. Too abraded by a past he couldn’t share. If she went to him now, she would break apart inside.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping toward her.

  “No, Chase—” She backed up against the countertop, unwilling to let him touch her. In her confusion she heard Shadow move in front of her protectively. A low growl reverberated in the dog’s throat.

  Chase hesitated, bewildered by the scene before him. The woman was acting as if she was terrified of him, as if he were some kind of monster. And his own dog seemed determined to protect her from him. A strange kind of sadness welled up in him; tension made his jaw lock. This was ridiculous. All he wanted to do was help.

  “Annie, for God’s sake, come here.”

  Annie shook her head. She had once told herself that if he ever said those words to her, she would go to him. That he would own her, body and soul. It was the truth then....

  Chase held up his hands, confused, frustrated. “Annie—”

  Shadow whimpered, responding to the plea in Chase’s tone.

  A soft cry was trapped in Annie’s throat as the Border collie tried to nudge her toward Chase. When she didn’t move, he left her side and went to his master. She felt totally abandoned as she watched the dog brush up against Chase’s leg and then turn back to her, his soft brown eyes pleading.

  They were beautiful together, Annie thought, struck by the sight of the towering cowboy and his sad-eyed dog. They made a poignant statement.

  “Annie,” Chase said softly, huskily. “Let me help.”

  She averted her eyes as he walked toward her. She had no way to protect herself as he stood in front of her and drew her rigid body into his arms. He was such a big man in comparison to her, so solid and secure, that being close to him brought her need for tenderness into sharp and painful focus. It would have been wonderful to let go and relax in his arms, to lean up against him. But Annie couldn’t let herself do that.

  “Easy does it, Red,” he said, drawing her closer, caressing her hair. “Easy.”

  His fingers were warm and light against her hair, and every touch brought her a bittersweet mix of joy and sadness. As much as she desperately wanted to resist him, she could feel herself softening a little, giving in to the gentle pressure.

  But that frightening question had to be asked again. “Would you have come back for me?” she said suddenly, looking up at him. “If you’d known?”

  He met her gaze and held it, rubbing gently at a smudge of dirt on her cheek with his thumb. “Yes.”

  Annie was filled with the sweet pain of that one simple word. How long? she thought. How long had she waited to hear him say that? Tears welled up, scalding and bitter. She was rocked to her very core, aching with something that must have been joy, and at the same time, afraid to let herself believe it was true. What if he didn’t mean it? What if he was only trying to keep from hurting her? The conflict mounted, but she had waited so long for this moment, she was helpless to stop the onslaught.

  “Thank you for that,” was all she could manage.

  He drew her closer, and as their bodies touched, she felt a little shudder go through him. Her response was spontaneous. For all of his tough cowboy ways and reckless sensuality, it was that one hint of vulnerability that melted her. She softened against him, resting her cheek against his chest with a nervous sigh, and hesitantly entwining her arms around him.

  Chase closed his eyes, enjoying the silky feel of her hair against his neck and the tentative, frightened way she was allowing herself to rest against him. Other than a lost fawn he’d rescued once, she had to be the most vulnerable, trembling bunch of sweetness he’d ever held in his arms. She triggered all his protective instincts, but at the moment he wasn’t going to worry about what it might mean. She needed holding. And he was glad to be the one doing it.

  She broke away from him after a long moment, as though she’d had all the closeness she could handle. “Am I a mess?” she asked, touching her dirt-smudged face. “I must be.”

  “Let me see.”

  She looked up at him, her expression still tinged with sadness as he began to work on one of the smudges.

  “It seems like I’m always cleaning you up, doesn’t it, Missy?” Her response was simply to smile, and for some reason, that brought him more pleasure than he could have imagined. “I guess somebody’s got to do it,” he said.

  As he continued to make her presentable, he became aware of her slowed breathing. There was a faint resonance to it, almost sandy, and very sweet. Annie Wells was a sexy breather.

  And then it happened again, just like before. He was kissing her. Without having planned it. Without even knowing he was going to do it, he tipped her chin up and bent his head to hers. Their lips brushed once, lightly, with a rush of
sweetness that made his stomach clench. And then he backed away for an instant, as though realizing what he’d done. His mind seemed to be telling him that he had one last chance to save himself. But instead of saving him, that moment’s hesitation was his downfall.

  With her head tilted back and her lips so near his, Annie Wells had to be the most tantalizing creature he’d ever had the pleasure of coming across. Or was it the misfortune? Her breath held a startled quality, but her eyes were heavy-lidded and limpid with sensuality, and her mouth ... God.

  “What are you doing. Missy?” Chase said harshly. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Nothing, Chase. Nothing.”

  But that just wasn’t true. She was doing plenty. Her lips were parted and moist, asking to be kissed. Her breasts were pillowing against his chest, and her thighs were nudging his. Everything about her was breathless and soft. And everything about him was rushing and hard. Or soon would be.

  I must be setting records with this woman, he thought, feeling the familiar flash of heat in his loins. He couldn’t remember ever getting so aroused so fast—even in his adolescent years when all it took was the mention of a girl’s name to get him going. But it wasn’t a question of getting started since she’d come into his life. The gun hadn’t even fired, and he was already out of the starting gate.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said, her breath bathing him as she murmured the words.

  “No maybe about it,” Chase agreed. But he closed his hand in her hair and gently drew her head back even farther, exposing the white skin of her neck and a delicate heartbeat at its base. “We shouldn’t,” he murmured, settling his mouth on hers again, a full kiss this time, lips meeting with a subtle, vibrant pressure across their entire surface. A lingering kiss, until he lightened it. “Should not,” he whispered, drawing away, yet staying close.

  Without thinking, he slid his hand to the small of her back and felt her arch in response. She averted her eyes, but a tiny sound came out of her—a sound that made him lean down and kiss her again, harder this time, answering the thunderbolt of sensation that struck his groin. He was breathing hard when he broke away. “We shouldn’t even get near each other.”

  She nodded, breathless, too, but seemingly sincere. “Which one of us is going to stop?” she asked with a dart of her tongue wetting the lips he’d just kissed. Perhaps it was an unconscious reflex on her part. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He kissed her again.

  Me, he thought, as he truly took possession of her wanton mouth, penetrating her parted lips in search of the tongue she’d given him a glimpse of, driving deeply with his own tongue, probing, tasting. I’m going to stop. One of these days. Right after I’ve had enough soul-satisfying sex with this woman to put me in my grave.

  “I’ll stop,” he said, gathering her up in his arms, hugging her close in a surge of male energy. “Leave it to me.” Heat thrummed violently into muscles that were already taut. Blood steamed through his veins as he broke the pounding kiss and cupped her face in his hands, stormy in his need, tender as he saw the apprehension in her eyes.

  “I am going to stop, Annie,” he said, making an effort to gentle his voice. “But not until I’m damn good and through with you. We’ll call it quits when we’ve had as much pleasure as we can stand.” Without a beat he bent and hooked an arm under her knees, lifting her.

  Annie clung to his neck as he carried her to the cot. Her heart was knocking, and there was a deep throb of anticipation in the pit of her belly. But if she was shaking with desire, she was also confused by the faint stirring of alarm she felt. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To make love with him? Of course it was, she told herself. This was the way she’d planned to help him remember, to strengthen the bond.

  She was more aware than ever of the disparity in their height as he settled her on the cot and stood above her, unbuttoning his shirt. He was as tall as a small tree, and wonderfully lean, with the tightest, sexiest muscles bulging everywhere. Annie felt a hot blush of embarrassment at the explicitness of her thoughts—and realized she could think anything she wanted about Chase Beaudine—she was married to him.

  But how did a large man make love to a tiny woman, she wondered, without crushing her? She knew about women dying in childbirth. She’d been a witness to such things in the jungle, but she’d never heard of a woman being killed by having sex.

  That possibility began to seem more and more likely as Chase leaned over to pull off his boots and then straightened again, stripping off his shirt. His shoulders were broad and heavily muscled, and one of his hands could make two of hers. But it wasn’t until he’d undone his jeans and was tugging them down that she became genuinely nervous. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so she had no time to prepare herself for what she was about to see. And no time to stop the gasp when she saw it. Perhaps it was the state of his arousal, but Annie knew for sure that her days were numbered when she got a look at the proportions of his male organ. Even if she didn’t die by being crushed into dust, she would certainly have to be put out of her misery when he got through with her—if he intended to use that thing!

  Chase heard her gasp and knew he had some reassuring to do. He was used to women being nervous about having sexual dealings with a big man, but he’d learned how to ease their concerns. In fact, most of them had been pretty happy afterward.

  “I guess we’re not in any hurry, are we, Red?” he said, drawing his jeans back on as he sat down next to her. He touched a curl that had strayed onto her flushed cheek and then let his hand drift down toward her mouth. “Why don’t we start with you?”

  “With me?” Annie touched the neckline of her sweater as she realized what he was suggesting. “All right then,” she said after a moment. “Let’s start with me.” Steadying her hands, she began to unbutton her sweater, purposely starting at the bottom instead of the top.

  He halted her efforts with a touch. “I’d like to do it, if it’s all the same to you.”

  She dropped her hands away, granting his request with a taut sigh and a deep flutter of abandon. It seemed like a small surrender, letting him undo her buttons, but the prospect sent a thrill of fear through her. Or was it excitement? She couldn’t tell anymore. And she couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen to her in the arms of such a man. And in his bed. Would she survive the experience? She’d been through life-and-death ordeals since birth, but for some baffling reason, this felt like her test of fire—as though all of her experiences had been building to this one, to this man and this moment.

  The buttons seemed to fall open under Chase’s long fingers, and before she could catch a breath, he had laid open her sweater and was regarding her with eyes so black, it hurt to look at them. Reaching out, he fingered the strap of her shift. He seemed intently focused on the embroidered pink words that were stretched over her full breasts as he eased two fingers under the strap, drew them down, and then slipped them inside the thin material where it was cut out at the armhole.

  His fingers caressed the side of her breast, riveting her. He stroked her tingling flesh almost absently with the back of his forefinger, studying the proverb and never once looking at her. Each stroke felt hot and sweet against her skin, and somehow very illicit.

  She gasped inwardly as he drew his hand out and cupped her breast, taking its weight and fullness into his palm. He curved his large hand to her tender flesh, burning her through the pink-and-white barrier of the shift. A moment later he raised his dark eyes to hers.

  “Are you virtuous, Annie?”

  “Is that ... what you want me to be?”

  His fingers moved caressingly. “Right now I want you to be closer to me. Move forward, Annie, so that I can touch your other breast.”

  Something shimmered and coiled and pulled tight low in Annie’s stomach. It was a strange, beautiful, weakening impulse beyond her control. She did what he asked. She had no choice. Excitement was coursing through her with the power of a deep ocean current. As she swayed toward him, she clos
ed her eyes and felt her breathing go soft and shallow. The touch of his hand sent shocks of pleasure tumbling through her. Her breasts throbbed and her nipples peaked as he urged her closer and kissed her mouth.

  It was a lazy, languid kiss, but the yearnings building deep within Annie were anything but lazy. She was melting inside. She was dying to make love with him, no matter how big a man he was. She wanted him terribly.

  He drew back, releasing her. His hands settled on the neckline of her sweater as though he was going to take it off, but she arched up against his lips, refusing to relinquish his mouth as he began to remove her clothing. She had never, ever, felt this way before. She was intoxicated by the sensations flowing inside her, she was drunk with ardor. She couldn’t bear to have him leave her for a moment. She needed his hands, his mouth.

  A low moan caught in her throat as he broke the kiss and began to draw up her shift. “I know you never take this off,” he said. “But I want you naked when I make love to you.”

  Annie knew vaguely that the shift was her last defense, her only remaining protection against the feelings that were overpowering her. Removing it would strip her of all reason and resistance. She knew that, but the knowledge didn’t help her when he asked her to raise her arms.

  “I can’t.”

  Her arms felt too heavy to lift, but she must have done what he wanted, because a moment later the shift was gone, and he was taking her breasts in his hands again. She felt the coil of desire tightening inside her. It clutched at her sharply, sweetly, and yet everywhere else, her body was weak and melting. She felt as if a tropical fever were washing over her, burning her skin with heat and spiraling her down into sweet and total oblivion.

  His hands were at her waist, and then he was lifting her hips, pulling off her jeans. She moaned as he dragged her down on the bed, opening her legs. And then suddenly he was above her, his dark eyes boring into her dazed and dizzy thoughts, and there was an unfamiliar pressure between her thighs.