“Drew,” she began thoughtfully as she climbed the stairs behind him. Both of them carried candles, and the leaping shadows along the wall gave a strange, dreamlike quality to the scene. “What made you come back here?”
He glanced over his shoulder, grinning sheepishly. “I ran off the road. My car’s stuck. I hiked over here to call a tow truck.”
“In the middle of the night? In Crossfield? You’ve lived in the city too long,” she teased gently.
“You’re probably right about that,” he said with a strange edge to his voice. He opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, placing his candle on the vanity. He took Ann’s candle and set it among the bottles of shampoo and bath oil and moisturizer on the ledge at one end of the tub. Turning on the taps, he adjusted the temperature of the water, then picked up one of the bottles at the end of the tub and held it to the candle to read the label.
“Honeysuckle?”
“That’s fine,” Ann replied. There was a strange, breathless quality to her voice that she found most disturbing. But not as disturbing as the intimacy of Drew’s presence in her bathroom or the casual way he perched on the edge of her tub as he ran her bath and almost proprietorially selected the scent of her bath oil.
He dipped his hand in the tub, and a cloud of delicate fragrance rose from the steamy water, drifting between them like a sweet, fragile memory. That same scent had always reminded Ann of warm summer evenings and star-blazed skies and Drew’s soft whispers. No matter where she was or how many years had passed, the smell of honeysuckle had always brought Drew back to her.
“All set. I’ll get out of here and give you some privacy. I’m going downstairs to have another look around.” At her sudden look of concern, he planted a light kiss on her forehead. “It’s all right now, Ann. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.”
The door closed softly behind him, and Ann stood for a moment staring pensively at the door. She did feel safe. And she realized suddenly that she did trust him. She trusted him with her life.
Then why not her heart? she wondered sadly as she peeled off her wet clothing and stepped into the tub.
She sank to her chin in the fragrant water that was neither too hot nor too cold, but perfect, just the way she liked it. As though he ran a woman’s bath often, Ann thought. And for all she knew, he did. Jealousy stabbed through her with stinging accuracy. Jealousy for the women Drew had known during the years that were lost to her.
She soaked for several minutes, letting the water soothe and relax her until it grew tepid. She climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel. Wrapping it securely around her damp hair, she reached for another to dry her body. Her pink silk robe hung on a peg on the door. She retrieved it and belted it around her before stepping into the hallway.
The door to her bedroom was open, and Ann could see the soft glow of candlelight inside. Drew had brought up at least half a dozen more candles, and had placed them strategically around the room so that even the deepest corners were illuminated. She was touched that he had taken the time and care to try to chase away her ghosts.
“Ann?”
She spun around at his voice, and the towel wrapping her hair slipped free. The long, thick cascade fell almost to her waist, a flaming cloud in the flickering light of the candles. Drew stood in the doorway, his breath in his throat, as they gazed at each other across the room. Ann’s eyes slipped over his face, across his bare shoulders, downward to where he’d knotted a towel around his waist. And everywhere her gaze touched him, he felt a nerve in his body jump with awareness. She glanced back up at his face.
He shrugged uncomfortably. “I took a shower downstairs. I hope you don’t mind. My clothes were soaked so I hung them up in the bathroom to dry.”
“I...don’t mind.”
His hand was still on the doorknob. He turned to go. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need me.”
“Drew?”
He turned, his eyes questioning.
“I need you.”
Their eyes melted together and Drew felt the almost painful response of his body. He crossed the room in two strides, drawing her to him as he breathed in the scent of her. He buried his face in her neck, savoring the taste and the feel of her. Ann’s head tipped back in sensuous response.
His hands found the belt of her robe and quickly unknotted it. He pushed the soft fabric from her shoulders and it whispered to the floor, the shimmering pool a subtle complement to the creamy texture of her legs. Drew felt his heart thrash against his chest as her fingers found the edge of the towel and tugged. And before the terry-cloth had joined the silk on the floor, she was back in his arms.
He lifted her off the floor until she was over him, gazing down at him. Her hands plunged into the deep gold strands of his hair as her lips sought his in a kiss that seemed endless and utterly fulfilling. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing against him, and Drew groaned deeply into her mouth. He shifted her slightly, pulling her even more tightly against him in just the right place. His body threatened to explode at the intense sensation.
“Now,” she pleaded against his lips. “I need you so—”
Drew moved toward the bed, staggering slightly. Not from her weight—that was nothing. But from the sheer force of the passion raging inside him. They fell to the bed, arms and legs wantonly intertwined as they lay face to face. His lips swept over her face, his hands raced over her skin, hot and searching.
“Can you feel how much I want you?” He kissed her eyes and her lips and her throat. “I’ve ached for you for so long. And now that I’ve had you, the need is a thousand times stronger.”
She answered him with a long, searing kiss that left them both gasping. He lifted one of her legs and wrapped it over his hip. With one quick move, he plunged deeply inside her. He paused, savoring the exquisite torture before he began to move, slowly at first, then faster, more urgently. He whispered to her, his voice thick and dark, as he encouraged and suggested and promised. Their moans mingled. Ann’s head was thrown back, her eyes tightly closed as her body began to shudder and tighten around him. Drew felt his own body responding, felt a powerful, headlong rush toward the edge. And then he was over and crashing back to earth as he fought for breath.
Afterward, they lay back against the softly scented sheets, listening to the beat of the rain against the windows, occasionally murmuring softly to one another before they fell into a sleep that was deep and content.
* * *
Angel? Angel?
Ann’s head thrashed against the pillow as she tried to move away from the relentless weight holding her down. She was suffocating, but the harder she fought, the more resistant the iron band became.
Angel! You’re with Drew, aren’t you? How could you? Your own sister’s husband.
Go away, Aiden. Leave me alone.
I’m not going away, Angel. I’m never going away. And you’ll never have Drew. He’s mine, Angel. He’ll always be mine. Do you hear me, Angel? Angel?
“Angel? Wake up, Angel.”
At the sound of the deep voice beside her, Ann’s eyes flew open and she bolted upright in bed. She stared blindly into the candlelit room for a moment, her eyes unable to focus. Then slowly the horror returned. She turned her tormented gaze to Drew. He was sitting up in bed, staring at her, his blue eyes filled with concern. He was so close she could reach out and touch him, feel his warmth, but it was only an illusion. In reality, he was a million miles away from her.
“She was here, Drew.”
Eleven
A cold chill crawled up Drew’s spine at the look in Angel’s eyes. Fear, despair, horror—he saw all that in the beat of a heart as he gazed into those haunted green depths.
Automatically he reached for her as he murmured soothingly, “It was just a nightmare, darling. You’re safe.” God, she felt so cold, he thought in panic. Now that the storm was over, it was stifling inside her bedroom but her skin was cold and damp and pale, as though she’d been lock
ed away from the sunlight for a very long time. “Angel? Are you all right?”
“She was here. I heard her.”
“Who was here?”
“Aiden.”
He stared at her silently for a moment, the breath knocked from his lungs. The skin at the back of his neck tingled with dread. What was she saying...she couldn’t possibly mean...
“It was just a bad dream,” he said quickly. “A nightmare.”
Ann shook her head slowly, her eyes wide and dark against the whiteness of her skin. “She was here, Drew. She knows about us—”
“Angel, don’t. Don’t do this.” With a savage jerk that was more from panic than anger, he hauled her against him, his arms wrapping around her as though he could protect her, shield her from anything—or anyone—who tried to keep them apart. But she was stiff and cold in his arms. She lay against him, unresistant, but he had the terrible suspicion that she had somehow managed to slip away from him again.
He closed his eyes and held her, willing her back to him. Lying back against the pillows, he cradled her, soothed her hair with deliberate restraint.
“Ann, listen to me. You had a dream. A nightmare, and no wonder. You were badly frightened earlier. But everything’s all right now. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you. Just don’t pull away from me.”
She lay silent for a long moment, but Drew could feel her body slowly begin to relax against his as he continued to talk to her.
“It seemed so real,” she whispered at last, her words muffled against his chest.
“I know, honey, but it wasn’t.” He kept his tone even and low as his hand continued to stroke her hair. “Aiden’s dead, Angel. She can’t come between us anymore.”
He felt her chest rise and fall in a deep sigh.
“I know. But I can’t forget her, Drew. No matter what she did, she was still my sister and I...just wish...I wish I’d been able to forgive her before it was too late. When I think of all the time I wasted, all the jealousy and hate and resentment I harbored for so long—” She shuddered, closing her eyes against the pain. “I think all of this—you and me—would be so much easier to accept if only I had forgiven Aiden.”
He smoothed the hair back from her face, pausing at the wetness he felt on her cheek. With a start, he realized it was a tear. Angel’s tear. He’d never seen her cry before, not one single tear, even when she’d broken their engagement that terrible night. He felt a powerful surge of emotion, more intense than any he had ever known.
When they were younger, he’d always marveled at her strength, and yet even then he’d felt an almost overwhelming need to protect her. That need rocked through him now with the force of an earthquake. An emotion that strong, that consuming, could only be love, and the knowledge moved him, deeply, profoundly. He wanted to share the wonder of it with her.
But not now. Not tonight, when he knew that that one revelation might very well push her farther away from him.
He lay holding her for a long time, until he could tell by the even rhythm of her breathing that she had finally fallen asleep. Gently he slipped from beneath her and laid her head against the pillow. He got up and strode across the room to raise the window, letting in a welcome breeze.
The rain had slackened to a steady drizzle through the trees. The moon shone through patches of low-lying clouds, but the yard below was almost completely in darkness. Drew stood for a moment, arms braced against the window frame as he stared out into the wet blackness.
He’d been so convinced that making love would draw them closer, take them farther away from the past, but it had done just the opposite. He didn’t know how to deal with Angel’s guilt, her fears, everything that bound her to the past. He didn’t know how to make her see that everything that had happened to Aiden she had brought on herself. He had no wish to hurt Angel any more than he already had, but maybe it was time she knew the truth, all of it, about her sister. Maybe that was the only way to make her see that her guilt concerning Aiden was such a needless waste.
She was here, Drew. She knows about us.
Drew’s heart froze, as if plunged into a bucket of ice water, at the memory of those whispered words. That one word, that name, still had the power to chill him to the bone. The very notion that Aiden could be alive—dear, God, what that would mean—
He closed his eyes at the implication, hearing again her voice, her warning, her last final torment.
I’ll give you your divorce, Drew. But don’t think that means you can go running back to Angel. You don’t want me? Fine. But you’ll never have her.
Your threats don’t mean anything to me anymore, Aiden. There’s nothing more you can do to hurt me.
No? I wouldn’t be too sure about that. You go near Angel, and you’ll live to regret it. But she won’t. Live, that is. Think about that, darling, while you enjoy your precious freedom.
Drew plowed his fingers through his hair, remembering and trying to forget. Aiden was dead. She couldn’t come between them anymore; it was Angel who kept them apart now. Angel, with her memories and her pain and her misplaced guilt. Beautiful, sweet Angel with her scar that ran deeper than he’d ever imagined.
He turned and crossed the room to the bed, staring down at her still form. The candles had all extinguished themselves except for one or two that sent dark, distorted shadows creeping along the walls and ceiling as the wicks burned lower. He could see her face in the flickering light, her skin smooth, almost translucent, and softly glowing. The russet mist of her hair swirled and floated in long streamers against the white background of the pillow. Her lovely, delicate hands were clasped beneath one side of her face as she lay sleeping with the serenity of a child.
The episode of the dream had been shoved, at least temporarily, aside in her mind, but Drew wasn’t so lucky. He stood staring broodingly down at her as his mind twisted and turned like the shadows on the ceiling.
He had waited so long to be with her.
After his divorce from Aiden, when she’d delivered her final blow, he’d resigned himself to the fact that he would never have a life with Angel. After three years of pure hell with Aiden, he knew she didn’t make idle threats. And after all that he’d done to Angel, the one thing he couldn’t do was risk her life. So he’d tried to make a new life for himself without her, tried to immerse himself in his career. He’d tried to forget about Angel, telling himself that they were not meant to be, that it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. But losing her had been a constant torment, like a raw, gaping wound in his soul that had never properly healed. Until tonight, that wound had never completely stopped hurting.
And now there was another threat to their fragile beginning, and he didn’t know how in the hell to deal with it. He wanted a future with Angel more than anything, but the past had such a grip on her, he wondered now if he would ever be able to free her. After tonight, he wasn’t sure she even wanted to be free. More and more he was coming to realize how Angel relied on those negative memories and emotions to protect herself from him.
He lay back down in bed and wrapped his arms around her, securing her to him. She slept on, but Drew’s eyes did not close for a very long time.
* * *
Ann floated pleasantly on the delicate balance between sleep and reality. She awoke, then drifted off again. With a reluctant sigh, she finally pushed away the lingering fragments of a dream and opened her eyes. She immediately focused on Drew, and with a startling flash, realized her dream had not been a dream at all. She had finally made love with Drew Maitland, and it had been a beautiful, glorious awakening.
But it hadn’t lasted. It couldn’t last. The past wouldn’t be banished so easily. Hardly had her moment of blissful surrender ended when all the old doubts and insecurities had begun closing in on her, trapping her once more. This man she had once loved so deeply had married her sister.
Fully dressed, he stood at the window staring out, his brows drawn together in a brooding frown. His expression was as bleak and gray as the weather ou
tside, and just as threatening.
Drew’s gaze shifted to hers, and found her staring at him. The moment should have been tender and warm, but his grim expression did not change. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. You’re up early.” Warily, she watched him approach the bed.
“I wanted to have another look around downstairs and outside.”
Anxiously, she sat up and pulled the sheet around her. “Did you find anything?”
“No.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. “There was no sign of a forced entry at any of the doors or windows.”
“It must have been my imagination,” Ann said, not totally convinced. “I feel so silly for overreacting like I did.”
“That’s not the overreaction that concerns me.”
“What do you mean?” She looked at her hands clasped tightly together on top of the sheet, she looked at the watercolor of a lighthouse hanging on the wall opposite her bed. She looked everywhere but at Drew.
“You know exactly what I mean.” His voice was low and determined. Ann knew that tone and what it meant. He wouldn’t give up until he’d had his say. “I’m talking about the dream you had last night.”
“It was just a dream—” She started to move away but his hand streaked out and hooked hers.
“It wasn’t just a dream, Ann. It told us both exactly how you were feeling last night after we’d been together. Why do you feel so guilty about making love with me? There’s nothing wrong with us being together. Why can’t you see that?”
“Because it’s so complicated—”
“It’s not at all complicated. It’s very simple. I want to be with you and I think you want to be with me. Nothing else should matter. I can’t help but wonder if you aren’t using your guilt and all the other emotional garbage you carry around as a safeguard to keep you from getting too emotionally involved with me. Every time we start to get close, you drag it between us. Why? I know I hurt you once, when I was young and stupid and selfish, but isn’t it time to put all that behind us?”
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