Sweet Annie (24 page)

She turned her face to
bring her warm cheek to his lips and raised her fingertips to his jaw.
"Sometimes it seems too good to be true," she said softly.

"I
know it's not like the house you live in now," he began.

"No.
There's nothing to compare. Don't even think it. I love this house. And I love
that you made it with your own hands just for us. I see the caring and...and
the love that went into it. It's beautiful, Luke. Thank you so much."

Luke
closed his eyes, inhaling the presence of this woman he loved and desired.

"I
don't have much to bring." He heard the regret that crept into her voice
when she spoke those words. "Not much at all. I don't want to ask them for
anything."

"It
doesn't matter," he replied to reassure her. "I'll get a bed and a
chest of drawers for you. I've been bartering carpentry work for shoeing horses
and repairing wagons and plows. I can probably strike a bargain with someone
for a few pieces of furniture."

She turned in his arms, to
face him and raise her hands to his shoulders. "It's really going to
happen, isn't it? We're going to stand before Preacher Davidson, say vows that
bind us for eternity, and then live here together."

"It's really going to
happen."

A
silvery tear shimmered on her lashes. “I can forget all the other hurts when I
remember that."

"What hurts so bad,
Annie?"

"That
I have nothing to bring. That my mother won't believe in me. That my family
doesn't accept us."

"I
wish I could change that for you. If I could I would, you know that."

She
touched his lip at the place where he bore a scar. "I know."

Lowering
his head, he covered her soft lips with his, testing, tasting, loving her with
all his being, wishing he could change the things that saddened her and vowing
to give her joy and pleasure at every opportunity from this day on.

Her
body curled against his so naturally, her breast pressed to his chest, her
fingers kneading the flesh of his neck.

The
next instant she pulled away, pressing her palms to her cheeks. "I
frighten myself."

Luke
breathed a calming breath, ignored the messages of his body, and studied her
face. “What do you mean?"

"I
mean..." She dropped her hands to her sides, studying his face. "I'm
so bold with you, when I have no idea what this all means." She turned her
body and gazed at the bare window as if avoiding his eyes. "It's natural
for me to be a bit frightened, don't you think?"

She
meant the physical aspect of marriage, and it tore at him to think she was
afraid. "It's a natural thing between a man and a woman," he said.
What had she heard? What did young women learn and who told them? He hadn't a
clue. "Natural and beautiful."

"I'm sure it is. Do you know this
firsthand?"

She
turned her head then, damn her, and looked him directly in the eye. Open and
candid, his Annie. He doubted many fiancees had the balderdash to question
their prospective husbands on the intimate partners in their pasts.

"Well..."
Nothing to speak but the truth. "The natural part I know about."

One slender eyebrow went
up. "Not the beautiful part?" she asked.

"That must be for husbands and wives."

"Oh."

"I
was young and—and—well, young men don't always use their heads."

"Prostitutes?"
she asked. Straightforward. Honest.

"A
couple."

She
turned her gaze back to the window. "Any woman you ever loved?"

"You're the only woman I've ever loved."

Her
hand went up to her cheek and rapidly brushed beneath her eye. Lord, he'd hurt
her. His stomach balled into a knot.

She
turned back then. "You will be the first. For me."

He
moved to hold her by her upper arms and stare into her eyes. "That didn't
have to be said. I knew that without you saying so."

"Because
no one ever wanted me before you, you mean."

"No!
Because I know you. I know your parents! God, Annie, be a little kinder to
yourself." He drew her against his chest and held her fast. "I'm
sorry my being with those others hurts you. You have to know that wasn't
anything like what you and I have together. No comparison."

She
hugged him back and he sensed her trembling against his frame. “At least one of
us will know what to do," she said.

He
couldn't suppress a chuckle.

She raised her face to his
in invitation. Before he could lower his head, she wrapped one hand around his
neck and pulled him to her, kissing him fiercely, possessively.

"When
did you first know you loved me?" she whispered against his ear.

He
squeezed her gently. "I'll have to think on that."

"Well,
what are the possibilities?"

"Maybe
when I saw you eating peppermint ice cream."

"Maybe?"

“Maybe.
Or maybe when you smiled at me across a stack of denims in the
mercantile."

She
drew back to see his face. "When was that?"

He
shrugged. "A long time ago. You were with your Aunt Vera and Charmaine. I
remember that because if it had been your mother she'd have dragged you from
the store as soon as she saw I was there."

"Maybe
then, huh? It must have been a good smile."

He
grinned. "It was."

"Or
when else?"

He
twined a ringlet of her satiny hair around his finger. "Or maybe when you
cried because Burdell punched me."

She
frowned. "After the Fourth of July dance?"

He
shook his head. "No. After I took you for a ride."

Her eyes searched his. "I was only ten years
old."

"I was fourteen. Not
that much older. I told you I'd have to think about it."

She pulled from his arms and took his hand.
"All right. But I'm going to ask you again."

"I'm sure you will."

"Let's
go rescue Charmaine from the sun."

"Your
cousin is a gem."

"I know. She deserves
the next too-good-to-be-true man." Annie hooked her arm through Luke's and
he led her through the house to the door.

"I love the
house," she said, stopping him before he opened it. "Truly. Thank
you."

"I just want you to be
happy," he told her with all the sincerity he felt in his heart. "I
never want to see you hurt or unhappy again. I want to give you so much."

"You have," she
assured him. "Already you have. I don't need much more than your love and
acceptance."

He knew she believed that
now. But she still needed a nice home and comfortable furnishings and the acceptance
of friends and family. He prayed he could give her all she deserved.

The
night before the wedding, Annie couldn't sleep. She'd lain awake for hours,
staring at the moonlight on the ceiling and telling herself all the reasons why
she shouldn't be worried. Finally, she got up, donned her flannel wrapper, and
went out to the kitchen to see if any warm water remained.

A sound from the other room
startled her, and she limped into the sitting room where a soft light glowed.

Her
mother sat in an elegant velvet-upholstered chair, her hair down around her
shoulders.

"Mother? Are you all
right?"

"I'm fine."

"I
wasn't going to bother to make tea just for myself, but if you'll join me I'll
kindle the fire in the stove."

"I've already brewed a pot. Help
yourself."

"Oh."
Annie hadn't noticed the silver service on the low table. Only Mildred
Sweetwater would prepare tea in a silver pot in the middle of the night. She
poured herself a cup and sat on the divan. "This feels good. It's a chilly
night."

Her mother stared at the
embers in the fireplace.

"Did you have trouble
sleeping, too?" Annie asked.

"I haven't slept a
night since this ordeal began."

"I
assume you mean since Luke's been courting me."

"Courting,"
she sniffed. "I haven't seen flowers or gifts."

"He's
spending all his money on our house and furnishings, Mother."

"Harrummph."

"Why won't you give us
a chance?"

"Because
I don't want to be disappointed," she said stiffly. "Like you're
going to be disappointed." She raised a hand and flicked her fingers.
"When all your fanciful dreams go up in smoke. When you discover he can't
take care of you like we can." She arched one brow and delivered a
stinging prediction. “When you can't please him."

Chapter Twelve

Annie
mulled those words over. Couldn't please him? "What do you mean?"

"Men
are carnal creatures, Annie. Their tastes are not as delicate as a woman's. And
you—you're just a girl."

Annie's
lungs burned when she drew a deep breath. "Are you speaking of passion,
Mother? Because I want Luke as badly as he wants me."

"Maybe
you do, little girl. But will his supposed love for you last? If a crippled
girl can't keep up with a strong man while walking or running, how will you
please him intimately?"

Pain
twisted in Annie's chest. She set her cup down so hard, liquid splashed over
the edge onto her mother's starched and pressed doily. She wanted to cover her
ears and refuse to listen to this foolishness and cruelty. "I don't—I
don't think that comparison is fair. Yes, he's strong and he's healthy, but
he's tender and—and he's loving."

"You're
not listening to me," Mildred said, her voice once again low. "You've
never wanted to listen to reason. Do what you like, what you're determined to
do, but don't cry to me when you learn I was right."

Annie
scooted to the edge of the chair. "You're not right. He loves me. He sees
me as a whole person."

"Believe what you
must."

Annie
stood. In the dim light of the lamp, she stared at her mother for a full
minute, but the unrepentant woman met her gaze with icy superiority.
"Thank you so much for your gracious help and motherly guidance. A woman
always remembers her wedding, and I will remember that you refused to take the
smallest measure to support me."

"I'm
not going to be responsible when this 'marriage' breaks your heart."

“That
would be impossible.
You
have
already done that." Annie limped from the room, wishing she could walk
gracefully, knowing this was the best her gait would ever be, and praying her
mother was wrong about everything else.

She
sat on the edge of her bed until dawn crept under the window shades and cast a
tangerine glow on the floral carpet. A knock sounded once the sun was up.

Had her mother had a change
of heart? "Come in."

Glenda
peered around the door. "Morning. Did you sleep?"

"Maybe a wink or
two."

"I was the same way, I
was so excited."

"You're not usually
here on Saturday."

Glenda came toward her.
"I heated water for your bath and I'll help you wash your hair and dry
it."

Annie stood, holding the
hem of her night-rail and hugged the other woman. "Thank you," she
managed to say in a throaty voice.

Glenda led her to the
bathing chamber off the kitchen where she had a fire going in the fireplace and
hot water steaming in the copper tab. "Here are your bath salts and your
lilac water. There's a stack of clean toweling."