Annie's Song
Chapter 24 : She stood up so suddenly that he felt sure it made her head spin. Watching her sultry e

She stood up so suddenly that he felt sure it made her head spin. Watching her sultry expression change to one of wariness, he gave a halfhearted smile. "Somehow, I was afraid that would be your reaction." He glanced at her bodice.

"Which is a shame. Making love to you is one of the few activities I'd deem worthy of interrupting our lessons. As I explained before, it's extremely pleasurable."

She promptly sat down and looked pointedly at the lesson book. Alex chuckled and resumed his seat as well. Ignoring her resigned expression, he relocated his place in the manual.

Five minutes later, Annie was yawning and gazing out the window again.

Alex began to despair that he would ever be able to impart to her the importance of what he was trying to teach her, that if she would only pay attention, a whole new world could be opened up to her. Then one morning, quite by accident, he hit upon the strategy of teaching her signs that were meaningful to her. Midway through their lesson, which had thus far inspired Annie to do nothing but fidget, Alex glanced over and saw her gazing with longing at her organ.

Capturing her attention with a wave of his hand, he said, "Would you like to play the organ, Annie?"

"Yes!" she said, and pushed eagerly up from her chair.

"Not so fast," Alex said, feeling more than a little out of sorts with her. "First you must ask permission."

"Please?"

He shook his head and tapped the book. "In sign."

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know the sign."

Nearly as accomplished at lipreading now as she, Alex hooked an arm over the back of his chair and fixed a challenging gaze on her. "Then you'll just have to learn it, won't you? It's either that or give up playing the instruments.

From now on, unless you ask permission in sign, you can't play them."

Her eyes widened with incredulity. Alex grinned at her and began flipping pages. He located the sign he was looking for.

"Make." He placed his right fist upon his left and made a twisting motion as though he were uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g something.

"Music." He waved the flat of his right hand from left to right in front of his flattened left hand, palm facing right. "Please."

Smiling, he made a counterclockwise circle with the flat of his right hand over his heart. "That's all there is to it." Making the signs again, this time more rapidly, with no hesitation between, he repeated the words, "Make music, please?" Settling back in his chair, he eyed her with lazy arrogance. "Now, you do it.

Or forget playing the organ today. Your choice."

Mouthing the word, make, Annie stacked her fists and gave a pretend twist. As she said, music, Alex guided her through the hand movements. The only mistake she made signing the word please was going clockwise as she circled the flat of her hand over her heart. He corrected her error.

"Now do it with no help," he challenged.

Frowning in concentration, she executed the sign again, this time perfectly and without his a.s.sistance.

"Very good, Annie! Perfect!" Alex slapped the book closed and glanced at his watch. "For that, you deserve a ten-minute break."

To his surprise, she didn't immediately move from her chair.

Swinging his gaze back to her, he arched an eyebrow. "Don't you want to play the organ?"

She nodded, but her expression said otherwise. In her eyes he saw a certain guardedness, but he also saw yearning. "What, sweet?"

She inclined her head at the book. "I s there a sign for love?"

Alex's chest tightened. "I'm sure there is." Feigning a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he reopened the book.

"Let me see. Ah, here it is." He crossed his hands over his heart, palms toward his chest. "Love. That's a simple one."

She leaned slightly forward, looking frustrated. "Is there a sign for I love you'?"

"That's simple as well. To speak in sign, you string the signs together much as you do with words. To say 'I love you,' you first make the sign for I." To demonstrate, he placed his folded right hand against his sternum, palm facing left, thumb touching his chest, little finger thrust upward. "Then you make the sign for love, which you just learned." He showed her the sign a second time. "Then you make the sign for you." With a slow grin, he pointed the index finger of his right hand at her.

"And I do love you by the way."

Her cheeks turned a pretty pink, and she averted her face.

Alex waited, expectant, filled with yearning, wanting her to tell him she loved him in sign more than he could recall ever having wanted anything. He waited in vain. After a moment, Annie pushed up from her chair and wandered to the organ. A few seconds later, the room was filled with deafening noise.

The cacophony lasted for only a few minutes, however, before Annie pushed up from the bench and wandered back to Alex's desk, her gaze fixed curiously on the book that lay beside him. Toying with the lace at her neckline, she finally looked into his eyes. "How do you say 'Alex'?" she asked.

He shoved his account book aside. "There aren't any signs for most names. They have to be spelled out." Grabbing another book, he flipped it open to the section that contained the manual alphabet. Slowly, so she could absorb the hand positions, he spelled out his name, saying each letter as he made the sign for it. "A-L-E-X."

Annie sat down across from him, her attention s.h.i.+fting rapidly from his hand to his mouth, her expression intent.

Then she duplicated the hand motions and smiled at her accomplishment. "Alex!" she cried, looking inordinately pleased. "I spelled Alex!''

"You certainly did! But, Annie, that's only a beginning.

With the manual alphabet, which is simply a collection of signs for the regular alphabet, you can learn to spell every word in our language. Did you know that? Once you've memorized the alphabet, you'll be able to master reading." At her uncomprehending look, he gestured toward his bookshelves. "Books, Annie. You'll be able to read books.

There are wonderful stories in some of them, about exciting people and faraway places."

She glanced at the book-filled shelves. "Me? I can learn to read?"

"You certainly can. You're a very intelligent young woman."

She made a face, clearly unconvinced she was even halfway smart. "Stupid" she said. "Mama says I'm stupid."

Alex sighed. "You are not stupid. Trust me on that. And your mama doesn't say that you are. Not anymore. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but if you pay attention during lessons and work very, very hard, you can learn to read, Annie. And you can learn to write as well."

Looking suddenly purposeful, she folded her arms and sat perfectly erect. "Teach me, then."

He chuckled. "Well, we won't accomplish it this morning.

We can only make a start."

"Teach me!" she repeated. "Please?" And to Alex's delight, she made the sign for please as she mouthed the last word.

Trying not to reveal his sense of victory, Alex set himself to the task of doing just that.

Learning to speak in sign ... It was the most difficult thing Annie had ever tried to accomplish, but it was also the most fascinating. Under orders from Alex, her mother and everyone at Montgomery Hall began studying the manual alphabet so Annie would one day be able to communicate with them. To that end, they all studied the alphabet at least one hour every day. Henry and Deiter, neither of whom could read or write, were the only individuals in his employ who were excused.

Within two weeks, Edie Trimble, Annie, and everyone who lived at Montgomery Hall had memorized the manual alphabet. Once that was accomplished, Alex compiled a list of words he insisted Annie learn to spell before she advanced any further in her lessons: sick, help, hot, cold, drink, eat, and Alex, the last because he alone could read lips and, if summoned, would be able to understand what she needed if no one else could.

It was a heady feeling for Annie the first time she entered the kitchen and was able to ask for a drink. The maid to whom she spelled out the word immediately understood and drew her a gla.s.s of water. It was the first time in over fourteen years that Annie had been able to ask anyone for anything. After drinking the water, she left the kitchen, sought privacy in the nursery, and wept. To speak, even if it was with her hands, was to her a priceless gift.

Thinking back to her early days at Montgomery Hall, Annie remembered how angry she had felt when she first learned that she was married. She had believed then that she had received no gifts on her wedding day and had felt cheated. Now she realized she had been given a priceless gift, a tall, tawny-haired man with amber eyes and a lazy grin. He was, without question, a maker of miracles. Knowing him had altered her world in so many ways that she could no longer even count them.

Loving him as she did put her in a difficult position. On three different occasions, he had expressed, ever so clearly, his desire to be close with her, not just by kissing and touching her bubbies, which she'd found delightful, but down below as well, as his brother Douglas had once done. Annie couldn't bear the thought of letting anyone, not even Alex, do that to her again.

But he wanted to. Lately, she sensed that whenever she was with him. The message was there in his eyes when he looked at her, in his hands when he touched her, and it was always in the air between them, a heavy, expectant feeling.

The most difficult part was that Annie wasn't entirely certain that being close with Alex would be so terrible. That day when he had touched her and kissed her in the nursery, it had been glorious, and because it had, she couldn't help wondering if the other things he wanted to do would be delightful as well. According to Alex, they would be, and as far as Annie knew, he had never lied to her.

What a quandary ... She wanted to make Alex as happy as he had made her, and she sensed that he would be very happy indeed if she would let him put his hand under her skirt. The question was, could she bear it once she let him? Annie didn't know, and because she didn't, she procrastinated about reaching a decision, one way or another.

September gave way to October, October to November-Annie knew the names of the months now because Alex had made her memorize them-and the days grew increasingly chilly. When the last cutting of hay had been baled, Alex spent less time working, and more time with Annie. On some afternoons, he bundled her up in a cloak he'd had made for her and took her for long walks. On others, they stayed in his study by a warm fire and engaged in pleasant pastimes, sometimes playing games, other times simply talking. He had become very accomplished at lipreading, and both of them were becoming fluent in sign language.

One afternoon, he asked her, "If you could name one thing that you want more than anything else, Annie, what would it be?"

Annie gnawed her lip. Alex had given her so much. So very much. It seemed ungrateful to admit there was anything else she still yearned for.

"Come on. This is a time for honesty." Sitting close to the fire as he was, the golden light from the flames played over his dark face and flickered in shadows across his cream silk s.h.i.+rt, which complemented his broad shoulders. His gaze searched hers. "Jewelry?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, not jewelry. Where would I wear it?"

"You'd like to go to town," he guessed. When she shook her head, he said, "To a dance, then?"

"There's nothing I really want," she fibbed.

"Annie ..." he said in a scolding way. "Tell me."

Already loving the child within her, Annie pressed her hands over her stomach and drew up her shoulders in a shrug.

"When the baby comes, I probably won't even want one anymore.'''

"What difference does that make? Tell me."

"A dog."

He narrowed an eye. "A dog? They're big, hairy, drooling, and ill-mannered. Why on earth would you want a dog?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know. I just always wished for one."

He shook his head and gazed into the fire for a moment.

When he glanced back at her, she asked, "And you? If you could name one thing you really, really want, what would it be?"

His gaze delved deeply into hers. "You won't like my answer."

She rolled her eyes. "That isn't fair. I told you."

He didn't release her gaze. "I want you."

Annie felt a flush sliding up her neck.

"In my arms, in my bed," he said. "I want to make love to you, Annie. I want that more than anything in the world." His gaze touched on her swollen waist, then returned to her eyes.

"I love you. And I love our baby. I want us to be a real family."

His eyes ached with yearning. "All my life, I've been alone.

Until you came, I didn't realize how empty I felt. Now you and the baby are bringing about changes. Good changes. Maybe it's greedy, but I'm like a kid in a candy shop. I want it all.

Does that make sense? A real marriage, you in my arms when I go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning."

She finally managed to jerk her gaze from his and stared into the flames. She jumped when he touched her cheek to draw her face back around.

"I know you're frightened, " he whispered. "And I don't blame you for that. But I think I've earned your trust, if nothing else, so will you at least think about it?"

Her face felt as though it had been smeared with egg white.

"I'll make you a promise," he told her. "If you'll trust me enough to let me try, I won't do anything you don't want me to do. And if you ask me to stop, I swear I will."

Annie could scarcely bear looking into his eyes. In them, all she saw was love for her. How could she possibly deny him the one thing he had ever asked of her?

"As I said, just think about it. There's no need to give me an answer right now. Will you do that? Think about it?"

She nodded.

He rewarded her with a slow smile. "While you're thinking about it, think about how nice it was that day in the nursery. I guarantee you that what comes after is even better."

Annie wished she could be certain of that. Oh, how she wished she could be certain.

Twenty.

A sound jerked Alex from a deep sleep. Momentarily disoriented, he rolled onto his side and gazed through the darkness. Blessed with good night vision, he had little difficulty seeing even on a moonless night, which tonight definitely was not. Silver light bathed his bedchamber, pooling on the floor before the armoire and casting dappled shadows over his dresser.

Annie ... Remembering their talk that afternoon, he allowed himself to hope she might be sneaking into his room. His heart sank when he glanced at the door and saw that it was firmly closed. Not Annie. He frowned slightly and pushed up on an elbow, trying to estimate the time. Midnight, perhaps a bit later, he decided. He didn't feel as though he'd been sleeping very long.

The sound that had disturbed his rest came again, a muted thumping and rattling from somewhere downstairs. Slipping from bed, he bypa.s.sed his robe in favor of trousers and boots.

In the event that he had to confront an intruder, he wanted to be halfway prepared. Not that he believed someone had broken into the house. He'd lived at Montgomery Hall since birth, and never in all those years had there been any trouble.

The people in and around Hooperville were a wholesome, G.o.d-fearing lot, and crime was almost nonexistent. Douglas had been the most frequent perpetrator of foul deeds hereabouts, and now he was gone.