what she was doing.
How he wished he were a different kind of man, but he wasn't. When and
if he made love to Abby, he wanted her to know each' and every moment
of that act. Bes. ides, his ultimate goal was to make her trust him,
and how could she trust a man who took advantage. of her by making
love' to her when she was out of her mind?
"Come on, Abby. Let's go back to the house." He tried to unwind her
arms from around his neck, but she fought him.
"No, please, Luke. I've been so frightened, so alone. Don't leave
me."
"I won't, but let's go back into-the house where we'll be more
comfortable."
She looked up at him, her eyes luminous. "And you'll stay with me? You
won't leave me alone and let Greg call me again?"
Luke had no idea what she was talking about, but recognized that her
fear was genuine and the only way to get her back into the house was to
assure her. "I'll stay with you and make sure Greg doesn't bother
you."
He saw her trust in him shining in her eyes, and for a moment his
conscience prickled uncomfortably.
He was here under false pretenses, determined to see her in jail if she
were guilty of murder. He'd lied to her about everything that mattered
and the vulnerability she exposed haunted him.
Taking her hand, he willfully silenced his conscience. The sin of
deceit was far less weighty than the sin of murder.
She fell quiet as he led her into the dark house. By the time they
entered her bedroom and he closed the door behind them, she seemed to
be in a near stupor.
He turned on the bedside amp and pulled down the blankets on the bed.
She immediately crawled in. "Stay with me," she said as he started to
move away from the bed. This time in her eyes he saw no passion, no
flame of desire, but rather the whisper of fear. "Please ... don't
leave me by myselfi" It was as if the rational side of Abby fought to
surface through the craziness.
He couldn't leave . that raw edge of fear in her eyes caused a
nebulous hint of compassion to eddy inside him. He sank down on the
edge of her bed. "I'll stay right here," he assured her.
"And you'll keep Greg away? You'll make him stop calling me?" Her
eyelids drifted heavily and she blinked several times to remain focused
on him.
"Don't worry, nobody is going to bother you." He pulled the sheet up
around her neck, then ran his palm across her forehead. Perhaps a
fever was responsible for her delusional state. But her skin was cool
beneath his touch. "Abby, did you take some medicine tonight or
perhaps have a few drinks?"
"No, I didn't take medicine, I'm not sick, and I don't drink. I'm just
tired so tired..."
As he watched, her eyelids closed and her breathing deepened and he
knew she was out. He frowned thoughtfully and stared at her.
He knew he should go back to the bunkhouse and salvage what was left of
the night, but he was reluc-tam to leave her alone. What if she
awakened and once again decided to climb up the dragon tree? What if
she decided to do something else even more dangerous?
He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat, studying her features.
She definitely hadn't been herself, and appeared to be in some sort of
unstable mental fugue. All her talk of phone calls from Greg and
releasing the dragon imprisoned in the tree had indicated a woman not
in touch with reality.
Remembering Rusty's words, the old man's concerns about Abby's mental
state, Luke frowned. Was it possible Abby was mentally ill? She had
apparently suffered some frightening hallucinations if she'd believed
the moon was Greg's face stating down at her.
She looked beautiful in sleep, making it difficult to imagine anything
wrong with her. Her short blond hair framed her face with gentle cuds
and her long eyelashes splayed shadows on her cheeks. The pastel
flowered bedsheets provided a perfect background for her tanned skin.
Yes, she looked beautiful.
And yet he'd seen the confused reality shining in her eyes, heard the
strain of dementia in her words.
Luke rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, still studying her sleeping
features. Was it possible she was mentally ill? Suffering paranoid
states, perhaps bouts of schizophrenia? He certainly wasn't a doctor,
but he knew madness when he saw it, and that's exactly what he'd seen
in Abby tonight.
His heart thudded slowly, sending icy blood through him. Had Abby
killed Greg while in one of these states? Was it possible she'd killed
him and didn't even remember it?
ABBY FOUGHT HER WAY through her dreams to consciousness, having trouble
separating sleep images from reality. She'd dreamed she'd been
climbing the dragon tree and she'd dreamed she'd been kissing Luke. She
wasn't sure which had been more disturbing. The images were jumbled in
her head, unclear as dreams often were, yet strangely vivid at the same
time.
She stretched against the sheets, reassured by the familiar comfort of
her own bed. With her eyes still closed, she reached up and shoved a
curl off her forehead, then frowned as she encountered something alien
in her hair.
She pulled it from her hair and opened her eyes, staring at it in
confusion. A twig. A twig from an oak tree . the dragon tree.
"Good morning."
Abby jumped at the voice and rolled over to see Luke slumped in a chair
next to the bed. "What are you doing in here?" she asked as she
pulled the sheets more firmly around her.
He sat up, his bare chest painted gold by the bright sunshine streaming
through the windows. "You wouldn't let me leave last night. You
begged me to stay here with you."
"Last night?" Abby frowned, trying to remember what had happened the
night before, why she would have begged Luke to sleep in her room.
He'd obviously made himself at home. The second pillow from her bed
rested behind his neck and he was not only shirtless, but several
buttons on his jeans had been undone apparently for sleeping comfort.
She flushed at the utter maleness of him, then thought again of what
he'd just told her. She'd begged him to stay with her? When? Dear
God, what had happened last night?
lear jolted through her, a fear so deep, so dark, for a moment she
couldn't speak. It had happened again. Just like the night she'd
found herself in the middle of the lawn. The. fear intensified as she
remembered something else . the phone call from Greg. She looked at
Luke, her heart pounding frantically. "What happened last night?" she
finally asked, her mouth dry from her fear.
He sat up straighter in the chair and the pillow fell to the floor. "I
woke up just after midnight and went outside to get a breath of fresh
air." He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, somehow managing
only to look more attractive with his hair all askew. "That's when I
saw you in the dragon tree."
"In the tree?" Abby echoed softly, fighting a wave of profound
despair.
Luke moved from his chai
r to the edge of the bed, his dark gaze somber.
"You were muttering about phone calls from Greg and releasing the
dragon."
Abby sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. So her crazy dreams had
not been dreams at all. She really had climbed the dragon tree and she
had no memory of it except for the flirting whispers of her dreams.
"Oh, God. Luke, what's happening to me?"
"You don't remember anything from last night?" She wrapped her arms
around her knees, wishing she could curl up and disappear. "Vaguely
... a few images, but I ... I thought they were dreams." She looked at
him, wondering how far she could trust him. She needed desperately to
talk to someone, to share her fears. Someplace deep inside her wanted
to be able to trust him.
As crazy as it seemed, in the short time they'd spent together she
realized her heart had already built up a. trust of him. "This has
happened before," she finally confessed.
Luke's eyes narrowed. "When? How often?" Abby sighed, hoping she
wasn't making a mistake by telling him. "Just once that I know of ...
a couple nights ago. I woke up and found myself lying in the middle of
the yard. I didn't know how I'd gotten there or where I'd been." She
drew a deep, trembling breath. "I don't understand what's happening to
me and it frightens me."
"Whew." He raked a hand through his hair once again. She knew she'd
thrown him, troubled him, and that only made her own fear increase.
"Why don't I go make some coffee and we can try to figure out what's
going on?" he suggested.
Abby nodded and looked at the clock next to her bed. Almost nine
o'clock. Panic swept through her.
"I had no idea it was so late. Where's Cody? He never sleeps this
late."
"Relax," Luke replied as he stood. "Belinda came in earlier. She was
pretty shocked to find me in here. I told her you'd been sick last
night. She took Cody into town so you could rest today."
"No amount of rest is going to make me feel better about whatever is
happening to me."
Luke hesitated at the door. He looked as if he were about to say
something, then changed his mind. "I'll make the coffee," he finally
said, then disappeared down the hallway.
For a long moment Abby remained unmoving, numbed by the fact that she'd
experienced another inexplicable mental fugue. What was happening to
her? Why was this happening to her?
Was she mentally ill? She didn't think there'd been any history of
mental illness in her family. She frowned, remembering a night long
ago when three girls had made a vow beneath the dragon tree. a vow
never to discover which one of them was adopted.
There had been no mental illness in the Connor family background, but
what if Abby wasn't truly a Connor? What if she had been adopted and
her real mother now resided someplace in a mental hospital?
She pulled herself out of bed, refusing to dwell on these particular
thoughts. Besides, it didn't matter whether she was adopted or not,
didn't matter if her family history included every mental illness known
to man, none of that information helped her with what she was going
through now.
In the bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, then stared
at her reflection in the mirror. Fear darkened her eyes, and faint
purple smudges beneath attested to too many nights with too little
sleep. She looked tired and frightened. She felt exactly how she
looked.
Was she the adopted one? Again the disturbing thought intruded. Was
her real mother not dead and buried in the family cemetery, but rather
institutionalized in an insane asylum? Had she suffered these same
sort of blackouts and been put away for her own safety? For the safety
of others? Again she shoved away these horrifying thoughts.
She picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair, frowning as
she dislodged another piece of twig. She'd climbed the dragon tree
last night. Madness. Sheer madness.
Smelling the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, she grabbed a robe from the
hook on the bathroom door and pulled it on over her nightgown. With
the robe firmly belted around her waist, she left the bathroom and went
into the kitchen.
Luke stood at the door, staring out into the distance. His broad,
tanned back caused a flutter of memory to ripple through Abby's mind.
She'd touched his back last night. She'd stroked her hands up and down
his warm flesh, felt the strength in his sleek muscles. What else had
she done? What had they done?
She cleared her throat and he whirled around. For a moment his gaze
burned into hers, fired with an intimacy that again made her worry
about what had happened between them the night before. She had to
know. "Luke ... last night did we..." Her voice trailed off as her
face burned.
"Did we make love?" He walked toward her, stopping mere inches from
where she stood. "Is that what you want to know?"
She nodded. She could feel the heat emanating from his bare chest,
fought an urge to reach out and lose herself in his heat.
He touched her mouth with his index finger, tracing her full bottom lip
softly, sensuously. "No, Abby. We didn't make love last night." He
took a step closer to her, so close his chest touched the tips of her
breasts. "When I make love to you, it won't be an experience you so
easily forget." He dropped his hand and stepped back from her. "Sit
down, I'll pour you a cup of coffee."
Dazed by the sensual heat his touch had evoked, she moved to the
kitchen table and sank onto a chair. She watched as he maneuvered the
kitchen with ease, finding cups in the appropriate cabinet and pouring
the coffee with an efficiency of movement. He set a cup in front of
her and joined her at the table.
For a moment neither of them spoke, but instead sipped the coffee as if
each needed both the jolt of caffeine and the quiet to collect their
thoughts.
The momentary flare of heat his touch had produced had waned. Abby
curled her hands around her coffee cup, seeking the warmth of the
drink, hoping it could seep into her bones and banish the chill that
had taken up residence in her body.
"You okay?"
She looked up to meet his gaze, oddly comforted by the familiar
darkness. "Not really, but I'm better."
He smiled. "Everything seems better with a cup of coffee." His smile
faded. "Feel like talking?" She shrugged. "About what?"
"About last night."
Again the chill renewed itself, shimmering up her back and raising
goose bumps on her arms. "What's there to talk about? I don't
remember it." She couldn't suppress a shiver.
"None of it?"
She frowned and stared into her coffee cup. "Vaguely ... as if it were
a dream ... I've got pieces of memory."
"Tell me," he urged.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to pull forth the images
she'd thought had been dreams in her first edge of consciousness when
awakening. "I remember climbing the tree. I needed something .
.. I
don't know"-She broke off in frustration.
"Go on. What else?"
"The moon. I remember the moon frightened me." She opened her eyes
and looked at him, 'a flutter of warmth uncurling in the pit of her
stomach. "And I remember kissing you."
He nodded, as if satisfied she'd remembered that. "When I first saw
you up in the tree, I thought you might be drunk."
She shook her head. "I don't drink. I don't take drugs. That's what
makes these blackouts all the more frightening."
Luke frowned and sipped his coffee. "So, what do you remember about
last night before the blackout?"
"Bert Manigan, my lawyer, came by. He stayed until around midnight.
After he left, the phone rang and it was Greg calling me again."
"Greg?"
"Oh, my gosh, I almost forgot." Adrenaline pumped through her as she
remembered Cody's tape recorder. Racing to the phone she prayed the
recorder had picked up the voice. At least it would be some small
offer of proof that she wasn't completely losing her mind.
The tape recorder lay on the counter right next to the phone. She
grabbed it and hurried back to the table. "A couple nights ago I got a
late night phone call and it was Greg's voice on the other end of the
line. Last night when the phone once again rang and it was so late at
night, I grabbed this and taped it." She stared down at the tape
Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes Page 12
