Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes

by Midnight Wishes(lit)

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