by P. L. Parker
The market was booming by the time she arrived. Vendors lined the street, calling out greetings, hoping to draw in prospective buyers. Strolling slowly down the causeway, Annalisa stopped at almost every booth, picking through the merchandise and purchasing several silly keepsakes. Bittersweet memories resurfaced. Sadly, once she left, she might never visit this place again. Her only reason for being here was Granny, and Granny wasn't long for this earth. Tears blurred her vision as a huge lump formed in her throat.
Granny, she thought. What am I going to do without you?
"Are you okay, girl?” A sweet-faced woman asked.
Wiping her eyes, Annalisa smiled tremulously. “Fine, I'm fine. Sorry, I just was thinking sad thoughts, but I'm okay."
Patting her arm, the woman clucked sympathetically. “Maybe you should sit down and have something to drink. A nice cup of tea would be perfect."
Annalisa obligingly sat down, mostly because it seemed the right thing to do, and the woman did seem genuinely concerned.
Her savior hurried off, returning shortly with a cup of hot tea, a shy smile lighting her homely freckled face. “You just drink this and you'll be as good as new in no time."
"Thank you so much,” Annalisa murmured. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this."
The woman's smile broadened. “I always say a good cup of tea will heal anything. Don't know if that's true, but I find it to be. I'm Sarah Martin by the way.” She held out a sturdy hand in greeting. Annalisa took the proffered hand and shook it, pleased to have someone to talk to.
"I'm Annalisa Emery. I'm staying with Granny Jean. Do you know Jean?"
"Goodness me! Course I do!” Sarah exclaimed, adding solemnly. “I'd heard Granny was really sick, and her granddaughter had come home."
"Well, I'm not really her granddaughter, though I've always felt like I was. More like a step-granddaughter."
Sarah chuckled. “My cousin Rose works for Granny and from what she says, Granny loves you like her very own. Rose said she was ecstatic when she heard you were coming back."
"I know,” Annalisa's face fell. “I should have come sooner. Now it's almost too late."
"It's never too late,” Sarah retorted. “Only too late if she'd died before you got here. From what I hear, she's still pretty sassy."
Annalisa laughed ruefully. “Yes, she's still pretty spunky, still has her good moments, but she's getting weaker all the time, which reminds me, I should head back. She'll be waiting.” She stood up, thanked Sarah profusely and started back down the lane towards Granny's.
The closer she got to the cottage, the stronger the wind blew, whipping across the moor with a vengeance. Annalisa's hair came down, obscuring her vision and tangling about her face.
Does the wind ever stop out here? Disgusted, she leaned into the storm, fighting for every step as the wind howled and raged. Lightning flashed, illuminating the landscape and striking the ground, followed almost immediately by rolling thunderclaps. Startled and uneasy, she trudged determinedly on, nervously eyeing the oncoming thunderstorm. Driving rain hurtled down from the heavens, drenching everything in mere seconds. Scared now, she began running, fearful she would be lost in the storm, and unable to find her way back to the cottage. Without warning, the cat appeared in the path ahead of her, sitting there casually, his head tilted and eyeing her as if to say “there you are."
"About time you showed up,” she grumbled. “Get me home."
Flicking his tail, the cat ran down the path, turning frequently to check her progress. His mere presence was comforting and kept at bay the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her. My hero, she thought sarcastically. Would have been better if he'd been a little taller and could talk!
By the time they reached the cottage, Annalisa's teeth were chattering, her clothes were sopping wet, and she wondered if she'd ever feel warm again. The cat immediately dropped down on the rag rug in front of the door and proceeded to groom himself, licking his fur dry. Chilled to the bone, she dragged herself up the staircase, wet pants flapping around frozen ankles.
Never had a hot shower felt so good! She stood beneath the spray, soaking up the heat, unthawing in the blissfully steamy little bathroom until the last vestige of chilly numbness washed down the drain. Toweling her hair dry, she bundled into a warm terrycloth robe and fleece-lined slippers and made her way down to the kitchen. She stopped to peek into Granny's room where the old woman laid sleeping, soft wheezing snores whistling in the darkened room. Satisfied that she was resting well, Annalisa continued to the kitchen, feeling almost faint with hunger.
Rose sat at the kitchen table, reading glasses perched on her nose, working on a grocery list and humming softly to herself.
As Annalisa entered, she glanced up, startled. “You scared me!” she exclaimed. “I didn't hear you come in."
"Sorry. I'll make more noise next time."
Rose snorted. “My hearing isn't so good anymore. Getting old, too. How was the market?"
"Good,” Annalisa said. “But the storm almost blew me away. I was drenched by the time I got back."
"You have to be careful. Those storms blow in from the sea, and they can get pretty rough at times.” She bent back down to her list. “There's food on the stove if you're hungry."
Annalisa's stomach took that moment to rumble again. “You must've read my mind. I'm absolutely starving!"
Rose set aside her list. “Sarah called, said you were on your way back. She was worried because you seemed upset and then with the storm coming in, she wanted to make sure you'd got home okay."
"I'm fine,” Annalisa murmured around a mouthful of hot stew. “She's a nice lady, brought me a cup of tea."
Rose nodded. “She is nice. We're about the same age and went to the same school so she's more like my best friend than family.” Pushing away from the table, she stood up, rearranging the tablecloth and straightening up the chairs.
"Do you mind watching Jean for awhile? Donal is going to drive me into town to shop. I won't be gone long. I'd walk, but with the storm, I think I'd better catch a ride."
"No problem. Go and have some fun! Stay the night if you want. I can handle it."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to be gone all night,” Rose paused. “But maybe a few hours visiting might be nice. I don't get to do that very often."
Annalisa stood up and grabbed Rose's wool coat and threw it over her plump shoulders.
"Go! Have fun. We'll be okay and you need a break once in awhile."
Rose reached for her wallet as Annalisa shoved her out the back door. “And don't come back until tomorrow,” she stated firmly, remembering at the last minute to hand Rose a well-used umbrella.
Waving to her through the glass, she watched as Rose hurried down the garden path towards the small apartment over the garage where Donal lived.
Inside, the cottage seemed too quiet, but outside the storm still raged, whipping tree limbs as rain pelted the windows. Annalisa shivered, the air in the cottage felt damp and cold. Worried that Granny would catch a chill, she peeked into the old woman's room. The old woman still slept, one small lamp casting a soft glow over her still, sleeping form. Closing the door softly, satisfied that Granny was resting comfortably, Annalisa climbed the stairs to the small bedroom, dropping down tiredly across the bed.
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Chapter Seven
Calling on the forces of nature, Alec whispered her name, caressing her with his mind, willing her to join with him.
* * * *
In slow motion, images swirled and floated as music tinkled in the distance. He moved from the shadows, dark and intense. She gazed at him, long and hard, sensing the innate power he exuded as naturally as she breathed.
Drawing her across the room, he stopped in front of a likeness on the wall.
"I first painted this when you were but a girl. It's changed over the years as have you, but I fear the painting does you an injustice.” His dark eyes pierced her very soul, drowning her with their
intensity.
"Take my hand,” he commanded, his voice whispering through her dreams. “Take my hand, and I'll show you paradise. Walk beside me and see your future."
Annalisa drifted nearer, reaching out to grasp the hand he so enticingly stretched towards her.
A huge lump formed in her throat, burning through unshed tears.
"What future?” she breathed, her voice echoing hollowly. “All I had was Gran, and she's dying. I don't have anyone. I belong nowhere."
His dark eyes flashed. “You belong with me. You always have."
"Why do you haunt my dreams?” Without volition, her hand grasped his, and even in her dreams, his touch felt solid and comforting.
His dark eyes bored into her, searching her thoughts, seeking her secrets. “I'm your betrothed,” he stated bluntly, sounding as though she should have known it. “You were always meant for me."
Annalisa attempted to draw away, only to be stopped, held firmly by his large, warm hand.
"I don't understand any of this,” she whimpered. “You're just a dream, and I'll wake up. You're not real."
"I am real,” he growled. “And I've waited too long for you."
"Waited? What do you mean?"
Giggling maids in mop caps, long aprons covering their plain grey uniforms, dropped quick curtsies as they passed, murmuring shy words of welcome. He pulled her along, guiding her through a long hallway, stopping in front of a huge, ornate oaken door, swinging open at his slightest touch. Drawing her in, he stepped aside, permitting her entrance.
"This is your room. I've prepared it for you."
Annalisa's eyes scanned the interior, amazed and delighted. It was as if the room had been taken from her deepest secrets. Delicate cherry wood furniture graced a room carpeted in luxurious warm maroon. A bed almost the size of her current bedroom dominated the far wall, covered in an oriental velvet spread. A fancy chintz-covered chair sat in front of a small desk, while a lounger graced the corner. Her lips curved in delight. It was a room fashioned with her in mind. Dreams were such nice things sometimes!
"How did you know?"
His lips curved sensuously. “I watch, and I listen."
Annalisa regarded him thoughtfully. “You look different tonight."
And he did, more casual than she had ever dreamed or imagined him before. Garbed only in an open-necked shirt and soft leather breeches, long shaggy hair falling below his collar, he looked altogether too rakish and too approachable, and altogether too yummy!
His grin widened. “I hope you aren't offended. I want you to see me as I really am."
"Not at all! If I'm going to imagine a dream lover, you certainly are perfect.” She wet her lips invitingly.
He laughed outright. “So you are pleased?"
Who wouldn't be, she thought admiringly. The open collared shirt, complete with wide, loosely fitting sleeves, revealed more than it covered. Always a sucker for a man sporting a V, her dream lover was just what the doctor ordered, wide shoulders dipping down to a powerfully built chest lightly furred with dark hair, soft leather breeches clung to trim hips accentuating long muscular legs. Men should always have long legs!
Stepping nearer, she boldly ran her hands across his broad shoulders, lingering on the silky hair covering his very masculine chest.
"I am very pleased. Too bad you aren't real."
His hands covered hers. “I am real, and soon you'll know just how real."
Pulling free, Annalisa continued her avid exploration. Why not? The dream would end soon anyway. They always did!
"You'd best refrain from touching me further lest you plan on staying.” His eyes swiveled to the bed, dark-winged eyebrows lifting suggestively.
"And if I don't” she breathed, titillated by her passionate imaginings, “what happens then?"
"Then your decision is made, and you stay with me."
"What decision? There are no decisions! This is my dream. I can do what I want.” Her hands continued their brazen exploration.
His eyes grew stormy, narrowing with unconcealed lust. Growling, he pulled her to him, planting hot kisses along her cheekbone, capturing her lips in a soul-melting embrace. She returned his kisses with fervor, enjoying the dream for what it was. Hmm, what was the term—oh yes, a wet dream. A tiny part of her was appalled at her wanton disregard for the consequences of such actions even in this fantasy world, but the greater part enjoyed the uncaring abandonment of her previous concepts of morality. There was no immorality in dreams, was there?
He drew her toward the sumptuous bed, demanding she follow.
Why not, she thought. It's not like it'll matter in the morning!
His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs circling swollen nipples. Moving downward, his fingers brushed at the silky underwear.
"You wear very little at night,” he groaned.
"I usually sleep naked,” she brazenly admitted. “But it's cold here."
He wrapped her in his warm embrace, his lips nuzzling the thin material covering her sensitized breasts. Working his way slowly up, his hands roaming freely, his sensual mouth did wonders to her neck and lower cheekbone.
"Are you cold now?” he whispered, his breath fanning the secret recesses of her ear.
"No,” she laughed. “I'm about as hot as I could ever be!"
Her panties mysterious disappeared, followed by the wispy top. Ripping the buttons on his shirt, she tore the offending garment off. His breeches followed quickly, his engorged member sprang free, hard and thrusting against her belly. Annalisa gasped. Guess if she was going to dream up a lover, might as well be a well-hung one. His hands stroked the insides of her thighs, legs spreading easily to grant him better access. Collapsing backwards on the bed, she reached for him, feeling his weight the entire length of her body as he pressed her down. His lips attacked in a frenzy of response and unadulterated lust. Responding in like kind, she gloried in his embrace, delighted by his unbridled passion, wanting more and even more. She was drowning in a sea of untapped emotions, tight muscles contracting as he entered, screaming his name, panting and gasping with pleasure as he rode her, hard and fast until, in one white hot flash, she dissolved into a million pieces.
* * * *
A loud crash startled Annalisa awake. Grabbing her robe, she flew down the stairs, tripping and stumbling in her haste. The door to Granny's room banged open as she darted through.
Granny was sitting up in bed, her lips pursed disapprovingly. The small bedside lamp lay in pieces on the floor. Shaking her cane at Annalisa, Granny spat angrily, “He can't force you to decide. That isn't the way we agreed."
"What are you talking about?” Gran seemed almost demented in her fury.
"Alec knows the rules! You make your decision with a clear head and only when I know you're sure."
Unbidden, the dream came flooding back. “Granny, what's going on?"
"I heard you scream his name!” she snapped, eyes flashing.
Mortified, Annalisa stuttered. “I ... I was just dreaming. It wasn't anything!"
The old woman's eyes slid away. “He was taking advantage. I know he was. He's always the strongest when you sleep. That's the easiest way for him to get through."
As if Annalisa had never entered her room, Granny rolled over, fast asleep.
Maybe she was having a nightmare, Annalisa thought, but she did hear me! How embarrassing is that? Carefully, she stepped around the broken glass, retucking Gran's covers and making sure she was comfortable.
Heaving a sigh, she grabbed a broom and hastily cleaned up the shattered mess. When she was sure every tiny piece had been cleared away, she went to the kitchen, intent on a late cup of tea. The clock over the stove indicated it was 5:00 a.m. Rose must have decided to stay in town, she decided. Otherwise, she would have been up, puttering around the kitchen and grumbling about Granny. Might as well stay up now. I'm wide awake anyway.
Sipping the tea, her mind wandered back to the night's dream. It seemed so real, and she was having a har
d time separating fact from fiction. Alec, if that was his name, was such an integral part of her life. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't felt his presence. He was always there, weaving through her dreams, comforting her when she needed comforting, offering advice which, she ruefully admitted, happened frequently. A dream psychiatrist or better yet, a dream Dr. Phil! He was certainly much better looking than Dr. Phil. Heat surged in a burgeoning rush! Too bad he wasn't real, she thought again. Last night had certainly gone far beyond anything she'd imagined so far—way beyond! She would give anything to meet a real guy like that today.
The cat leapt up on a nearby chair, regarding her quizzically.
"You aren't supposed to be up there,” she scolded him firmly. “If Rose sees you, you're so busted."
The cat offered one of his famous “I could care less” yawns, then licked his lips as if to say “where's breakfast?"
Scowling, she hissed. “Go catch a mouse or something. I'm not waiting on you."
He continued to sit there, his yellow eyes gazing at her expectantly.
"Keep up that attitude,” she warned, “and you'll starve to death for all I care."
Exhaling loudly in resignation, she stood up and went to the cupboard, retrieved the cat food and filled his bowl.
"Only reason I am doing this,” she informed him, “is because you saved me yesterday. Remember that!"
Jumping lightly down, he trotted across the room, clearly disgruntled with her lowly human behavior, delicately sniffed the food, and then began to eat.
"Yeah! It's the same old kitty food, just like every day."
The door opened, and Rose entered, her twinkling eyes shining with good humor.
"I had the most wonderful time last evening. Thank you for watching Jean,” she cheerfully sang. “Everyone was at the pub, and we had the grandest time."
