by Ruth Wind
What would he have been like if he'd never met Kara? He wondered if he would have charmed women into having sex with him, as his brothers had, never regretting the liaisons because, as Lance was fond of saying, he gave them something worth remembering. Kara had instinctively understood his teenage lust, and even when she did not allow intercourse until their wedding night, she had known a lot of other tricks to keep him from going insane. By the time he was sixteen, Tyler had had a lot more regular sex than anyone he knew, though he hadn't talked about it. It had been private, personal.
And because he'd explored the world of the senses with one woman, he had developed no inhibitions except the one against sleeping with anyone else. Together, he and Kara had explored the farthest reaches of sensual pleasure.
He frowned at the cards. Poor Anna. She had been a virgin when he took her the first time, and his memory of that night brought with it a roar of noise and heat and steam. Even now, he could hardly believe they had found such furious physical accord, that they had torn into each other the way they had. That night had held the force of a speeding train.
And Tyler had not recovered. He'd taken refuge in his arrogant, morally correct world and gone into a state of deep denial about his hunger for her. A hunger he had been able to deny neatly until he kissed her this afternoon. And then he'd turned into a caricature of a lustful man, unable to think about anything but having her, unable to do anything without trying to meet his own selfish need of her.
But even now, he ached. Even now, all he wanted was to lie down next to her, flesh to flesh, and tumble into the narcotic world of sensual pleasure. The way he felt in this moment, he'd abandon himself to erotic addiction to Anna's body for the rest of his natural life.
Covering his face, he groaned softly. The trouble was, he didn't want a trembling, frightened Anna. He wanted her whole, and giving herself freely. Sex, married or unmarried, was not the sin. Coercion was. If he coerced her, he really would be no better than his father.
In the meantime, they would have to sleep together in the presence of Curtis, especially since there was only one bed in the cabin. Curtis would not understand if one of them slept on the couch, and anyway, that would get old real fast.
Tyler rose and turned off the lights. A truly moral man would be able to sleep beside a woman he desired and leave her alone. That would be his test.
Before he undressed, he turned off the bedside lamp. Through the windows came the soft grayness of a snowstorm at night. It gave the room a silvery, almost enchanted glow, and for a moment, Tyler admired it, feeling himself calm and center on the quiet of the falling snow. Nature had a way of putting everything into perspective.
He stripped to his boxers and climbed gently into the bed. Although he stayed as far as he could on his own side of the bed, it was impossible to completely ignore the warmth of her body on the other side. Impossible not to hear the even, steady whisper of her breath. Tyler resolutely closed his eyes, and when his mind was tempted to stray toward the delectable bit of woman nearby, he imagined the snowy sky, silent and peaceful.
* * *
Anna was awakened by the insistent press of light against her eyelids. Twice she tried to burrow back into the pillows, but no matter which way she turned, the light was bright and inescapable. Finally, she shifted and opened her eyes to a room bathed in the brilliance of bright morning sunlight sparkling against undisturbed snow. She blinked against it without moving, waiting for her brain to follow her into this world.
She stretched below the covers, and her foot encountered flesh. She turned over more completely. Tyler lay sprawled on his stomach, the covers tangled in a knot around his waist. The light had evidently not bothered him in the slightest, for he slept on obliviously.
Anna plumped her pillow a little and took the moment to observe him privately. The thick blond hair was scattered over his face and the pillow, and his jaw was bristly with unshaven beard. Even in sleep, he did not lose that guarded look, that wariness that surrounded him like a cloak, and it made Anna sad. Everyone should have the freedom of putting down his burdens while he slept.
She ached to touch him, to slide her palm down the smooth, supple length of his back, over the firm, well-formed shape of his backside. Where her toes had encountered his furred calf, she let them stay, since it had not disturbed him.
In this moment, he did not look like a prince. Only a man who had suffered too much, first at the hands of his father, then from the loss of his beloved wife. A man who lived too much alone, too far away from those who could have helped heal his wounds.
But somehow, Anna carried his child in her body. By magic or fate or the saints, she had been given the task of reaching out to him, of trying to shatter the walls he'd erected to protect himself—or, failing that, at least going behind the walls herself to keep him company.
It had been selfish of her to hold him at arm's length last night. She wanted him at least as much as he wanted her. It meant risking her heart, but she suspected that heart was already lost, and in the meantime, she might give them both joy to remember.
Hesitantly, she reached for him, and gave in to her wish to touch his warm, strong back. He stirred the smallest bit, and Anna scooted closer so that she could reach him better. She trailed her hand down his back, then, more daringly, over his hips and the lovely firmness of backside. It aroused her oddly, and she grew bolder still, brushing her hands down under the covers, over the backs of his thighs. He made a soft noise and shifted onto his side, but did not awaken.
Anna smiled to herself, and stilled until he fell deeply asleep again, taking pleasure in simply gazing at his face, at the crease on one cheek and the scatters of hair over his forehead. When she was sure he was fast asleep again, she ran her fingers down his chest, through the silky hair between his nipples, down his flat stomach, and wickedly lower, to the heavy flesh nestled between his thighs. It responded with a delightful little leap and, with a few more light, teasing brushes, grew solid and thrust against the light cotton shorts.
His hand closed around her wrist. "Anna, no."
She looked at him. "I'm ready, Tyler. I was selfish last night. I want to make love to you."
He closed his eyes, but did not release her hand. "I can't, Anna." He swallowed. "I was dreaming of—"
"Don't say it." She pulled out of his grip. Humiliated and burning with shame, she struggled with the covers. "I understand."
Before she could bolt, he snagged her around the waist, hauling her close to his body in a cradling hold. Anna covered her face with her hands. "Let me go," she whispered, holding herself rigid.
He stroked her hair. "I don't want to be thinking about another woman when I make love to you, Anna."
She swallowed, struggling to keep her voice even. "I already told you, I understand." She pulled against him, but he held her firm, his arms around her, his chest against her back.
"Anna," he said quietly, and kissed her shoulder. "Let's take it easy on each other for a while. Let's just find out where we are, before we try to patch the gaps with sex."
She turned to look at him. Gently, he touched her face. "The only struggles we're having are about sex. It seems to me that maybe we're just not ready for that."
Anna realized it was true. The only awkwardness that existed between them came about because of sex—whether to indulge or not, when and how, and who was ready and who was not. She nodded.
His hand rested easily against her face, and now he touched her cheekbone with his thumb, smiling gently. "I think you know it has nothing to do with how much I want you." He cast a regretful glance downward, over her body. "Because God knows, I do. But we're going to hurt each if we keep this up."
She lifted a hand and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "You're right. We'll just take it one day at a time." She smiled. "And aren't you glad yesterday is over?"
He grinned. "Yeah. What do you say we get dressed and go have a ridiculously expensive brunch on my brother, then get Curtis and go h
ome."
A weight dropped from her. "Great idea."
* * *
Chapter 15
« ^ »
Winter waned in the valley over the next few weeks, and Anna didn't know if it was the promise of spring in the air, or the simple agreement she'd made with Tyler that Sunday morning at the hotel, but things were surprisingly smooth and peaceful. Anna settled in with no fuss at the cabin, and a routine quickly developed between her and Tyler and Curtis. She learned to cook on the potbellied stove after a few disasters that benefited only the dog, Charley. She got used to the drive up and down the mountain very quickly, too, and learned to make lists so that she wouldn't forget anything important on a trip to town.
Tyler had a major renovation job to do, for an old house purchased by a wealthy Denverite, and Anna gladly condensed her workweek to spend more time with Curtis while Tyler worked.
Nights were the most difficult. Tyler worked on finishing the loft so that they could move the bed upstairs, but until it was done, there was nowhere for them to sleep except together in the same bed. Tyler never made a move toward her, and never seemed to have the trouble Anna did falling asleep. She coped.
In general, it was like living with a good friend, or a brother. Their relationship was utterly chaste, without a single external hint of the things boiling beneath the surface, but Anna found she enjoyed being with him tremendously. He had a quick, bawdy sense of humor, and a frank way of speaking that she found refreshing. In the evenings, they played games with Curtis, or read, or talked. They didn't play cards.
Meanwhile, the baby within Anna grew astonishingly fast. It amazed her how well she felt as the baby grew. Her initial exam had indicated nothing at all awry, as she'd known it would. As she passed from the first trimester to the second, she stopped needing so much sleep, as well, although her appetite slowed down not at all.
And the phenomenon she'd observed in her sisters was true for Anna, as well. She had never in her life been the sort of woman to cause a stir when she went out, but now men stopped in the streets to look after her. She got honked at by boys way too young for her. Clerks and baggers at the grocery store flirted outrageously.
Anna was fairly sure she could get used to it.
One Sunday afternoon, as Anna cooked a big pot of her grandmother's spaghetti for supper, she felt the baby kick. It was a tiny, fluttering sensation, but she cried out in surprise. Tyler dropped the wood he was whittling and rushed over. "What is it?" he demanded.
Anna smiled and reached for his hand. "I felt the baby," she said, awed, and put his palm over the place. "There!"
He pressed his hand close, looking first at her tummy, then at Anna. "I felt it."
And for the first time since the wedding, they fell adrift in the magic of their own special world, a world no one but the two of them could enter. Anna saw a silvery shine light his pale eyes, a glow of wonder and true joy, and a swell of painful love swept through her.
Curtis ran into the room. "What? My brother?"
Anna laughed. "It might be a sister, you know."
"I wanna feel, too."
"Sure you do." She reached for the little hand. "You have to be very still, and wait for a minute."
"I don't feel nothin'."
Beside her, Tyler chuckled. "Hang on, kiddo. Just wait."
Suddenly, Anna felt the flutter come again, and Curtis's mouth dropped open. "There's really a baby in there!" He put both hands on her tummy, his eyes wide as saucers. "I feel him!"
Anna laughed, and next to her, Tyler laughed softly, too, one hand falling on her shoulder in silent adult communication. "Can you tell if it's a brother or sister yet?"
Seriously, Curtis frowned. "Nope." He backed off and wiped his hands on his legs. "Doesn't that hurt?"
"No, not even a little bit."
"Okay."
"Go wash up, kiddo," Tyler said, his hand still on her shoulder. "We're going to eat."
As he bustled off, Anna put her hand on her belly again, still charmed by the wonder. Very softly, Tyler pressed a kiss to her temple and let her go. "I'll set the table."
Anna hurriedly bent her head to hide the swell of tears the tender gesture gave her, and only nodded.
* * *
"I'm ready, Daddy!" Curtis called.
Tyler put aside the stair spoke he was carving. "Coming!"
Since Anna had come, she had largely taken over the duty of putting Curtis to bed, a job Tyler hadn't minded relinquishing. But he was always there to tuck his son in, too, and it had become a treasured time for all of them. Anna had instituted prayers, which she heard very solemnly, kneeling at his bedside while Tyler checked the stove. Then Anna and Tyler each gave Curtis a hug and kiss, and he loved to say, "Night, Mommy. Night, Daddy."
It had been difficult at first, but Tyler had found it impossible to resist the unrivaled pleasure Curtis took in having a mother to call his own. Tyler knew Kara's place in her son's life would become clear to the boy as he grew, and for now, having a flesh-and-blood woman to love made him deeply happy.
Anna shot him a warning glance when he entered the cozy, yellow-lit room and, alert, Tyler settled beside Curtis on the bed. "Ready for a kiss, champ?"
Kneeling beside the bed, Anna smoothed the hair from Curtis's face, and Tyler realized he was weeping silently. "Hey, come here." He gathered his son, smelling of baby lotion, into his lap. "What's wrong?"
Curtis lifted his head. "How does the baby get out, Daddy? Cody tol' me hith kitties came out his cat's bottom and there was lots of blood."
Tyler glanced at Anna and raised his eyebrows.
She sat next to them on the bed and put her hand on Curtis's back. "Well, it isn't exactly easy," she said, making it sound like something simple. "But it isn't as bad as it sounds." She bit her lip, and with a glance at Tyler gave him the ball.
Tyler had always been as open with his son as he was able, but this was a little different. "There's a special slide inside a woman, and the baby comes out between her legs."
"Oh." He sounded much relieved. "Will it hurt?"
"A little. But then it's over, and you get a baby, so it's worth it."
Curtis said nothing for a long time, and Tyler waited, sensing this wasn't quite finished. The boy folded and unfolded his fingers, seemingly absorbed in the fit. Finally he said, in a very quiet voice, "Can't you send the baby back?"
"I thought you were happy."
"My first mommy died when I was borned." He burst into tears. "I don't want my new mommy to die, too."
The knife sliced straight through Tyler's gut, and for one moment, he couldn't breathe. Anna touched his wrist, but he couldn't look at her, overwhelmed as he was with a strange sense of dread and grief that took him totally by surprise.
"Curtis," Anna said softly, "come here, honey, and let me hold you. I want to tell you about something."
He went willingly, and Tyler stood up and turned away, trying to regain his breath so that Curtis would not be even more frightened.
"What?" Curtis said. "Are you going to die, too?"
"No," she said clearly, firmly. "You know how many babies my mommy has?"
"Three?"
She chuckled. "Eight. So she had plenty of babies and she's still alive. Sometimes, a woman is sick, and her body doesn't feel good when she has a baby inside of it. Your mommy was sick, but she wanted you so much that she had to have you."
Tyler struggled to listen calmly, to find some rock in the spinning world to cling to, but his vision blurred, sending the stars in the black sky into long slashes of white.
"Is she sad now?" Curtis asked.
Tyler braced an elbow against the windowsill, and bent his head into his hand.
Anna's voice, too, sounded a little unsteady, but she said, "No. I'm sure that she is with you every minute of every day, making sure you're safe, and that you have people who will take care of you."
"She's an angel."
"Right."
"Can she see me right now?"<
br />
"Yes." The word was a whisper.
Tyler wiped his face on his sleeve. Emotions clogged his throat, but he urgently felt the need to turn. Anna sat on the bed, her face streaming with tears, the yellow light from the stove catching the edges of her hair so that she looked as if she were an Italian Renaissance painting of the Madonna. In her arms, Curtis was as blond as a cherub. His face wore a sober, wondrous expression, his eyes cast heavenward.
"Thank you, Mommy," Curtis said to the air.
A wash of tears blurred the picture again and, struggling to keep them from spilling over, Tyler did not dare blink. He crossed his arms hard and willed them away. The black of Anna's hair and the gold of the fire and Curtis's hair formed bands of smeared light. Rigidly, Tyler stared, trying to keep his emotions in check.
And for one, fleeting, endless second, it seemed there was a pale shadow moving around Curtis and over Anna and somehow obscuring his view of them. At that moment, Charley whined softly from his post at the foot of the bed, and a strange terror bolted through Tyler. He blinked, and felt tears spill, but there was only Anna and Curtis, heads bent together. Anna murmured something and began to sing softly, rocking back and forth with his son in her arms.
On puppet legs, Tyler forced himself to move across the small space between them. He pressed a kiss to Curtis's crown. "Good night, son," he said.
And fled.
* * *
Anna tucked Curtis in and sang a lullaby. "I love you, sweetie," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
A gleam lit the bright blue eyes. "I love you more."
"I love you most."
"You're bigger!" he cried, and giggled.
"Night."
Quietly, Anna went into the other room. Tyler sat on the couch, staring at the fire. His long back was rigid, his hands were folded and pressed to his mouth. For a moment, Anna paused, wondering what his thoughts were, and if he'd be willing to share them.
She had worried about this, about the moment when everything sank in. He'd been too calm, which meant his feelings were buried. It wasn't natural for a man who had lost so much to absorb the new marriage and impending birth without at least a little worry or angst or something. Especially a man like Tyler, who felt things deeply, and who had been taught by his father that such feelings were unmanly.
