Samantha James (20 page)

Anne failed to meet her regard. Caro sighed. She began to say something, then abruptly stopped.

“Look!” Caro said suddenly. She pointed over Anne’s shoulder. “Look there!”

Anne twisted around, followed her gaze to the purple haze that floated on the treetops—followed it to the west, far to the horizon…where an evening star began to flicker. Even as they stared, it twirled and flared bright.

“The night’s first star,” Caro breathed. “Make a wish…Make it quickly!”

“Caro—”

“Annie!”

“It won’t come true if I tell you—”

“Then don’t tell me!” came Caro’s fervent whisper. “Make a wish, Annie. Make it now!”

Anne closed her eyes, lifting her face to the heavens…

When she opened them, a soft smile rimmed Caro’s lips. Ah, but Caro was such a romantic! And yet…

Hope stirred. Strength returned.

Anne gave her cousin a lopsided smile. “Somehow whenever I need it, you always manage to make me feel better.”

“Well,” Caro said lightly, “thank heaven it isn’t often you need it. But I do try.”

Reaching out, Anne hugged her fiercely.

Caro had decided to make an early start for Gleneden the next day. The following morning, they gathered outside the front door to say their good-byes. Caro and Anne hugged once again. Izzie slipped her hand into Simon’s. He bent over, and she flung her arms around his neck and aimed a sloppy kiss at his cheek. Jack then shook Simon’s hand like a proper little man.

On her knees, Anne embraced the little ones. Jack began to cry.

“I liked it when you lived with us, Annie. I don’t want you to live here anymore.”

His woefulness tugged at her heartstrings. “Jack, I’m married now. Like your mama and papa, love. I live here now. With Simon.”

He clung to her. “I don’t care. Come with us, Annie. Come home with us.”

Anne smoothed the hair from his brow. “Love, I’ll come visit soon. How will that be?”

Pink, pouting lips thrust out. “Do you promise?”

Anne ran a finger down the tip of his nubbin nose. “I promise.”

Caro was last. They were each misty-eyed, each reluctant to let go.

It was Anne who finally drew back, laughing
shakily. “Would you look at us? Veritable watering pots, the both of us.”

One last, quick hug all around, and then they were off. Anne waved until the carriage rumbled from sight, unwittingly reminded of their poignant, sentimental parting on her wedding day, when she and Simon left London for Rosewood.

It was just as she’d told Jack. This was her home now. Her life was here, with Simon.

Things had changed, Caro said.
He
had changed. That he had changed was Anne’s most wistful, ardent prayer!

If only she possessed Caro’s faith.

Anne had yet to tell Simon of her secret.

Her pregnancy was a thought that rarely left her mind. She was elated. Awed. Perhaps even a little humble. Boy or girl, she didn’t care. She could hardly wait to feel that small, slight weight settled in the crook of her elbow, for she knew it would feel right and so very perfect!

Would Simon feel the same?

It was a question that gnawed at her endlessly.

She told herself it was caution, not cowardice, that compelled her silence on the matter. First off, she wanted to be absolutely certain. And as she anticipated, her monthly time did not arrive.

Secondly, there was the matter of
how
to tell him. Anne pondered long and hard how to give Simon the news. Thirdly, she wanted the time to be right. She didn’t want to just blurt it out—that might prove horridly awkward for both of them!

She prayed it would be a time of tenderness and peace, of gentleness and gladness. Yet Anne was wholly unsure how Simon would take the revelation.

Simon’s behavior with Jack and Izzie was encouraging—yet was it encouragement enough?

She couldn’t forget Simon’s reluctance the night they had first made love. He’d cited how it would change everything—indeed, that was what lay behind his reluctance! Her thoughts gave her no peace. Was it still his intention that they should part after a year?

Nor could she forget his flat denouncement that very first night at Rosewood…that he wanted no children.

And it was that which frightened her most of all.

She must be honest with herself. She didn’t
know what Simon wanted from her—other than her body. If he was not content to continue as they were, then it appeared he was resigned to it. The passion that flared between them was real. It left them both breathless and desperate and wanting. Yet there was a part of himself he withheld—withheld fiercely!

Anne wanted this baby—
his
baby. This might well be the chance to truly begin their life together. To share their lives, their hopes and dreams.

What held her back, she wasn’t quite certain. Somehow the right time to tell Simon just didn’t seem to come.

For this might well be the turning point of their marriage.

If only she could be certain
which
way their marriage would turn!

She longed for Caro’s staunchness. Caro’s faith, for when it came to this, her own deserted her.

One week to the day after Caro and the children left for Gleneden, Anne found herself in Simon’s study. She dropped the day’s post atop his desk, glancing outside. Dawn brought with it a dreary covering of leaden gray clouds. Perhaps it was the weather that kindled a slight melancholy.

For whatever reason, she found herself lingering. The scent of Simon’s cologne still swirled in the air. It was somehow comforting, and she
found herself lying down on the chaise, her fist tucked beneath her cheek. She would lie down. Just for a moment.

The house was very still and quiet. Anne suddenly remembered how lively it had been with Caro and the children here—and one memory in particular stuck in her mind.

The morning of their departure, Anne accompanied them downstairs to the entrance hall. While they waited for the carriage, Izzie wanted to be held. Anne lifted her high, holding her close, relishing the feel of her small, warm body.

“Dance,” Izzie commanded. “Dance, Annie!” And so Anne dipped and twirled, waltzing around and around, faster and faster until they were both dizzy and laughing. Whirling to a halt, she stumbled. A pair of strong male hands closed warm about her waist in rescue…

“Careful,” Simon had murmured.

An indulgent, almost lazy smile had curled his lips—she recalled thinking how devilishly attractive he was.

Anne never expected to sleep, but sleep she did. And she dreamed—dreamed once more of dancing and whirling across the floor. But the child in her arms was not Izzie, but a beautiful little girl with shining blond curls and rosy cheeks.

“Dance,” the child commanded. “Dance, Mama!” Her face lifted, a delicate, miniature
version of her father’s bold features. And once again, Simon reached out in rescue. But this time he was laughing too…

It was a lovely, lovely dream—one that Anne hated to relinquish. Rising through the clouds of slumber toward wakefulness, she clung to it. Sighing, still smiling, she opened her eyes.

It gave her a start to see Simon seated behind his desk. His ledger was open, his quill in hand. Something lurked in his eyes; something that made her feel suddenly breathless. Curling his lips was the promise of a smile.

She had the unmistakable feeling he’d been watching her for some time.

“Oh, hello.”

“Hello.” That smile widened ever so slightly.

Anne sat up slowly. “How long have you been here?”

A brow quirked. “Long enough to discover you have an adorable snore.”

Anne frowned at him good-naturedly. “It’s quite horrid of you to sit there and watch me—”

“Snore?” he finished blandly.

Anne blushed.

Simon laughed, then crossed his arms and regarded her.

“What were you dreaming about?”

Feeling rather rumpled and disheveled, Anne raised a hand and smoothed her hair. “What?”
"You were smiling in your sleep. Dreaming, I think.”

Anne busied her hands, replacing a pin in the heavy mass of her hair. “I—I was thinking about Caro.” Her hands lowered. “And—the children.”

“They’re quite enchanting, aren’t they? Your dream must have been quite enchanting too, the way you looked.”

And so it was,
she thought wildly. Her mind began to race, and so did her pulse. Should she tell him? Oh, but what was she to say?

By summer, the house would no longer be so empty. By summer, Jack and Izzie would have a new cousin.

He cocked his head. “Anne? Is something the matter?”

This was absurd, really. He was her husband. So why couldn’t she say a word? All at once her tongue felt absurdly clumsy.

Something must have given her away. His eyes flickered. His smile withered.

“What,” he said faintly. “Have you…conceived?”

Anne knotted her fingers in her lap. She neither denied nor confirmed it. Instead she countered his question with one of her own.

“I remember the night we came here, you said you didn’t want children…You still don’t, do you?”

There was an awkward—an endless!—pause.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His silence said it all.

Anne resented him. She resented him bitterly in that instant. Granted, theirs was no ordinary marriage. Children were a natural consequence of marriage. It was natural—expected!—that a woman—a wife—would want children to nurture, to love and cuddle and watch grow. And men…men wanted children to carry on their blood and their name.

Every man but Simon.

There was a ringing silence.

Frost settled around Anne’s heart. This was everything she had dreaded. She knew then…knew he didn’t want a child. She couldn’t convince him. She couldn’t reach him. She’d thought she could make him love her. She’d thought she could make him care.

She thought only of the future.

While he thought only of the past.

She couldn’t tell him about the baby. She simply couldn’t.

“So,” she said quietly. “That’s why you refuse to take your pleasure, isn’t it? Why you pull from me before you can spill yourself.”

His features seemed to freeze over.

Bitterness twisted inside her. “What,” she said, “did you think I wouldn’t
know
?”

Inside Anne was stricken, stunned, but she wouldn’t show it. “You may recall,” she said
very deliberately, “that on several occasions you were careless.”

“Once.” His voice was very low.

“Twice, Simon.
Twice.
” Anne took an almost perverse pleasure in reminding him.

A telltale color seeped up his neck. “I believe I was quite inebriated,” he said coolly. “My recall is rather limited—”

“Liar,” she said softly.
“Liar.”

His eyes grew chill. “My dearest Anne, the subject of bed play is hardly a matter that should be discussed—”

Anne was suddenly on her feet. “I beg to differ with you, sir! Is it to be done—and never spoken of? You are my husband. I am your wife. I’ve felt you tremble with want. I’ve felt you tremble in passion, but you refuse to let me close. You lie with me at night. You lie
inside
me. But in the light of day, it’s all you can do to look me in the eye. It’s as if you—you pretend it didn’t happen. You share nothing with me, save your body—no, not even that!”

Tiny white lines appeared beside his mouth. His lips compressed. Very deliberately he shut his ledger—but he would not shut her out.

Her steps carried her forward, directly in front of his desk. Was he truly so blind? Or was he simply so blind to her? “Look at me, Simon.”

He clasped his hands atop the ledger. “My dear, you have my undivided attention.”

Anne took a sharp, agonizing breath.

“I know you, Simon. I know what you hide. I
see
what you hide. You deny me your seed. You deny me yourself. Have you any idea how that makes me feel? You cheat yourself. And you cheat
me
.”

Simon’s jaw clamped tight. It was true. She did know him, he acknowledged furiously. She threatened him. She exposed him. She’d found the chink in his armor, and she attacked precisely where it would do the most damage.

His fingers drummed on the journal. “Damn it, Anne, what the hell are you doing? You know damned well I would never hurt you—”

A cry broke from her lips.

“How can you say that? How?” Her eyes went dark. “My God,” she whispered, “you’re breaking my heart…Do you even care?”

His jaw tensed. “I know what you think.” His tone was very low. “That I don’t know how to love.”

“Oh, I think you do, Simon. I know you do. I think you
won’t
.”

Simon took a breath. He felt…oh, oddly out of step. At odds with the world and everyone in it.

His gaze slid away, to a point just beyond her shoulder. He swallowed. “I can’t, Anne.” It was a crippling, brittle truth. A brutal truth. “You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t understand. Children are so fragile. Life is so fragile—”

“And what about me? Are you so selfish then? Do you think you’re the only one who’s ever lost someone you love? The only one who’s ever lost a child? My mother lost three, Simon.
Three.
And my father—I sat at his bedside for nearly a year watching him die, little by little. Day by day. My mother rarely left his side. When he died—when her babies died—she didn’t run away. She didn’t hide. So do not dare to tell me I don’t know what it’s like.”

Her fingers curled into her palms. “I do not mean to be cruel. But they’re gone, Simon. Ellie and your boys are gone. You’ve punished yourself all these years. How much longer will you continue to punish yourself? How much longer will you punish me? I want a husband. I want children. Children of my own. Children of
you
.”

Anne was relentless.

“Your pain is still alive. Bury it, Simon. Bury
them
.”

Simon felt as if he’d been struck. His head was spinning—the world along with it. “That’s enough,” he said sharply. “Stop this instant.”

“And if I don’t? You can’t send me to my room like—like a child. And you certainly can’t punish me like one.”

“Then don’t punish me!” His tone was like ice.

He was still fighting her, she realized. She
hadn’t known it would hurt so much. It was like a knife lacerating her heart. It sliced her in two. Everything inside her cried out. Would he be forever lost to her?

It was as if she’d been caught in a stranglehold. He would safeguard his heart at the risk of her own, and it was more than she could bear. Inside she was bleeding. He was tearing her asunder. She couldn’t tell him about the baby. Not now. She didn’t want him out of a sense of guilt or duty.

She didn’t want half measures. She didn’t want scraps. She wouldn’t take them. She would salvage her pride and she would not yield it.

She longed to lay her head against his shoulder—lie with him the night through! Rest her hand above his heart, in utter safety and trust.

And know that when morning broke, he would lie beside her.

She wanted him next to her. Each night. Every night.

It was all or nothing. She would take no less.

But his expression was inscrutable. She could see him pulling back. His defense was like a war. Parry and retreat. Duck back where he thought he couldn’t be seen. She wouldn’t let him. Not this time.

Lodged in her breast was a whirlwind of pain—a whirlwind of impotent fury.

She slapped her palms on the desktop. “Why
are you like this?” she cried. “Why do you shut me out?”

He said nothing, merely sat back in his chair and surveyed her coolly. “Anne, you are overwrought. When your mind is clearer, we can continue this discussion.”

Pure, unbridled rage shot through her. “My mind has never been clearer.”

“For heaven’s sake, Anne, please listen…”

His irritation merely fired her outrage. Her wedding ring all at once seemed an oppressive weight. Her fingers were on it, twisting and dragging.

“No,” she said fiercely. “You listen. I won’t be half a woman. I won’t be half a wife.”

Her wedding ring scraped free. With all her might, she flung it—straight it at his chest. Straight at his heart.

“If you do not want me, then by God, I don’t want you.”

The ring bounced from his chest, then rolled across the floor.

Simon emitted a curse. “Anne, what the devil!
Anne
!”

But Anne had already turned a deaf ear. It was with no little amount of satisfaction that she did what he had done to her…

She turned her back and stalked away.

Anne didn’t go down to dinner that night. She didn’t have the energy—or the will—to face Simon just now. She didn’t regret it. Any of it. She was tired of struggling. Frustrated with his resistance. She’d thought it would take nothing but persistence and patience to bring him around. She never dreamed it would be so hard. There was little point in wishing on stars, in spinning daydreams that would never come true.