Housebound Page 6

  Of course, she added dreamily to herself, he had also managed to demonstrate to her that there was a great deal more to kissing than she had previously supposed. There was a world of difference between Noah’s kisses and Wilson’s closed-mouth salutes. So far sex had been a pleasant, comfortable experience, though that experience had been surprisingly limited for this day and age. She could count on both hands the number of times she’d made love. Wilson was a definite improvement over the hurried fumblings of her college classmates, but the earth had failed to move. Anne had always supposed the steamy descriptions in novels were euphemistic exaggerations. Now she wondered.

  But Noah Grant was not going to be the one to enlighten her, much as he’d doubtless be willing to. He might have been in the mood for a weekend fling—that was the last thing she needed. She would do her best to keep out of the way of temptation. And temptation it was—an overwhelming one. And sometime soon, when the memory of Noah Grant was banished from Wilson’s jealous brain and Anne’s restless heart, she would calmly, politely sever the too long engagement.

  Like the coward she was, she stayed hidden in the kitchen during the two hours it took for the dinner to cook. The motley assemblage had only gotten through the first part of the meal before Anne was searching desperately in her mind for an excuse to leave the table. She could always feign an upset stomach, but considering they were all devouring her food that might not be polite. Her miserable eyes surveyed the table, and she took another healthy grip of her Heineken.

  Ashley was at his very worst, sitting back at the foot of the table, toying with his food, surveying the others with that malicious glitter in his eyes. He had disdained the beer that was a traditional accompaniment to carbonnades, preferring to bring his rum-and-tonic to the table. It must have been his fourth, Anne estimated by the flush around his eyes, the sneer on his mouth and the slight belligerence in every spoken word.

  Stephen Piersall didn’t look much happier, and Anne couldn’t blame him. Ashley, when he was in a mood like that, was no one’s treat. Quietly the blond man addressed himself to his food, shoveling in massive amounts, his eyes slithering nervously to Ashley’s sullen face at various intervals.

  Holly was chattering, loudly and nervously, with not a soul listening to her but a studious Wilson. Proffy was morose, Noah silent and Anne ready to scream. Her only recourse was to the beer, and she kept on drinking.

  When one of the far too frequent silences fell as Holly stopped long enough to nibble at her now chilled beef, Anne finally spoke up. “What did you and Stephen do today, Ashley?”

  “I doubt you really have the stomach to hear, sister mine,” Ashley sneered lightly, casting a mocking glance at Piersall’s subdued face.

  Not the best choice of subject matter, Anne realized with a sense of fatality. She shrugged apologetically at her brother, but it was too late.

  “And how are your wedding plans coming, dear heart? I do hope you’re planning to tie the knot before you’re eligible for Social Security.”

  “We were thinking in terms of next fall,” Wilson said, unperturbed.

  “Such unseemly haste!” Ashley scoffed. “You will have been engaged almost two years by then. Aren’t you afraid people might talk? When you rush into things like that, people might think you had to marry her.”

  “We’ll be having children as soon as we can,” Wilson announced firmly, and Anne cast him a startled glance. Much as she wanted children, they’d never so much as discussed the subject, and his decision struck her as being both arbitrary and smug.

  “How nice!” Holly chirped. “I can’t wait to be an aunt. How many will you have, Wilson?”

  “Two,” he pronounced. “I would have liked three, but Anne is getting a little far along in her childbearing years, and I think we’d only have time for two.”

  Elderly Anne choked on her beer, sending an angry glare at her imperturbable fiancé, but Holly bounced on blithely. “I think that’s marvelous! I can’t wait to see Anne big as a house.”

  “And where will this happy, fecund family be living?” Ashley murmured delicately. “Anne is used to having lots of space—I don’t think she’ll care for that rather spacious apartment you have in New Hope. Not if she has to share it with squalling infants.”

  “And I wouldn’t ask her to. Any more than I’d ask her to give up this place. We all know how much it means to her.”

  A peculiar, guilty silence fell over the table, darkening everyone’s face except Steve Piersall’s. Even Noah looked strangely uncomfortable, Anne realized belatedly, and a sudden premonition of disaster washed over her.

  “No,” Wilson continued, oblivious to the tension. “We’ve agreed that we’ll live here. Proffy has given us his blessing.” He nodded majestically toward the head of the table, and Proffy avoided his eyes. “And heaven knows there’s more than enough room in this rambling old place. Of course, I’d contribute a bit toward the housekeeping expenses.”

  “I’m afraid it will have to be more than a bit, Wilson, old boy,” Ashley drawled with his usual malice, well aware that Wilson was notoriously tightfisted. “The upkeep on a drafty old house like this would bankrupt a Rockefeller.” For some reason his pale, slightly protuberant blue eyes sought out Noah’s impassive ones for a moment, then moved onward. “If things keep up the way they are, you and your child bride might find yourselves on the street, the house sold out from under you.”

  “No!” Anne’s voice was raw with pain and anger. “You’ll do it over my dead body!”

  “But Anne, my precious, you know as well as I do that it won’t have to come to that,” Ashley murmured. “The house is in all our names, with the stipulation that if the majority of the heirs wish to sell it, they may. So if Proffy, Holly and I decide we could use several hundred thousand dollars a bit better than a crumbling pre-Revolutionary War farmhouse there won’t be a damned thing you can do about it. You know it’s going to have to come to that, sooner or later. It’s inevitable.”

  Anne fought back the panic that threatened to engulf her, and she managed a stiff smile. “You are a nasty wretch, Ashley,” she said in an unconcerned voice. “You love to pick out someone’s vulnerable spots and then stick pins in them. Stick away, brother dear. This house has belonged to Kirklands for over a hundred years, and it will be for a hundred years more.”

  “That’s a lovely thought, darling, but impractical. Granted you’ll pop out the requisite two point three babies, but they’ll be Engallses, not Kirklands. And I’m afraid my life-style and preferences do somewhat preclude procreation,” Ashley said lightly, casting a contemptuous glance at his companion’s flushed face. “So it will be up to Holly, and unless she chooses to do it out of wedlock, they’ll have their father’s name also. So why bother to hold on to the old ruin?”

  Anne set her glass down with a snap. “All right, Ashley, enough. You got to me. I give in. Choose some other helpless victim, will you?”

  “Besides, I probably will have my children out of wedlock,” Holly interrupted saucily. “I don’t know if there’s a man I could bear to put up with for even nine months.” She cast a sneaky glance at Wilson to gauge his reaction.

  Wilson didn’t disappoint her. “You may think that kind of pertness is appealing, brat,” he said heavily, “but there are some of us who find it in extremely bad taste. Don’t we, Anne?”

  Anne was aware of Noah’s curious eyes on her. “Wilson, you should know by now that Holly doesn’t mean half of what she says. She likes to shock people, so she says outrageous things for effect, and I’m afraid that over the years you’ve proven to be one of her favorite victims. You shouldn’t rise to the bait.”

  Wilson seemed to be listening to her with only half an ear, his brown eyes disapproving, with some other hidden emotion in their depths. “Her favorite victim, am I?” he murmured. “I think I’ll have to teach you respect for your elders, brat.”

  “Try it.” Holly stuck out her tongue at him.

  “I think I’ll get
the dessert before you resort to throwing food at each other,” Anne said lightly, pushing back her chair and refusing all offers of help. She needed a moment or two alone, and for more than one reason. She needed to get over the shock Ashley’s malicious words had given her, and she needed time to ponder the startling possibility that Noah had hinted at and suddenly seemed all too likely. That hidden emotion in Wilson’s usually bland brown eyes when he surveyed Holly was a great deal warmer and livelier than when they surveyed her. Impossible as it might seem, Anne had the sudden suspicion that his feelings for Holly might be just a trifle more heated than that of a disapproving older-brother type.

  And Holly’s pertness had reminded her of nothing so much as adolescent flirting. If you couldn’t get the boy’s attention by being sweet, the next best thing was being a brat. Even if he scolded you, at least he knew you were there.

  But heavens, what an absurd mismatch that would be, Anne thought, fetching the strawberry Bavarian cream from the refrigerator. Neither of them would be likely to change for the other, and they’d doubtless fight like cats and dogs. And anyway, it was probably all a figment of her imagination. Nothing would have been quite so neat and comfortable as having her fiancé and Noah’s pursuer fall in love. It was just too convenient to be remotely possible.

  “Do you need any help?” Speak of the devil, Anne thought with a sigh of acceptance.

  “No,” she said resignedly. “But now that you’re here you can carry the liqueur glasses; I forgot to put them on the table earlier.”

  “I knew I’d come in handy for something,” Noah said with an engaging grin. “Your sister and fiancé have an interesting relationship, don’t they?”

  So he’d noticed it, too. She smiled blandly. “Do they? They’ve known each other forever, of course. And they’ve always fought like cats and dogs, I’m afraid. Not very comfortable at the dinner table, but then, we’re used to it. And anything’s better than Ashley’s tongue.” A sudden shadow darkened her usually pale face. “Actually, Wilson and Holly are just like brother and sister. Despite her teasing she was delighted when we got engaged.”

  “Eighteen months ago,” he said impishly. “About the time you said she started acting jealous. Well, they don’t look like any brother and sister I’ve ever seen. I’d be willing to bet she wasn’t as delighted as she said she was.”

  “And I’m willing to bet you that you’re just hoping she’ll be distracted enough to let you escape,” Anne shot back, ignoring her own suspicions.

  “Perhaps,” he said, unconvinced. He started toward the narrow kitchen steps and she followed him, the Bavarian cream in her hands. When he stopped short, blocking the doorway, she nearly careened into him, flattening the Bavarian cream on his back. Luckily she was adept enough to catch herself in time, and she contented herself with a mild curse.

  “Do you really care so much for this house?” He had turned back and was looking at her out of troubled blue eyes.

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. This house means more to me than anything.”

  “More than your family?”

  “It depends what you mean. If one of them was ill, or really needed something, then they would come first. But if it’s a question of Ashley and Holly wanting an extra thousand to keep up their extravagant life-styles and not wanting the considerable bother of a house this size, then yes, the house would mean more to me than them.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t expect you to understand, but this house is part of my family. It’s my child, my mother, my security and my happiness.”

  “And you’ll sacrifice everything for it?” Despite the lightness in his voice there was no mistaking the dead seriousness behind his question.

  “I haven’t made any sacrifices I haven’t wanted to,” she said, firmly believing it. “And I never will.”

  “I wish I could believe you,” he said enigmatically. And then he turned and continued up the stairs, leaving her staring perplexedly after him.

  Chapter Five

  Noah Grant stretched out in front of the fire, reveling in the unexpected solitude of the moment. Though he could have wished for one certain companion, the silence was nevertheless welcome. He warmed the brandy in his hand, taking another small sip as he stared meditatively into the flames. The Kirkland family was not at all what he had expected, and he could feel himself being drawn in against his will. It was hard to remember that he was here to do a job, not to get involved in the various emotional entanglements that ran rampant. And that included the wistfully beautiful woman who’d run and hidden in her room the moment her younger sister drove off with that pompous idiot.

  Not that Wilson was really that bad, Noah conceded. A little stiff, a little unimaginative, but definitely not a stupid man. Except for the fact that he didn’t seem to have noticed that he was in love with the younger sister, not with his fiancée, he was really quite astute. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out why Noah was really there, even if Annie still remained mercifully in the dark.

  As for Holly, she’d certainly forgotten her determination to seduce him once Wilson appeared on the scene. It was a good thing his masculine ego was reasonably secure, he thought wryly, remembering her haphazard attention throughout the evening. Looking into Holly’s distant, unhappy blue eyes, Noah had little doubt that she knew the depths of her feelings. It was no wonder she was such a brat—she couldn’t help but suspect Wilson’s feelings might be warmer than he let on. It must be incredibly frustrating for her—no wonder she was eager to take out all those untapped sexual energies on the first willing man. Except that he wasn’t particularly willing.

  He had always chosen his sexual partners carefully, for their invulnerable hearts as much as for their various attractions, but his ego did draw the line at being someone’s substitute in bed. Even if he deliberately steered clear of any sort of commitment, he still wanted some level of honesty in bed, and Holly Kirkland wasn’t going to provide that. Her sister was another, far more dangerous matter.

  Leaning back, Noah wondered idly whether the kindest thing he could do would be to leave Anne strictly alone. No, perhaps the kindest thing would be to distract the voracious Holly. He wouldn’t put it past her to ignore any sisterly loyalty if Wilson gave her encouragement. And if Anne really loved the man…But she couldn’t, he told himself. It would still come as quite a blow to her pride, if not her heart, when Wilson finally recognized what he was really after. Noah could only hope it happened before the long-postponed wedding and not after.

  Of course he could be noble and disinterested and point it out to her. He’d already dropped a few hints, but she’d turned that pale, distant face on him and shrugged her shoulders. Those deep-green eyes of hers could be so deliberately bland. Until he kissed her, which he’d done far too often and not anywhere near enough in the past twenty-four hours. And then her eyes would widen and stare up at him, all vulnerable and yearning, that clever mouth of hers would soften and tremble, and…what the hell was he doing, sitting here having erotic fantasies? He should have outgrown that by now. Maybe he should reconsider the far too willing Holly.

  But the dangerous fact remained that Annie moved him more than any woman had in years. Since Nialla. And he was here under false pretences; in effect, lying to her. He’d better keep his damned roaming hands off her. Apart from the deceit involved, she was exactly the sort of woman he always steered clear of. Vulnerable, loving. Clearly wanting children, despite that oaf of a fiancé’s dictatorial pronouncements. And there was nothing he could offer her but pain.

  Would she be asleep already, he mused, taking another sip of the cognac, lying curled up on that ridiculously narrow daybed, with the moonlight streaming in that wall of windows, silvering her sleeping body and throwing the rest of the room into shadows? Did she wear anything when she slept? And if he went for a midnight stroll around the back of this rambling, tumbled-down estate, would it be ridiculously perverse to find himself outside her window?

  “That’s a damned strange expres
sion on your face, Grant.” Ashley’s lightly affected voice broke through his erotic fantasies, and Noah glanced up at him with a distinct lack of welcome. “What are you doing here, dear boy? Mooning over my sister? I wouldn’t have thought it likely.” He sauntered into the room, his pale eyes shadowed, his mouth discontented. “Where is she, by the way?”

  Noah could play games, too. “She’s driven Engalls home.”

  “I wasn’t referring to Holly.”

  “Weren’t you? And what makes you think it wouldn’t be Anne driving her fiancé home? Wouldn’t it be more logical that she’d be the one?”

  “Much to Holly’s dismay. And don’t give me that innocent look. You know as well as I do what’s going on in that particular ménage.”

  “I don’t know if anyone actually does, particularly the principals. To answer your question, Anne disappeared into her bedroom the moment Wilson and Holly left.”

  “Jealous, do you suppose? Maybe she’s finally catching on.” Ashley slouched into a chair by the fire.

  “She’s certainly not unobservant. But I don’t think that’s why she went to her room. She’d hiding from me.” Now why did he say that? Noah cursed himself. Ashley Kirkland was the last person he should be frank with. He forced himself to laugh lightly. “She doesn’t trust my reputation.”

  Ashley wasn’t fooled. A light filled his pale eyes. “Oho. Sits the wind in that quarter? I’m surprised at my cloistered Anne. I thought she had taken a vow of celibacy. The only thing that ignites her passion is this damned house.”

  “Why?” Despite his distrust of the man, Noah couldn’t control his curiosity.

  “Why the house, or why the lack of men?” Ashley countered. “The first is easy. Our mother died when Anne was twelve—a very impressionable age. Proffy never was terribly practical, even twenty-some years ago, and he’d always pretty much ignored her. I was the golden, talented firstborn son; Holly was the darling baby girl. We must have been pretty overwhelming siblings for anyone to have. Anne was rather solemn and awkward, almost a changeling, and I’m afraid Proffy treated her as such. So she turned to the house for comfort, and when Mother died she became the perfect little mother and housekeeper. She’s a very strong woman, you know. She mothered all of us, Proffy included, and the house became a minor obsession. The only time she’s ever left for any extended period of time was during college.” He paused, cocking an eyebrow at the fascinated Noah. “Any more of that cognac? It looks a bit better than the stuff Anne usually forces on her seedy older brother.”