First light was only turning the room from black to gray when something woke Cord.

Anne was not curled against him but watching him, her face only inches from his on the pillow, her eyes huge in the dim light. She still looked haggard and drawn, a long way from right.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I only woke up a few minutes ago."

"It's not enough. Go back to sleep."

She reached out to him then, feelings clear in her mobile face, reflecting and reinforcing her words. "I can't. I need you."

Dismay brought him all the way awake. "No, it can't be right. You need more rest, a doctor...."

"No, I need you. Please, Cord."

He wanted to hold her, protect her, cherish her, but there was no physical desire in him. She looked so fragile. She needed his love, not his body, and that he could give her.

He slid gentle kisses across her face, felt the delicate skin of her eyelids, tasted the honey of her mouth. For long seconds he simply pressed his lips to the fluttering pulse point of her throat, grateful to have her there, warm and alive against him. He touched as lightly as he could, trying not so much to speak with his hands as to whisper. Her face, her throat - he pushed her hair aside, turned her on her side and slid kisses around to the nape of her neck, down her spine, across the sensitive skin under her arms, beside her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She gloried in the sensations, sighed his name, soaked in his touch, as he continued trying to love each inch of her skin separately. He tasted her here and there, rubbed first his cheek then his forehead against her ever so lightly. By the time he was once again at her face, he found it streaming with silent tears.

"Don't cry."

He tried to kiss away the tears, but they came too fast. He licked around her eyes then, washing away the hot wet drops. When he kissed her, the taste of her tears turned from salty to bittersweet. He cupped her face in his palms and began to tell her, to tell her just how much he loved her, how life without her would be just a prison sentence to serve, one joyless day after another to be gotten through somehow. He told her how she filled his life with color, light, and warmth, with the music of her voice and laughter, the grace of her movement.

Too much of his life had been lived in a withdrawn and silent way, but now he let go of the last of his reserve with her forever. As he whispered of love, the touch of her, taste and scent of her, sound of her, even her need, ignited the fire he thought he could not feel.

He slid into her gently, drinking in the love she gave so freely as he possessed her.

Afterwards, as he lay beside her, he could see in her face that he had in the end freed her, of the pain, of the shame, and of the rage.

Spent, they lapsed almost immediately back to sleep and didn't wake again until afternoon - fourteen hours after they shut the bedroom door on the world.

CHAPTER 41.

THE HOWLETT HOUSE WAS ALMOST as large as the Wainwright mansion, yet when Cord left the bedroom and made his way downstairs he didn't hear or encounter a single servant. The silence surprised him because last night the place had teemed with them. On the first floor he turned down the hall at the foot of the stairs toward the sound of voices.

Close enough to overhear the conversation, he understood why servants had been banished. Paul and Marie spoke in the dulled, weary tones of people who had each been making the same argument futilely for some time. The first clear words were Marie's, edged with exasperation.

"I mean it, the sheriff would only make it worse. You have no idea what he's like."

Nearer now, Cord could also hear all of Paul's answer. "Darling, we have to do something. I'm telling you I know what I saw. Those are rope burns on her wrists and her face is swollen - bruised. And I don't believe the servants are making it up. He threatened to hogtie her right here in our house. The way she looked last night - we have to help her."

Cord rarely took advantage of his own silent ways to eavesdrop, but waiting for a pause in the conversation before walking into the room had to be the lesser evil now, and Marie was already speaking again.

"It isn't just a matter of my secret. You have no idea how it would be. People would get hurt, and you or I might be among them. When we were children he was never mean in any way, but he's always been - unstoppable. There's no way we can help that woman.

n.o.body can until he's through with her, and that's that. Martha said she seemed happy enough with him all told, and trying to interfere will make it worse."

"My dear, he's just a man. We have to do something. You can't expect me to allow this in my house."

It was nice to know Paul wasn't buying any killer demon theories Frank or Ephraim had pa.s.sed on anyway. When the unhappy silence stretched out, Cord walked into the room.

Paul gave a start and looked discomfited, aware they had probably been overheard.

Marie might believe every ugly story the rest of the family told, but she didn't pretend a personal fear she didn't feel. She said acidly, "Good afternoon. You certainly must have needed a rest."

Cord didn't see any reason to explain himself. "Been a long time since either one of us got much sleep. Is there a place in town I can get Anne some clothes? She won't wear what she had on last night again."

Marie's eyes narrowed, and she exchanged a brief glance with Paul. They might suspect an excuse to keep them from seeing Anne, but Cord was more than willing to let his sister try to get Anne into one st.i.tch of Clara Wainwright's clothing again. The hollow-eyed stranger he had brought here last night had disappeared, and the tigress was back. She'd come down here naked sooner. He waited, half-expecting Marie's reaction.

"She must be hungry. Can she wear some of my clothes and come down and eat?"

"Might not fit. Last year she wore things you left at the old house, but she's more than five months with child now."

Surprise erased some of the angry look from Marie's face. She didn't ask further permission, just gave a tug on a bell cord and told the maid who answered the summons, "Send Elise in, please." When another woman in uniform appeared, Marie gave detailed instructions. "Do you remember the clothes that were delivered a year or so ago that were all too big? I had some redone, but some were just put away. Go through those things and give Mr. Bennett clothing for his wife. Choose things that would fit me loosely or be large. She needs everything - everything, you understand?"

Remembering Anne's stories about life in Chicago, Cord watched this roundabout way of getting things done with interest, then followed the openly contemptuous maid upstairs. If her nose were any higher in the air, she'd trip and fall.

Elise stopped at the bedroom door. "You wait here."

Cord leaned against the hall wall, looked at the many doors opening off it and felt no envy. Anne had lived this way once and didn't want to again, and he agreed with her.

Elise returned with a pile of clothing folded neatly in her arms, topped with a hairbrush and extra hairpins. Her scowl was if anything more disapproving and purposeful than before. "I'll just take her these."

Enough of this nonsense was enough. "The h.e.l.l you will. Give me that stuff and go scrub a chamberpot."

When Cord returned with Anne to the sunny little room Marie had referred to as the breakfast room, Howletts were warned, for Anne had kept her shoes. She glanced back at Cord uncertainly over her shoulder as she entered the room, worried about her welcome.

He increased the gentle pressure of his palm in the small of her back just a little, encouraging.

Paul started to rise, saw Anne, and fell back in his chair, too astonished to speak or move again. Marie struggled just as openly to accept the transformation. Paul showed signs of recovering first, glancing sharply at Cord, then back at Anne, and at Cord again.

The maid had chosen a deep wine colored skirt and a contrasting pink waist. The swelling was all but gone from Anne's face, and the colors only emphasized her vibrancy, the glow of her skin. Maybe some would argue she was not really beautiful. They might say the big gray eyes took up too much of her face or that her nose was a little long, her mouth a little wide, but men would turn in the street to look again. Only a very few women ever looked the way Anne looked now, and they had to be loved to achieve it - to be loved and to know they were loved.

Paul was seeing what Frank had on the rainy day when Anne lit up the kitchen as she worked over beans and peaches. Frank had refused to accept what his own eyes saw, but a slow understanding was replacing Paul's initial amazement, helping him regain his composure and remember the manners of a lifetime.

This time Paul made it to his feet. "My dear, do sit down. It's good to see you looking so much, so much...."

He faltered, and Anne gave a soft, throaty laugh.

"The very look on your face tells me how horrible I looked last night. You probably were wondering why Cord would go after such a dreadful piece of goods."

Paul looked momentarily lost again, but then simply ignored her comment and said, "You must be famished. Dinner will be ready soon, but would you like breakfast instead?"

"Actually, we're so hungry anything sounds wonderful." She smiled sweetly, her face lighting up even more. "Thank you for helping us. We were so tired we might have pa.s.sed out in the street."

Once they were seated, Cord paid no further attention to Paul or Marie, just leaned back and watched his wife. There were still traces of the emotional ordeal of these last days, but she was herself again. Both the fire and sweetness were back. Their lives were going to be turned upside down over this, but nothing else mattered. She was whole again.

He realized Paul was addressing him. "The horse isn't doing well. Burt seems to think it would be a kindness...."

Cord closed his eyes, feeling sadness wash through him. He had tried to stay on the right side of the line and thought he might have succeeded and Keeper might recover, but he had never ridden a horse like that before.

He opened his eyes and met Anne's. "Keeper?"

"Afraid so."

"They told me it was coming on a blizzard that night."

"Never got that bad. Stopping snowing by dawn."

"How long did it take you?"

He hedged. "Little longer than good weather. I was up here by one."

She wasn't letting him get away with it. "How long?"

"Sixteen hours."

"Two to Mason and then sixteen here?"

"Mm."

"We'd best go see him as soon as we've eaten."

There would be no way to make her stay here and let him take care of it. He watched her take up the conversation with Paul and Marie again. She skillfully turned aside several inquiries about what exactly had happened. She wasn't ready to talk about it yet, and no one was going to hurry her.

Keeper didn't look any better than he had the morning Cord first walked into Denver.

Burt, the stableman, automatically loathing anyone who would so use a horse, was unsympathetic over the couple's concern now. "Best to shoot him. He don't drink much and don't eat at all. Just stands like that all the time."

Armed with several lumps of sugar cadged from Marie's cook, Anne was not listening and was already in the stall petting and hugging the big gelding, explaining to him as if he were human. "Poor Keeper, you don't understand why this happened, do you, but I was in so much trouble, and I needed help right away, and because you got Cord through the storm everything's all right again. All you have to do is forgive us and get better and you can come home with us. If you don't start to eat, you'll have to stay here, you know."

The horse didn't acknowledge her presence with so much as a flick of an ear, but Burt gave Cord a speculative look, stopped frowning at him, and disappeared. In the end they spent more than an hour in the barn, currying and brushing the horse until the rough and staring coat laid a bit, leaning against the manger and talking in low voices. Anne believed both a soft touch and rea.s.suring presence helped and saw no reason not to spend some time here.

Cord said, "Could be nothing will work this time. I used him hard, and I knew I was doing it and went ahead."

"I know. If I had to choose between our baby and a hundred horses, I'd choose the baby, but that doesn't mean we can't spare some time to comfort an old friend now."

"So long as you can handle it if it's no good. He doesn't look any better than he did when I got here."

"Well, look at it from his point of view. You did that to him for no reason he knows of and then left him in a strange place with strange people. Maybe he just needs a little loving."

"Mm. Cure me of plague that way."

An impish grin crossed Anne's face. "You mean I should be waiting until you're sick?"

"h.e.l.l no, I'm all for preventative medicine. Speaking of which, let's ask Paul about a doctor...."

She interrupted, "No. I'll see Dr. Craig when we get home if it will make you happy, but I'm not having somebody I don't know touching me now." Her jaw stuck out stubbornly.

Seeing Craig if the law was after him might take some doing, but they would manage it somehow. "No fuss about Craig when we get home?"

"I promise."

After a dinner that Cord considered inferior to Anne's cooking, in spite of the numbers of servants required to produce it, and after much fussing because Cord couldn't be talked into brandy nor Anne into wine, everyone settled down in a wood-paneled book-lined room in deep leather chairs. Providing tea for Anne and coffee for Cord before dismissing servants for the night had finally satisfied Paul. He relaxed in his chair over brandy. Marie didn't look any happier than she had all day.

Cord had decided to tell his sister they'd leave in the morning and let her at least go to bed with that much peace of mind when Paul spoke. "I can tell you two are reluctant to speak of what brought you here, and I want you to know I've put my curiosity aside. We won't mention it again, but tell us, how are Frank and Ephraim and the rest of the family?"

Anne had abandoned any ladylike poses and curled up in the big chair like a contented kitten. She gazed at Paul solemnly, her eyes still looking large in her face.

"You don't have to contain your curiosity, Paul. I'm willing to tell the tale now. I just needed some time. To understand it you have to know how we got married first. Did Martha write you about that?"

Paul exchanged a quick glance with Marie. "A little. Somehow I think there's more to it than what she wrote."

"Let me tell you about that first then."

Through half-closed eyes Cord watched them, Marie stiff and unhappy, Paul eagerly listening, and Anne with expressions flitting across her face as she talked, hands fluttering, voice rising and falling in what seemed to him a musical lilt. She told it well.

Leaving out a lot of the ugliest details, she still gave them a feel of what it had been like, the seeming inevitably of death, the worse pain of not dying but living.

There were occasional exclamations from Paul, but Marie said nothing until Anne got to Frank and Ephraim's first visit. Suddenly Marie was upright in the chair, wide-eyed, unbelieving. " You ran Frank out of the house?"

"Frank and Ephraim. They made me so angry. You should have heard them. I was trying to explain, and they told me to shut up I was too stupid to listen to. They're probably lucky I didn't shoot them. I was that mad."

Marie started to laugh then, no polite t.i.tter, but a real laugh that soon had her holding her sides. "Oh, my, I'd give anything in the world to have seen that. Frank...." She dissolved into more paroxysms of laughter.

Cord had never expected to see Marie again, much less hear her laugh. It sounded good, very good.

Anne finished that part of her story with the first trip to town, and then mentioned the fight in the spring. She looked at Cord, "Did you know my father paid those men? They were supposed to take me and kill you or leave you in no condition to do anything about it."

He shook his head. "He admit that to you?"

"Boasted about it. About how it made him realize he had to do it differently. He was so, so smug, so sure of himself."

"Mm. She who laughs last."

She smiled for an instant but then said, "We're not going to be laughing are we?

They'll have filed charges against you before we were out of Chicago. We're going to have to run, aren't we?"