Free Annie's Song by Catherine Anderson Page B

after Annie, and then he would send the girl back to her parents. What could possibly go wrong? It seemed to Alex the answer to that question was everything. The instant he stepped into the house, he began to have doubts, a whole host of them.
    Like a curious child who’d been sent upstairs while guests were present, Annie sat on the landing that overlooked the foyer, her small face bracketed by mahogany balusters, her eyes wide with bewilderment as she watched all the goings-on below. Reverend Widlow, the minister who was to officiate at the ceremony, had arrived just seconds before Alex and was being shown into the parlor by a servant. Two hired men were carrying one of Annie’s trunks downstairs. Maids were scurrying to and fro. Anyone could see that something out of the ordinary was about to occur.
    As Alex stepped into the foyer, Annie went absolutely still, and every drop of blood seemed to drain from her face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she believed him to be Douglas. Given her intellectual disabilities, he could think of no way to disabuse her of the notion. As people were so fond of reminding him, he was the “spittin’ image” of his brother. To Alex, the resemblance didn’t seem quite that pronounced, but to Annie, who undoubtedly recalled everything about Douglas in a nightmarish blur, the differences between them might not seem so apparent.
    Afraid of making her panic, Alex came to a dead stop. Even at a distance of twenty feet, he could feel her fear. Electrical, it hung in the air between them, raising goose flesh along his spine.
    Six-two in his stocking feet, he stood a head taller than most men. For a score of different reasons, there Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    had been a number of times when he wished he were smaller, but never quite so much as in that moment.
    Before entering the house, he’d removed his hat, so he couldn’t jerk it off now to make himself look shorter. Judging by the stark terror in Annie’s eyes, slumping his shoulders wasn’t helping much, either.
    He was a big man. There was little he could do to disguise that fact. With a girl like Annie, who had every reason to be frightened, that was a definite strike against him.
    If she’d been able to communicate, he might have been able to reassure her. As it was, all he could do was stand there and try to convey with his gaze what he couldn’t express with words, namely that he was not cut from the same cloth as his brother. He would never dream of harming her, or allow anyone else to, for that matter.
    “Hello, Annie,” he said softly.
    As he spoke, her attention shifted to his mouth, and an expression of total bewilderment crossed her face. Alex’s heart sank, for he had hoped she might understand a few words, at least. Seeing that she didn’t, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and made tight fists.
    The way she stared at him made him feel like a monster. A very large monster. He flashed what he prayed was a harmless-looking smile, but his face felt so stiff he feared it was more a grimace. Deciding she might realize he wasn’t Douglas if she got a better look at him, he moved a bit closer.
    For some reason, he hadn’t imagined her as being so small. Narrow shoulders, tiny feet, fragile limbs.
    He doubted she’d tip the scales at a hundred pounds fully clothed.
    Over the years, he had met a number of women he might have described as delicate, but even that seemed too sturdy an adjective for Annie. She put him in mind of handblown crystal. Her face was heart-shaped, her features finely sculpted and as close to perfect as any he’d ever seen. Her short, straight little nose slanted from between dark, elegantly arched brows.
    As he drew closer, she shifted her position slightly. By her tenseness, he guessed she meant to bolt if he made any sudden moves. A smothered smile spread warmth through his chest when he saw she had lifted one knee slightly.