Everything But Marriage Read online

  Lifting his head, he watched her chest rise as she drew in a breath. She coughed weakly and he turned her onto her side, rubbing her back as she coughed up the river water she'd swallowed. What were you supposed to do for someone who'd almost drowned?

  Her skin felt like ice beneath his hands. The first thing to do was to get her warm. Devlin lifted his head, peering through the rainy darkness, trying to orient himself. There were no Ughts to be seen. The storm clouds were so thick that no moonlight shone through.

  He didn't know how far downstream the river had swept them. He shivered as a gust of wind blew the rain almost horizontally. The one thing he did know was that they needed to get some shelter and warmth.

  Devlin got to his feet, pulling the woman up with him. She was limp in his hold, apparently unconscious. He bent, putting his shoulder against her midriff. Grunting with effort, he stood upright with her slung over his shoulder.

  Unless the current had swept them a great deal farther than he thought likely, the house was the nearest shelter to be found.

  He put his head down and started walking.

  One thing eight years in prison had taught him was endurance. And determination. He didn't think about how tired he was or how far he might have to walk. He didn't think about the stones that bruised his bare feet. And he never considered the possibility that his strength might give out.

  He simply walked steadily forward, using the sound of the river as a guide to make sure he didn't wander too far off his path. He'd left a light on in the kitchen. Another hundred steps and he'd be able to see it. And if not, then he'd take a hundred more and a hundred beyond that, if necessary.

  The woman was a dead weight on his shoulder. He could feel her arms swing limply against his back with each step he took. He could only assume that she was still breathing.

  His legs were beginning to tremble with exhaustion. Devlin lifted his head, peering through the rain.

  Was that a light, or was it his imagination that put it there? He took a few more steps but the light remained steady. The sight of it poured new strength into him.

  Veering away from the river, he kept his eyes on the light, half afraid it might vanish as he drew closer. But it didn't vanish, and he could make out the sturdy outline of the house.

  Pushing open the back door, Devlin stumbled inside. He leaned against the wall for a moment, savoring the feeling of being in and out of the rain and darkness. If he'd been alone, he would have let himself slide down the wall and collapse in a heap on the floor.

  But he wasn't alone. Besides, now that he was inside, he could feel a bone-deep chill. They both needed to get warm.

  Forcing his aching legs to move again, he carried his burden into the bathroom, the one room in the house that was completely finished. He bent, letting her shde off his shoulder, his hands guiding her to the floor. Stepping over her limp body, he turned the water on in the shower stall, testing it cautiously until he was sure he wasn't going to scald both of them.

  Once the temperature was adjusted to his satisfaction, he turned his attention to his unknown guest. Kneeling beside her on the tile floor, he began stripping her clothes off. She was breathing but still unconscious. He didn't know if that was a bad sign or not, but he did know that she needed to get warm.

  She was too thin, he noted absently. Her ribs were plainly visible along her side, and her hipbones were much too prominent. Her hair was long, pulled back by a rubber band that had survived her tumble into the river. Devlin snapped it, feeling the heavy wet strands spill over his hands.

  Once he had her naked, he stood and stripped off his jeans and shirt. He hesitated over his briefs, wondering how she'd react if she regained consciousness to find herself locked in a shower stall with a naked man. On the other hand, the briefs were cold and wet and hardly enough to reassure a frightened woman. Shrugging, he stepped out of them, dropping them onto the floor with the rest of their clothing.

  Bending, he picked the woman up. Elbowing open the shower door, he stepped beneath the warm spray with her in his arms. The water sluiced over them. Devlin lowered her feet to the floor, sliding one arm around her waist to support her against his body.

  Under other circumstances, it could have been a highly erotic moment. A man and a woman naked in the shower together could hardly be anything else. Unless of course, both of them were chilled to the bone and one of them was unconscious.

  Devlin kept them both under the water until he felt warm again. The woman had stirred once or twice, her features puckering as if she felt the pain of returning warmth. But she didn't wake up. Devlin had the odd feeling that she didn't particularly want to wake up.

  He turned the water off and lifted her out of the shower stall, holding her braced against his hip while

  he reached for a towel to wrap around her. Grabbing another towel for himself, he lifted her against his chest and carried her into the bedroom.

  Since furniture hadn't been a major priority up until now, his bed was the only place he could put her. He set her on the mattress, easing the towel away before pulling the sheet and blanket up over her. Clumsily he wrapped the towel around her hair, thinking it would be better than letting it soak the pillow.

  He toweled himself dry and pulled on fresh jeans and a sweatshirt before returning to stare down at his guest. Who was she? Had she fallen into the river or jumped? Remembering those seconds before she'd disappeared into the water, Devlin couldn't be sure which it had been. Was she going to thank him for saving her life or curse him?

  Shrugging, he found a heavy sweatshirt and sat down next to her on the bed. Whether she liked it or not, she was aUve. And he had no intention of damn near getting himself killed fishing her out of the river only to see her catch pneumonia.

  Easing her into a sitting position, he pulled the sweatshirt over her head, stuffing her arms into the sleeves, lifting her to pull the hem down over her hips. It was miles too big for her, in length as well as width, covering her past her thighs.

  He noticed again how thin she was and wondered if she was making a fashion statement or simply hadn't been able to eat. No money?

  He took the damp towel from her hair and wrapped the heavy length in a dry one. From the length of it, he

  guessed it would fall past her waist, and he found himself wondering what color it would be when it dried.

  When he stood up, he noticed the bloodstains he'd left on the floor everywhere he walked. He hadn't realized his feet were bleeding until he saw the smears of red. He remembered feeling stones biting into his feet on the walk home, although after the first ten yards, he'd stopped noticing the pain, concentrating all his thoughts on moving forward.

  Now that he had a chance to think about it, his feet hurt like hell. Devlin went into the bathroom and examined the bottoms of his feet. For the most part the cuts were small, but there were quite a few of than. He put bandages on one or two larger cuts and thai pulled on a pair of heavy white socks.

  Leaving the woman sleeping in his bed, he went out to the kitchen and put water on for coffee. While it heated, he used a towel to mop up the water he'd tracked through the house earlier. His feet had bled everywhere he walked, leaving stains on the floor. But since it was nothing but a plywood subfloor, Devlin wasn't concerned. Carpet and oak flooring would cover the marks eventually.

  His guest still hadn't stirred by the time the coffee was ready. Devlin checked her pulse. It was steady, but did it seem a little too fast? Too shallow, maybe? She should probably see a doctor. For all he knew, there was something wrong with her besides being too thin and, what, judging by the smudgy shadows under her

  eyes, he'd guessed was a pretty bad case of exhaustion.

  He could put her in the car and take her into town, drop her off at the emergency room and wash his hands of her. But wouldn't she be terrified to wake up in a hospital, surrounded by strangers?

  "Yeah, right, Russell. Like she knows you so well," he muttered aloud. Still, something in him resisted the idea
of taking her to the hospital.

  Before he could make a decision, the soft chimes of the doorbell broke into his thoughts. Giving his visitor a last glance, he left the bedroom. He was too far off the beaten track to get many unexpected visitors. His sister Kelly was the only person who might drop in on him, and she wasn't likely to have driven so far out in the middle of a storm.

  Devlin pulled the door open, staring blankly at the man on the doorstep. His thoughts had been so caught up in the woman in his bedroom, it took him a second to shift his focus and realize who he was looking at.

  *Ben.'

  Ben's smile took on a quizzical edge. "Have I got the wrong night? I thought you asked me to come out tonight."

  "Tonight." Devlin shook his head, his mouth twisting in a smile. "No, you don't have the wrong night. I'd forgotten. Come in."

  "I could come back another time," Ben offered.

  "No. This is fine. In fact, your timing is great."

  Devlin took Ben's wet coat and hung it up on one of the nails that served as a coat hook until he could get around to putting a real coat closet in.

  "Everyone tells me that," Ben commented, following Devlin into the kitchen. He nodded in answer to Devlin's offer of coffee. "Why is my timing particularly great this time?"

  "I have a problem." Devlin handed him a cup of coffee. He'd forgotten all about asking Ben Masters to come see him. Dr. Ben Masters. He'd planned on discussing a donation to the clinic that was Ben's pet project, but the other man's arrival was too fortuitous to ignore.

  "Problems are my medical specialty," Ben said.

  "There's a woman in my bedroom."

  Ben's brows rose. "We should all have such problems."

  "Yeah, well this one really is a problem. I fished her out of the river earHer tonight. She scans okay, but she hasn't regained consciousness."

  "Any sign of a head injury?" Ben asked, all traces of flippancy gone. He was suddenly the complete professional.

  "None that I can see."

  "How long was she in the water?"

  "Not long before I got to her and pulled her head up. It took a little while longer to get both of us out of the water. And it was a while after that before I got her home. She was cold, so I put her in a warm shower and then put her in bed."

  "Sounds good so far. I'd like to see her."

  "Be my guest." Devlin circled the breakfast bar and led the way into the bedroom.

  The woman was still lying where he'd left her, but when he stopped beside the bed, he saw that her eyes were open. He'd grown so accustomed to her being unconscious that it was a shock to see her awake.

  He'd turned on a lamp near the bed earlier, and in its hght, he could see that her eyes were large, the color hovering somewhere between blue and green. At another time, he might have thought them beautiful. At the moment, he was struck by their complete lack of expression.

  She didn't seem at all disturbed to find herself in an unfamiliar bed, with two strange men standing over her. She stared at him for a long, silent moment before her eyes shifted over his shoulder to Ben. She gave him the same silent scrutiny and then closed her eyes as if losing interest in keeping them open.

  It was left to Ben to speak. Something in that wide blue-green gaze had left Devlin voiceless. He stepped back automatically as Ben edged by him and sat on the side of the bed. The woman's eyes opened again as she felt the bed dip, but she only stared at Ben with that same emptiness in her eyes.

  "Hi. How are you feeling?" Ben's voice was low and soothing. He reached for her arm, which was lying on top of the covers, his fingers searching for her pulse. She watched him for a moment, as if debating whether or not to answer him.

  "I'm okay," she said at last. Her voice was so low Devlin had to strain to hear it.

  "Good. Do you remember your name?"

  "Annalise/' she said slowly, frowning as if it were an effort to remember. "Annalise St. John."

  "Do you remember falling in the river a little while ago?"

  "No."

  "Devlin pulled you out." Ben gestured over his shoulder to where Devlin stood silently watching. Her gaze shifted to Devlin, but there was no visible change in her expression, nothing to tell Devlin that she was glad he'd saved her life.

  "Fm Ben Masters and Vm a doctor," Ben continued when she offered no response. "Would you mind if I checked you over? Made sure everything was in working order?" His friendly smile got no response. Her thin shoulders lifted in a gesture of indifference.

  Taking that for consent, Ben glanced at Devlin. "Can you get my bag? It's in the front seat."

  "Sure." Devlin left, glad of an excuse to leave the room. Something about that blank gaze made him uneasy. It was like looking at someone whose soul had abandoned her.

  Who was Annalise St. John, and what had happened to drive all the life from her eyes?

  Chapter 2

  Well, it would be a good idea to run a few tests— a blood workup, maybe. But I don't think there's anything physically wrong with her that about a week's worth of sleep and three square meals a day won't fix."

  Ben and Devlin were seated at the breakfast bar, fresh mugs of coffee in front of them. Outside, the rain had gone from a downpour to a steady drizzle that slanted past the windows.

  Annalise St. John was asleep again. She'd allowed Ben to examine her and then drifted off to sleep, apparently indifferent to his findings.

  "So what's wrong with her?" Devlin asked, cradling his palms around his coffee.

  "She's exhausted and undernourished. Could be anorexia," he said, more to himself than Devlin. He shook his head. "I don't think that's it, though. If I had to guess—which I do—I'd say she either hasn't had the money for food or doesn't care enough to bother eating."

  "Doesn't care enough?" Devlin raised his brows. "I'd never really thought of food as something you had to care about to eat."

  "Well, I can't be sure without seeing more of her, but I'd say your Annalise has a pretty nasty case of depression."

  Devlin nearly protested Ben designating her as "his" Annalise, but it wasn't important enough to argue. "Depressed enough to commit suicide?" he asked slowly, remembering those moments when she'd stood on the riverbank across from him.

  Ben shot him a quick look, his dark eyes sharp with interest. "Hard to say. Depression affects different people different ways. She seems very passive now, too passive to bother killing herself, I'd say. But that's not to say it's not possible. Is that what you think happened? She jumped in the river?"

  "I don't know." Devlin lifted his shoulder in a shrug, half sorry he'd mentioned the possibility. It seemed like an intrusion into her privacy somehow. "It was getting dark, and the rain made it nearly impossible to see."

  "Well, no one could say for sure but Annalise, and I'm not even sure she'd remember. She doesn't seem to remember much of anything."

  "Amnesia?" Devlin questioned, startled.

  "No. More like an immense indifference. Or maybe she thought I was being too nosy for my own good," he added with a grin.

  Devlin's smile was perfunctory. Remembering those empty eyes, he didn't think Annalise cared what questions Ben asked. He didn't think she cared about anything.

  "I can arrange to have her admitted to the hospital," Ben said briskly.

  "The hospital? I thought you said there was nothing physically wrong with her."

  "Depression is a treatable medical condition," Ben said.

  "So she needs drugs or therapy to recover?"

  "Not necessarily. There's no one treatment for depression. We'd have to do some testing. Hopefully, we could get some cooperation from her."

  "Did you suggest this to her?"

  "She fell asleep on me before I could mention it."

  Devlin frowned down into his coffee cup. Ben was offering the obvious solution. Annalise St. John would be taken off his hands, given into the care of competent professionals who could help her deal with her problems. He could forget all about her and get on with finishing hi
s house.

  "I think I'll just let her sleep here tonight," he said slowly. "If she wants to go to the hospital tomorrow, I'll bring her m."

  "Okay. Let me know how she's doing one way or another and don't hesitate to call if you need me." He

  drank the last of his coffee and slid off the high stool. "Fve got early appointments in the morning so Vm going to head home. Fll give you a call tomorrow."

  "Yeah. Thanks." Devlin stood up and held out his hand. "Thanks for everything. Send me a bill."

  "I will." Ben grinned. "I make it a point to send bills to patients I figure can pay them."

  "That reminds me," Devlin said, remembering the reason he'd asked Ben to come out in the first place. "I wanted to give you a check for your clinic. Kelly tells me you're doing some really worthwhile work."

  "Kelly's prejudiced because she works there part-time," Ben said lightly, watching as Devlin dug through a drawer full of screwdrivers, cupboard handles and screws of assorted sizes until he finally came up with a checkbook.

  "I feel we're doing some good," he continued. "People don't think of the poor as being a problem in a small town. But Rememberance has grown a lot in the last few years, and the problems have grown along with the town."

  "Well, I've been hard up against it in my time," Devlin said, ripping the check out and handing it to Ben.

  "Thanks. I really appreciate this." Ben's voice trailed off, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the size of the check. He looked at Devlin. "I was about to say that every little bit helps," he said with a shaken laugh. "But this definitely qualifies as more than a little bit. Thank you."

  Devlin shrugged, wishing that he'd just made the donation anonymously, as he'd done with the other donations he'd made to various charities this past year. Maybe it was because he knew Ben through Kelly that he'd felt the urge to give him the check personally. Besides, Kelly had told him the clinic needed money urgently, and arranging anonymous donations took a little time.

  "I'd appreciate it if you don't mention this to anyone. Including Kelly." Especially Kelly, he thought. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking questions about how he came to have that kind of money to give away.