xXXx
She was sprawled next to him, her arm flung across his chest. She was just drifting off to sleep when she felt him get out of bed. Her eyes were still closed as she felt him cover her lightly with the sheet. He made his way across the bedroom, and she opened one eye in time to see him pick her little black dress and her high-heeled sandals up off the floor. He draped her dress neatly over the back of the chair and placed her sandals under the chair before he walked into the bathroom. She heard the shower turn on right before she dozed off.
xXXx
When she woke up again, Boris was back in the bedroom, fully dressed and slipping on his shoes. She squinted, trying, in vain, to see the clock on the nightstand. "Boris. . .what time is it? Why are you dressed? Did something happen?"
"No. . .but it is late. We. . .disappeared. . .rather abruptly after dinner. I just need to go downstairs and make sure that Dieter has the estate secured."
"Hmmm. . ." Annabelle snuggled under the covers.
Boris walked over to the bed and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Go back to sleep, Prinzessin."
"Hmmm. . ."
Boris left the room before she could protest.
xXXx
She was standing at the French doors, watching the storm, dressed only in his paisley silk pajama top, when Boris returned to the room. He was surprised to see her out of bed. "Annabelle. . .you are awake? I was expecting to find you sound asleep when I returned!"
"Well. . .the storm is getting awfully loud – and I just couldn't fall asleep without you here. What can I say? I missed you! So. . .I thought I'd get up and watch the storm."
"Annabelle – bitte, come away from the doors?"
"Why? I LOVE storms. . .they're exciting! Come on, Boris; you can't tell me it wasn't a rush, making love with the storm pounding away outside? And besides – this is my first hurricane!" She turned her head, grinning at Boris. Suddenly. . .there was a strong gust of wind and a loud crack as the lock on the French doors gave way and they blew open; the door on the right caught Annabelle on the forehead. She yelped in pain; her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor in a lifeless heap.
Frantic, Boris bellowed "Dieter!"
Wind and rain swirled into the room. Boris rushed to Annabelle and pulled her away from the open doors. The blow to her head had knocked her out cold. Her face was pale; blood flowed from a cut on her head. Boris was fighting his rising panic. He had wanted her here at Shadow Pond to keep her safe; now here she was, on the floor, unconscious, and bleeding – quite a lot!
Just then, the door to his bedroom opened, and Dieter rushed in, followed by two of the bodyguards. The bodyguards moved to secure the doors, while Dieter called Hank. Once the doors were secure, one of the bodyguards brought towels from the bathroom. Boris held one of the towels to her head and tried – unsuccessfully – to stop the bleeding. He shot a panicked look to Dieter, who put a calming hand on his shoulder and assured him, "Dr. Lawson is on his way!"
xXXx
Hank was examining her carefully. . .while Boris paced like a panther behind him and watched over his shoulder.
"So. . .you know your name. . .right?"
"Annabelle."
"Do you know where you are?"
"Yes. . .Shadow Pond."
"Do you remember what happened?"
She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to focus her thoughts. "The. . .um. . .the. . .the. . ." She gestured toward the French doors in frustration. "Anyway. . .they blew open and smacked me in the face! I don't remember anything after that." She shook her head, then, suddenly, blurted out "Doors! DOORS! The doors blew open!" She looked relieved that she had finally remembered the word. She closed her eyes and sank back into the pillows.
"OK; give me a minute while I talk to my landlord – before he wears a hole in the oriental rug. Then I'll stitch you up."
He turned away from Annabelle, and pulled Boris away from the bed. "Boris – calm down! She's going to be OK!"
"Hank – are you SURE? There was so much blood. . .?!"
"Yeah, she has a scalp lac – a laceration. They tend to bleed profusely. I'll put in a couple of stitches. I think she has a slight concussion; she'll probably have a headache tomorrow. She'll need to take it easy for a day or two. . .but she's FINE!"
"You are absolutely sure?"
"Well, yeah – I'm sure! I'm a doctor – remember? I'll check on her tomorrow, and if you need me – which you won't – but IF you do, I'll be in the guest house."
"Thank you, Hank!"
"Yeah. . .no problem!"
xXXx
Boris handed her a brandy. Probably not the recommended treatment for a head wound – but she looked like she needed it.
"Well, Prinzessin. . .what shall we drink to?"
"Hmph! How about the end of hurricane season?"
"Done!" He clinked his glass to hers. She took a sip of the brandy and closed her eyes; she was dangerously close to falling asleep with the brandy snifter in her hand. He gently lifted the glass from her hand and sat it on the nightstand.
"Hey, Boris?"
"Yes?"
"I TOLD you your plan needed some work!"
"Go to sleep, Prinzessin!" When she didn't answer. . .he turned out the light.
xXXx