Chapter Twenty-one

 

Marti greeted Nikki with an enthusiastic hug. “It’s been ages, sweetie.”

“Yes, way too long,” she agreed, following her best friend into the luxuriously furnished living room. “You’ve redecorated again,” she said, admiring the entirely new, Spartan look.

“That’s the best thing about having a sister-in-law who’s an interior designer. Tom nearly had a fit, but when I told him about all the discounts, he didn’t say too much. Besides, it’s his sister who talked me into it.”

Nikki giggled. “Tom never says too much about anything you do. You’ve trained him well.”

“Yes, he’s a keeper.” Marti sat on the Italian leather sofa and motioned for Nikki to join her.

Nikki settled into the baby-butt-soft leather sofa. “Longer than the other two?”

“Well, I learned on Joel and Chris, and now Tommy reaps the benefit of my maturity.”

A full-blow giggle erupted. “Maturity? You’re thirty-seven.”

“Mere details, darling. You know I’ve always felt older than my years, except when I was being very immature, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Besides you didn’t know me when I was eighteen. I was such a wild child then.” Her friend leaned forward, her eyes wide. “But enough about me, what’s the scoop on you and Max? I’m not going to feed you any dinner until you tell me absolutely everything.”

“Are you really going to make me rehash it all?”

“Of course. So spill.”

Nikki made a face. She’d known Marti for ten years. Her oldest friend wasn’t about to give up until she knew everything. “I was at the beach house. Max called from Provençe and asked me to fly over.”

“Sounds great. That’s what you want, isn’t it, to be with Max?”

“Yes—well—I don’t know. Nikki shrugged. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to expect from him anymore. You know I’ve idolized him since that first night. He was my knight in shining armor.”

Marti laughed and gave an eye roll. “I think I might have heard this story once or twice.”

“I guess you have at that,” Nikki admitted then stuck out her tongue. “Anyway, he was always unobtainable. Now all of a sudden, he wants me to visit him in France? I don’t understand. First, I’d heard through the grapevine he was in France with this Arianne Willoughby. When he called me, I assumed they’d had an argument. I—uh, wasn’t very receptive.”

Marti shook her head. “Not receptive. I suppose by that you mean you blessed him out in no uncertain terms.”

“Sort of.”

“Well, I do have a grapevine of my own, you know,” Marti said. “Arianne's father and my Tommy both being bankers. I’d heard she was interested in him, but I never heard about any signs of interest on his part. I think you were upset for no reason.”

“Well, to be fair, he said she followed him to Paris, and he told her he wasn’t interested.” She chewed her bottom lip, still uncertain. “But why would she act as if they are nearly engaged, if there’s not some reason?”

“From what I know about Arianne, she’s not used to taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“If he’s telling the truth.” Nikki shifted on the sofa.

“Is he in the habit of lying to you?”

“Not that I know.”

“Just my point, Nikki.”

“Okay, but wait, you don’t know everything that happened. When Max called, Jolie had just fired me a couple of days before.’’

“Fired you? Is she nuts? You’re the agency’s top model. Don’t you have other agencies sniffing around all the time?”

Nikki nodded. “That’s a story for another day. But still I wasn’t in a very good mood to begin with. I told him I was too busy with rethinking my life. He seemed to think that was amusing. Then he told me he’d talk to me later when I was in a better mood. The next day I’m out on the beach, and there he is, walking straight toward me.”

“Impulsive…and determined. Oh, I like that in a man.” Marti giggled. “Go on. Then what?”

“We had dinner.”

“You cooked?” Marti’s eyes grew wide.

Nikki grinned. “No, he did.”

“This is better and better. Have to love a man who cooks. And…after dinner?”

“We were sitting before the fireplace about to talk and have some wine…and the phone rang.”

“No.” Marti groaned. “Please tell me you ignored it.”

“If only I had. It was my mother.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Yes. She felt it her maternal duty to call and read me the riot act because she’d heard about my leaving the agency on television. She also managed to get in a few digs about Max.”

“And you hung up on her…I hope.”

“Yes. She never fails to piss me off. By then, I had a headache, so I pointed Max toward the guest room, and I went to bed.”

“You’re kidding?” Marti shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you had the man of your dreams alone and in the same room, and you sent him down the hall to the guest room.”

Nikki gave a rueful laugh. “I did.”

The more she tried to explain about her desire for independence, the more her friend shook her head. Nikki concluded her story with Max's calling her about Alexa. “So that’s how I ended up at the townhouse.”

Marti sat with her mouth open for a moment, then said, “You are in quite a predicament, aren’t you? He may have you right where he wants you, but it’s still up to you to take advantage of it.”

“Take advantage of it? Max and I can’t start a relationship with Alexa there. It wouldn’t be proper. I’m supposed to set an example, not seduce her father.”

Marti seemed to consider Nikki’s reservations. “Okay, think of it as an opportunity to know the real man. I mean, if you really want to get to know him, the situation is ideal. Keep some distance between you, but not too much. Drive him crazy with desire. That’s what I’d do.”

“Au contraire. He’s already driving me crazy. The dream I had the night he was at the beach house. Whew!”

“X-rated?”

“Was it ever. The hard part about waking up was that it was so real. And it seemed so right. It didn’t seem like the first time, either.” Nikki grew contemplative, then asked. “Did I tell you Max sent me a gift?”

Marti leaned forward. “This just gets better and better. Tell me!”

“The day before he called, he sent me this old French mask he bought from an antique shop in Paris—for my birthday, which by the way, isn’t until August. I put it on at the beach house, and I either fainted or went to sleep. I’m not sure which, but I had another dream. Max and I were lovers in France, but it had a tragic end. He was killed after making love to me.”

“That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“I didn’t mean I killed him. The Nazis did, after he left me. I think reading the mask’s provenance must’ve made me dream that, because it referred to a similar incident.”

“Interesting.”

“It was anything but interesting. In my dream I saw him lying in a pool of blood, and I woke up crying.”

“It must’ve seemed very real. Still it was only a dream.” Marti’s voice soothed, encouraging Nikki to continue.

“It was more like watching a movie than a dream, Marti. You know how dreams are usually all jumbled up? Well, this one made perfect sense. At least it did in the dream.” Nikki worried her lower lip for several seconds, then decided to take the plunge. If Marti thought she was crazy, so what? She took a deep breath. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Not sure if I do or not.” Marti’s perfectly arched brows drew together in a frown.

Nikki continued, “At first I thought it was just another one of my many dreams about Max, but now I wonder if wearing the mask stimulated some kind of—I don’t know—karmic memory?”

Marti smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re getting pretty deep into the esoteric realm here. I guess it's possible that you and Max have been together in another life and are still trying to work it out.”

“I don’t know. I mean who can really know that stuff?”

“True.”

“On the other hand, maybe it’s a warning. Maybe we aren’t good for each other. Honestly, I want to be with him, but whenever he broaches the subject, I back off,” she wailed. “I can’t help it. Something deep inside makes me want to run in the opposite direction.”

“It’s more likely you’re reacting to what happened with Ian Stark.”

“That was a long time ago. I’m over it.”

Marti reached over and patted Nikki’s hand. “I’m not so sure about that. Still, you’ll never know if you don’t give Max a chance.”

“Life shouldn’t be so complicated.” Nikki paused and sipped her coffee. “Something else very weird happened at the beach house too.”

“What?”

“After he left the cottage, I walked back and found a rose lying on the wrought iron table. First, I thought Max had left it, but there was a note lying under it. Someone had scrawled, You don’t need him. What do you think? It really gave me the creeps. I was already packed and ready to leave, when Max called and asked me to come to the townhouse.”

A puzzled look crossed Marti’s face. “Ever received anything like it before?”

“No.”

“I don’t like the sound of it. Did you call the police?”

“No, I threw it away. I mean, it didn’t threaten me or anything. The police would’ve just blown me off.”

“Well, I don’t know, but if it happens again, promise me you will. I don’t want to scare you, but it sounds like you might have a stalker.”

“One rose doesn't a stalker make.”

“I still think you ought to call the police,” Marti said, giving an emphatic nod of her head. “By the way, have you tried on the mask again?”

“No. I mean—well, I hadn’t slept the night before. I thought I’d fallen asleep, and dreamt it, but the more I think about it… Hell, I don’t know.”

“Just as an experiment, mind you, why don’t you try it, again? I mean either you will or you won’t. If there’s something about the mask, which caused it the first time, then it might happen again.”

She frowned as she considered the idea. The initial result had been pretty startling. “What if something worse happens?” she asked, uneasy at the thought of trying it again. “I’m not sure I want to experience those other lives, if that’s really what’s going on.”

“What if you brought the mask over here…” Marti suggested, “…and I stayed with you? If it looked like you were having a rough time, I could just wake you up, and that would be that.”

Nikki grinned at her friend. “I think you’re more interested in this previous life thing than I am. I can’t believe you’d even consider something like this. You’re usually so levelheaded.”

“I may be levelheaded, Sweetie, but I’ve had an experience or two that makes me think that anything is possible.” She rustled in her pocket for a cigarette. “I know, I know. I need to quit, and I will, but not yet.”

Nikki watched her friend become very agitated, her hands shaking as she lit a cigarette. Marti took a long drag before speaking. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when I was about nine or ten, my grandmother was sick. Mother had gone to Cambridge to stay with her, but she wouldn’t let me go. Mother said Gramma was too ill, so I was left home in Boston with my governess.

“Late one night after I’d gone to sleep, I woke up, and there was Gramma standing at my bedside smiling at me. I said, ‘I thought you were sick.’ she smiled and shook her head. ‘Not any more, child. I’m much better, and I wanted to see my little namesake. You go back to sleep now.’ Then she sat in the rocker by my bed, and I went back to sleep.”

“I think I know where this story is headed.”

Marti shushed her. “Just let me finish. The next morning, everyone was rushing around, and my mother was back at home. I asked her where Gramma was, and she told me Gramma died the night before. I kept saying, ‘No, she didn’t. She was here last night, in my room. I saw her.’ My mother became very upset and told me to be quiet and never mention it again. It wasn’t until later when I heard of other people having similar experiences that I even remembered what had happened.”

The hair raised on Nikki’s neck and forearms. “I’ve heard of things like that too, but I’ve never known anyone who actually experienced it.”

“That’s not the only time I’ve had it happen, Nik. When I was sixteen, I was in the school library, studying for an exam. I kept seeing someone in my peripheral vision. I’d turn around and look, but no one was there. Finally, I heard my brother Eric laugh, as if he were playing a joke on me. Then I heard him say, as clearly as I can hear you, ‘Bye, Sis. I have to go now.’ When I turned again, he wasn’t there. I called home, and mother said I was being silly, that Eric was with friends, and I needed to get out of the library and get some fresh air. An hour later, my father called and told me my brother had died in a boating accident. So, yes, I do believe there is more to life than we know. I don’t think anything is impossible. Far from it.”

Nikki shivered, rubbing her arms. “The hair is absolutely standing up on my arms. So you still think we ought to try this little experiment?”

“I do. Then if nothing happens, you’ll know you were tired and it was just a bad dream.”

Wary, but curious, Nikki took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, let’s do it.”

***

Nikki and Marti made a quick trip to the townhouse. “Max?” Nikki called, listening for a response. She shrugged and turned to Marti. “Come on in. I guess he and Alexa went ouy to dinner. Now, we can get in and out without any questions. I’ll be right back.”

She bounded upstairs to her room and retrieved the mask from its place of safekeeping, an old-fashioned hatbox on top of the armoire. Lifting the lid, she looked inside the box. Yes, still there. A frisson of unease shimmered down her neck and lodged in her stomach.

Don’t be silly. It’s just butterflies.

She carried the box down to the foyer where Marti waited.

“You look like the cat that ate the canary. I take it your mission was a success.”

“It’s right here.” She patted the hatbox.

“So, let’s see it.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Just for a second. Then home for the grand experiment,” Marti said, the sound of excitement mounting in her voice.

“All right, but I don’t want to be here when Max and Alexa come home.” Removing the top, she revealed the leather mask.

“Oh. It’s beautiful.” Marti reached inside the box. “May I?”

“Sure.” Nikki shrugged.

Marti took the mask, lifting it from the box, but then quickly dropped it. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

Appearing dazed, Marti’s eyes widened. She glanced first at Nikki and back again at the mask. “No, I—uh, I don’t know. Something strange happened. Look, sweetie, maybe this isn’t such a good idea, after all.” She handed the box to Nikki. “Why don’t you take that thing and—uh, put it away. Why don’t we take in a movie instead? Forget all about Max and that silly mask.”

“Marti? What happened?”

Her friend headed for the door. “Or we could go have a drink.”

“Hold on.” Nikki took Marti by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “What’s wrong? You have to tell me because you’re pale and this just isn’t like you.”

She flashed a quick smile at Nikki. “Let’s go home and I’ll tell you. I really need that drink.”

During the taxi ride back to Marti’s apartment, she tried explaining the sensations she’d experienced when she’d touched the mask. “It didn’t burn, but the mask was definitely warm. Almost like flesh. I know it sounds silly. But when I touched it, I had flashes—visions of people running and shouting. It doesn’t make a lot of sense right now, but maybe in time it will.” She visibly shivered and Nikki noted the faraway expression in her friend’s eyes.

Another chill zipped up Nikki's spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, but the twin images of a Royal Guard and a French Resistance soldier caused her to open them right away. She shook her head. Two Max’s were too many. She had enough trouble with the Max Devereaux in the present, she wasn’t signing on for any more.

***

Once back at the apartment, Nikki gathered her courage and opened the hatbox. “I’m going to prove all this nonsense about the mask is just that—nonsense.”

Marti placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “I wish you wouldn’t. It was a stupid idea. I’m sorry I suggested it.”

“I disagree. Look, I’m touching it, and I don’t feel any heat. Nothing.” She raised the mask. “Watch. I’m putting on the mask and nothing—”

***

Over his after dinner coffee, Max smiled at his daughter. “Lexxie, I promise we’ll find you a school in the city for the fall. I won’t send you away again. The townhouse is too lonely without you. I missed you more than I thought possible. I was selfish and thought only what was convenient. Didn’t think how it would affect you.”

“Is Nikki going to stay with us in the fall?” his calculating daughter asked, glancing up at him from under her spiky dark lashes.

“I have no idea about her plans. I doubt she does either.”

A sudden wave of vertigo hit Max. He grasped the edges of the table with both hands.

“Daddy, what's wrong? You’re pale.”

He shut his eyes for a moment before answering. “I’m not sure. I felt like the room was spinning, but now it seems to be going away.”

His daughter's eyes grew wide. “Are you sure?”

“It’s nothing. In fact, I’m fine.” He shrugged. “It’s over.” Looking at his watch, he said, “I need to make a call.” The vertigo had passed, but a feeling of unease remained. Images of Nikki had come to mind and wouldn’t go away. Something was wrong. He keyed in his home number, but the answering machine picked up. “She's not answering.”

“Wasn’t she going to Marti’s?”

“Ah, yes. See how handy you are. I need you around to keep track of everyone.”

“I know how you could keep track of Nikki.” His daughter shot him a smug grin. “Marry her.”

***

Nikki would have fallen to the floor if Marti hadn’t been standing by her side. She eased her friend down on the leather sofa and held her hand. What else could she do?

“Crap.” Worried, she patted the side of Nikki’s face. “Answer me, what’s happening? Your color’s good. Breathing okay?” She noted the easy rise and fall of her friend’s chest. “Yes, breathing’s okay.” She continued watching, but Nikki didn’t respond to any of Marti’s feverish efforts to awaken her.

Should she call a doctor or 911? She wrung her hands. Maybe Nikki would come out of this spell without assistance. Marti held her breath and waited.

***

Nicola walked about the open deck and spied the Captain of the Santa Elicia at the helm. She made her way toward him, determined she would have her fears allayed... or confirmed.

“Captain, are we in for a storm?”

“Not much of one, Signora, but you should remain below in your quarters. My ship and I have weathered many such storms.” The Captain smiled, flashing his white teeth behind a dark mustache.

She found his presence virile and his sea green eyes compelling. She nodded her agreement, suddenly suspicious the handsome officer had merely placated her. Still, she would take his advice.

The swells grew larger and larger, a strong gust of wind blowing the ship suddenly leeward, caused her to stumble against the Captain. Grateful he had kept her from falling, she looked up to thank him and felt the intensity of his gaze. The sudden contact of his body with hers startled her. Her hands lingered on his firmly muscled chest. His arms felt like iron bands as he steadied her. This was the first time she had felt a man’s embrace since her husband died two years before…and it felt most pleasant. But because she was a lady, she backed away and tried to ignore the sensations awakened by his touch.

“First Mate, see to the helm,” Captain Ramos ordered, “I will escort Signora Vincenza to her quarters.”

Without further incident, she allowed the Captain to assist her to her cabin. His manners perfect, he bowed over her hand and offered, “May I send dinner to you, Signora?”

“Grazie, but no, I am afraid I shall not be able to eat.”

The Captain smiled and bowed again. “Then Signora, please excuse me. I must attend to my ship.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Closing the door, she leaned against it, closing her eyes in contemplation, remembering the first time a man had looked at her with passion. Twenty years earlier, after quitting the stage, she had entered her dressing room, removed her mask, laying it with great care on the dressing table. It was a superb specimen of the whitest leather. She had been told it came from the hide of the last unicorn, but of course she had no faith in such myths. She traced her fingers around the gold outlining the eyes and finely arched brows. The feather trimming the mask was still colorful and full. She had no idea of its true history, but she had protected it, ever since her dresser Maria had unearthed it from storage.

A new face appeared in the mirror among those who thronged into her dressing room that night. Soft brown eyes watched her from a face that appeared kind as well as handsome. She had not been able to break away from his piercing gaze, though she had tried.

Maria entered, abruptly scattering the other admirers.“Signorina, do you want me to make him leave?” The older woman placed her hands on her hips and frowned at the newcomer, ready to do the prima donna’s bidding.

“No, you may leave us, Maria.”

Maria sighed. “As you wish, Signorina.” The wardrobe mistress withdrew, casting repeated glances over her shoulder.

Later that same evening, she married the stranger in the mirror and never looked back until now. For two years after her husband’s death she mourned him.

A sudden jarring of the ship flung her to the floor, interrupting her pleasant memories. The ship pitched and tossed with greater frequency. With great difficulty she made her way to the bed. Lying down she was able to quiet her heaving stomach, but only by clinging to the headboard was she able to remain on the bed.

For what seemed like hours, the ship tossed and heaved throwing her passengers about as if they were dice in a shaker, causing more than one of them to call loudly on Heaven’s intervention.

Eventually, the sea calmed. Night covered the ship with a foggy blanket. The sea, without the light of the moon or stars, gave her a feeling of terrible isolation. She fell asleep almost as soon as the worst of the pitching ceased, a prayer of thanks on her lips. She had survived and rested not in the black depths of the ocean.

After a dreamless sleep, she awoke with the bright morning sun hitting her face, nearly blinding her with its intense rays. Pleased to find the ship still intact, she rose from the narrow bed and gazed out the small window. Sunlight struck the waves, causing a myriad of sparkling lights to dance in a dazzling array over the water. The sky was perfectly clear with only one large white, puffy cloud in sight.

A school of dolphins raced alongside the ship, their dorsal fins slicing the surface of the water as they swam, dived and raced through the watery depths. Occasionally, one would leap from the water and show his entire body, gray and glistening in the sunlight. They were playful and appeared to be enjoying their capers in the jade sea.

It was a truly a beautiful morning to be alive. Only concern for her son clouded her heart. He had been injured in a horseback riding accident in England, or she would have had no reason for voyaging to such a cold, damp country.

After dressing, she decided to take a walk on the deck. She threw a lace shawl around her shoulders and left the already stifling heat of her small cabin. She found the Captain watching the same school of dolphins she had watched earlier. He stood tall, as the wind blew through his dark curls. His wavy hair was clubbed back on his neck, but a few tendrils had escaped. A short, well-trimmed beard and mustache complimented his angular thin face.

She remembered their brief encounter the evening before and blushed. It puzzled her greatly, this feeling of passion for someone she barely knew. It was something she never expected to experience again. However, it seemed as if she already knew what he would be like. He would be tender and loving, but very passionate. Indeed, the vivid images shocked her. No modest woman should think such things.

But she had already made up her mind she would never give the Captain any reason to make advances to her. Acting on her impulses simply would not do.

The Captain turned toward her. In the bright sunlight, his eyes blazed an emerald green. Indeed, they were a sharp contrast to the soft green of the water surrounding the Santa Elicia.

When he saw her, he smiled showing white, even teeth through his dark mustache. “Signora Vincenza, I see you have suffered no ill effects from last night’s little storm. Most of my passengers are still in their beds. I am happy to see you are an excellent sailor.” He bowed low and kissed her hand, his lips lingering a moment longer than politeness dictated. All the while he gazed into her eyes, causing her entire body to grow quite warm. What manner of man was he to affect her so?

The waves of heat coursing through her body caused her to withdraw her hand from his. Unable to explain her abrupt reaction without revealing the nature of her confusion, she attempted a feeble laugh. “You would not have thought me a good sailor last night, Captain. I fear I was as ill as the rest of your passengers. For one, I am very thankful we are standing here on deck this morning and not food for the fish below. I commend you for your skill in saving our lives. I did not think anyone could have brought us through the storm as you did.”

The Captain, his voice soft and seductive, replied, “The Signora does me too much credit for the sailing of my ship. I merely did what any captain would do.”

Although the Captain decried the necessity of praise, she knew, by the wise smile on his face she had pleased him. Whether his pleasure was due to her expression of gratitude or her silly girlish reaction to his kiss on her hand, she remained unsure.

Nicola dawdled over her simple breakfast, then selected a book to read to while away the morning. They had been at sea for only five days, and had they not been blown off course by the storm, it would have been their last day. Concern over her son’s fate consumed her. The delay and the uncertainty took precedence in her mind. Finally, she was able to dismiss her conflicting thoughts about the handsome Captain Ramos.

The loss of her son would be too much to bear. Antonio must not die, she willed. It was her son who had helped her though the horrible time after her husband’s passing. It was Antonio who had kept her going, when she had wanted to stop living and join her husband.

“Signora Vincenza, pardon me for disturbing you,” a soft voice said.

Nicola looked up from her book. Captain Ramos stood in the open doorway of her cabin. He was smiling and showing his fine, white teeth. He must be extraordinarily proud of them, for he certainly flashed them often enough.

“To the contrary, Captain, you do not disturb me at all,” she began with unfailing good manners. “I am merely reading to pass the time. The book is not a very good one—very dull with scenes of battles and such. It does not interest me much.” In reality, the book was a history on the politics of Italy and would not, in any circumstances, be considered proper reading material for a lady, but Nicola had always been encouraged to read books of all kinds by her late husband. Thanks to him, her innate intellect had grown sharp, and she had developed a great interest in politics. Too many world shattering events had occurred in her short thirty-eight years of life.

“I wonder if the Signora would do me the honor of dining with me in my cabin tonight?” he asked, his gaze holding hers. “Since it is the last night aboard ship, I have persuaded my troublesome cook to prepare something special.” Smiling again, the captain’s green eyes twinkled as he bowed over her hand and kissed it.

Nicola’s tranquil manner belied her inner qualms. Although she smiled coolly and did not snatch her hand away as she had earlier, her knees weakened and would have given way, had she not already been seated. The same warm sensation ran up her arm and down to the pit of her stomach. With eyes out of focus and a brain which seemed to possess no will of its own, she assented, “Yes, Captain Ramos, I will.” In spite of her misgivings, she would have dinner with the handsome captain. Her tell-tale heart pounded rapidly in her chest. Ridiculous. She must not act like a giddy school girl.

“Until then, Signora. I await your company with great pleasure,” had been his bold reply.

Nicola could not believe the forwardness of the man. He kissed her hand again. She pulled a fan from her sleeve and plied it, cooling her warm cheeks.

Captain Ramos, his emerald eyes glittering, bowed gracefully, pivoted and exited her cabin, rubbing his hands together as he did. The nerve of the man. He thought to lie with her. Well, he would not find her favors so easily won.

The hours, which once had passed so slowly, now flew. Long before she was prepared for her dinner engagement, the faithful Maria had moved Nicola about like a sack of flour, finally managing to dress her in pale blue silk and arrange her hair in a becoming style. Maria held the precious glass mirror before Nicola.

Maria gave an exasperated sigh. “You must show some life, child. You are dining with a veree han’some man tonight. You have been alone too long. Eet ees time you have a man in your life. Thees captain weel not be aroused by a puppet. You mus’ show some life.”

Her cheeks grew hot at Maria’s implications. “You go too far. You are my friend, but you go too far.” With angry jerking motions, Nicola adjusted a ribbon here and a fold of the blue silk dress there. She took the ivory fan from Maria’s gnarled fingers and used it furiously, pacing back and forth in the small cabin.

Maria chuckled and clapped her hands, “That’s much better, cara mia. Now you are alive. You are mad, but eet ees a def’nit eemprovement. Ah, Signora, you are still so lovely.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Maria. You have not lost your touch

“The chignon, it is perfect for you, Signora. The captain, he will want to make love to you tonight. I am sure of it.”

“Maria!” she cried, her face flushing with heat. “I am joining the Captain for dinner.”

“In the han’some captain’s cabin.”

“I am too old for such foolishness. It is not proper.”

“Hah. You do not look a single day over thirty. Your skin is smooth as a bambino’s, and there is not a single gray hair on your head. I should know. I have dressed your hair for the last twenty years.”

A knock at the door startled Nicola. “Oh no, not yet.”

Maria opened the door. The ship’s first officer had been sent to escort her to the Captain’s quarters. Taking the first officer’s proffered arm, she cast one last frantic glance over her shoulder. Panic rose in her throat. Visions of a lamb, being led to the slaughter, crossed her mind.

The Captain greeted her formally in the presence of the seaman, “Signora Vincenza.”

“Captain Ramos.” She curtsied, as gracefully as possible with weakened limbs barely able to support her.

“Would you care for a glass of this very fine Bordeaux?”

“Grazie, Captain Ramos.” Gratefully, she accepted the glass. Its glowing depths reflected the points of light from the candles burning in the room. She sipped the full-bodied wine and experienced a rush of sensation to her head. Dinner passed in a blur. The seaman acted as waiter for the many courses, while she attempted what she hoped were appropriate responses to the Captain’s conversation, but she would forever remain unsure of what transpired prior to the Captain’s words, “That will be all, seaman.”

They were alone...and there were fewer candles alight than when she had first entered. The flickering candlelight made their shadows weave and shimmer. Whether this was an illusion or the effects of the wine, she had no idea. She had consumed, possibly two glasses, but she had the distinct sensation of bobbing about like her shadow.

Powerless to move, she watched the captain. Her breathing quickened. He stepped around the table and walked toward her. Still, Nicola’s body refused to move. Ramos’s green eyes had darkened to emerald, yet glowed with the light, reflected from the candles scattered about the cabin. Giddy, she gazed into his eyes, her heart thudding louder with each second he continued to hold her gaze. Surely, he must hear her heart, pounding as it did.

Once he took her hand in his and held it, she could not turn back. It was simply too late. Ramos held her hand in his very gently and gazed into her eyes, a hesitant smile on his perfect lips. She gasped, “I—”

“Shh, Signora Nicola, you must call me Maximilian, and I shall call you my precious blue bird.” Tenderly he placed his hand against her cheek, then caressed lightly across her lips. His touch left a red hot trail of sensation down the side of her face, making her lips ache to be kissed. Next he traced a line from her trembling chin to the hollow of her neck, causing her to feel she might swoon. He gently stroked the soft skin above the low neckline of her gown. A shudder ran throughout her body, but she was powerless to shop his gentle caresses. Her mind told her it was wrong, but the rest of her body gave silent permission and cried for more of his touch.

Maximilian seemed to sense her surrender, for he took her in both arms and pulled her close. He lowered his head, grazing her neck with his tender sensual lips. His manhood pressed against her. Dear heaven, he was very aroused. She opened her mouth to him. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue against hers, battling for dominance, mimicking strokes of love.

Abandoning her mouth, he began slow, sensual kisses down her neck to the margin of her décolletage, moaning softly as he did.

“You are so beautiful, my blue bird. I must make love to you.”

Panicked, she could take no more of his torturing kisses or his soft words. “You must stop, you must…”

Maximilian stopped, pulling away slightly, but still holding her in his arms. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Confusion reigned in Nicola’s head and heart. “I-I do not know what I want. Your touch, your lips they set me ablaze.” Unable to speak, she winnowed her fingers through his wavy hair. “I-I—” Uncertainty claimed her power of speech. She rested her head against his muscular chest.

“My blue bird, I would not hurt you. I only wish to make love to you...and bring a smile to your lovely face.”

Raising her head, she looked into his eyes. “Make love to me, Maximilian. Make me smile, again.”

He claimed her lips, once more—demanding, passionate kisses that left her unable to breathe. Her senses on fire, each kiss more excruciatingly sweet, she responded, her passion matching his. Wild tremors tore through her body and left her helpless under their assault. She grew bold. She unbuttoned his snowy white shirt, caressing his broad shoulders, tentatively at first, then with more confidence; her fingers discovered the fine hair covering his chest.

Hurriedly they undressed each other in a frenzy. Maximilian’s white ruffled shirt hit the cabin floor first, her blue silk dress next. The ubiquitous stays and petticoats followed in a rapid succession. She was swept into a river of passion, passion too long denied her body.

Once her clothing no longer hampered him, Maximilian brought his lips to play on her bare breasts. Her nipples tightened into buds, as his hands explored the flesh of her buttocks and thighs.

Maximilian took her in his arms and carried her to his bed in a symphony of movement and sensation. He suckled one pink-tipped breast, caressing the other with one hand, and exploring the moist valley between her thighs with his other.

His manhood pressed heavily along her thigh, and she longed to join with him. “Please,” she moaned, opening herself to him.

He centered himself over her and thrust into her feminine core. Nicola welcomed him, arching to meet him, thrust for thrust, until time and place held no meaning—only the hot, sweet tremors, breaking like waves of the sea, again and again.

Their hunger sated, they slept briefly. Nicola, the first to awaken, watched her lover’s body shining in a shaft of moonlight. Her lover—what wondrous words. Sweet, indeed. She stretched, smiling to herself. Maximilian’s cat-like eyes opened.

Overcome by shyness, she snatched the sheet across her naked body, casting her gaze downward.

“Cara, you must not hide you loveliness from me.”

He took her chin, pulled her face close to his and gave her a soft kiss. Again, she marveled at his sensitivity and snuggled closer into his warm embrace.

“You are so beautiful and so passionate. Your body is an instrument of delight for us both. True? You found pleasure with me, as I did with you?”

In a haughty voice, she replied, “Captain Ramos, I find you quite conceited and,” she paused, then permitting a smile to cross her lips, she continued, “a most wonderful lover.” She finished her pronouncement with a light kiss, which landed astray on the tip of his nose. He pulled her to him, again.

When Nicola disembarked at Dover the following evening, she wore a smile and a new lift in her heart. She had not felt so alive, not since her husband’s death. Life was good again. Silently she thanked Maximilian Ramos from the bottom of her heart for awakening her, but she did not look back, for her thoughts were for her son.