Rapture's Rendezvous (10 page)

“I need my rest also, Maria,” he said, moving toward the bed.

“But, Michael,” she murmured, glancing toward Alberto once again.

“Never fear,” he said, climbing onto the bed, with his breeches still on. “Rest is all I am after.”

Maria tensed as he stretched out next to her. How could she be so close and not touch him? It was too much of a temptation for her. Inching her fingers across the sheet, she felt a passionate thrill shoot through her when she touched the hairy back of his hand. Then she gasped lightly when his fingers moved around and captured hers in his. When his body turned and his gaze met hers, she moved her body toward him as though he was a magnet, pulling her.

All thoughts of Alberto were forgotten as Michael moved closer to her and embraced her. His fingers went to her hair and smoothed it back from her face, then his lips sought hers and kissed her ever so gently as his hands moved on downward, capturing a breast.

A loud cry of outrage filled the room as Alberto lunged onto the bed. He pulled Michael from Maria and threw him from the bed, all the while cursing vile profanities at him.

Maria jumped from the bed, crying, clutching at Michael's night robe that she still wore. “Alberto, please stop. Please,” she sobbed. “You're acting like a madman.”

“Go and Find your clothes and put them on, Maria,” he shouted, standing with doubled fists at his side, daring Michael to take another step closer.

Michael pushed himself up from the floor, then stood in a daze, watching.

“But, Alberto,” Maria whined.

“Did you hear me?” Alberto shouted, taking a step closer to Michael. “If you don't, I'm going to lay into this lover of yours.”

“But where shall we go?” Maria asked, searching around her, finding her clothes lying in a neat pile next to the stove. She began to put them on hurriedly.

“Where do you think?” Alberto growled. “Where we were supposed to be in the first place.”

“It's too soon for Maria to be exposed to the sea air,” Michael said in a tone of voice that was a bit too mono-tonal. But he was waiting. He would defend Maria against her own brother if the need arose.

“I shall be the one to determine that,” Alberto said, turning his head, seeing if Maria was indeed dressing.

Michael took a step toward Alberto, but Maria rushed to Michael's side and took him by the arm. “Please, Michael,” she said. “Please don't get into a fight with my brother. I am well enough to return topside. I feel very strong now. It's best that Alberto and I
return to be with the rest of the immigrants.”

Michael framed Maria's face with his hands and leaned down into it. “Are you sure, darling?” he asked quietly, studying her facial features, as though it would be the last time he would be near her.

“Yes. I'm sure,” she said, reaching up to touch his hand, then flinched when Alberto came and jerked her away from Michael.

“Come on, Maria,” Alberto shouted.

“I must first get my violin,” she said, searching around her once again.

“Hurry up then. We must find a place to rest when we get topside. It's already dark, you know.”

Michael ran his fingers through his hair, frowning. “If you insist on moving topside, let's go about it in a civilized manner,” he said thickly. “Let me get assis-tance to help get your belongings moved. You will need your bunk and all the heavy blankets you can get. I'll see to it that you have the best.”

“We don't need any more of your help,” Alberto stormed. “You already tried to take payment by touching my sister and kissing her.”

“I don't need payment for anything,” Michael said flatly. He moved toward the door, ignoring Alberto's further accusations. “I'll go topside and make all the arrangements. We have to do what's best for Maria, Alberto. Whether or not you believe I'm doing it for her.”

When Michael disappeared out into the passageway, Maria went to Alberto and glared upward into his face. “Oh, Alberto,” she cried. “How could you? Michael didn't mean us any harm.”

“I watched as he started to kiss you,” he said, glowering.

“It is I who made the first advance,” she said, tilting her chin up into the air, then walked on out into the passageway in her soiled chimney sweep costume, carrying her violin case with her.

Alberto's face drained of color. “Surely I heard wrong,” he murmured to himself. “Maria wouldn't say such a thing. My Maria? My sweet, innocent Maria… ?”

He moved on out into the passageway himself, tensing when he passed the spot where he had been left to die. He hurried along, still wondering about his sister. . . .

Two more days at sea and America's shores would be reached. Maria lay crouched beneath a heavy layer of blankets watching Alberto. He appeared to be asleep, but she didn't want to take a chance that he might see her sneak to Michael's cabin. She would have to wait a bit longer. But she did have to see Michael this night. If not, she might never be able to feel his arms around her again. America was a vast land. She had no idea where this Saint Louis was, where Michael had said he was going. She tensed, seeing a movement on Alberto's bunk. Though it was dark, she just knew that she had seen him reach down and pull a boot on! Where did he think he was going? He had stayed close to her since having left Michael's cabin. But he had been acting strangely, all the while keeping his face hidden from the card players as he continued to watch them. Surely he wouldn't. . . .

Alberto looked slowly around him, making sure no one was witnessing his preparations for his departure from his bunk. So far, no one had paid any attention to him. And now that his beard was fully grown, he was ready to make his move. Just thinking about holding the cards in his hands again made his heart pound. And then what he had planned to do later made his blood
surge wildly with delight. He would show them. Sam and Grace would wish they had never even met him.

Eyeing Maria closely, Alberto smiled to himself. She was most assuredly asleep. She would never miss him. He pulled the last of their money from his breeches pocket and stacked it neatly in the palm of his right hand. He would make this back double, he mused to himself. Maria would never know. . . .

Tears burned at the corners of Maria's eyes, watching Alberto move from the bunk and head toward the dim lighting of a whale oil lamp, beneath which huddled the usual group of men playing poker. Through her mist of tears, she watched as Alberto settled onto the deck, now one of the men who played the devil's game. Cigar smoke circled upward and all eyes turned to Alberto, silently studying him for a second, then fell back to playing, mouthing crude obscenities as each card turned up in each of their hands.

Maria had wanted to reach out and stop Alberto, remembering what had happened to him before, but her inner tormented feelings of need for Michael had urged her to remain silent, pretending to be asleep. She knew that if Alberto was busy playing cards, he wouldn't see her leave for Michael's cabin. Yes, it was a perfect cover. And, for some unknown reason, Maria felt that Alberto just had to know what he was doing. For it was he who had taken the beating, and he would surely have devised a way to keep this from happening again.

She sighed to herself. She hated to admit it, but she even felt relieved to be away from Alberto's side for a while. Since his personality change, he had been most
unpleasant to have as a companion. She had to hope that once they reached their Papa's home, Alberto would return to his old self and be just as lovable as before.

Pushing her blanket aside, Maria crept from the bunk, still attired in her hated chimney sweep costume and drab, dark shoes, and began to walk cautiously across the deck flooring. She barely breathed as she moved toward the door that led below deck, all the while watching Alberto. But he was already absorbed in the card game. He wouldn't see, or miss her, for hours.

Fear made shivers ride her spine as Maria moved down the steps, seeing the semidarkness of the long passageway that led to Michael's cabin. She knew that she was foolish, not having warned Michael of her plans to be with him. He could have met her. Protected her. But she hadn't known the true time that she could have left the bunk. She would just have to keep quiet so no one in any of the other cabins would hear her approach.

Noises from all sides of her made her cringe. They were as before. Gigglings from loose women who were paid to share their bodies with any man who asked, and the drunken, rowdy laughter from sailors who had finished with their duties for the night.

Hugging her arms tightly around her, Maria hurried to Michael's door and tapped lightly. In only a matter of moments, she would be with him. He would again teach her the mysteries of life and in the most sensuous of ways.

She tensed when he did not answer. A terrible thought seized her. What if Michael had paid for the
services of one of these . . . wenches . . . ? She tapped more noisily, looking around her, trembling. If he didn't open the door soon, someone else on either side of her might, and then what?

The door jerked open quickly, revealing a half-drunken Michael to Maria. “Michael?” she whispered, seeing his hair all tousled in layers of gold. And even though there was only a dim lighting, she could see swollen mounds beneath his eyes and the red streaks that surrounded the blue of his eyes.

“Maria?” he said in a thick speech, almost teetering.

She eyed him once again. He wore the night robe that was so familiar to her and it gaped open in front, revealing that he wore nothing beneath it. Her face reddened when she caught sight of his manhood. It wasn't in a state of arousal and even looked funny as it hung so loosely from his light-colored patch of pubic hair. She would always be amazed at how something so tiny could grow to such proportions to give her such pleasure. Tremors of passionate lust raced through her, making her move on inside the cabin.

When she heard the cabin door shut and the bolt lock slide in position, she turned and waited to see what Michael would do next. She had never been around an intoxicated man before. And she hated seeing Michael in this state. Especially when she had expected so much more from him this night. She tensed when she saw him reach for the wine bottle and pour himself another drink.

Taking a large swallow, Michael began'to walk around Maria, eyeing her questioningly. “And how did you manage to get away from that damn brother of yours?” he asked darkly.

“I did manage. That's ail that's important,” she said softly. “You are glad to see me, aren't you?” she quickly added, wanting to reach up and touch him, even cling to him.

“But what if he realizes you are gone?” Michael continued, taking another large swallow, burping noisily as he placed the empty glass down on a table.

“He won't,” she said flatly.

“And how can you be so sure?”

“He's playing that card game again,” she answered, lowering her eyes.

A raucous laugh filled the dark corners of the cabin as Michael moved toward the bed, falling down onto it. “He is a damn idiot, that one. I also love the lure of the cards, but not among the scum that travels these ships,” he said, still laughing. He stretched out on the bed, watching Maria once again. “And why did you come?” he said further, in a quiet drawl.

Maria stood still, even though her heart was pounding wildly inside her, seeing him on the bed, so tempting. She felt full of the devil this night, so very, very wicked. But she knew that only Michael could cause her to act in such a way. Only Michael. “Don't you know, Michael?” she asked, casting her eyesdownward.

“I'm not sure,” he said, a smile lifting his lips playfully. “Come. Show me.”

“But aren't you too . . . uh . . . drunk . .. ?”

Another laugh from Michael jolted Maria's nerves. “Too drunk to do what, honey?” he added, reaching over on a night stand to pick up a half-smoked cigar. He placed it between his lips and lit it, suddenly enjoying this little game with Maria. The heat in his
loins urged him to hurry on along with it, but he would let her make the first move. It would be more exciting that way.

He puffed eagerly on the cigar, watching her move toward him. Damn. Even in that ugly garb, she was the most beautiful woman alive. He loved the color of her skin … the dark olive tone that he remembered being so soft to the touch. And didn't she appear to be a tigress now, as she moved her stately tall body toward him? Her dark, wavy hair hung to her waist, and her eyes were hidden beneath thick, heavy lashes, which were now fluttering like butterfly wings as she bent down over him.

“Michael, you know what I mean,” she said, lowering her full, sensuous lips to cover his.

“God,” Michael groaned, reaching for the ashtray, dropping the cigar into it. He then pulled Maria atop him and kissed her hard and long, letting his fingers begin to unbutton the shirt that hid her large, full breasts from his hungry mouth and eyes.

Maria pulled away from him, devouring him with her eyes. “Michael, please make love to me,” she murmured, touching his face, tracing it with a fingertip. “Just like you did before. Please?”

Her skin quivered when he touched her ever so gently beneath her shirt, still searching out her breast. When he made contact, she moaned with ecstasy. She squirmed, making her breast more accessible. And when his fingers circled the breast and squeezed a nipple to tautness, she felt her head begin to reel.

“Undress, Maria,” Michael said thickly. “Stand beside the bed and do it in front of me. Slowly. I want to watch.”

As though hypnotized, Maria pushed herself off the bed, then stood with a straight back, watching him as his eyes caressed her. Swaying gently, she first removed her jacket, then, teasingly, finished unbuttoning her shirt, slipping her arms from each sleeve, smiling wickedly as her breasts came into full view.

Feeling indeed wanton, she reached up and began caressing her breasts, seeing the desire for her increase in Michael's eyes as they widened and became as two coals, burning with passion. She looked further down and saw that he was ready for her as he lay with his night robe spread apart, revealing his most intimate part of himself to her in its full glory.