Intimate Strangers Affair Read online

  “Hmmm…can’t move,” I whispered, trying to stretch but failing. Where had my hands gone? They seemed to have disappeared. “Maybe later…much later…”

  “No, mi amor. Now.” Miguel rearranged his clothes, then kissed me softly, encouraging me to sit.

  I couldn’t. Not yet. My spine seemed to be missing still. I lay there as he refastened my gown with an expertise that should have annoyed me but didn’t. I was too drugged to feel much of anything at all.

  “Your hair. Not enough pins. No matter.” He lifted me so that I was half-sitting, half-leaning against him. He scooped up and twisted my hair into a simple chignon. When he was done, he kissed the nape of my neck.

  I leaned into the feel of his warm mouth, and he obliged me with another. Then his head suddenly swung up, alert like a wolf scenting danger. He turned sharply behind us, placing two cautioning fingers across my lips. By then, I heard it too. More footsteps. A man’s brisk stride, a lady’s swaying gait. Petticoats swished, then stopped near the fountain on the other side of the maze. Underneath the hedges, I could see a lilac skirt and slippers. And lace, Venetian lace glowing silvery white in the scant moonlight. It was the fashionable young lady from the ballroom.

  “This is dangerous,” she said in a breathy, excited voice.

  Her skirts rustled, cloth whispered open. The man grunted as if pleased. After that, there were no more words, just the unmistakable sounds of wet suction. Carnivorous. Impersonal. Rude.

  It disgusted me. Made me feel dirty, almost obscene by association. It reminded me of us, making me reevaluate everything. And what had seemed beautiful and golden just minutes ago, turned ugly and grotesque now. It tarnished my moment with Miguel, sickening me all the more. Had we been like that? After the first seconds, I couldn’t bear to listen. But we couldn’t leave without being discovered ourselves, so I only covered my ears and turned my head into Miguel’s chest. His arms protectively surrounded me. I closed my eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Then finally, a few miserable moments later, Miguel squeezed me. I cautiously opened my eyes. From underneath the hedges I could barely see two slippers standing far away from two boots. An ostrich feather lay neglected on the ground. It was broken in the middle as if it had been violently trampled. I swiveled, looking up at Miguel.

  “Done,” he mouthed silently. His face looked grim as we listened to the other side of the maze.

  Over the splashing of the fountain, was the long scratch of a match, then a sudden hiss of flame. I could smell Turkish tobacco, bitter and thick.

  The young lady purred, “Well, major?”

  “Satisfactory,” Major Moore said. “Very satisfactory.”

  Chapter 5: Possessed

  It was that strange in-between time when the night was fading, but the day hadn’t begun yet. The pale moon touched the tops of the buildings, and the air was chilly. I wrapped my Kashmir shawl tighter around me while Miguel and I entered the carriage house. The lanterns cast a soft golden light.

  “No one said anything to us.”

  Miguel lifted an eyebrow, seeming unconcerned. He barely shrugged.

  “I see. They know better.”

  “No.”

  “Well, no matter what the reason is, I’m impressed by the way you steer through a crowd. No barrier reefs. Full steam ahead. Smooth sailing. Remind me to follow right behind you if there’s ever a fire.” I only needed to walk a few feet past the entrance because our landau was already hitched up. Miguel was quickly checking the reins, then the wheels. “They’re ready. How did that happen?”

  “Xiang knows.” Miguel held out his hand.

  I took it, picking up my skirts with the other hand, and hefted myself into the carriage. My dress felt like a meringue cake stuffed into a box two sizes too small.

  “Well, where is Xiang?”

  “I sent him away,” a cold clipped voice said from the shadows.

  Moore, the devil himself. I froze. Miguel didn’t seem surprised by the major’s appearance. He said nothing at all. He only mounted the carriage in one smooth move, then transferred the reins to both hands. “Later,” he said.

  “Now.” Moore grabbed the horse’s bridle. He turned his cold eyes on me, and for one terrible moment, I thought he knew everything. Every last detail, as if he could read it on my face. But no, he was looking a trifle impatient, nothing more. He’d be gloating if he knew the truth. “Well? Have you cured Don Cabrillo?”

  “He says so,” I replied.

  “I’m fine,” Miguel said at the same time. He raised the reins. “Excuse us.” And somehow, the way he said it sounded more like a command than some vague politesse. The horses stamped their feet, but Moore held his ground, keeping the horses’ heads down. “The rest does not concern her,” Miguel said quietly.

  “Oh, I don’t mind. Just pretend I’m not here.”

  “Nathalie doesn’t mind. You heard her,” the major replied coldly.

  Miguel looked from me to the major, then at some far spot beyond the open doors into the night. There was a faint vertical crease between his eyebrows. “No.”

  “So protective,” Moore mocked. “Haven’t you learned anything by now?”

  “Your point?” Miguel returned his gaze to him.

  The major’s lips pressed together. “The point is that tonight the USS Chesapeake made it safely past the local raiders. Washington will finally get its gold. Our first success in months. Congratulations.”

  “Not finished,” said Miguel.

  “You are. Case closed. We know who’s been leaking the shipping information. Your office, it turns out.”

  Miguel shook his head once. “Impossible.”

  “You were just too close to the situation to see it. It was George all along.”

  “George!” I exclaimed, thinking of the kindly bookkeeper. He always had peppermints to give the children and was unfailingly polite to me. “You’re kidding, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t harm a fly.”

  Moore turned to me. “I don’t need you to give me a character reference. What do you know? You’re hopelessly naive about people. Like your father. You don’t know a thing about the real world. So keep out of it. My men say that George has skipped town tonight. It looks damn suspicious to me. And he’s stolen money. Lots of money. From you, Don Miguel.”

  Miguel’s spine tightened up as if he were holding something back. His flat voice betrayed none of that tension. “You checked my accounts.”

  “Of course, I leave no stone unturned. I never know what secrets I might discover. I never know how useful they might be.”

  “Even on your own agents. That’s despicable. Aren’t you busy enough as it is?” I said, rounding in on him. The major was misnamed. He wasn’t a wolf at all, he was a hyena, living off carrion and waste. How could anyone live like that? He rooted for weaknesses, then used it to destroy people. It was everything I was against. “Maybe you should spend more time doing-”

  “Niña,” Miguel interrupted me before I could mention anything about garden activities or ladies in lilac. He shook his head warningly. Clicking his tongue, he gave the reins a short, hard jerk. The carriage moved forward, barely missing the major’s boots. It was a near call, far too near for comfort.

  ***

  Miguel and I were completely silent during the short carriage ride home. We sat next to each other, not even touching. Strangers almost, once again. I couldn’t even bare to look at him. When we reached the casa, I picked up my skirts and hopped down without waiting for his arm first.

  “Nathalie.”

  Ignoring him, I stormed into the house, down the hallway and into the bedroom, then the dressing room. I slammed the door behind me and reached around, wishing that my shoulders were double-jointed, but even my contortion wasn’t successful. I managed to undo only the first few hooks of my dress. The rest were beyond my reach. Reluctantly, I opened the door again and walked back into the bedroom.

  Miguel was lying across the bed in his open shirt and trousers. His feet were ba
re. He held a pillow over his stomach, and from its rapid rise and fall, I could tell that he was breathing too fast. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was staring stonily at the ceiling.

  “Don’t tell me you’re fine. You’re not. A blind woman could see that. Do you need to vomit?” I asked, suddenly calm, checking his pulse. Regular. Good.

  He gave a short, uncomfortable laugh. “Cristo! I have thrown up all my life without your capable help. I do not need it now.” He paused, licking his bottom lip. “Thank you, anyway,” he added as if just remembering his manners.

  I walked over to my apothecary chest and opened it, turning my back on Don Miguel so he couldn’t watch me uncap the different vials and pour the tinctures into a glass. I stirred the medicine vigorously with a glass rod, then walked back to the bed. I thrust the glass at him. “Here you go. What’s that thing you always say? Salud!”

  He looked suspiciously at the drink. “What is it?”

  “Truth serum. If you drink it, you will suddenly be compelled to tell me the whole truth all the time. No more, Mister Big Silent Man.”

  “Me?” Something glimmered in his eyes.

  “You bet.”

  He gave a short laugh, but he still didn’t take the glass from me.

  “Come on, do I have to pinch your nose and make you chug it down? I do that with kids sometimes. Drink it, Miguel, or else…”

  “Or else what?” He folded his arms.

  “I won’t give it to you orally. I’ll give it to you another way.”

  “No shots.”

  “Afraid of needles? A big tough hombre like you? Well, you’re off the hook. Just so happens that I wasn’t thinking of shots.”

  His eyes widened. “No. Not there. You wouldn’t…”

  “Oh, but I would,” I nodded slowly. “It’s not pleasant, but it’s effective. Gets the stuff in where it’s needed, you know. It’s the end results that count, right? Remember what you said the other day? ‘Whatever it takes’. Well, I have my own version. Whatever’s medically necessary. And you, mister, look like you medically need something bad. So, which is it going to be? I’ll tell you what. If you’re a good boy and just drink it, then I won’t tell you ‘I told you so’.”

  He finally took the glass from me and swirled the medicine around staring at the bottom. I was losing patience. “Drink it, will you? It won’t kill you.” More gently, I added, “It will make you feel better.”

  “How much?”

  “A lot. Just some milk thistle for your liver, licorice for flavor.” I watched him raise the glass to his lips and take a cautious sip. He paused, assessing, then drank a bit more. “Oh, and opium to settle your stomach.”

  He immediately stopped drinking. Glaring at me, he pushed the glass away. “Opium! No.”

  I pushed it back. “Very weak derivative. It won’t make you lose control or forget things. It’s not strong enough for that. But it will make you feel better. Trust me. Come on, I’ll do anything.”

  “I suppose you will stand there until I finish it.”

  “Absolutely. No mouthing it and spitting it out later, I’ve seen that trick. Please, Miguel.” I hesitated, then touched the hand that still held his glass. “For me. I care about you.”

  He studied me carefully. “I think you do. I do not know why.”

  Either did I, but I wasn’t going to answer his question. He finally finished the last of his medicine, grimacing slightly at the bitter dregs. Then he set the glass on the table.

  “Good. I’m glad I didn’t have to wrestle you down. I mean…” I faltered when he lifted one sardonic brow. “Oh, never mind. I hope you feel better. The medicine will help you sleep.”

  “I do not need help with that.” He sat up and swung his feet over the bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  Miguel pointed down, turning his finger around.

  Complying, I spun around and lifted my hair. “Oh? So you don’t need help.”

  “No, I know another remedy.” He nimbly unhooked my dress so that it fell away from my shoulders, my false bravery falling with it. I caught it and pressed it to me, then immediately felt foolish. What was the point of concealing anything? It was just the human body, just bones and flesh. And he had already touched and tasted me, right? But it felt different to be standing there, no longer hidden by the night. I’m sure the soft gaslight was kind, but it was nowhere as concealing. Suddenly, I felt exposed and not a little nervous. This was ridiculous. Part of me wanted him to see me, all of me. I wanted this as much as I longed to see all of him. Now or never. Trembling a little, I finally let the dress peel off me. Then my fingers tangled with Miguel’s over the tapes on the hoop petticoat.

  “Sorry, I’m not used to this.”

  “Let me,” he said gently. One quick jerk and he freed me, proceeding to untie the other under petticoats that fell with a fine swoosh to my feet. He placed his palms on either side of my spine, and the way he ran a hand along the edge of my corset made the black silk taffeta rustle and my skin prickle. I felt so sensitive, that even the lace trim tortured me. He quickly found the knot at the bottom, untied it, and eased the lacings. Air rushed into my chest, and I feel a little lightheaded.

  “Better?” he murmured.

  “Yes,” I gasped. I took my first full breath since the early evening. It felt divine. The dizziness subsided, replaced by another feeling altogether. Ducking my head, I stepped a safe distance away from the bed. I slipped the corset off my waist, massaging the sore spots where the metal ribs had dug into me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly. Watching me, he took off his shirt, then his trousers.

  “Yes.” I still looked away.

  “What is it, Nathalie?”

  “Nothing.” I started to walk toward the dressing room. “I’ll just go get a nightgown,” I mumbled, head down. “Do you want a dressing gown or anything?”

  “No. Nada.”

  I couldn’t bear the amused assurance in his voice. With all his experience, I felt at a distinct disadvantage. As I passed him by, his hand snaked out and grabbed my arm. He drew me to him, then leaned over and kissed my collarbone through the sheer fabric of my chemise. He took the front bow between his teeth and pulled the ribbon undone, nudging the chemise aside with his nose until it hung precariously by my shoulders. Then that too fell to the floor.

  “Nada for you.”

  “I’ll freeze to death.”

  “I’ll keep you warm.” He started to demonstrate, but I jerked away.

  “Miguel! No, I mean it.” I pushed my hand across his chest. A mistake. The feel of him made my weak-kneed. “We can’t, you’re sick.”

  “Not that sick. Maybe you should…check me. Thoroughly.” His smile was faint but roguish as he moved close, then closer still. A lock of hair fell across his forehead. I brushed it back and eyed him suspiciously. “Well, maybe I should. You’re not trying to get out of something else, are you? My medicine is good, but it doesn’t work that quick. Nothing does.”

  He kissed me behind my ear. “I disagree. I am restored. Must be your medicine. Besides, you promised.”

  “I did not!”

  “You said you’d do anything.”

  I bit my lip.

  He sat down again on the bed, pulling me on to his lap. “Tell me, querida. Something’s changed. What is it?”

  “I…” Chickening out, I hid my face in his shoulder. “In the garden were we like that? You know.”

  Miguel seemed to think for a moment. “Do you mean like the major? Is that what is worrying you?”

  I nodded, shuddering. “I don’t want us to be like the major and that lady.”

  “We aren’t. We can’t be. There is no comparison. What you heard, that was…sex. Just sex. A function. It satisfies one need and it never lasts. I would know.” He stroked my hair, carefully smoothing it down across my back as if he needed to do something while he searched for the right words. “But we are different. This is different. “ He took a deep
breath and held it for a moment like he was still deciding whether or not to speak. Finally, he did. “What we make together is different. We have this.” He kissed my palm and placed it on his heart, then he reached over and touched mine. “And that makes all the difference in the world.”

  I gave him a teary smile, feeling touched by his tenderness. “Are you…are you sure?”

  “Still skeptical? No matter. Come to bed, let me convince you.”

  We fell backwards on the bed, sinking in the soft mattress. I contented myself with touching him, slipping my hands down his shoulders, skimming my fingers over hard muscles. He must have approved because he moaned, opening his mouth wide as he kissed me, sweeping his tongue against mine. I ran my fingers down his back. He winced as I touched scars, and made a sad sound low in his throat, but he let me touch him. I told him that I was going to kiss every one of those wounds. He just closed his eyes and sighed.

  “Do you know how much I want you?” The words seemed torn from his throat.

  I smiled. “I can feel it.” I smiled at him, settling myself on top of him, straddling his thighs. I ran my fingers through the locks of hair on the back of his neck, pulling him up against me for another kiss. “I’m sorry. Am I too eager?”

  He laughed. “No. I like you eager.” He ran a calloused finger down one of my breasts, stopping to touch my nipple. I bit my lip and ground my need against his.

  “I love you,” I sighed.

  He cursed softly. “Don’t love me, Nathalie. I’ll only hurt you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want him to leave me or pull away. I moved my hips against him. There, where he was hard and huge and throbbing, wanting me the way I wanted him. His groan was deep in his throat, smooth and soft like velvet. Smoky and dark as sin.