Authors: Roberta Latow
Alone out there in the wind, the water stretching out in front of her, she felt happiness, real happiness, and genuine, deep love and romance more acutely than she had ever known them before. Only five days aboard the S.S.
Tatanya Annanovna
, only five days of knowing Nicholas Frayne and Arabella could barely remember what her life had been like before this voyage.
The years before her embarkation in Cherbourg seemed to be drifting farther and farther away as the ship’s engines pumped hard, driving her closer and closer to the States. Whatever lay before Arabella, she knew it would be fresh, clean, beautiful, rich, and lovely. Her thoughts turned to Nicholas — the handsome, intelligent, sexy Nicholas; Nicholas with the smile that put an extra beat in her heart; the sensuous eyes that made love to her and the voluptuous mouth that transported her far above life itself. Involuntarily Arabella wrapped her arms around herself, hugged herself, not because of the cold but because she wanted Nicholas to be there: the need to have him hold her — no, not the need, the
desire
to have him hold her.
It suddenly hit Arabella how very generous he was to her, open and generous; how much of himself he had offered her. She wanted to give him something, something other than herself. Something beautiful, of real and rare beauty: a painting, a small but exquisite painting to remind them always of their first extraordinary voyage, their maiden voyage together.
Arabella glanced at her wristwatch and was relieved that it wasn’t too late. She hurried from the open deck through the double doors. There was still time to go and find the purser, Pete Peters, and ask him to take her to the hold where her excess luggage was stored. She had decided to give Nicholas the painting she had bought in Paris the year before. She thought, I’d so much like for him to have it. I don’t want him ever to forget this voyage because I never will.
* * *
At the same time, Nicholas closed the door of his suite and walked back to the center of the drawing room, looked at his friend Marvin Kandy and said, “Well, that’s it then. How about a drink? I suddenly find myself wanting a drink and a good cigar.” He went to the console and from a silver tray picked up a cut-glass decanter and poured two bourbons with a big splash of branchwater in each. He reached into the ice bucket with his hand, picked up a fistful of ice cubes, and dropped them into the crystal tumblers. The clink and crack of the cubes as they adjusted to the alcohol sounded refreshing.
Nicholas handed a glass to Marvin, then went to an easy chair on the far side of the room. He put his glass on the table next to the chair, sat down, and bent forward to untie his shoes. He slipped out of them and leaned back. From his breast pocket he took out a cigar case, removed a cigar, and threw the case across to Marvin who caught it in his left hand. Nicholas cut the end off his cigar and turned it slowly over the flame to light it evenly. He pulled his feet up on the seat of the chair and reached for his drink. The first swallow was so welcome it told him he was more anxious than he had realized. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His thoughts drifted toward Arabella.
It was difficult for him to think of Arabella without wanting her. He could never remember being as in love with anyone as he was with her. To remember her eyes, the feel of her skin, the charm of her laughter, the swell of her breasts, the softness and scent of her filled Nicholas with carnal desire. From that very first sight of her through the binoculars he had wanted her. Now he had her and every time he did, it was as if it were for the first time.
Nicholas looked across the room at his friend Marvin. “Why so silent, Marv?”
“Would you believe I am trying to be discreet?”
Nicholas smiled and said, “It doesn’t suit you. What are you thinking?”
“Have you popped the question yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“You are going to, I hope?”
“Ah, then you approve of Arabella?”
“It’s not a matter of approval, Nick, more a matter of timing. There is no way, old buddy, either one of you will end up any way other than married to each other.”
“I’m glad you think so. It’s hard to believe but I’m in love with her. I can’t imagine my life without her. I never knew how much loneliness there was in my life without the intimacy I share with Arabella.”
“Going down that gangplank tomorrow into the darkness of the unknown with the love I feel for her makes it so much easier. Before Arabella, I thought I could be one of the greatest public servants for my country. Now I know I can, because I’ve experienced the rewards of truly giving oneself away. And I feel her support buoy me.
“You know, Marv, I know now I was never able to live happily with all that guilt-free sex. There was always a sense of loneliness about it — sex that was used as sport.”
“And when do you plan on telling all this to the lovely Arabella?”
“Tonight. I’ve planned a wonderful night for us filled with romance, and sometime during the evening I’ll ask her to marry me.”
Marvin stood up and started across the room toward his oldest and dearest friend. Nicholas did the same. The two men looked at each other affectionately as they met. Nicholas smiled; it was an emotional smile. Marvin slapped him on the back and said, “The Hollywood in me only wishes that this voyage was just a little bit longer so the captain could marry you and the Nicholas Fraynes could walk down the gangplank together. I’m very happy for you, Nick. She’s one hell of a lady!”
The two men hugged each other.
All the lamps were lit in Arabella’s drawing room. The lamplight played tricks on the trees and flowers, adding to their beauty and lusciousness, making the stateroom appear even more like a magic garden. A tape of the rich sound of Charlie Byrd and Stan Getz Brazilian music filled the room, giving it an even more steamy, sexy, “Garden of Eden” quality. The gallery where Arabella now stood overlooked the drawing room. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows she watched the twinkling lights on the decks below her and the blackness beyond, broken only by splashes of bright, shining stars in the sky, disappearing and reappearing as the heavy wind pushed the clouds over them.
The windows appeared as black glass because all the light was inside; so they gave a perfect reflection of Arabella. She caught sight of herself swaying to the music and was filled with a happiness she could barely contain. She stopped dancing and adjusted the five-strand diamond-and-pearl choker. Its center clasp, a natural baroque black pearl the size of a quail’s egg surrounded by a row of large, cushion-cut diamonds, was not quite on the center of her long, slim neck. Once adjusted, she arranged the other two strands of perfectly matched eight-millimeter pearls and the strand of diamonds between them. She moved one of the large diamond earrings to a better position on her ear so it would not pinch and admired the magnificent jewels that now hung so perfectly on her bare chest.
How vain, she thought, how very vain to stand and admire oneself in the window! What a reversal in roles from the woman who for years would rather have looked at a portfolio for a corporate takeover!
Arabella smiled, enjoying every minute of this new role, being a hundred times more vain than ever, being in love, wanting to please, to be the most perfect, delicious, delectable, beautiful, sensuous, happy woman for the man she loved.
She looked deep and long into the face that looked back at her in the black glass. Her silver and gold hair, brushed in natural soft waves off her face, hung loosely down around her shoulders. Her makeup, pale and peachy with cheeks highlighted in a pale ginger and soft coral-color lips, gave her eyes an added depth and sparkle. Or, she wondered, is it all just love?
She was proud, truly proud of how she looked for her man and for herself.
She adjusted one of the sleeves of her magnificent Mary McFadden dress, delighted with her choice for the evening, admiring yet again the black and white tiny check silk of the sleeves that hugged her arms with tailored puffs on the shoulders from where the dress plunged straight down square across the breasts revealing a deep cleavage. The bodice was a perfect fit down to the silver kid belt shining in the reflection in the window. The black crêpe skirt falling to the ankle faded into the glass against the black night as if her lower half had disappeared. Only her ankles and feet in their high-heeled silver kidskin shoes reaffirmed there was indeed a whole beautiful body there.
The beat of the Latin music interrupted her moment of self-admiration. She began to swing her hips and, moving her feet, raising her arms up, she swayed with the music, moving provocatively. Arabella watched the movement of her hands, the long, ringless fingers with the nails tipped in rich coral polish. Lovely, seductive hands that would soon be caressing Nicholas. Sensitive hands and fingers that she knew how to use making love to him.
Once his name came into her head she could no longer think of herself but only of him — his face, beautiful body, intelligence, kindness, and warmth. It was then that the
doorbell sounded. Her body jumped! she put her hand over her heart and felt the beat.
She called down, “Xu, it’s Mr. Frayne. Will you let him in, please?” She stood at the balcony rail looking down when he entered the room.
She heard him say, “Good evening, Xu.” Although she said nothing, just stood there looking at him, he sensed immediately where she was and looked up. He smiled at her and said, “Terrific music.”
Arabella walked across the balcony to the rhythm of Byrd, Getz, and bossanova, saying “Hello, darling.” She looked at him longingly. The long slit down the front of her skirt fell open as she walked and he saw her lovely long, shapely legs flash quickly as she hurried down the half a dozen stairs to him. She held her arms out and he clasped her hands in his, lifted them to his tips, and kissed first one, then the other.
He said, “Darling, you look dazzling, so beautiful.” Holding on to her hands, he stepped back a pace and added, “You are always doing it to me.”
“Doing what?” she asked.
“Dazzling me. Just when I think I know you, you appear and knock me off kilter again. There you are, much more wonderful than I thought, and always with a new touch of mystery to you.” He pulled her quickly into his arms, his need was so great to hold her. He kissed her on the cheek and then passionately on the mouth. Slipping his arm around her shoulder, he moved so that he could hold her close by his side. He looked down into her eyes, lowered his voice, and said huskily, “You look so delicious, I’d like to eat you right here and now. Take a golden spoon and eat you up, spoonful by spoonful, pearls, diamonds, and all.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, teasingly moving her hands to his swelling crotch. “Now, now!” She began to laugh.
The two walked together through the room. Suddenly he stopped abruptly and said, “I want you, Arabella. I spend a great deal of time wanting you. Have you any idea how much?”
“Oh, I think so, Nicholas. You’re almost as crazy about me as I am about you. I stand up there on the balcony looking through the window into the night and all I see is a reflection of myself and all I can think of is that I want to be better than I am, more divine, for you. I want to give myself to you, make love to you so that you can feel a little of how wonderful it is when you make love to me. How can I give you a fraction of the excitement you instill in me? Do you think I’m a woman in love?”
“You had better be,” he said as he laughed warmly, “and it had better be with me.”
They kissed again and then she said, “Do you want a drink, Nicholas?”
“Don’t evade the subject. It is me and only me, isn’t it?”
“Need you ask? Now, what do you want to drink?”
“Nothing,” he replied, and took her by the hand. Starting toward the door, he turned and looked back over his shoulder at her. He saw complete joy and contentment exuding from her like the heavy scent of perfume.
Their eyes met and he asked, “Hey there, what are you looking at so intensely?”
“Just the handsomest man in the world. I’ve never seen you in a gray pinstripe suit, complete with waistcoat and such a handsome tie. Quite a dashing man with your navy-blue and white polka dot silk hanky tippling out of your jacket pocket! I think you’re wonderful and we’re two of the most beautiful people in the world! I’d like to go out there in front of everyone and shout, ‘Look at us, look at us!’”
“Who’s everyone?”
“All the world,” she said.
“Maybe we’ll do just that later.” He laughed as he pulled her along.
She reached for her evening bag and called back over her shoulder, “Good night, Xu. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Xu,” Nicholas called and they were gone.
In the passageway they walked side by side, greeting
some of the stewards they passed. At one point Arabella nearly lost her balance and Nicholas caught her by the elbow.
“Are you all right, Arabella?”
“Yes. The sea seems a bit rough tonight, a little too much pitch and roll for high heels.”
“I think our captain has got the engines open full out. When I spoke to him this afternoon he said something about a rendezvous with the pilot boat at six in the morning.”
They stepped into one of the elevators and were a little embarrassed by the silence they generated among their fellow passengers. Two decks up Arabella and Nicholas walked to the stern of the ship.
“Is this a mystery tour?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. He slipped his arms through hers. “This is
our
night, our last night on board ship and, in many ways, maybe our first night.”
Arabella was very moved yet she noticed a slight nervousness in Nicholas. It was the tension that comes from deep emotion.
“Nicholas,” said Arabella, putting her hand on his sleeve, “relax, my love. There are two of us here who feel like that.”
They stopped walking and kissed — a long, deep, passionate kiss — and when they drew apart they smiled. Arabella could see in Nicholas’s face that he was calm again and very, very happy. They were standing in front of a pair of high walnut doors with a finely carved architrave and lintel of musical instruments tied together with a wooden ribbon. Curly decorative engraved letters announced on the lintel “The Empress Catherine Music Room.” To the left of the doors was a simple walnut easel and on it a placard announcing “This room is closed to the public this evening. Thank you.”
From his pocket Nicholas drew a key, put it in the lock, and turned it. He kissed the tip of Arabella’s nose and pushed the pair of doors open.
The sight took Arabella’s breath away. She gasped with pleasure and said, “Oh, how wonderful!”
The room was a jewel that could have been fashioned by Fabergé. It was a small music room, completely paneled and limed an off-white color. There were rich carvings accentuated in a faded teal blue and gold leaf over the doors, windows, and covering the complete shell of the rostrum. The heavier carved cellos, violins, flutes, and guitars were tied together by garlands of leaves and flowers held in the mouths of deer, antelope, leopards, wolves, rabbits, and pheasants, lending an undeniable charm to the room.
The floor of rich inlaid woods in triangles and squares within larger rectangles of ebony looked as if it had been glazed with honey.
Four rock-crystal chandeliers designed to look like hanging baskets of flowers were softly lit by dozens of white candles. There was a pair of extremely fine period satin-wood pianos inlaid with pearwood and walnut flowers, elongated in shape and nestling into each other with their outside curves. Next to them, four gilt chairs faced each music stand.
Two French windows — not portholes but long glass panes — stretched from the wainscotting to the ceiling where they arched and became six feet of skylight. A round dining table of substantial size was set in one of the windows in such a way that, once seated, Arabella and Nicholas could face the room and dine under the stars. The table glittered, set magnificently with Sèvres and antique Venetian crystal. In the center a baroque silver candelabrum, with many branches, held white candles, all lit and casting a romantic light on the dozens of white moth orchids — the same species as Arabella had worn in her hair a few nights before. They were intertwined over the base of the candelabrum and its arms. Silver dishes sparkled and filled the rest of the table.
Several torchères holding handsome silver candelabra strategically illuminated the room. One of them stood next to a magnificent medieval wooden unicorn resting on its haunches. The proud animal was the size of a full-grown
antelope; its horn of pure ivory was inlaid in faded gold leaf. The mythical beast lay surrounded by half a dozen lovely luscious green ferns. It was enchanting.
Nicholas and Arabella went to look at the lovely animal. And there was more to be seen in the room — a pair of silver-leafed wooden dogs the size of Russian wolfhounds, Louis XIV period, sat under another torchère. There was a magnificent marble birdbath filled with water and overflowing with flowers, a life-size bronze crane inlaid in fine pencil-thin gold designs, drinking from it. Smaller birds of bronze stood on the bath’s edge, one with its wings set as if fluttering in the water.
It was utterly romantic and magical. As they walked from one group to the other, the soft sounds of a harpsichord drew them to a corner of the room they had yet to discover. There, behind an ivory carved and pierced screen, they found the instrument and a musician playing one of Scarlatti’s most charming and exotic seventeenth-century sonatas.
Nicholas had created this for Arabella — the most romantic, exquisite evening any man could make for the woman he loved. He slowly drew her away from the harpischord. “Come, let’s have a glass of champagne.”
Arabella was so overwhelmed she could not speak. As the music swelled and filled the room, so did her heart. A waiter seemed to appear from nowhere with a wine cooler. He greeted the couple, then opened the Dom Perignon with deft fingers before serving them and then disappearing through a door in the paneling.
“Wonderful, just wonderful — that’s what you want to say, isn’t it?” asked Nicholas.
“Oh, more, so much more, but I’m too overwhelmed. How, how could you possibly have got all this together for us?”
“Later, I’ll tell you everything later. But now let’s just wander through the room, listen, and look. It’s yours, you know, the unicorn — a gift of love from me.”
They kissed and walked back to the unicorn, the irresistible unicorn. Arabella ran her hands over the long, smooth
horn and then went down on her knees to look straight into the beast’s magical face. Nicholas sat down on the other side of its head. There they sat and drank, completely enveloped by the moment.
Hidden from the musician, Nicholas moved over next to Arabella, took her empty glass from her hand, and then laid her across his lap as he held her in his arms. They kissed, and he caressed her lovely bare throat, surrounded only by the precious jewels. He lowered one of the puffed sleeves off her shoulder and kissed it, then lowered the other. The bodice of her dress thus loosened, he lifted her breasts free.
Arabella watched his handsome face intently. She recognized love turning to passion as he held her naked breasts cupped in his hand. He was tender and sweet with his caresses. Arabella’s senses began to swim. The beauty of the room, her man, the enchanting animal and rarefied sound of the music, the taste of his kisses nibbling at her mouth aroused in her incredible sensations. She felt a flush rising in her cheeks and a wetness and warmth between her legs. They were silent lovers, holding back so as not to embarrass the harpsichordist or themselves.