April 1944
The moonlight lit a thin trail
into the trees just beyond the flower gardens but before the vegetable
gardens. It was a cool night, but warm enough
for only his jacket. Karl followed the
path, enjoying his solitude. Night
sounds filled his ears and the scent of lavender lingered.
He didn’t see her until she
shifted on the garden bench nestled in a cove of trees. He walked to her hidden refuge and stood
before her. Her hair was braided down
her right side. An aquamarine stole
draped her shoulders, although the color was hard to define in the
moonlight. Her legs were covered with a
woven skirt and her feet shod in those sheep skin boots she’d worn two days
earlier.
“You are out after curfew.”
She released a deep sigh. “I often am.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“It’s too beautiful a night to be
trapped indoors.”
“Trapped – in a warm bed with your
husband?” A branch shifted in the light breeze and moonlight caressed her
cheeks. “You’d rather sit on a cold
bench in the garden than be in bed with him?”
“I’d rather be up on my parapet,
gazing out to sea.”
“De la mair.”
She looked at the ground rather
than continue being locked in his gaze.
“Yes. My husband named me the
lady who came from the sea.”
He sat beside her. “So,
Stabsrichter Sizemore – I hear you call him Captain Luther – tells me your
brother-in-law’s daughter’s child is not the only German bastard born here.”
“What a harsh word – bastard.”
“They are not married. It is the correct term.”
“They are not legally married
because you Germans have forbidden it.
But they are married – one flesh – personified in their baby.”
“How romantic.” He leaned back and
stretched his arm along the back of the bench. “It is quite peaceful here.”
“Jacob loved it. This was his favorite place.”
“Were you lovers?”
She turned to face him. “No. No, nothing like that. He missed his wife every moment.”
“He told me you weren’t his
mistress, but sometimes a man will lie to protect a woman he loves.”
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Lie to protect someone you love.”
He stretched his legs out in front
of him and studied her face. “A man of
honor may refrain from telling the truth, but he would rarely lie.”
“And are you a man of honor?”
He started to trace his fingertips
around her right shoulder, slowly pulling her closer to him. When she began to resist, he whispered, “I
want you.”
She stiffened. “No.”
“Yes. I do.
I think I always have, since time began.”
She blinked and breathed
deeply. The smell of him, the warmth of
him, his gentle words filled her with a dangerous yearning.
He cupped her face with his left
hand while drawing her closer with his right arm firmly around her
shoulders. “You want me, too. I see it in your eyes when you look at
me. I feel it on your skin when you are
near. You want me to know every inch of you.”
“Stop.” Panicked that she might
not be able to resist him, she tried to stand but he wouldn’t let her. “Let me go.
Karl, let me go!”
She covered her face with her hands;
the rope burn scars were brilliant in the moonlight.
He released her. “I’m sorry.
Delamair, forgive me. I didn’t
mean to frighten you.”
She stood and straightened her
skirt. In a cold voice which masked her
heat, she assured him, “I told you, nothing frightens me. Good night.”
#
He was finalizing the morning’s
work when he heard men whispering in obvious delight. He followed the sound and discovered three
soldiers hanging out the window, staring at something behind the kitchen.
“Look, there’s another one.”
“I bet it’s silk. It sways like silk.”
“If I could, I’d buy her a red negligée,
just to watch her hang it out.”
“That’s not all I’d want her to do
with a red silk –“
The oberst cleared his throat.
Three startled soldiers spun
around and saluted.
“The women of this academy are not
to be molested in any way.”
They stared ahead, blinking in
embarrassment.
“Report to Stabsfeldwebel Danon
and tell him you are to have extra duties for a week. Dismissed.”
They clicked their heels and
marched quickly out of the room.
The scent of lavender teased
him. He stuck his head out the
window. Delamair stood below him behind
the kitchen, pinning beautiful things to the clothes line. He grinned and headed down to join her.
She heard him approach but
continued with her laundry. “We were
given this spot to hang our personal items, so your men wouldn’t ogle them.”
“I needed to make sure you weren’t
hanging out nauchrichten - signal
flags.” He reached out one finger and
ran it lightly down the white negligée. “Silk signal flags.”
She glared at him, her cheeks
tinged with embarrassment.
He reached for a camisole and fingered
the lace. “I remember this one. You had it on underneath the olive blouse
Sunday.” He pulled it to his face and sniffed. “You bent over. It was quite pretty; your breasts – plump
against the silk.” He released the
camisole. “Your husband never
noticed. He never does.”
Her eyes widened and she
swallowed.
“I like that you blush. So few women do.” He turned away, unpinned the camisole, and
took it with him.
Excerpt from
The
Island Remains
© Evelyn Rainey
Whiskey Creek Publishing
ISBN tba June 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment