by Moonwitch
His hair was set in a superb frame about his red-cheeked face, barely skimming over the slopes of his broad shoulders. These were encased in a black satin dinner jacket that swept away from his chest to expose studs and tie pin of gleaming rubies. His white gloves were tucked neatly into his waistband; his watch fob was a gold eagle framed in silver. When he laughed, it was done with a splendid combination of proper decorum and unbridled mirth, and when he leaned forward to touch her hand to make a point, his eyes reflected the candlelight from table and chandeliers in such a way as to give him an almost diabolical look.
She remembered little of it and did not care to, especially when their table was cleared and, to the accompaniment of an orchestra hidden somewhere in the depths of the huge mansion-restaurant, she placed her hand on his arm and allowed herself to be taken outside for a stroll along the cliff-side promenade. The air was bracing, the perfect antidote for the stuffed feeling she had in her stomach, and she said nothing to break the spell as they watched the ocean roll toward the rocks and the base of the deep brown cliffs.
There were gardens on either side of the proud, defiant building, and the music wafted through them like a spring breeze promising renewal. Couples and singles took their time in wandering, fading in and out of the well-placed brass and copper gaslights, like ghosts refusing to leave the site of a celestial ballroom. Amanda heard quite distinctly not a few intriguing giggles, a few light slaps of glove against shoulder.
Snatches of conversation drifted in and out of hearing, and she paid little attention to any of it. She only wanted the sea, the moon, and the solemn look that Trevor gave her when they stopped beneath an ancient cedar and leaned against its warped and massive bole.
"They come in down there a couple of times a year," he said.
"Who?"
"Sea dogs. "
She frowned her puzzlement. "Sea dogs?"
He laughed. "Seals, my dear. They're called sea dogs because of their bark."
"Are they large?"
"Not very." Again his laughter. "About the size of a fairly healthy dog, I would say. "
"And where do they come?"
"On the rocks down below. It's very fashionable, if you can afford it, to come here for luncheon and watch those animals play. It's very frightening, in a way. Sometimes they can be awfully human."
She stripped off her gloves slowly, and Trevor took them without her asking. "They must have spirits of fine contentment," she said.
"And what makes you think they're contented?"
"Why shouldn't they be?"
He stared down at the black holes in the surf, at the glowing foam that rose in a white shower when the waves burst upon them. "Hunted by man, hunted by sharks . . .Every time they turn around, they find an enemy."
"The sea is large, " she said. "If it were that dangerous, there would not be so many of them."
"Not unless they were part rabbit. "
She grinned, then leaned toward him and accepted a feathered kiss on her lips. ''Take my word for it," she whispered. ''They are content. And they can be hurt very easily . "
He glanced a t her but did not ask for an explanation. Rather he bent over and picked up a stone from the grass and flung it hard over the edge. She lost its flight almost at once, and its landing was mute in the frantic thunder of the breaking waves. She did not move when his arm slipped around her waist, nor did she look around when others, seeking the same solitude, strolled past to nearby shadows.
"I don't care what you say. It's a scientific fact."
"Really? And I suppose you believe the world is flat, too. "
"Now you're being silly."
"Me? Silly? I'd sooner believe the world is flat than the idea California is going to break away from the continent and fall into the sea. "
"Well, that's what I heard at the lecture. "
"Well, you should attend fewer lectures and listen more to me, if you don't mind me saying so. "
"Not so loud, silly, everyone will hear you."
Amanda grinned at the unseen speakers and lay her cheek on Trevor's arm.
" . . . without saying that Garfield is asking for trouble . "
" I don't agree. "
"You never do. "
"That's not true. I agree that you love me, don't I ? And that I love you?"
"What does that have to do with President Garfield?"
"Nothing. It's so beautiful out, can't we talk about something else?"
Trevor inclined his head and slid a hand under her chin. She looked up, not bothering to see if anyone were watching, and accepted another kiss, her legs trembling somewhat when his hand stroked the plane of her neck.
" . . . with Reno, you know. "
"Oh! Were you hurt?"
"No, thank God. The bastards had left as soon as they'd taken care of Yellow Hair. That's what they called Custer, you know. Yellow Hair. The word is they didn't scalp him because they thought he was very brave."
"It sounds as if h e was very stupid, if you ask me. "
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. "
"Oh, don't be so stuffy, Peter. He wasn't a god, you know. "
The hand brushed through her veil of hair and skipped across the tops of her breasts.
"Damned politicians. The next thing you know they'll be taking on Mexico again. Or Spain. France. Who the hell knows?"
"But surely not France. I thought they were our friends?"
"We have no friends in this world, Helen. We had to clear this country ourselves, and we'll have to defend it ourselves. There isn't anyone who's going to come to our rescue but us."
"But what do we need rescuing from?"
"It doesn't matter. Women have no head for politics, anyway."
"If you say so, dear. "
She broke from his kiss and leaned against his chest. His hands shifted to splay along her back, and she pressed closer, realizing that her need was already matched by his. She smiled and made a quick grinding motion with her hips.
"It isn't fair," he said into her hair.
"You could do something about it, you know."
"Lascivious, that's what you are. Wanton. Unprincipled ."
"You're afraid." She laughed when he pinched her waist, then moved her left hand quickly and slapped him sharply on the buttocks.
"Amanda!"
"There's no Lu Chang to protect you now, sir. You're going to have to be a big boy and do what I tell you."
"And if I don't?"
She spanked him again, and he broke away , laughing. A couple on the path only a few yards away stopped and stared, then shook their heads solemnly at each other and moved away in a great hurry.
"You," he said, "have just ruined my reputation ."
She set her hands on her hips and straightened her back. "What reputation?"
The sound of his throat clearing was like an explosion in the warm evening air, and he turned swiftly toward the sea to cover his embarrassment. Amanda waited a moment, then stood beside him, close but not touching.
"You'll be leaving the Wilcoxes soon?"
She bit at her lips angrily. Nothing, she thought, should have been said about that tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps, she might have been able to sneak away for a few hours to see him once more. Not tonight. Tonight was for now; the future could wait. But when he repeated his question, she answered him, stiffly and with clear disapproval .
"They must be very good friends of yours."
She sighed. He would not be happy until he had done with it. "They are very nice people, yes, but they're not my friends. Harley knew Will many years ago, and they kept a correspondence ."
"Nevertheless the fire must have hurt you deeply, as it did them."
Frowning now, she searched his face for a clue to his curiosity. There was none. His gaze was steady on the silvery scene below them.
"It did, " she admitted. "As I said, they're nice people. And I don't like to see people hurt."
He nodded then and turned away from the cliff, taking
her arm and moving her toward the path. At the same time another couple, a swarthy man and a rather portly woman, left the path for the spot she and Trevor had just vacated. For a moment they confronted each other, smiling awkwardly until Trevor at last moved Amanda to one side and bowed gallantly.
"The Pacific is yours , " he said.
The woman, in a white and blue gown much too small for her, inclined her head toward him. The man, however, had finally seen Amanda under the haze of gaslight from a nearby lamppost. He scowled, glanced at Trevor, and pulled at the woman until she followed uneasily.
"Lovely couple, " Trevor whispered to her behind one hand.
"Goddamn Indians, " the man growled to the air. "Goddamned scum. "
Amanda was unable to stop herself from growing rigid, and the heat on her face was no longer a playful blush. But she would have walked on had not Trevor overheard the comments too and after a second's hesitation turned sharply.
"No, " she said anxiously, holding fast to his arm.
"But it must bother you," he insisted without taking his eyes off the man.
"It doesn't make any difference," she told him truthfully.
"Then it should, " he said, shaking his arm loose. "There's such a thing as pride, you know. "
And before she could prevent him, he had stepped down off the path and was walking stiff-legged toward the cliff. The man, hearing the footsteps, whirled around, and it was clear from the nastily triumphant look on his face that his remarks had been meant to be overheard. His companion, seeing the flat rage on Eagleton's face, ducked quickly into the shadows without even a perfunctory move toward dissuading her escort.
"Sir," Trevor said, "I think you owe the lady"--and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder-"an apology for your remarks. They were, to put it mildly, offensive to her."
The swarthy man pulled himself upright and expanded his not inconsiderable chest. "I don't apologize to no Indian, or to any Indian lover, either. "
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"I don't give a shit."
Trevor ducked his head in a quick nod. "That's too bad, because if you don't apologize, you're going to have to answer to me."
The man laughed rudely. "What, swords at twenty paces?"
"Not quite, " said Trevor and buried his fist in the man's stomach. He reached out and grabbed the man's collar before he pitched over the cliff and spun him around so hard that the man lost his footing and ended up sitting on the ground.
"Bastard, " the man gasped, his hands folded tightly over his midsection.
"Amazing, " Trevor said as he bowed in mock gallantry to the woman in the shadows. "You took the words right out of my mouth . "
N o one else had seen the exchange, and Trevor quickly took Amanda's arm and led her away. She said nothing to him beyond a quick, apprehensive smile. She knew she should have at least felt a bit flattered for his defense of her, but something in the way he had managed the scene, the cold and pure calculation of it, made her suddenly wary. It wasn't that she believed for a moment it had been prearranged. Trevor, however, seemed to have taken actual pleasure in striking the man. Doug, she knew, would have waited for several minutes, perhaps even hours, while he made up his mind if it were worth the trouble or not. And if he decided that Amanda's honor had truly been assaulted, he would have done the same as Trevor, but with a reluctance that had nothing to do with his feelings for her.
And as soon as the thought had penetrated and was completed, she glanced up quickly at him, as if he were able to read her thoughts and knew that she'd been thinking about another man.
But so what? she asked herself then. And she knew that she was deliberately looking for some flaw in Eagleton's manner, in his character, that would make the leave-taking that much easier to bear. It was a trick of self-delusion she should have recognized as soon as it had surfuced, and she felt deeply ashamed that she had done so at all.
They passed the Cliff House, then, and moved onward, into the gardens and beyond finding their way by moonlight when the white globes no longer assisted them, listening as the music became one with the wind and the surf, intermingling into a single symphony that serenaded the stars. And when at last they stopped, in a small secluded clear space overlooking a narrow beach, Trevor turned to her and without speaking enfolded her in his arms. They kissed, gently and without hunger, almost chastely until the cry of a gull overhead broke them apart with a short, nervous laugh.
"Trevor . . ."
"What?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Not really. " She slid a hand down his chest slowly, then walked away to stand clear of him at the cliffs brown rock edge. The wind from the sea took her hair and fanned it behind her, and she closed her eyes to the occasional mistlike spray that climbed the rock face and settled over her like a veil.
He stood behind her and lay his hands on her stomach.
She leaned her head back against his shoulder and stared at the constellations that marked the shifting seasons. She almost did not notice when his palms drifted upward, turned slowly, and cupped her breasts without pressure, only resting there and waiting.
She sighed and pressed into him, imagining that she could feel through the layers of cloth both stiff and soft his own impatient longing.
A ribbon of cloud girdled the moon; a star fell to the horizon invisible in the black; a bird coasted along the base of the cliff, dipping toward the swirling white water and rising again with a muffled cry.
His hands coasted then, up and over while she lowered her shoulders so the wide straps could be brushed down her arms. Then his fingers found her neck again, stroking, lightly scratching, trailing maddeningly softly over the firm mounds until they vanished beneath the lace and lifted, clearing the silk so that the night air could tighten the skin and raise gooseflesh. His head ducked, and his lips found the sides of her neck, her shoulders, and she turned slowly, not wanting him to miss a single inch as they reached what his hands held so gently and so firmly.
He knelt before her, drawing with him the folds and tucks of the borrowed gown, laying them to one side reverently to gleam like pools of forbidden jewels in the moonlight.
She stood naked, with her hands on her hips, the thunderous voice of the Pacific like that of an army that had just conquered the world. She did not move. She only watched as he stripped off his jacket, tore at his tie and studs and cast them behind him. She sensed the struggle he was having with his control, and knew that he was losing. She knew it, and she did nothing to help him. She only stood there and felt the power of the sea surge through her loins, making taut the muscles of her thighs, bringing to arrow points the dark moons of her nipples, flattening her stomach until she seemed like something less flesh than carved from an exotic block of stone.
She did not move. She did not breathe. She listened to the voice of the sea and finally, slowly, raised her arms above her head, allowing herself at last a small smile as Trevor gaped at her. She stretched until she thought every joint in her body would separate, rotated on the balls of her feet without once losing her balance until she was facing him again.
She lowered her arms. She knelt in front of him and cupped his cheeks with her palms, feeling the perspiration running from his temples, feeling the tremors that rippled through him, feeling the utter rigidity of his jaw as he clenched his teeth hard.
"Do you know where to find me?" she whispered.
He swallowed, blinked, could not bring himself to speak, and so nodded instead.
"Do you swear that you will come to me? When you can, when you finish what you're doing here?"
Again he nodded, though his head was trapped firmly in her grip.
She almost laughed at the primeval lust that glared from his eyes but held herself in check as she searched him for signs of deceit.
"Don't lie to me, Trevor," she said quietly.
''I'm . . . I'm not," he managed to gasp, his chest beginning to rise and fall as though he were running with a great weight upon his back.
&n
bsp; ''I'm glad," she said. "I do not like people who lie to me, Trevor. Unlike most women, I deal with them. "
A cloud whispered across his face, so rapidly that she did not give it credence. Instead she thrust her breasts against his chest and dropped her hands suddenly into his lap. He groaned, and his arms went around her; he grunted and carried her back onto the cold rock she did not feel; he grunted louder as he cast aside all pretense of lovemaking and took her hard, swiftly, exactly as she wanted .
And the sea . . . the sea that she had thought she would never understand because of its size, because of its power, spoke to her then ... and she laughed as she felt its tides rise high within her, crest like the waves battering the rocks below, and shatter as one with the joyous scream she let free.