The Letter

by Rebecca Bernadette Mance

  “Maybe someday she can see the vineyards too,” he offered, chuckling at her enthusiasm; his eyes taking in her face.

  “Perhaps,” Victoria agreed, as a small whisper of sadness swept through her. Of course Mandy would never see this. It was unlikely Victoria herself would ever travel this road again, let alone Mandy.

  But she couldn’t think of that right now. Right now she was going to live as if there was no tomorrow.

  The city streets soon turned into country roads, and after a while it became difficult to tell where the road actually was. William’s well sprung sturdy coach softened the ride considerably when the road turned to little more than a worn path and became bumpy. Bouncing around in a luxurious coach was rather fun and sent Victoria to giggles when they hit particularly large ruts. William laughed with her catching her when she slid from the seat.

  Crossing the bay required the coach to be loaded onto a large, flat surfaced ferry. William explained to Victoria that there was talk of a bridge being built to bring the city to the shore on the other side. William explained that it was a grand plan that was slowly taking shape.

  “And the horseless carriage is a new technology that has yet to begin to take shape. I am planning to purchase one myself when some of the problems have been worked out. This means, darling that someday people will be motoring across the bay on what is called a suspension bridge.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Victoria asked staring fascinated at the inlet where the ocean met the bay and this grand bridge was to be built.

  “Because my dear, I am an investor in this grand project, just as my father was before me,” he said, his gaze proudly scanning out over the bay where the bridge would someday span; as if he could already see it in his mind’s eye.

  “It is hard to believe such a thing is possible,” Victoria whispered.

  “That is what makes it such a fascinating challenge,” he said. “If it was easy to do, why bother?”

  Victoria’s heart skipped a beat and she settled back into the seat of the coach to enjoy the view and swim in the wonder of such mammoth undertakings as a bridge that would span so far. No wonder William believed he ruled the world. It seemed nothing was out of his reach.

  It was a calm day so the barge gently rocked as it steamed across the bay.

  Once they reached the other side, the coach was carefully put to land again and they continued their bumpy journey.

  The scenery was breathtaking and ever changing. There were rolling hills as far as she could see, some completely bare and brown, while others were punctuated with trees and shrubs.

  In the distance were larger mountains, stunning and commanding, shimmering dark blue and purple, reaching up to the sky and contrasting with the soft, fluffy clouds that hovered around their rocky, ragged peaks.

  As they traveled along through the valley, William captured Victoria in his dreams for his winery. The hours flew by as they talked.

  Late in the evening they stopped to spend the night at a lodge that William kept for a halfway-point stop. “Serviceable” was the word he used to describe his “small” six bedroom, timber lodge.

  “It is a hunting lodge,” William explained to her as he helped her from the coach. Taking her arm, he led her into the lodge. “It is a bit rustic so I hope you don’t mind staying here.”

  “I can see how serviceable and rural it is,” she said wryly as she gazed around at the heavy, oak wood furnishings and large stone fireplace in the middle of the front room.

  There was a stairway leading up to a second floor with a balcony that provided a grand view of the front room.

  “It is so rustic, in fact, I cannot imagine how you get by when you come out here,” she said, indicating the fine Persian rugs and luxurious tapestry of hunting scenes on one of the walls.

  Oblivious to her sarcasm, William speculatively looked around. “Well, yes, it is not quite as comfortable as some of my other homes . . .”

  Victoria giggled.

  William paused and looked at her puzzled. Then he laughed.

  “Now you.” Sweeping her up into his arms he laughed as he swung her around a few times in the middle of the room, joining her in her laughter.

  “You are not convinced that I live rustically here?” William said as he set her gently to the floor again.

  “Most certainly not…you are extremely spoiled in the very least,” she replied, smiling at him.

  “I come here sometimes to get away from things and do a bit of hunting. But mostly, this is a stop off point on the way to the vineyards.”

  “Honestly, thinking of someone with so many houses befuddles my brain and you work such long hours besides. When do you ever have time to live in this many houses?”

  “Well, you shall find out since you will be with me,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

  Mac and Chester unpacked their bags and a basket of food and wine for them, before promptly disappearing to the stables and servants quarters above the barn, murmuring polite words of departure for the evening.

  They shared a light dinner of cold chicken, cheese, fruit and wine from the basket. William would scarce let her even wash her face or unpack a few things before he joined her in the master bedroom where they spent the entire evening.

  William did not stop loving her until late into the night, leaving Victoria to a deep exhausted sleep on the other side of the intoxicating evening, rather than pondering the power of emotions so intense they frightened her.

  *****

  The next morning, William woke her early with gentle kisses and teasing.

  After a hurried wash and breakfast, they were on their way again, arriving at the vineyard late in the afternoon.

  Victoria was awestruck by the scene of endless vines cast gold in the late evening sun.

  “I have never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered as she poked her head out the window to get a better view and confirm that this paradise was real.

  Victoria immediately understood why William loved this place.

  Rows and rows of grapevines surrounded a large, white, stone mansion. There was an earthy scent and a mist floating on the warm air that gave the whole scene an unrealistic magic quality.

  They started down a narrower road lined with tall oak trees. As they drew closer to the giant stone house at the end of the drive bathed in the evening sun, Victoria had a sense that the stunning house loomed over the vineyards watching over all of the precious grapes.

  Above each of the larger windows glistened an intricate pane of stained glass in intricate designs composing an abstract story involving grapevines, goblets filled with wine, flowers and birds.

  The double front doors had large stained glass windows complete with what Victoria recognized as the Worthington coat of arms, a sun, flowers and grapes.

  William helped her from the carriage and they slowly ascended the stone steps and into the house in silence. Even lost in the wonder of his house, Victoria felt his eyes probing her as if it was imperative to him that she care for the house and the land as much as he did.

  The inside of the house was decorated in a quaint but elegant country décor that lacked the glittering opulence of William’s San Francisco home but was equally beautiful.

  There was a warm fire already burning in the giant, stone fireplace in the front room. The dancing flames reflected off of the polished wooden floors. The dark mahogany furnishings were large and gave the room cozy comfortable feeling. The draperies and furnishings were completed in contrasting paisley and checked prints of light blues, greens, and yellows contrasting with the dark wood floor and heavy furnishings. The effect was stunning.

  Feeling his eyes upon her, Victoria smiled shyly into his relentless bold gaze.

  “Your house is beautiful,” she said, her cheeks pinking under his continued scrutiny, as if it mattered whether she liked his house or not. After all she would never live here. In fact, it was unlikely she would ever even see it again after this vis
it.

  “I was rather hoping you might like it,” he said as he moved closer to her, picked up her hand, and held it in his.

  “I do like it very much,” she said.

  “Then, let me show you the rest of the house.” Placing her hand on his arm, he then closed his other hand over her fingers. His simple, caring gesture took her by surprise. If she didn’t know better, she would believe that he cared deeply for her.

  As it was she would place no significance in his loving gesture as he started the grand tour of his house.

  The rest of the house continued in the same decorating theme as the first floor. The bedrooms upstairs contained the similar heavy mahogany elegantly carved furnishings with pastel bed coverings and draperies.

  “Did you decorate the house?” She asked, as they entered the master bedroom upstairs. His eyes glittered into hers like the finest diamonds.

  “Yes, I did. I had an idea of what I wanted it to look like, so I set about planning the building and decorating aspects. Of course, I didn’t actually do any of it, I just planned it and gave the instructions,” he said. “Are you surprised?”

  “Nothing about you surprises me,” she said sincerely.

  The large master bedroom boasted a large fireplace. The vast, mahogany four-poster bed was elegantly carved and made up with a quilted bed cover of red checks and velvet pillows carefully arranged to fulfill inviting and elegant.

  The curtains that framed the window were also a deep red, edged with the same checked material on the quilted bed cover. From the windows on either side of the bed, one could see endless rows of grapevines dancing in the gentle wind under the red and gold haze of the sinking sunset.

  “It is so magnificent,” Victoria breathed, going over to the window to look out over the fields where dozens of men were working between the rows and rows of lush vines. She could hear the murmur of their talking and laughter.

  “There is a household of servants to take care of the house and grounds. There is also a team of men who work the vineyards, but they live in cottages with their families about a quarter of a mile from the vineyards,” he said.

  When they had finished looking over the house, William took her dining room where dinner was already being laid out for them by two exotic dark skinned women.

  Through dinner and delicious flowing wine from his vineyards, William fielded her enthusiastic and fascinated questions about the process of wine making with equal relish.

  William was charming, funny, intelligent and informative all while he consumed her with silent passion in his eyes.

  Dusk fell while they finished dinner.

  “Let’s take a walk,” he softly demanded, standing up and coming around to help her with her chair. “Maria and Rosa want to clean up so they can go home.”

  “It will be dark soon,” she answered, her voice quivering. “Maybe I should help Maria and Rosa.”

  “They do not need any help, but I do urgently need your help,” he whispered.

  Victoria’s body reacted with a quick hunger that almost overwhelmed her. This carnal desire, this deep passion for a man who was not her husband was wrong, yet each time he called her to that forbidden place, she went oh so eagerly.

  “Really William,” Victoria said quietly as a telling blush stole over her cheeks, “I should help them.”

  He chuckled low, and then said, “Maria and Rosa make a fine salary and they would not like your help.”

  She hesitated, eyeing him warily.

  “Come, sweet, no need to be afraid of the dark.”

  “I am not afraid of the dark, I am afraid of the wolves.”

  “The ones on four legs or the ones on two legs?” he asked chuckling low.

  “Both,” she replied.

  He laughed while taking her hand and guiding her outside.

  The evening was cool and the earthy smell clung to the air. His touch sent tremors of delicious anticipation rippling through her.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, looking down at her in the half moonlight of the evening. His silver eyes flared into hers. She wanted to cry out loud from the wave of desire that cascaded over her.

  “No, I am not cold,” she answered, futilely attempting to pull her eyes from his compelling gaze.

  His voice dipped low. “Then what is it? Are you afraid? Or is it something else you feel, like desire? And passion?”

  He had spoken the words of her heart out loud. Dear gracious, she should feel shame, but his words only fed her craving.

  Finally successful in tearing her gaze from him, she tried mentally to shift away from his heat. He wanted her to do things she actually yearned to do, but most certainly things she shouldn’t want to do and let alone enjoy.

  “It is wrong,” she whispered, looking out at the rows and rows of grapevines that were now bathed in the clear, half-moonlight.

  “You mean standing out in the middle of a vineyard?” he asked innocently a smile edging his words.

  She continued to scan the vineyard, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “You are making fun out of me. You know what I am talking about. I know the kinds of things you want to do and it is wrong,” she whispered. “It is shameful enough that I have agreed to be your paramour, but to make everything worse I am allowing you to do things that are beyond scandalous.”

  His hand came up under her chin and he tilted her head with gentle force until she met his intense gaze.

  “What we do together is many things, but it is not wrong.”

  With a featherlike touch he gently traced her trembling bottom lip.

  “It is only your upbringing that makes you feel it is wrong. To want a man, or to enjoy making love, is the most natural state for a woman.”

  His eyes glowed with the heat of his words and like all the times before, she knew he would tease and pleasure her until she gave into this mad desire that consumed her.

  “I have been consumed with touching you since you first got into the carriage to come here.” His voice was raw and raspy with the confession.

  She gasped.

  He wrapped his arms around her encasing her in searing heat and continued, “I know you are confused and frightened by your own depth of passion, but I will lead you sweetheart and you will soon understand your own woman’s power.”

  His lips arrested her open mouth with savage persuasion. His hands tangled themselves in her hair, sending her confining hair pins flying and her hair into a fast tumble down around her. Her body melted into his in instant surrender. Instead of resisting him, a notion that had fled with the touch of his lips, she met him and responded with equal fury.

  He picked her up ignoring her half-hearted protests and carried her deep into the rows of vines until they were submerged fully within the lush vines.

  Gently, he laid her on a grassy spot between the rows of vines where she was immediately assailed by the intoxicating earthy bouquet.

  As he pushed her dress up and slid her undergarments down her legs, he murmured low, his voice and words sensually coaxing her past thoughts of resistance.

  His tender, urgent lips worked instant magic, and the notion of feeble protests died on her lips.

  His touched burned a path across her skin until he was between her legs, his mouth devouring her. Her mind and body were annihilated in the pleasure he was bringing her. Her shaking hands found his dark head and she tangled her fingers into his rich, waving hair.

  Soft, low sounds came involuntarily from her throat as the intensity of her pleasure grew…taking her closer and closer to the utter bliss she knew awaited her at the end.

  Then the world exploded in intense wracking waves. She cried out, uttering his name over and over.

  Before she returned to sanity, he was inside of her…first low and deep, then fast and shallow. She didn’t know how long they were there. Time lost meaning in the ritual as old as time. There was only him in the world, the beautiful cool, misty, moonlit night, nestled among the fruit laden grapevines that grew all aro
und them.

  When he spilled inside of her, he murmured her name in a primitive, low growl of deep satisfaction.

  For long moments, they lay in the stillness of the night. Victoria, protected by the weight of his body, and dazed by what had happened, kept her eyes closed.

  If only she could stay here, under him, with him and surrounded by the grapevines. It was heaven on earth. She understood why he liked it here so much.

  “Victoria?” he asked, raising up on his palms and looking down at her. She did not open her eyes because she didn’t want him to see what she felt.

  “Open your eyes,” he softly demanded. Her lids slowly opened. And she knew that the truth of her feelings was there for him to see in the moonlight. Yet, she had no shame. She not only had participated in this total act of lustful abandon, she had been both willing and eager.

  “Tell me how you feel,” he softly demanded. His silver eyes glittered like diamonds in night shadows, hypnotizing her and drawing her into him for possession of body, heart and mind.

  “I feel ashamed,” she replied, an emotional dampness gathering in her eyes from the power of the moment’s emotion.

  “You are lying. There is no shame in your eyes, only denial,” he answered smiling.

  “I do feel ashamed. I do!” She insisted in a harsh whisper trying to look away from him. He gently cupped her chin so that she could not escape his intense gaze.

  “If I believed that, I wouldn’t touch you.” He traced a finger along her chin. “No darling, indeed, you want to feel shame but you do not. You feel what I feel. Your body tells me what your mouth refuses to say.”

  She closed her eyes against his probing. He saw too much….knew too much. She couldn’t let him have all of her, or she would have nothing left for herself — of herself when it was all over.

  “This isn’t the last time we will make love in a vineyard,” he warned her, reading her thoughts. “I want you in every way possible.”

  Her eyes flew open. The appalling truth was that she already wanted him…in all the ways possible.

  She struggled under him with fervor of escape to prevent herself from repeating what had just happened.