to ask went right out of her mind.
He bent and kissed her—without passion and very tenderly. “My full name is Eric James van Meer. I was born in the Netherlands, although everyone calls it Holland, in a place called Utrecht. I lived there until I was in my teens, when I joined the service. The rest, you know, a little. Someday I’ll tell you all of it. When I have to.”
“That sounds ominous.”
He put an arm around her. “It doesn’t have a lot to do with us right now,” he said. His arm tightened. “Do you want to be a virgin until tomorrow morning?”
Her lips parted. Her breath came wildly. Of course, she thought, and started to say it. But she couldn’t. The words stuck in her throat. She thought of the long night, and her logical mind was booted out of its lofty position by a body that was in unholy torment.
“I want you so much,” she said unsteadily.
“No more than I want you,” he returned gruffly.
They were in the light of the hotel lobby now. He stopped, turning her toward him. His hands cupped her face and his eyes were dark and hot and full of anguish.
“I was raised a Catholic,” he explained. “And in my religion, what I’m going to do to you tonight is a sin. Probably in your religion it is, too. But in the sight of God, for all our lives, I take you for my wife here, now. And tomorrow, in the sight of men, we make it right.”
Tears stung her eyes as the words touched her heart. “And I take you for my husband, for better or worse, as long as I draw breath.”
He bent and brushed his mouth tenderly over her wet eyes. “In Dutch, we call a married woman Mevrouw,” he whispered.
“Mevrouw,” she repeated.
“And darling,” he added, smiling, “is lieveling.”
“Lieveling,” she repeated, smiling back.
“Upstairs,” he said, turning her, “I’ll teach you some more words. But you won’t be able to repeat them in public.” And he laughed at her expression.
Dutch’s room was nothing like Dani’s. It overlooked the bay, and its quiet elegance would have suited royalty. She watched him lock the door, and nervously went to stand on the balcony where she could see a lighted ship in port.
The wind blew her hair and her dress, and she felt like a voyager on the brink of a new discovery.
“One of the passenger ships,” he remarked, nodding toward the brilliantly lighted vessel. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Yes. I don’t know much about ships, but I like looking at them.”
He lit a cigarette and smoked it quietly. “I used to sail,” he said unexpectedly.
She turned, looking up at the stranger who, in less than twenty-four hours, would be her husband and her lover. “Did you?”
“I moved to Chicago about eight years ago,” he said. “I have an apartment on the lake, and I had a sailboat. I got drunk one night and she turned over with me. I let her sink.”
Her eyes narrowed uneasily as she stared up at him, and he stared back, unblinkingly.
“I’m not an alcoholic,” he said gently. “I probably sound like one to you, with these veiled references to the past. I don’t drink often, but there are times when I get black moods. I won’t drink around you. Ever.”
It sounded as if he were willing to make any compromise, and something warm and soft blossomed inside her. She went close to him, her eyes trusting, quiet and deep. “I can make compromises, too,” she said quietly. “I’ll live anywhere you like.”
He searched her eyes. “I don’t mind readjusting.”
“Yes, I know, but your work is in Chicago, I gather, or you wouldn’t live there.”
“My work is international,” he said, and scowled. “I don’t work out of Chicago. I live there because I have friends there.”
“Women friends?” she blurted out.
He only smiled. He finished the cigarette, tossed it into an ashtray and drew her gently against him. “You’re going to be the first woman I’ve been with this year,” he murmured with a mocking smile. “Does that answer the question?”
She felt and looked shocked. “But…but don’t you need…?” She couldn’t find a delicate way to say it.
“I thought I was beyond all that, until you came along,” he confessed. “I can’t even remember the last time I felt this way about a woman.”
“Are you sure you want to marry me?” she asked.
“Don’t worry so,” he told her, bending to kiss away the frown. “Yes, I want to marry you. I’ll still want to marry you in the morning, too. That was no lie to get you in bed with me.”
Part of her had thought that, and she lowered her eyes to his collar.
“Second thoughts?” he asked.
Her fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. “I’m afraid.”
“Yes, I imagine so,” he said matter-of-factly. “The first time was hard for me, too. I was nervous as a cat.” He laughed.
“I can’t imagine you being nervous,” she said.
“It was forever ago. But I haven’t forgotten. I’ll go slowly.” He bent and touched her mouth with his, very gently. “I just want you to remember two things. The first is that there are no set rules in this—it all depends on what pleases the people involved. Will you try to keep that in mind?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“The second thing is that I’m not superhuman,” he said softly. “Inevitably, there will come a moment when I lose control absolutely. Hopefully, I can bring you to that point before I reach it. But if not, I’ll make it up to you afterward. Okay?”
“It all seems so mysterious,” she whispered, as if even the night had ears.
“It won’t by morning.” His gaze went slowly over her, from head to toe and back up again, and his breathing began to change. “Rosebud,” he muttered softly as he suddenly swung her up into his hard arms.
She relaxed a little and burrowed her face into his warm throat. He smelled of expensive cologne, and she loved the strength that made her seem so light in his embrace.
He laid her down on the bed gently. She expected him to start undressing himself or her immediately, and she lay there uneasily, a little frightened.
But he sat down beside her and laughed gently at the look on her face. “What
