Page 65 of Echo in the Wind

Sated with good food, she readily agreed. “Of course.”

He stood and offered his hand. They carried their glasses to the parlor and went to stand in front of the crackling fire. He set his glass on the mantel and, using a poker, stirred the fire to greater life. “The nights can be cool.”

They finished their wine in amiable silence. “If you are willing,” he offered, “I would show you the harbor and the stars above it.”

“I would like that.”

He took her hand and led her through a door that connected to a study at the back of the house. His warm hand held hers, anchoring her unstable legs to the floor. It occurred to her that being unused to walking on land, her drinking might not have been wise.

As they passed through the study, she noticed a painting of a black-hulled ship hanging over the fireplace. “Is it your ship?”

He paused to admire the painting, letting go of her hand to touch the gilded frame. “Oui, I had it commissioned the year I bought la Reine Noire.”

“The name in English means ‘the Black Queen’. Did you have a particular one in mind?”

“Queen Marie Antoinette. Beautiful and charming, but indifferent to the needs of her people, as is the king. They were raised to believe they rule by Divine Right, so they are blind to the storm that may soon be upon them.”

Casting her gaze around the room, she spotted a chess set in one corner. “You play chess?”

“I do. And you?”

“Yes, but not very often. My oldest brother Wills and I used to play.” She dismissed the pang of regret at the memory and turned back to Donet.

Taking her hand, he said, “Come, the stars above the harbor await us.”

He led her through a door to a patio running alongside the rear of the home. The light was too faint to see clearly, but the heady smell of roses told her the flowers surrounded them.

Lights from the quayside taverns and lanterns on the ships dotted the harbor, competing with the glorious array of stars above them. She walked to the edge of the patio and gazed into the distance. “I have never seen anything so beautiful. The lights in the harbor are like jewels in a dark setting. The stars above are a wondrous complement.” Feeling the chill of the night air, she wrapped her arms around her midriff.

“You are cold,” he said, stepping close behind her and encircling her in his arms. “Let me warm you.”

At first, his bold touch alarmed her. But she found his rich French-accented voice intoxicating, lulling her to contentment within the circle of his arms. He knew precisely how to warm a woman.

If it had been any other man, she would have pulled away, but this was Jean Donet for whom she had developed a strong attraction. And the more she knew of him, the more her respect for him had grown. Many men had pursued her, but here was the first man who had ever made her want to escape not from him but to him.

Leaning into the warmth of his chest, she turned her face to the side where his lips met her temple, his breath warm on her skin. She deeply inhaled his rich, masculine scent that spoke of the sea. It was not the wine she had consumed that made her feel lightheaded; it was he.

“If you would allow it, I would kiss you, my lady,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple.

She turned in his arms to meet his midnight gaze. “It seems to me, Monsieur, you already have.”

His mouth curved in a slow sensuous grin, his brilliant smile visible in the faint light. “That was hardly a kiss. I assure you I can do better.” Bending his head, he brought his lips to hers.

She closed her eyes and opened to his kiss, enveloped in his arms and the heat of his body. Instinctively, she raised her hands to his nape, entwining her fingers in his silky hair.

He slanted his mouth over hers and joined their tongues in a slow dance as his hands stroked her back. She had never kissed a man in such a way. It seemed unduly intimate but, because it was him she was kissing, her body responded to his mouth and his hands. Soon, her breasts became sensitive and an ache grew in her woman’s center. Perhaps he sensed her innocence in such matters, for he did not hurry.

As the kiss went on, Joanna became his willing partner, learning from him how to move her tongue against his.

He responded by kissing her more fervently. All she could feel, all she could think about was him. In her mind, she whispered his name, “Jean”, over and over.

She would have kissed him long into the night but, suddenly, he pulled his lips from hers. She kept her eyes closed, savoring his kiss. She didn’t want it to end.

Breathing heavily, he kissed her again, this time more forcefully. She knew a moment of fear at the power of his urgent demanding kiss with his hands on her hips, pressing her belly into his hardened flesh. But, as her desire grew, her fear diminished.

Ripping his mouth away, he pressed his forehead to hers, breathing harder than before. “If we do not part now, my lady, I fear the morning light will find us lying together in twisted sheets.”

She had no idea what to say. He was right, of course. In one brief span of time, everything had changed. To wake next to him in those tangled sheets seemed a very real possibility.