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Her thoughts moved swiftly to Michael. “Michael, oh, Michael. You really do care. Or why else would you have taken both me andmy brother in?” she whispered, feeling a delirious warmth of desire surging through her blood. She leaned closer to the curtain and pulled it further aside, craning her neck, searching the cabin around her. She moved to her knees, feeling the thunderous pounding of her heart when her gaze settled on him.
Michael was slumped over his desk, writing in his journal. His shirt front was unbuttoned halfway to the waist, and the dazzling white of the shirt was accentuated even more by an abundance of ruffles spilling over his thick, golden chest hairs.
He placed the tip of his pen to his lips, lifting a thick brow as he gazed toward Alberto. He knew that Alberto's strength had to have returned. Each evening, Michael had learned that to be sure that Alberto would eat, all he had to do was take leave of the room for only thirty minutes or so after having placed the tray of food on the floor beside Alberto's bunk. Always when Michael returned, the food would be gone and Alberto would once again be playing his game of pretense, lying so still, appearing to be asleep.
“Damn it. Why?” Michael fumed to himself. He turned a bit sideways in the chair, now thinking about Maria. He dropped his pen to the desk top and bolted upright, discovering Maria peering back at him from the lifted corner of the curtain. He whispered her name and hurried to her side, not caring when the velveteen curtain jerked loose from the ceiling and crumpled to a heap on the floor. He sat down on the bed beside Maria, taking one of her hands in his, lifting it to his lips, kissing it with soft, feathery touches.
“Are you really all right, Maria?” he said thickly. His gaze raked over her, leaving no spot untouched by the caress of his eyes.
Maria settled back onto the bed, in an almost swoon. She wasn't sure if this was caused by Michael's presence, or a sudden lightheadedness from a piercing hunger gnawing away at her insides. “How long have Alberto and I been in your cabin, Michael?” she asked, placing her fingers to her brow, breathless. She now knew the intensity of her weakness and suddenly recalled how ill she had been the day she had decided to seek Michael's assistance.
“Several days, my sweet,” he replied. With the back of his hand, he reached upward and touched her cheeks, then her brow. “But I believe your fever has broken and you're on the road to recovery.”
Maria fluffed a pillow and placed it behind her back, leaning into it. “And was I so ill?” she asked. “So ill that I cannot even remember these past several days?” She felt her face coloring, looking at the bed and the empty space beside her. “And did you . .. did we even … ?”
Michael laughed throatily. “No. I, nor we, didn't,” he said, leaning closer to her. “And my, aren't our thoughts a bit on the wicked side? It's a sure sign that you are well.” He leaned even closer and whispered into her ear. “You're a wench. A she-devil. Did you know that?”
“Michael. Please,” Maria said, glancing toward Alberto. He was lying much too quietly. Not appearing to even be breathing. Could he be feigning sleep? Was he indeed hearing all? Her face flushed even redder, imagining what could be going through her brother's mind if he had heard. Alberto hadn't known of her one time with Michael. If he did, or would ever find out, Maria even suspected that Alberto might become guilty of violence.
Michael reached for a cloth and wet it, wringing it out to be almost dry. Then he began to smooth it across Maria's face in slow, even strokes. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I didn't mean to embarrass you.”
Maria leaned her face into his caresses. “That feels so good,” she sighed.
“I'm sure my doing this daily helped to pull the hated fevers from inside you,” he said, moving down to her neck, lifting her hair.
“You've done this? And I wasn't even aware of it?”
“You've been quite ill, darling.”
Maria's eyes darted to Alberto once again. “Michael, please do not call me sweet names. Not in Alberto's presence.”
“He is asleep, Maria.” “I'm not so sure.. ..”
Michael turned and studied Alberto. “Yes. I know what you mean. He has a way of fooling a body.”
“And is Alberto going to be as well as 1?”
“I'm sure he is already,” Michael grumbled, resuming his strokes with the cloth.
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Maria's eyes widened. “What do you mean, Michael?”
“It's been the damnest thing,” he grumbled further. “At times, I'm sure I feel his eyes on me when I least expect it. But when I turn to look at him, his eyes are closed again.”
“But why would Alberto not talk to you, if he is well? Surely you're imagining things.”
Michael glared toward Alberto, tensing inside when the same feelings of apprehension raced through him. Even now, he could tell that Alberto was indeed feigning sleep. This made his trust for Alberto wane even more. It didn't seem Alberto and Maria were from the same mother's womb, much less twins. Their personalities were too much of a contrast. He turned his gaze back to Maria. “Damned if I know,” he finally said.
“And you're so sure Alberto is well?”
“After I got him in out of that sweltering heat, he began to improve quite readily,” he said. “I don't know why you and your brother chose to stay out in that damned weather when I had so eagerly offered the comforts of my cabin,” he added, furrowing his brow.
Maria didn't want to explain the whys. Doing so would be to reveal how angry Michael's words had made her when he had accused her of having more than sisterly feelings for her brother. Even now it angered her. But she did feel a deep sense of gratitude for Michael now, and renewed strange feelings swirling around inside her because of his nearness and the gentleness of his strokes as he continued to caress her face and neck with the dampened cloth. “I do appreciate what you've done for Alberto and myself,” she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes nervously as his gaze met hers and held. His blue eyes were like pools, luring her into them, making her insides begin a slow melting.
“And will you stay on here with me in my cabin even now that you are well?”
Maria's heartbeats faltered, glancing toward Alberto once again. “No. I think not,” she said. “As soon as Alberto is able, we must return topside. It is the only decent thing to do. One can take only so much advantage of another.”
