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“To America.”
He laughed. “I know, my sweet,” he said. “But where in America?”
“I forget,” she said, blushing. She scooted to the edge of the chair, causing the robe she wore to fall clumsily open. Her blush deepened as she pulled the edges closer together. “I have the name of the town in my violin case,” she said quickly. “I can look, then tell you.”
His brows furrowed as he turned his cigar between his lips. “The name is unimportant,” he murmured, looking toward the floor. He cleared his throat nervously, now eyeing her closely. “And what type of employment will your brother be seeking?”
Maria leaned against the back of the chair again, pulling her legs comfortably beneath her. “Whatever Papa has found for himself and Alberto,” she answered. “But I cannot tell you what. Papa failed to mention it in his last letter to us.”
“Oh, I see,” Michael grumbled. “And it is your Papa who sent tickets for your passage to America?”
“Yes. After waiting so long, he finally did so.”
He felt a bit confused, having thought all along that most aboard this ship were headed for the coal mines owned by Nathan Hawkins. But . . . yes . . . there had to be a few who weren't….
“And how about yourself, Michael?” Maria said eagerly, shaking her head to free her eyes of some loose strands of hair.
“Eh?” he said, not having expected her to blurt out that sort of question so suddenly.
“What is the purpose for you being on this ship?” she asked further, gazing around her once again, at the plushness of her surroundings. Then her gaze met his. “Are you even the owner of this ship, Michael?”
Michael began laughing, choking on his cigar smoke. “Me?” he said. “Not quite.”
“Then what do you do, Michael? How do you make a living for yourself?”
His face became all shadows as he leaned over to pour two more glasses of wine. “I'm with a winery,” he finally answered. “I've been to Italy . . . to . . . uh .. . check the quality of the grapes, to choose which of these we want to plant in our fields back in America.”
He watched her eyes, relieved to see that she believed him, as had also the ship's captain.
“Then America does have grapes?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes. Many,” he answered. “More wine?” he added, smoothly, holding a filled glass before her.
“I don't know why not,” she giggled, having liked the way it had warmed her insides. Another glass might even make her so warm, it could linger with her on into the night, when she would be lying, shivering, on top deck.
She took a sip, then another, realizing that the usual tingling was working up her spine, as always happened when drinking any wine .. . even her own Papa's homemade brew that had been so sorely missed after his departure to America.
“And did you find our country's grapes to your liking?” she asked, then bolted upright when a sudden commotion erupted outsi
de the closed door. “What was that?” she whispered.
Michael rose and went to her, but still refrained from touching her. “As you should know, there are many strange noises on a ship,” he said. “It's nothing to worry about.”
A louder thud and men cursing loudly prompted Maria to lunge for Michael, then suck in her breath when she found his arms enfolding her.
“Maria?” he said softly, eyeing her questioningly with his blue eyes, then moved his lips to cover hers, causing Maria's heart to thump wildly against her chest. He kissed her softly . . . testing . . . then pulled her closer to him in such a quick way, her breath was almost taken from her.
She opened her eyes, searching this face so close to hers, seeing how he had his eyes tightly closed, as though in a swoon, while continuing to kiss her.
It was a first for her. No man had ever kissed her before and she found that Michael's lips were creating many more pleasurable feelings inside her than she had ever thought possible. She closed her own eyes, squirming, to shape her body to his, not caring when the gown she wore flew open, making her feel even more clearly the hardness of his manhood pressing against her.
She knew that she should be feeling wicked, but the warmth coarsing through her veins and her heart pounding so rapidly convinced her that in no way could such a sensation of excitement be wrong.
She moaned throatily as one of Michael's hands moved to secure a breast, causing her nipple to draw tightly, aching as his fingers teased and pulled at it.
She threw her head back as his lips left her mouth and exchanged places with his fingers, now licking and sucking on the hard points of each breast, until Maria felt she might melt onto the floor into one throbbing mass of flesh.
“Maria, you are so damn beautiful,” Michael said thickly, then scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
