complained vehemently: A despicable, unpredictable fellow who thought about his own wishes over her own!
He continued in a murmur. "Tonight at midnight. Put a sprig of my jasmine in your hair, then come to me here again with your sweet mouth open just like this"—he placed his finger over her lips, touching inside for a moment, fingertip to the edge of teeth—"then, if you want me to, really want me to, I will kiss you.
Or, if you prefer, we can just talk." He made a soft sound of amusement. "Yes. Tell yourself that, that we are just going to talk."
She felt a flurry of fabric, a faint breath of movement up the front of her. With the exit behind her. she didn't imagine he was leaving. Then she realized he had moved away. She frowned. What was he doing?
Louise rushed for the light, a pivoting, gamboling few steps behind her. She switched the electricity on.
The two fixtures immediately overhead burst into brightness, opening up the front portion of the kennel, a tiled walk between two rows of cages that dimmed into darkness where more than half the fixtures didn't come on.
Louise caught only a glimpse, a flying, colorful sail of light wool and silk as her Arab disappeared into the black end of the corridor. Then a sudden and impossible cool breeze cut into the room. A strong, wet wind blew her dress against her legs. My God, he was going out through the dog promenade. She ran after him, down the corridor into the dark, yelling after him.
"So don't kiss me!" she said. "There are plenty who will!" She taunted, "You could be a monster to look at, for that matter. I can't even be sure. I don't want you to kiss me!"
She caught the door on the back swing, then shoved it, taking herself outside into gusts of drizzling rain.
She walked out onto the deck, the ship beneath her feet lunging. She took rain full in the face one moment, down her back the next—and for her bother saw only-more indistinctness, more poor visibility.
The night sky seemed a close black ceiling. The dim glow of a moon, looking near enough to touch, swam in a halo behind layers of low purple-black clouds. On the deck, beneath this sky, there was no one. Nothing. Every direction disappeared into obscurity beneath the hulking, gigantic outline of ship stacks. Before her, she could see two of these, like looming phantoms, their funnels spewing their own blackishness. Behind the kennels, she knew, were two more. But for these, the whole, vast deck was open out to its railings.
Louise let the topple of the ship carry her forward to the nearest grip she could get on the handrail Over the railing, she looked down at the deck below, a twenty foot drop. A dangerous fall. Then looking toward the bow of the ship, she realized, there at the front this distance would be half that—if one leaped the rail, dangled, then dropped down onto the private terrace of one of the grand luxury suites.
This is what she thought had happened. Her shah or sultan (it amused her to think of all the possible Middle Eastern titles he probably didn't possess) had run the length of the ship, then jumped home. To add insult to injury, she lost her balance on the next sudden lean of the ship. She slipped and grabbed for the railing.
Her necklace flipped up to become a rattle of pearls clicking over the handrail, so that when she caught a grip, her hand wrapped around the string of pearls too. She felt a sharp tug on the back of her neck, then a release all at once as the strand broke. Black pearls popped and flew everywhere. They bounced well; they bounced high. They rolled magnificently across the deck in every direction, as well as off the deck and down onto the next—a quick, nacreous spill swallowed up into the wet night, the roll and clatter smothered almost instantly by the hiss of the ocean.
Louise was left with the wet string in her hand, her dress soaked, her hair a ruin, and her vaguely sore neck wearing a tiered necklace, completely missing its longest strand.
Chapter
He continued in a murmur. "Tonight at midnight. Put a sprig of my jasmine in your hair, then come to me here again with your sweet mouth open just like this"—he placed his finger over her lips, touching inside for a moment, fingertip to the edge of teeth—"then, if you want me to, really want me to, I will kiss you.
Or, if you prefer, we can just talk." He made a soft sound of amusement. "Yes. Tell yourself that, that we are just going to talk."
She felt a flurry of fabric, a faint breath of movement up the front of her. With the exit behind her. she didn't imagine he was leaving. Then she realized he had moved away. She frowned. What was he doing?
Louise rushed for the light, a pivoting, gamboling few steps behind her. She switched the electricity on.
The two fixtures immediately overhead burst into brightness, opening up the front portion of the kennel, a tiled walk between two rows of cages that dimmed into darkness where more than half the fixtures didn't come on.
Louise caught only a glimpse, a flying, colorful sail of light wool and silk as her Arab disappeared into the black end of the corridor. Then a sudden and impossible cool breeze cut into the room. A strong, wet wind blew her dress against her legs. My God, he was going out through the dog promenade. She ran after him, down the corridor into the dark, yelling after him.
"So don't kiss me!" she said. "There are plenty who will!" She taunted, "You could be a monster to look at, for that matter. I can't even be sure. I don't want you to kiss me!"
She caught the door on the back swing, then shoved it, taking herself outside into gusts of drizzling rain.
She walked out onto the deck, the ship beneath her feet lunging. She took rain full in the face one moment, down her back the next—and for her bother saw only-more indistinctness, more poor visibility.
The night sky seemed a close black ceiling. The dim glow of a moon, looking near enough to touch, swam in a halo behind layers of low purple-black clouds. On the deck, beneath this sky, there was no one. Nothing. Every direction disappeared into obscurity beneath the hulking, gigantic outline of ship stacks. Before her, she could see two of these, like looming phantoms, their funnels spewing their own blackishness. Behind the kennels, she knew, were two more. But for these, the whole, vast deck was open out to its railings.
Louise let the topple of the ship carry her forward to the nearest grip she could get on the handrail Over the railing, she looked down at the deck below, a twenty foot drop. A dangerous fall. Then looking toward the bow of the ship, she realized, there at the front this distance would be half that—if one leaped the rail, dangled, then dropped down onto the private terrace of one of the grand luxury suites.
This is what she thought had happened. Her shah or sultan (it amused her to think of all the possible Middle Eastern titles he probably didn't possess) had run the length of the ship, then jumped home. To add insult to injury, she lost her balance on the next sudden lean of the ship. She slipped and grabbed for the railing.
Her necklace flipped up to become a rattle of pearls clicking over the handrail, so that when she caught a grip, her hand wrapped around the string of pearls too. She felt a sharp tug on the back of her neck, then a release all at once as the strand broke. Black pearls popped and flew everywhere. They bounced well; they bounced high. They rolled magnificently across the deck in every direction, as well as off the deck and down onto the next—a quick, nacreous spill swallowed up into the wet night, the roll and clatter smothered almost instantly by the hiss of the ocean.
Louise was left with the wet string in her hand, her dress soaked, her hair a ruin, and her vaguely sore neck wearing a tiered necklace, completely missing its longest strand.
Chapter
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