His lips moved down her throat. "If that happens, I'll find something else tonibbleon."
Blushing, she slipped away from his embrace, then divided the omelet into unequal pieces and slid the larger onto his plate. The sun was setting as they took seats on opposite sides of the scrubbed pinetable.
On impulse she raised her mug of wine. "Tothepast."
"And the future," he addedimmediately.
"The past is more certain." Nonetheless, she drank thetoast.
Silence reigned as they applied themselves enthusiastically to their plates. Kidnapping appeared to sharpen one'sappetite.
When he had finished, Dominick pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair with a happy sigh. "I've never had abettermeal."
She eyed him askance as she neatly laid her knife and fork across her plate. "You undermine your credibility when you make remarks like that. If you say such ridiculous things about food, how can I believe the other thingsyousay?"
Immune to the set down, he said, "I've had more elaborate meals, but plain food is just as good when it is well prepared." His warm gaze met hers. "And tonight the company ismatchless."
Her gaze fell. Changing the subject, she said, "You made a very convincing savage. Were you imitating real aboriginals, or did you makeeverythingup?"
"I blended the language and customs from different Polynesian islands. The largest part of my performance came from the Sandwich Islands, since I spent the most time there. On the other hand, the fire dance was from Samoa." He grinned. "After seeing one performed, I decided to give it a try and accidentally set my hut on fire. Everyone in the village was rolling on the ground laughingatme."
She had to laugh also as she pictured the scene. "What are the Pacificislandslike?"
"Beautiful beyond imagining. The Sandwich Islanders ride giant waves on flat, narrow rafts, skimming the sea like birds. I tried that too, and almost drowned before I learned the knack. It was likeflying."
His gaze became distant. "The flowers and birds are so brilliantly colored that they seem the product of a painter's opium dreams. Even the sands of the beaches come in different colors, from blinding white to shimmering black. And the volcanoes! Seeing one by night is a sight never forgotten. It was like looking into a rift that had opened to Hell. Where the molten stone flowed into the sea, pillars of steam billowed into the sky. It was trulyawesome."
She exhaled, imagining the marvels he described. Correctly interpreting her sigh, he asked, "Would you like to go there for ourhoneymoon?"
She almost said yes before she managed to stop herself. "There can't be a honeymoon if there is nomarriage. "
"You're a hard woman, Roxanne," he said, not seeming particularly worried. "Now that I think on it, it would be better to take you to the Caribbean. The islands are equally lovely, and a good bit closer. Turquoise seas, caressing winds. It's as close to paradise as one can find on thisearth."
No, true paradise would be to live with a man one loved and trusted. Love alone was not enough. Trying to sound light, she said, "You should be writing travelbooks."
He grinned. "I considered it, but such tales should have a tone of high seriousness, and I could never manage that. It was my fate to always find the absurd instead of the sublime." He embarked on a hilarious series of stories about other misadventures in the East and the Pacific. Roxanne laughed more than she had in the last ten yearscombined.
As she sipped her third glass of Bordeaux, she began telling stories of her own. About the vague scholar who had visited her father with a coach full of bones, looking for help in assembling them into whole skeletons. About the gosling that had decided a dog was its mother, and the neighborhood lad who had run away to the Gypsies only to be sent back with the firm comment that they didn't need any more children, thank you very much, they had quite enough oftheirown.
Simple stories, but Dominick was amused. Mug cupped in his hands, he lounged back in his chair, dark tousled locks falling over his brow. The giddy thought passed through her mind that perhaps love was simply a matter of finding someone who would always laugh at one'sjokes.
She must stop thinking of love and start thinking of escape. Yet when she looked at him, her mind filled with images of how he had appeared as a nearly naked savage. His loose shirt, open at the throat, reminded her irresistibly of the broad, muscular shoulders beneath the fabric. The way his trousers pulled across his thighs made her remember how it had felt to be pressed against him. A male body was very different in shape and texture from that of afemale...
Mouth dry, she rose to her feet. He'd had enough wine so that he would sleep soundly, and she should be able to slip away. "Being kidnapped is fatiguing. I think I'llretirenow."
"I'll help you make up the bed." He stood and led the way into the cottage's only bedroom. It was a cozy chamber, with a broad four-poster bed, a washstand, and a pile of expensive baggage alongonewall.
Dominick opened the blanket chest at the foot of the bed to reveal worn but clean bedding. After the two of them had tucked sheets and blankets and stuffed pillows into cases, he said, "I'll join you in ten minutesorso."
Her heart jerked like a terrified rabbit. "I beg your pardon?" she said in freezingaccents.
"Don't worry, I'll sleep on the floor, unless you invite me to share the bed," he said mildly. "But I really can't allow you to stay in the room alone. You might decide it's your duty to try toescape."
The beastly man could read her mind. She glared at him. "So even though you claim to love me, I am your prisoner. Have you noshame?"
"I'm ashamed of many things, but not this. You aren't a prisoner. Merely a bride suffering a fewqualms."
To her regret, she found that she had a lamentable desire to giggle. Schooling her expression, she said, "Be sure to give me enough time to prepare. Though it shouldn't take long, since I'll have to sleep in myshift."
