Sweeter Than Wine (25 page)

"I could not find any shallots," he said, as if justifying his presence in her
kitchen. "So I used instead some young onions. Your tarragon is wonderful and
fresh and I used some of the wine to marinate the chicken a little. You do not mind
if we dine here, in the kitchen?"

Bemused, Alice shook her head.

"Let me see: there are lettuce and tomatoes from the garden, and I have made
biscuits." Siegfried dusted his hands across the apron self-consciously, raising a
light cloud. He sneezed and then moved around to Alice's side of the table,
holding out a chair for her. "I hope you rested well. You are feeling better?"

Alice's knees gave way and she landed on the chair rather more forcefully
than she intended. Her teeth clicked together. "Y-yes. I am." The scent of broiling
chicken filled the room, tangy with herbs.

Alice blinked to see her usually sober kitchen table decorated with a checked
cloth and candles. Siegfried had already set the salads on the table, and now
busied himself with scraping the biscuits, only one shade darker than golden
brown, off the baking sheet and into a bread basket.

He placed the basket in front of her. "If they are ruined, there is some bread
left from lunch," he offered, apprehensively.

"No, thank you. They look lovely," she said with automatic politeness.

And they did. His biscuits were lumpy, with bottoms suspiciously shiny, but as
she tore one open it steamed with hot fragrance, butter melting on it eagerly.

Siegfried wielded poultry shears and served her a portion of chicken, redolent
with garlic and tarragon, then settled into his chair, opposite. He looked at her for a
long moment, giving her the most unsettled feeling, and said, without crossing
himself, or bowing his head, or any show of piety except his naked words: "I thank
God for this food, for saving my life, and for you, Alice. Amen."

"Amen." She blessed herself, hoping God's all-seeing eye was watching
somewhere else tonight.

"Oh!" said Siegfried, standing up hurriedly. He pulled the cord to turn off the
overhead light. The golden glow of the candles on the table grew brighter as her
eyes adjusted, until Siegfried came into perfect focus.

She could hardly take her eyes off him to eat, or eat when she took her eyes
off him. The chicken was tender and she knew it must have flavor. The lettuce was
crisp, and the tomatoes full of juice. But more than a bite of each left her stomach
fluttering, and the rest of the wine, served thriftily with dinner, made her head
swim.

Siegfried chattered about the other vintners, and the size of the crop, and the
favorable weather, and how pleased he was that everybody liked the wine. His
wine.

Alice nodded, and stretched her mouth in a fatuous smile and tried not to think
about what she might be doing with Siegfried in just a little while.

The candle flames wore halos of gold and soft shadows slid about. Only the
spicy scent of the wine and the memory of his mouth on hers were real. She took
another gulp, half-hoping it would intoxicate her enough to let her forget what she
was doing, knowing she wanted to feel every exquisite sensation.

At last they were done, plates clean except for bones. Alice began to collect
the silverware, but Siegfried stood up. "No, Alice. Go rest on the porch. I will wash
up."

In disbelief, she said, "No, really, I couldn't--" but he took her elbow and led her
toward the screened door at the back of the house.

"You rest," he insisted. "I will take care of everything."

"Th-thank you for dinner."

Alice slipped through the screen door, and sat down on the slatted bench.
Oh, honey, he wants you bad
, said a cynical voice in her head, sounding
perilously like her mother. The three-quarters full moon had risen over the crest of
the nearest hill. Cricket music echoed under the stars, louder than the clanking
and splashing of dishes being washed by her husband.

The evening air was cool, and Alice thought of Siegfried's long legs, one of
them badly scarred. She imagined those limbs, pressing all along the length of her
own, and between...

She grasped her elbows firmly and sat up straight.

Let's be practical
, she told herself. There were mechanical aspects to a
seduction that should be taken care of beforehand. She made a mental list.
Towels
. Yes.
New sheets
. Well, she and Maria had done the laundry
only two days ago.
Nightgown?
No, definitely not.
Butter?
She
remembered a painful session or two with Bill, and the dry burn of his entry.
Yes.

She worried how to get these items unobtrusively. Towels were in the
bathroom. Leave the sheets till tomorrow.

But the butter--her thoughts skidded around exactly why she needed butter,
and slid into the difficulty of obtaining any. She couldn't just go into the pantry and
pick up the cold-crock. Siegfried was in the kitchen. And she couldn't just sneak
back there after Siegfried went upstairs. She knew he would come out here, and
sit down with her, and put his arm around her, and kiss her, and pretty soon they
would walk upstairs together, very close.

She knew it would happen just like that. And there wouldn't be any time to run
downstairs and get the butter. He wouldn't want to let go of her and she wouldn't
dare retreat, then, either. She had already decided what she was going to do.

She might knock him on the head so he went out cold for a while, and she
could run into the pantry and pick up the crock, run upstairs with it, and then be
back on the bench, breathing a little hard, when he woke up.

Alice stifled a nervous giggle.
Oh, certainly
.

Or she could break out of his embrace on the way back through the kitchen,
and just calmly pick it up to bring with them upstairs. But then he would ask her
what she wanted it for, and wonder how she knew to use it, and the thought of
trying to explain was simply too much to contemplate.

She sighed, the urge to laugh gone now.

Siegfried pushed open the screen door. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mmm-hmmm," she croaked.

"I am sorry about the meeting," Siegfried said, as he sat down next to her on
the bench. "Hugh is a cad."

She shook her head.

There must have been enough light for Siegfried to see her expression, for he
said, "You are brave, and kind, and so you think Hugh is, too. But he is not."

She put out her hand, and felt Siegfried's fingers close around hers, warm and
intimate in the darkness. "I'm sorry I was so rude to you today."

"
Macht nichts,
" he said, dismissively, then lifted her hand to his mouth
and kissed it, tickling her skin.

So far, so good.

"I wanted to protect you, Alice."

Alice's heart began a slow, heavy beat.
Now
.

"I'm not used to having anyone worry about me." She closed her eyes, waiting
for his lips to conquer hers again. Long seconds passed, and to her keen
disappointment, nothing happened.

Her heart began to pound with a new terror. What if he didn't want her after
all? Then Siegfried's words came out quietly, next to her ear. "Look."

Alice, dazed, opened her eyes. "What?"

"Shhh." Siegfried put his forefinger over her lips, and she parted them in an
automatic kiss. "Look...there." He pointed.

Two dark forms emerged from the shelter of the fruit trees, stepping delicately
into the moonlit open of her vegetable garden, huge ears swiveling, large liquid
eyes searching cautiously for dangers.

Alice leapt up and ran to the porch railing. "Shoo!" she called, waving her arms
wildly. "Go away!"

The mule deer were startled into immobility, then bounded off into the
darkness.

Siegfried chuckled and came up behind her, brushing the nape of her neck
with a light kiss that sent a pleasurable jolt through her. "Peter told me about
them."

"Pests," Alice muttered darkly, eliciting another chuckle from Siegfried. "I used
to think they were lovely animals."

"They will not dare return tonight." He pulled her back against him into the
silver-dappled shadows. Thigh to thigh, his arm heavy and possessive around her
shoulders, every inch of her body tingled where he touched her.

Siegfried's breath on her cheek raised goosebumps, as if she could feel not
only her own flesh, but his, too, and the desire that was present and rising in both
of them. She took hold of his right hand and intertwined her fingers with his. She
felt Siegfried's breath catch. His lips were soft and warm and it was so very easy to
return his kiss. His hesitation--and her own--melted away in the pressure of mouth
on mouth.

His free hand cupped the back of her head, keeping her close. Her arms crept
around his neck.

The deliciously wicked melting sensation she had experienced in his arms
earlier that day returned, and Alice realized that all of her worries about the butter
had been unnecessary.

Siegfried raised his lips from hers long enough to murmur something in
German, then he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. Electricity skittered
through her as he traced the curve of her ear and gently nipped it. His mouth
continued downward along her throat, raising more delightful shivers as his kisses
followed the perimeter of her high-necked blouse.

He put an arm around her waist, and led her back to the seat. Alice allowed
him to guide her, unresisting, then deliberately sat down on his lap.

He perched stiffly on the edge of the bench until she put her hands on his
shoulders. "Relax," she said, tracing her own line of kisses along his jawbone. "I
won't bite you."

"No? " He grinned. "Too bad." He leaned back, drawing her with him. The
bulge in his lap pressed against her leg, wildly satisfying. His hands rose to cover
her shoulder blades. Alice kissed him slowly, tasting the now-familiar pleasure of
his mouth.

Then Siegfried's hand slipped down under her arms, to her breasts, and rested
there lightly. He brushed the sensitive tips. At her twitch, he jerked his hands
away. "Did I--hurt you, Ah-lees?"

She made a small sound of deprivation, and broke the kiss, startled by how
right
his hands had felt. "No."

Wearing a hesitant expression, Siegfried did not move. "I do not want--"

"I'll tell you if it hurts."

His gaze never leaving hers, Siegfried touched her cheeks and lips, then his
fingers molded her breasts. Slowly he reached up to open the top button of her
shirtwaist, then, when she did not protest, the next, and the next, until the blouse
lay open to her waist. He pushed it off her shoulders, trapping her lower arms in a
tangle of fabric. Leaning forward, he kissed the bare skin above her thin silk slip.
His breath was warm, and her heart beat heavily again.
This
was why she
had left off her corset when she dressed for dinner.

Siegfried said something in German again, of which she only caught
Liebchen
...beloved...and then his fingers were drawing wandering circles,
cupping and lifting her breasts, testing the weight and texture. She leaned
shamelessly into his touch, gasping a little, begging him wordlessly for more. She
kissed him, hard, as his hands continued their wicked magic.

Alice had never felt anything like this strange, hot longing with Bill. Then again,
she had never sat on his lap half naked in the moonlight, letting him fondle her.
The thought of Bill, lying in an unmarked grave while she embraced his cousin,
instantly sobered her.

"Ah-lees?" Siegfried asked unsteadily as she wriggled hastily off his lap.

What
had
she been thinking?

"I--I want to go now," she stammered, backing away from him and holding her
blouse together. She turned away from his distress, but he rose and followed her
inside. He didn't try to touch her, but his jaw muscles bunched as he escorted her
upstairs.

She berated herself for a coward by her bedroom door. She did not want to
slam it in his face without an explanation, but what could she say to him?
Thank you for a very enjoyable evening
?

Alice was horribly aware of his presence behind her. She had wanted this; she
had encouraged him. And now she was running away. She put her hand on her
doorknob.

"Ah-lees, please--I burn for you," Siegfried whispered. "Do not leave me!"

She turned slowly and, knowing she should not, knowing she could do nothing
else, took a single step into his arms.

Montclair

Wednesday, June 25

He kissed her again, his mouth hard and possessive, then carried her down
the hall into his bedroom. She clung to him, the pulse between her thighs beating
wildly in flagrant anticipation.

He pushed her blouse open and down over her shoulders past her wrists. She
freed her hands from the clinging material and reached for his shirt, but her hands
were trembling so badly that she couldn't work the buttons through the holes.

"Ah-lees--
lass mich.
"

She didn't need a translation. His hands flew down his buttons, and then it was
easy to push off his shirt.

She rested her cheek half against his sleeveless undershirt and half on bare
shoulder, tasting his skin, clean and smooth, with a faint remnant of soap. He must
have washed while she was resting.

Oh, God. He wanted her so much. Enough to bathe, and to cook, and to
beg.

He pulled at the waist of her long skirt, undoing the fastenings. She let go of
him just long enough for it to fall at her feet. She stepped out of her shoes,
shivering even though it was warm in the upstairs room.

"Ah-lees," Siegfried whispered, as his fingers traveled the length of her slip
straps over her shoulders, down to her breasts. "You are so beautiful..."

She rubbed against him for the lascivious pleasure she obtained from the slide
of silk against skin. There were trousers in her way. She removed them with
Siegfried's willing help. Somewhere along the line he had shed his shoes, too.