Convicted, стр. 53

Earlier…

Tony didn’t know where to go—he was on a damn island! Each step away from Claire became more and more determined as his feet pushed deeper and deeper into the sand. He trudged forward with his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She said she wanted truth; he gave her the damn truth. Was that some kind of sick joke? Ask for something—no, demand it—and then when you get it—throw it back! When he stopped and looked back, all he could see was beach. He wasn’t sure if she’d gone back to the house, or if he’d rounded too many bends.

As he continued walking, the beautiful scenery around him went unnoticed. Before he realized, sunlight was waning. Straight ahead, through the twilight, near the shore, he saw a structure. Curiosity propelled him forward until he recognized the building. It was the boathouse he’d been to the day before with Francis. Tony followed the path through the vegetation until he reached the door. It wasn’t locked. Watercrafts weren’t his normal means for transportation; then again, he’d never lived on an island before. Yesterday, he’d watched Francis maneuver the boat, and he reasoned it wasn’t that much different than a car.

Turning on the light, Tony walked through the garage-like area onto the floating docks and around to the other side of the boat. Francis explained how changing tides made the docks rise and fall. He also mentioned that, occasionally, there were storms which caused the calm seas to rage. A motorized lift hung the boat and kept it suspended above the water. In the case of rough seas, this device protected the watercraft from striking the docks. As Tony neared the controls of the lift, he heard the door to the boathouse open.

Francis entered and asked, “Monsieur, you want to go for a boat ride, oui?”

Tony didn’t know what he wanted. Taking the boat out on the open sea, pushing the throttle all the way down, and feeling the wind against his skin seemed like a good release. “I was thinking about it.”

“Madame el, she’ll go with you?”

“No, she’s...tired.”

Francis nodded. “Oui, bebes, they do that”—he chuckled—“God has not given Madeline and me bebes of our own, but I’ve watched many families multiply here on this island, and the meres—oui—the bebes make them tired.”

Tony nodded; his mind was busy analyzing the control panel of the boatlift.

Francis continued, “And sometimes—sometimes the bebes also make the meres very emotional. Ladies who usually are quiet—having the little bebe inside of them—it makes them loud—and the tears!” He laughed.

Francis’s deep laugh caused Tony to look away from the levers and focus on the man near the doorway.

Francis went on, “The tears, oui! For no reason at all!”—smiling approvingly, he added—“It’s a wonder the peres don’t all go crazy.”

Tony nodded.

“Monsieur, may I help you with the boat? You need to go somewhere? If it is something Madame el needs, perhaps Madeline or I have it at our house?”

“No,” Tony said tentatively—his mind no longer on the boat but on the woman he left on the beach. “It isn’t anything she needs. I was thinking about going for a ride.”

“Oui, of course, you are right.” Francis’ jovial tone lightened the dim boathouse. “Since you’ve arrived, Madame el, she doesn’t need anything. You can see it—the two of you.” Francis walked to the control panel. “Monsieur, this lever here”—he pointed—“it is how we bring her down.” As he depressed the lever, the boat began to descend.

Tony placed his hand over Francis’, stopping the movement of the boat. “No,” Tony said. “I don’t think I need to go for a boat ride right now, but perhaps in the morning?”

“Oui, in the morning! In the morning, I’ll show you the channels and markers. They’re very difficult to see at night if you aren’t used to them.”

Tony patted Francis’ shoulder. “Thank you.” As Tony left the boathouse, they both knew Tony’s gratitude wasn’t for the lesson on the boatlift or the promise of tomorrow’s boat ride.

Following the path during the night wasn’t difficult. Through the years, Francis had done a superb job of controlling the vegetation and creating clear, well-traveled trails. With the addition of the silver rays of moonlight, which occasionally penetrated the lush canopy, Tony’s steps remained confident.

When the path opened to a clearing, Tony saw the warm glow of light coming from Madeline and Francis’ home. As he neared the light, the faint sound of music filled the otherwise quiet air, and the aroma of something delicious taunted his non-existent hunger. Thinking about how early they ate, Tony figured Madeline was making Francis dinner. Looking up the hill, Tony saw the big house. There wasn’t a light glowing from any of the many windows or doors. It looked empty. He wondered if Claire were there or still on the beach. Though he could’ve accessed the house from that side, Tony walked out to the beach to retrieve his sandals. Under the cover of the vegetation, he found them lying in the sand beside Claire’s and picked them up. Looking out toward the beach, he worried. If she were still out there, he needed to go find her. As he scanned the dark shore, he saw her figure coming toward him. Quietly, he slipped up the path.

You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.

?Marcus Aurelius

Claire’s eyes were accustomed to the darkness. Turning towards the sound, towards the open doors to the lanai, she saw Tony’s silhouette. Again, their words came in unison, “I’m sorry.”

They both stepped forward, and when their bodies touched, the pressure which had been building evaporated into a sweet release. The tension he sensed on the beach was gone; Claire’s body was liquid in his hands—molding and conforming to his. Their lips united as a different tightness began to build deep within.

Claire was his—he was hers. It had been that way since before she even knew him—or knew of him. She could fight that revelation, but why? It wasn’t debatable; she couldn’t rewrite history. She didn’t want to—it all worked to put them where they were right now. Besides, every fiber of her being ached for his touch. Her body wanted him—that was undeniable. Each one of his caresses was but a tease, arousing sparks that only he could ignite into flames. The desire was obviously mutual as he pulled her closer. They didn’t say words, yet they both understood the meaning of their sounds. Heavy breaths and moans echoed through their cavernous room out to the sea.

With their sandy clothes lost somewhere on their bedroom floor, their fervent passion led them to the large bed. Though the soft hum of the ceiling fan whirled above their naked bodies, the heat they felt couldn’t be cooled. Claire’s lips suckled his broad shoulder as his skillful hands roamed the familiar and new curves of her figure. His touch stirred her desires, making her plead for more.

Though faint moonlight cloaked the room in shadows, Tony could see Claire’s sleeping mask on her bedside stand. It was black satin, and helped to keep the morning sunlight away while she slept. Reaching for the mask, Tony held it in Claire’s line of vision and asked, “Do you trust me?”

Seeing the mask and his devilish grin, Claire’s heart began to beat erratically. Yes, she put the mask on herself before she fell asleep; however, it was never something they’d done for fun. Her mind raced back to a room with a lock that beeped. There was a time—long ago, in the beginning—when there were blindfolds and restraints, but she never considered any of that fun. “No,” her small hands pushed against his chest. “No!” She wasn’t seeing the man on top of her—she was seeing the man from those memories. “I don’t want to wear that—please—please don’t make me.”