Rapture's Rendezvous

“Yes. It's all very. . . .”

she began, then as she looked upward, seeing the man she was going to pass on the stairs, her words seemed to freeze in her throat. She felt a racing of her heartbeat and a giddiness in her head when he moved down several more steps closer to her. Pulling her hand free from Nathan, she covered her mouth, whispering Michael's name. . . .

Nathan stopped and reached for her, placing his arm around her waist. “Maria? What is it? Are you faint?”

Maria looked anxiously about her, knowing that if Michael saw her, he would speak her name as she would his. This couldn't happen. If introductions became necessary, and Nathan heard the name Hopper, and then … his name … his first name . . . Michael, then Nathan would have found the Hopper who he planned to do away with.

Maria touched her forehead lightly, feigning further dizziness. “Yes,” she murmured, moving to lean downward against Nathan, hiding her face against his shoulder. “I am a bit lightheaded. Please hold me.”

Wrapping his arms around her, Nathan stepped aside so the tall blonde-haired fellow could move on past them. “Maria, I'll get you on to the room,” he said, much too loudly, as his shrill voice was so wont to be at times.

Maria tensed, knowing that Michael's footsteps had hesitated. He had heard her name being spoken.. . .

“Maria? Is that you?”

When Maria heard his voice, her heart urged her to turn to face him. He was standing two steps below her, looking upward, from Maria, then to Nathan, his face screwed up with amazed puzzlement. “Maria, what the … ?” Michael uttered softly, running his fingers through his hair, seeing her attire, so expensive and so stylish.. .. and in Saint Louis? With the likes of Nathan Hawkins? None of it made any sense.

Maria's face flushed crimson. She fidgeted with her hat, speechless. Then she quickly blurted, “Michael Hampton, this is Nathan Hawkins.” She smiled coyly from one to the other.

Michael's face drained of color. His brows furrowed as he studied Maria's expression. There were traces of fear in her eyes as they gently wavered. Surely there was a reason for her little name game. He quickly extended a hand toward Nathan Hawkins, saying, “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Nathan shook Michael's hand cautiously. “And how do you know my wife, sir?” Nathan asked, licking his lips nervously.

Michael's handshake went limp, as well as his knees. His heartbeat faltered. “Did you say . .. wife . . . ?” he blurted, eyeing Maria confusedly.

“Correct. Wife,” Nathan said. “Now, how do you know her?”

Michael's hand went to his hair once again, then to a suit pocket to remove a cigar from it. “Briefly, upon passing at the train depot in New York,” he quickly an-swered, lighting his cigar, still studying Maria with a raised brow. He could see the red rimming her eyes and knew that tears were near, so he knew that there was something sinister about this marriage. He knew Maria loo well. He knew her sweetness, her kindness. He knew that she wouldn't marry such a man willingly.

Nathan laughed sardonically. “Yes. I can imagine a brief encounter such as that. No man could ever forget Maria,” he said, taking her hand. “Come, Maria. We must go to our room. I do need that rest I spoke of earlier.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, sir,” Michael said, then more softly, “and nice to see you again . . . Maria….”

Nathan ignored Michael and began guiding Maria on up the stairs. “Yes, nice,” Maria said, glancing back at Michael, feeling her heart thundering inside herself, hating being led from the man she truly loved, would always love. When he turned his back to her and moved on down the staircase, she felt bits and pieces of her heart breaking, wanting so badly to run after him. She not only wanted to fall into his arms to profess her love for him, but she had to warn him against Nathan's representatives. Now it was even more risky for Michael to return to Hawkinsville. Nathan had seen him. No amount of disguise would keep the truth from Nathan Hawkins now. He was smart enough to put two and two together, if given even the smallest of clues.

“Damn strange-acting man,” Nathan grumbled, readying his key as he and Maria moved toward one of the many doors that lined this long, narrow hallway of the second’ floor of the Planter's House Hotel. “If I didn't know better, I would think there was more than just a casual meeting in New York between you and that man.” Nathan eyed Maria with his gray eyes that were no longer empty, but accusing. Then he turned and thrust the key into the lock and opened the door with one quick turn of the knob.

Maria moved past him, glad that they had left a dim light burning on the nightstand. She still dreaded dark rooms . .. and Nathan Hawkins. This was a combination she would never get used to. In the dark, he became all hands.

Reaching up, she pulled the hatpin from the plaited chiffon folds of her hat, then lifted the lid of a hatbox and gently placed the hat inside it. She eyed the stacks of hatboxes next to her. At least she was proud to think that at least one of her dreams had come true. She could so vividly remember the many different styles of hats that she had seen worn by the women in New York. Now Maria felt she could look just as beautiful.

Swinging around, she saw that Nathan was already unclothed to just his underthings and stockings, and moving toward the huge canopied bed. Maria didn't know what to do now. If she undressed, it would be more difficult to escape from the room when he was asleep. If she didn't undress, he would suspect something. So she went to the bed and stretched across it, sighing heavily. “Nathan, I am too tired to undress just yet,” she said. “After I get my breath, I shall then climb from the bed and unclothe.”

She eyed him with fluttering eyelashes. Smiling enticingly, she said further. “And I shall be sure not to make any noise to disturb you. I promise.”

Nathan leaned down over her, touching her brow. “Are you ill? You are so pale. Has the trip been too much for you?” he asked, surprising Maria by actually acting concerned about her welfare.

“I am a bit exhausted,” she said, putting a hand to her own brow, closing her eyes.

“Then you just lie still and don't worry about a thing,” Nathan said, climbing on the bed beside her. “Whenever you are rested enough, just you get up and undress and then turn the lights out. Tomorrow we will return home and I will show you the duties of a wife all over again.”

Maria turned her eyes from him, knowing just exactly what he was speaking of. She so hated being his wife. She so hated his touch. Oh, Michael, she thought to herself, hungering so for him now. Being near him for only that brief moment had rekindled her passion for him. She set her jaw firmly. She would succeed at being with him this night. She had to. Not to do so meant further unfulfilled desires for her and possible death for Michael. No matter what, she had to succeed in finding out where he made his residence.

Lying quite still, Maria listened for Nathan to slip into a deep sleep. His breathing had become more shallow and his hands had become limp as they lay by his side. Then when he began his long overtures of snoring, she knew that he indeed was fast asleep. From her only brief acquaintance with him, she knew that nothing would awaken him now. Only a clap of thunder shaking the bed could do it. So barely breathing, she crept from the bed, going to the wardrobe to whisk a black velveteen cape from it and throw it around her shoulders, lifting-the hood upward to hide her hair and most of her face.

She glanced quickly around the room, seeing it as she had the first time she had entered. It was a warm, inviting room, with brightly designed wallpaper gracing the walls, and curtains hanging in deep pleats at the windows, the furniture consisting of the grandest of beds, with a nightstand by its side, and two matching gold velveteen chairs positioned again'st the far wall. The room smelted of roses from a large bouquet of opening petals that sat on the nightstand, next to a basin that was always filled with fresh water. It was Maria's first visit to a hotel, and hopefully not her last. The only thing among these comforts that was missing was being with the man she loved.

Tiptoeing, Maria moved toward the door, watching behind her for any movement on the bed. With one hand, she lifted the skirt of her dress and tail of her cape up into her arms, and with the other she turned the knob on the door, making sure that the bolt lock was slipped back so that a key wouldn't be needed to return to the room.