The Other Side Of Midnight

Another thought occurs to me. “How did you get in here? I locked the door.”

“I kicked it open. You were screaming.”

“I see.” I cover my mouth and try to think. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t.”

I search his face. “I’m sorry about the door. I can pay for it if you give me the bill.”

“Thank you for the offer, but that won’t be necessary,” he says stiffly.

I paste a smile on my face. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“It was nothing. Would you like a glass of hot milk or something?”

“Uh, no. I’m fine.”

He stands, as if to leave.

I frown. “Is this house haunted?”

Amusement flickers in his eyes. “Not to my knowledge.”

“I dreamed of a waif with blazing eyes who pushed me out of the window and told me to fly away before it was too late. It was a very, very vivid dream.”

His expression doesn’t change and yet I feel as if my dream means something to him. “Have you never had such a dream then?”

“No, never.”

He nods and takes another step away from the bed. “Hmm… I was just going to have a drink. Would you like to join me?”

I don’t hesitate. It will be impossible for me to go back to sleep. Not with the dream still so fresh and horrible in my mind. I push the covers back and put my bare feet onto the carpet. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Chapter 25

Autumn

We walk down the corridor together. Me, barefoot, my virginal, voluminous nightgown fluttering around my shins, and him silent and brooding. I steal a glance sideways when we walk past the grand staircase. “Where are we going?”

“To the tower.”

“You don’t behead people up there or something, do you?” I ask, as we turn a corner and arrive at a narrow winding staircase.

“Go up and see for yourself,” he invites smoothly.

I put a foot on the cold granite step. Then up on another and another. My feet are silent. Five steps up and I hear his shoes behind me. Soon I arrive at the top of the stairs and a small sigh of wonder escapes me. The room is massive and round with a platform in the middle. The entire ceiling is made of domed glass. The rain has stopped and there are stars in the clear sky.

“Wow, an observatory. How neat,” I exclaim, walking towards a big telescope pointed upwards.

I hear a sound behind me, a flick of a switch, a whirling sound, and then the ceiling begins to part silently. The storm has washed away all the clouds and the night is full of bright stars shining like diamonds. It is truly beautiful.

“Oh, my God!” I gasp.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” he whispers close to me.

My heart starts fluttering. I turn to look at him. In the moonlight his flawless skin looks like it is made of the finest white marble. My hands itch to touch his face and I feel in my heart a burning, wicked craving to taste his sensuous lips. Confused by the intensity of my desire for him, I turn away from him and lift my eyes towards the gorgeous night sky. But I see nothing. My heart is hammering in my chest. It is pure agony.

“You’re really lucky, you know?” I mumble awkwardly.

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he asks, “What would you like to drink?”

I don’t take my eyes away from the spectacular night sky. “Whatever you’re having will be fine.”

It must have only been seconds, and my skin starts tingling again. He is close by. I turn to look at him. He is holding two tall glasses with rounded sides, and a bottle of champagne, but the bottle has barnacles stuck to it.

“What is that?” I ask curiously.

“Shipwreck champagne,” he says simply.

My eyes widen. “You mean this is a bottle from an actual shipwreck.”

“Veuve Clicquot from 1841.”

My mouth opens with amazement. “Did you just say 1841?”

He nods.

I stare at the bottle. “No way! I didn’t even know champagne could last that long.”

“This is one of the world’s oldest bottles.”

“How much is it?” I whisper.

“No idea. I don’t usually buy my own wines.”

I shake my head in wonder. How utterly different his life is from anyone I know. “You have an agent who buys your wines for you?”

“I have several.”

“And you’re going to open this rare champagne now?”

He shrugs. “There is no one else in the world I know who would appreciate this more than you.”

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me with someone else? I’m a total philistine. I’ve been known to drink cheap Vodka straight from the bottle.”

“You drink cheap Vodka because you cannot afford better, but it doesn’t mean you do not have a very keen sense of smell and taste.”

I grin at him. “I’m not what you think I am, but if you want to open a bottle that I’m assuming costs thousands of dollars, then go for it.”