her body totally delivered up to his own desire, the two of them hurtling together through the profound depths and heights of physical love.
* * * *
For Cecelia her honeymoon was the opening of a door onto another world. She had been remarkably insulated from the sexual fever that permeated so much of the modern world. Ricardo had kept her a child for much longer than was usual in the United States. In regard to his daughter he was very much a Latin male. Cecelia’s world had revolved for many years solely around her father, the horses, and school. She had dated occasionally once she reached the age of seventeen, but no boy had ever made much of an impression on her, nor had their kisses ever raised her pulse by even one extra beat.
And then Gil came into her life. She realized in retrospect that she had been physically attracted to him ever since she had first met him. She had been, she thought in rueful amusement, too dumb to recognize the signs. She knew now. She knew what it was to be part of a man, to hunger for him, to be made happy merely by his glance, his smile. Before her marriage she had thought him wonderful, a chevalier on a white horse who had rescued the maiden in distress. He had been above her, beyond her, unreachable. He was that no longer. He was her husband, wedded to her by an intimacy of intense passion she had not suspected could exist between two people.
She watched him one afternoon, unnoticed, from the shadow of the pool chaise longue. He had gone into Nassau to see someone in the government and had been gone all morning. She had heard the car door slam and turned to watch him as he came around the side of the house, his head bent a little in thought. The bright tropical sun struck sparks of silver from his thick smooth hair. She thought suddenly, with an ache in her heart, how much he meant to her. All her life was there, walking toward her in the hot sun. She swallowed, waited a minute, and then called, “How did it go?”
He crossed the patio to the pool and sat down on the edge of her chaise. “Nothing much new. I thought I’d better go, though, since he wanted to see me. It’s always a good idea to keep ministers well disposed toward one.”
“Yes,” she said. “Someday there might be something new.”
He grinned. “Exactly.” He reached up and loosened his tie. “God, but it’s hot.” He was wearing his navy blazer and green sailcloth pants.
“Go get your trunks on and come for a swim,” Cecelia suggested. “That’ll cool you off.”
“Mmm.” He didn’t rise right away, however, but looked instead at the book that was resting on her bare brown thigh. “What’s that you’re reading?” he asked. The book was in Spanish.
“It’s a new novel by a Peruvian author I particularly like,” she answered, holding it up for him to see.
“Do you like Latin American writing?” His expression was hidden behind his sunglasses.
“Most of it,” she replied. “I especially like Llosa. He can be very funny.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve never read him. I’ll have to give him a try. In English, I hasten to add.” He rose. “I think I’ll take your advice about a swim.” She smiled up at him without replying and he bent to lightly kiss her mouth. “You look good enough to eat,” he murmured. “I think that later I’ll do just that.”
She watched him as he walked back toward the house, her mouth very soft and tender. She loved him so much. She hated the thought of having to go home.
----
Chapter 6
They flew home first-class on a regularly scheduled flight, only to find a collection of photographers and newsmen waiting for them In New York. Cecelia was utterly astonished to find that her marriage was a news item.
Gil paused for a few minutes to answer questions and Cecelia stood as close to him as she could. “Look this way, Mrs. Archer!” someone called. She looked and a flash went off. She jumped a little in surprise and Gil glanced down at her and
* * * *
For Cecelia her honeymoon was the opening of a door onto another world. She had been remarkably insulated from the sexual fever that permeated so much of the modern world. Ricardo had kept her a child for much longer than was usual in the United States. In regard to his daughter he was very much a Latin male. Cecelia’s world had revolved for many years solely around her father, the horses, and school. She had dated occasionally once she reached the age of seventeen, but no boy had ever made much of an impression on her, nor had their kisses ever raised her pulse by even one extra beat.
And then Gil came into her life. She realized in retrospect that she had been physically attracted to him ever since she had first met him. She had been, she thought in rueful amusement, too dumb to recognize the signs. She knew now. She knew what it was to be part of a man, to hunger for him, to be made happy merely by his glance, his smile. Before her marriage she had thought him wonderful, a chevalier on a white horse who had rescued the maiden in distress. He had been above her, beyond her, unreachable. He was that no longer. He was her husband, wedded to her by an intimacy of intense passion she had not suspected could exist between two people.
She watched him one afternoon, unnoticed, from the shadow of the pool chaise longue. He had gone into Nassau to see someone in the government and had been gone all morning. She had heard the car door slam and turned to watch him as he came around the side of the house, his head bent a little in thought. The bright tropical sun struck sparks of silver from his thick smooth hair. She thought suddenly, with an ache in her heart, how much he meant to her. All her life was there, walking toward her in the hot sun. She swallowed, waited a minute, and then called, “How did it go?”
He crossed the patio to the pool and sat down on the edge of her chaise. “Nothing much new. I thought I’d better go, though, since he wanted to see me. It’s always a good idea to keep ministers well disposed toward one.”
“Yes,” she said. “Someday there might be something new.”
He grinned. “Exactly.” He reached up and loosened his tie. “God, but it’s hot.” He was wearing his navy blazer and green sailcloth pants.
“Go get your trunks on and come for a swim,” Cecelia suggested. “That’ll cool you off.”
“Mmm.” He didn’t rise right away, however, but looked instead at the book that was resting on her bare brown thigh. “What’s that you’re reading?” he asked. The book was in Spanish.
“It’s a new novel by a Peruvian author I particularly like,” she answered, holding it up for him to see.
“Do you like Latin American writing?” His expression was hidden behind his sunglasses.
“Most of it,” she replied. “I especially like Llosa. He can be very funny.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve never read him. I’ll have to give him a try. In English, I hasten to add.” He rose. “I think I’ll take your advice about a swim.” She smiled up at him without replying and he bent to lightly kiss her mouth. “You look good enough to eat,” he murmured. “I think that later I’ll do just that.”
She watched him as he walked back toward the house, her mouth very soft and tender. She loved him so much. She hated the thought of having to go home.
----
Chapter 6
They flew home first-class on a regularly scheduled flight, only to find a collection of photographers and newsmen waiting for them In New York. Cecelia was utterly astonished to find that her marriage was a news item.
Gil paused for a few minutes to answer questions and Cecelia stood as close to him as she could. “Look this way, Mrs. Archer!” someone called. She looked and a flash went off. She jumped a little in surprise and Gil glanced down at her and
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