Rapture's Rendezvous by Cassie Edwards

thing,” he grumbled further. “At times, I'm sure I feel his eyes on me when I least expect it. But when I turn to look at him, his eyes are closed again.”
    â€œBut why would Alberto not talk to you, if he is well? Surely you're imagining things.”
    Michael glared toward Alberto, tensing inside when the same feelings of apprehension raced through him. Even now, he could tell that Alberto was indeed feigning sleep. This made his trust for Alberto wane even more. It didn't seem Alberto and Maria were from the same mother's womb, much less twins. Their personalities were too much of a contrast. He turned his gaze back to Maria. “Damned if I know,” he finally said.
    â€œAnd you're so sure Alberto is well?”
    â€œAfter I got him in out of that sweltering heat, he began to improve quite readily,” he said. “I don't know why you and your brother chose to stay out in that damned weather when I had so eagerly offered the comforts of my cabin,” he added, furrowing his brow.
    Maria didn't want to explain the whys. Doing so would be to reveal how angry Michael's words had made her when he had accused her of having more than sisterly feelings for her brother. Even now it angeredher. But she did feel a deep sense of gratitude for Michael now, and renewed strange feelings swirling around inside her because of his nearness and the gentleness of his strokes as he continued to caress her face and neck with the dampened cloth. “I do appreciate what you've done for Alberto and myself,” she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes nervously as his gaze met hers and held. His blue eyes were like pools, luring her into them, making her insides begin a slow melting.
    â€œAnd will you stay on here with me in my cabin even now that you are well?”
    Maria's heartbeats faltered, glancing toward Alberto once again. “No. I think not,” she said. “As soon as Alberto is able, we must return topside. It is the only decent thing to do. One can take only so much advantage of another.”
    â€œBut you might have a relapse,” Michael said, placing the cloth back on the table, leaning down closer to Maria. He felt the heat in his loins as his eyes lowered, seeing the heaving of her bosom, so large, tempting his hands to reach upward to touch. But, no. He had to remember. She had just recovered from an illness so close to having become pneumonia, and also, her damn brother who was too close, ready to pounce if Michael made the wrong move. The curtain had been hung for privacy. He would have to tack it to the ceiling once again.
    Maria stretched her long, lean legs out in front of her, crossing them. “And how far away are we from America?” she asked softly. “I am so anxious to see this new world. And also my Papa. It's been so long. I only hope he is well.”
    â€œI'd say about another week of travel should get us there,” Michael answered, moving to sit beside Maria, crossing his own legs. He couldn't keep his eyes from venturing along the smoothness of her olive-colored legs, and then on upward. Surely he could hold her again .. . have her all to himself. . . before the ship reached its destination. For once they had reached New York, the confusion of the docks could very well separate them forever.
    â€œCan you tell me about it, Michael?” she asked, eyes wide.
    â€œWhat do you want to know?”
    â€œWhat I will first see when the ship draws near to the New World.”
    Michael crossed his arms and began speaking softly, intending his words only for Maria's ears. To hell with Alberto and his nonsensical ways. “When the ship moves into the harbor, you shall first see a huge statue.”
    â€œA statue?” Maria exclaimed. “What kind of a statue?”
    Michael laughed hoarsely, loving her innocence. “It's called the Statue of Liberty. It stands for ‘Liberty Enlightening the World.’ It was a gift from the French to