Treasured Secrets (27 page)

His mind did a double take.
Did he?
It'd been so long since he'd needed one. He dashed out the door completely naked, ran to his room and commando rolled over his bed to the bedside table. Seconds later he was back with Rosalina, a row of foil packets dangling from his hand. He tore one of them open with his teeth, and it was only when he was rolling the condom on that he noticed his trembling fingers. She did that to him.

Rosalina pulled him onto the bed and he rolled onto his back to face her as she knelt at the end of the bed between his spread legs. Her body glistened in the dim lights, glowed golden. Her hair fell in cascading auburn locks that tickled his skin as she moved down his body with a combination of nibbling, sucking and kissing. She sat back and glided her hands in slow sweeping movements up his thighs and ever so close to his groin. The sensation was incredible. Every nerve ending followed the tips of her fingers. He was throbbing hard and gasped aloud when she finally wrapped her hand around him. The feeling took him to the brink of no return.

‘Make love to me.' Her eyes were on fire as she climbed atop him. With his hands on her hips, he drew her down onto him and she arched her back, allowing him to glide deep within her. She rode him until he couldn't hold back, and at the last second he rolled her onto her back and thrust himself into her, drawing out her screams of pleasure.

He wanted this to last forever and it took momentous self-control to slow down. Every thrust was sensation overload, from her primal sounds of joy to her wetness around his throbbing erection. She reached up to touch his cheek and when her finger slipped into his mouth he lost all his willpower. He thrust deeper, harder and she lifted her hips so he could plunge in deeper still. Archer's breath caught when Rosalina climaxed again and that was the moment of no return. He let go, releasing everything he had deep inside her.

His arms were trembling when he collapsed onto her chest and rolled to the side. As his breathing returned to normal he ran his hands over her body, exploring every luxurious curve. Her body was perfection. But she was more than that; she was the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She was everything and she deserved everything from him, his heart, his soul, and his love.

All the jumbled pieces of his life were finally in their rightful place, a treasured luxury that had escaped him for a very long time.

A while later, as he listened to the small waves lapping at the sides of the yacht, he draped his arm over Rosalina's waist. ‘I love you.' It was wonderful to be able to say it aloud.

But she was already breathing deeply, and for the second time, he couldn't tell if she'd heard him or not.

Rosalina woke nestled within the crook of Archer's arm. Waking up next to him, inhaling his unique scent, listening to the therapeutic beat of his heart and feeling the smoothness of his skin was like waking up in a perfect dream. Archer's steady breathing was reassurance that he'd made it through the night without a nightmare. It was a relief, and for a fleeting moment she contemplated if the recent events had finally cured him.

It took her a moment or two to realise it was raining outside. She couldn't remember the last time it had rained, and nature's soothing melody combined with waking up in Archer's arms gave her a sense of contentment.

The last thing she wanted to do was move but she couldn't ignore the pins and needles in her arm any longer. As carefully as she could, she tried to ease out from Archer's embrace.

‘Where do you think you're going?' His voice was a sexy whisper.

‘Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.'

‘I've been awake for a while. It was nice listening to you sleeping beside me.'

‘What time is it?'

‘Nearly eight o'clock.'

‘Do you think anyone else is up?'

‘I don't think we'll see anyone until after lunch.' He rolled onto his side to face her and placed his hand just under her breast. ‘Did you know the sound of rain makes me horny?'

‘Really?' She kissed him, just a sweet touch of their lips. ‘You've never mentioned that before.'

A cute grin curled at his lips. ‘I like to keep some things up my sleeve.'

‘No more secrets, remember?'

‘Never again.' He gathered her into his arms and they made love to the calming harmony of the morning rain.

***

As Rosalina showered, her mind wandered to their lovemaking. Ever since their reunion in Tuscany, she'd fought to contain her lust for him. She had hoped to resist him for longer. But after she'd watched him completely unravel emotionally, she was unable to control herself. She wanted him more than ever. Their lovemaking was magical, as usual, but there was something even more special about last night. It was like he'd actually let her have a piece of his heart.

She towelled off, tied her hair in a quick bun and tossed on a maxi dress. Today's earrings were a pair of dangling pink shells that Archer had bought her from a beach seller in Thailand. It had been a magical day on the beach, filled with fun and laughter, and they'd purchased as many cocktails in coconuts as they did cheap trinkets. The earrings were the perfect match for how she was feeling right now.

She walked towards the kitchen with thoughts of preparing breakfast, but stopped short when she saw Archer. The silent stillness was unnatural; even the boat had stopped rocking. He was at the dining table, his back rod straight, with his left hand on the floral bag, contemplation frozen on his face. With all the other things that went on yesterday, she'd forgotten about the bag. What it contained could shatter the reverie she'd experienced just moments ago, and her choice of earrings now felt foolish. But Archer was counting on her to help him get through this. She decided the only way to deal with it was to keep with her upbeat feeling. Her dress billowed around her legs as she strode into the room.

She kissed Archer on the forehead. ‘Before you get stuck into that, how about a breakfast to die for?' She inwardly cringed at her choice of words and tried to mask it by kissing his forehead again.

‘That'd be nice.'

‘Is there something special you'd like?'

‘Are there any blueberries? We could have pancakes.'

‘Pancakes it is then.' She set about making a fresh pot of coffee, and as she rummaged about the cupboards for the pancake ingredients, she kept an eye on Archer. He didn't seem sad. He looked more bewildered. Rosalina made the pancake batter and set it aside to rest, then filled two mugs with steaming coffee and sidled up next to him.

‘Do you want help?'

He drove his fingers through his unruly curls, more haphazard than usual today. She recalled running her fingers through his hair during this morning's lovemaking and had to force back a smile. It didn't seem appropriate right now.

Finally, Archer released a sigh and nodded.

She tried to ignore his forlorn look and, determined to remain positive, placed the bag on the table and reached in. First she removed several leather-bound black diaries, each wrapped with a thin leather strap. She stacked them up, silently counting them as she went. Eight diaries in total.

Rosalina expected Archer to reach for them. Any movement right now would be good, but he didn't move. She looked into the bag again. A brass object caught her eye and she removed it. With two pointed ends and a scalloped knob at the top, she recognised it as a compass. She placed it on the table and to her relief, Archer reached for it. He planted one of the points on the table and slowly spun it around.

Finally he spoke. ‘I wonder if this was Dad's.'

‘I bet it was.'

The next item was a small pair of Olympus binoculars that Archer adjusted to his face, and then he scanned out the kitchen window. He huffed and then dangled the binoculars around his neck by the strap. Rosalina removed a series of notepads. The quality of these notebooks paled in comparison to the leather bound diaries. The edges were ragged as if from repeated handling, the corners curled up, and pages had been ripped out.

Archer picked one up and flicked through it. The writing was erratic, childish even. ‘These are Dad's notes. I recognise his writing. He had this crazy scrawl.' He chuckled. ‘Mum used to complain about it. She constantly joked that he should've been a doctor.'

Rosalina smiled. Archer was remembering good times, for a change. She reached for a different notepad, flicked the pages over and paused on a hand-drawn map. In the right-hand corner was a directional compass indicating north. The rest of the page had drawings of islands with lines linking them together.

‘What are these lines all over the map?'

Archer ran his finger over one of the lines. ‘They're shipping lanes.' He turned to the preceding pages. ‘Says here it's a map of the Cyclades Islands. Oh, look, here are the first three islands we visited — Andros, Tinos and Mykonos.'

‘Why did he draw them? Surely he could've downloaded a picture off the web.'

Archer lowered his eyes, frowning, as if searching deep within his memory. ‘It was the early nineties. The Internet wasn't really around then. Actually, I can't recall dad ever having a computer.'

‘Oh, right. So strange to think about.'

Archer nodded. ‘He recorded everything he researched in these notebooks. I don't think these are all of them. He kept dozens of these pads on our boat. I wonder if the others are lying around somewhere.'

‘Maybe your mother thought these were the most important.'

Archer flicked over a couple more pages and came across a drawing of an ancient ship. ‘Holy shit!'

‘What?'

‘He's drawn a boat. Look, he's written “
Flying Seahorse
” under it.' He turned the book towards Rosalina.

‘The same one Yanis mentioned? Oh, wow. Look at how much detail's in the drawing.'

The ship was drawn with light strokes that pulled the details of the intricate sketch together. Two enormous sails filled most of the page. Ropes linked the sails to the large wooden hull. Large oars, manhandled by detailed little men, touched the water with a small pencilled-in splash. The aft was adorned with a platform that looked like a miniature castle. The writing beneath the ship described it as a
thirteenth century cog
.

‘What would this have been for?' Rosalina pointed at the castle-like structure.

‘They used them as a lookout point, watching for pirates and warships.'

Rosalina cocked her head, debating over whether or not he was making it up. But his serious look gave her the impression he knew what he was talking about.

‘His drawings are elaborate. Your father was quite an artist.'

‘Yeah, I don't remember that about him. I recall him as a fearless, muscular man who never sat still. He'd drive Mum crazy with his energy. Yet when he was onto something, he'd spend hours in these books, writing down every detail. Look at how he drew the oar ploughing through the water, the detail in the splashes. You can really picture the boat powering along.'

‘It's amazing.'

Below the drawing was a series of facts about the boat: its length, tonnage and how it was built with oak caulked with tarred moss and wooden laths secured by metal staples.

Archer turned the page to another drawing of the ship. This one was an examination of its interior. It showed a cross-section of the hull, detailing the flush-laid flat bottom of the midship crammed with crates of cargo.

‘Do you have any photos of your dad?' Rosalina would love to know what Wade looked like.

‘No. None.' He sighed loudly. ‘Hey, keep looking. Maybe there are some in there.'

She reached into the bag and spied a stack of envelopes. Bundled together with a white satin ribbon, she knew these would be the letters Mother Maria had mentioned. Archer eyed the stack as she placed them on the table but didn't reach for them.

He breathed in deeply and let his breath out very slowly. ‘I'll look at these later. What else is in the bag?'

Rosalina was grateful for this decision. Going through the items in the bag was difficult enough, but the idea of reading through his mother's grief-stricken letters cut another layer of sorrow from her heart.

She delved back into the bag. The next item she removed was a sheet of paper that had been folded down to A4 size. She handed it to Archer and he unravelled it to reveal another hand-drawn map. ‘It's a map of the Greek Islands.' He slid his finger along a line. ‘I wonder if this was the path the
Flying Seahorse
took?'

Rosalina reached into the bag and sucked in her breath at the sight of the next item.

‘What?' Archer obviously saw her reaction.

She tried to ignore her trembling fingers as she removed a silver frame. It reflected the bright morning sun as she passed it to Archer. Inside the frame was a picture of Wade and Helen. The photo was perfect for its age, not a hint of yellowing or fading. Being sealed in this bag for all those years had preserved it well.

In the photo, Wade wore all white, his trousers were rolled up, and he stood ankle deep in crystal-clear water. Helen was in his arms, also in white. Her long, flowing dress almost touched the water. Sand on the exotic, deserted beach in the background glowed with the pure energy of the setting sun, and palm trees stood majestic and proud along the length of the foreshore.

The picture was enchanting, but it was the look on their faces that captured Rosalina's interest. They were in love. The photo must have been taken on their wedding day.

Archer stared open-mouthed at the picture. With his thumb, he wiped a fine layer of dust from the glass.

Rosalina battled the knot in her throat to speak. ‘They're a beautiful couple. Have you seen this photo before?'

‘No. Well, I guess I may have. But I don't remember. They look so happy.' Archer clipped out a stand at the back of the frame and sat the picture on the table. Helen and Wade smiled at them with naïve matrimonial bliss. ‘What else is in there?'