But maybe it wasn’t so impersonal, after all.
“Is that an original Bierstadt?” I murmured when Evan returned carrying a tray. He kicked the door closed with that male grace I loved, never so much as causing a ripple in the wine he carried in two goblets. He glanced over his shoulder to where I pointed at the painting on the wall. But my attention had transferred to the much more interesting natural landscape of his half-nude body.
“Yeah. It used to hang in the great room. I had it moved up here last week.”
“For me?”
“For whom else?” he asked me with a small grin as he set the tray on the bedside table. I couldn’t unglue my eyes from him as he stood there, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else. A feeling of self-consciousness overcame me… an uncommon shyness.
“And that,” I whispered, pointing behind me at an exquisite white ceramic, surrealist sculpture of two lovers, their mouths poised to meet in a kiss. “Evan… is that a Tsang?” I asked, referring to the sculptor, Johnson Tsang, whom I admired deeply.
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s my wedding gift to you. Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding? It’s incredible. Tsang is one of my favorite artists.”
“I know. You mentioned it once, so I looked him up. You were right. As usual, you have impeccable taste.”
“Thank you.”
I stared up at him in rising awe. I was surrounded by treasures at every turn: a vast mansion, an idyllic landscape, museum-quality art pieces casually displayed for my pleasure.
But he was the biggest wonder of all.
“You’re my husband,” I murmured, hearing the edge of possession and the tinge of wonder in my own voice.
A strange look settled on his face. He sat on the edge of the bed, peering at me from beneath a lowered brow.
“You say that like you’re amazed.”
I reached out and touched the gold ring I’d put on his finger yesterday.
“I say it because I am amazed,” I told him frankly.
“No, Anna. I’m the one who is stunned.”
He leaned down, nuzzling my chin until I lifted my face for him. His mouth covered mine. A moment later, he turned out the lamp and joined me beneath the covers.
Our dinner was forgotten.
When I woke in the morning, brilliant sunlight poured around the curtains. I was alone. I felt like a kid who had fallen asleep on the last leg of a vacation trip, and woken up in Disneyland.
“Evan?” I called out as I sprung out of bed. It only took a split second of silence for me to recognize he wasn’t there. I flung open first one window’s drapes, then another. The room was transformed into a golden cube. I held my breath, staring out at the brilliant water and the smoky-blue mountains on the far side of the lake.
I hurried to get dressed.
A few minutes later, I reached the bottom of the grand staircase, panting from haste and excitement.
“Evan?”
Thick silence was my only reply. Bright sunlight poured in through the giant windows facing the lake, but a good portion of the great room resisted the shining streamers of gold. Stubborn shadows hung on the forest side of the room like heavy drapery. I had the strange impression that my voice hadn’t been substantial enough to penetrate there, like Evan might be sitting in one of those wingback leather chairs and blending with the darkness.
But he wasn’t, of course, I told myself firmly as I crept into the center of a giant, exquisite Oriental carpet. The forest side of the room wasn’t actually as dark as I’d first imagined. My eyes had adjusted. I absorbed the room, scanning the carved mahogany shelves brimming with books. It took me a moment to realize I searched for photos, for any remnant of the past.
To my relief, I saw none.
Evan had never gotten around to showing me much of the house last night. I explored now to my heart’s content. At first, I was a little cautious about throwing open doors and wandering down unfamiliar hallways. But when I was delighted again and again with one amazing space after another, I grew bolder.
I found another set of stairs leading downward, not as fancy as the main staircase, but still fashioned from lovely, carved mahogany.