I moved the hanger to find the zipper on the back of the gown. Instead I found a thin burgundy ribbon that laced from the bodice down past the waist. I finally located the zipper on the side of the gown.
I drifted back to the vanity and found styling products for my hair along with a blow dryer and curling iron. I styled my dark tresses in big loose waves and selected light natural looking makeup that enhanced my features—mascara and a soft neutral lip gloss with a bit of pink.
The footwear, like the dresses, looked tailored for movie stars to wear while walking the red carpet. I found a pair of burgundy strapped heels that matched the dress perfectly and were inlaid with gold threading. I slipped them on and stood precariously. These were definitely not my running shoes. I couldn't recall a time I had ever worn heels. These weren't as high as some of the heels I saw displayed, but still I stumbled off balance. I practiced back and forth across the room until I had accomplished a teetering glide. I decided I'd go barefoot.
Now for the moment of truth; I unzipped the gown and stepped in from the top. I shimmied its silky fabric over my hips and up onto my midsection, sucked in my breath just a little bit and… zipped. I let my breath out and eased myself in front of the mirror. I looked as if I had been transported into a fairytale. I had been dramatically transformed. A smile spread across my face—I loved it. I was a princess.
The only familiar item was the artifact left by my mother. I had never worn it exposed before. It was always tucked in behind a shirt or jacket. But here it was, stripped away from all of its camouflage. It adorned my collarbone in a splendor that somehow outshone the dress. I followed its intricately cut lines and details with my eyes and fingertips. It was as brilliant today as the day my mother took it from her own throat and fastened it around mine—just before she disappeared into nowhere.
The necklace was crafted from radiant gold. Both sides were identical in shape and form, mirroring one another. The gold twisted in waves as if it were liquid or alive, the deep indents and grooves cradling the most magnificent jewels and gems—deep green emeralds, honey colored ambers, violet amethysts, warm garnets, rich rubies, royal sapphires, reflective diamonds and tanzanites the color of a cloudless sky.
Their luster never dulled even though I never removed the necklace—I exercised, camped, bathed and lived in it. The necklace had become as much a part of my body as my arm or my leg.
The two sides of the necklace came down to hold a circular pendant carved and shaped in a Celtic symbol—perhaps patterned from an archaeological treasure. Two gold circular rings rested within each other, framing a larger center. Both outer circles were etched with ancient-looking designs and symbols, and within each circle were twelve small circular jewels—six jewels in each ring. If I were looking at a clock, the jewels in the outside circle were positioned at twelve, two, four, six, eight and ten. The second inside circle held jewels positioned at one, three, five, seven, nine and eleven. Both surrounded an intricate lacing of knotted gold with a larger jewel cradled in the center. I didn't know what these jewels were named and had never seen anything like them. They appeared to stir with captured rainbows.
My mother had a name for the necklace—Freya's something—but it was a complicated word nobody ever uses. I couldn't remember it.
It was comforting that in some small way, she would be with me tonight.
When I stepped out of the dressing room and onto the deck—in my bare feet—I was greeted by a crewman in a golf cart.
"You're the last one, miss," he said in a thick cockney accent. "I'll take ya to the ballroom."
"Thanks," I said sincerely. "I was wondering how I was going to walk all the way there in this get-up."
He smiled shyly and didn't talk for the rest of the ride. After a few minutes he stopped at a doorway that housed a descending staircase. I could hear music wafting up.
"I am—so nervous," I said out loud without meaning to.
"Oh, miss, you ain't got nuthin' to worry about." He smiled again and sped away.
Last one here. Of course—I took too long. Just shake it off, I coached myself. Get down these stairs in this gown and you'll be home free.
I made it down the stairs and found a beautiful double wooden door being attended by a crew member dressed in a black tux. He smiled at me and opened both of the doors wide.
Probably so my dress will fit through. I stifled a chuckle.
The ballroom was spectacular. Elegant tapestries lined the walls along with rich museum pieces from artists like Renoir, Monet and Degas. Sculptures and statues were displayed, and a fountain bubbled off to the side. A small orchestra sat on a raised stage across the polished dance floor. They were playing a lovely classical piece.
There was only one table in the massive room—a large, circular black marble table with carved wooden legs. Eight elegant, dark wood high-backed chairs upholstered with gold velvet held six elegantly dressed men, a woman and a child. A ninth seat, which was empty, sat with its back to me. A man stood next to it that could have only been Theron—his back was also turned to me.
Captain Max, who was seated near the doors, spotted me first. He slid his chair behind him and stood up. Then all of the men at the table stood up.
All of a sudden, I was so nervous and freaked out I wanted to run back the other way through the doors and into the safety of my cabin. My heart was pounding too hard in my chest and I couldn't catch my breath.
Chapter 19 Formal
That was when Theron turned around and saw me. My eyes found his and I felt peace again—a grounded connection. His mouth gaped open, then the corners of his lips curled up into a beaming smile. He stepped away from the table and crossed the floor toward me. All at once he was captivating, charming and magnetic. He wore a white tuxedo jacket that seemed perfectly tailored to his strong frame, a pair of pressed black pants and a low-cut black satin vest; underneath was a crisp white shirt with small black buttons climbing to his neck where he wore an elegant black bow tie. His now medium brown hair hung loose, barely touching the top of his shoulders.
Then he was next to me, offering me his arm. He leaned down into me, his soft lips tickling my ear. "You take my breath away, Freya. You are exquisite."
I felt the color rise into my cheeks. "You look incredible," I breathed.
As we approached the table, the gentlemen bowed slightly toward me. I wasn't sure what the protocol was in this situation, so I nodded back to them in acknowledgement. Theron pulled my chair, which looked more like a throne, out from under the table for me to sit. I tucked my skirts underneath me and sat as carefully as I could, and he pushed me gently to the table. Everyone sat back down.
Theron sat to my right. On my left sat a young girl about seven years old. She turned to me with an expression of awe. "Are you a real princess?" she whispered. "You look like a real princess."
"Thank you, I feel like a real princess. You look like a real princess too!" I said. "I love your yellow dress."
The young girl giggled into her hands. She wore soft blond braids in circlets on both sides of her head.
Captain Max led the introductions. "Ladies and Gentlemen may I present to you the charming Mrs. Freya Hawk."
Max winked at me.
Oh yeah! I'm married!!! I remembered.
"Freya and her Brísingamen," said a burly red haired man with sparkling blue eyes who was seated next to the woman and child. He pronounced it like Bree-zing-a-men.
Brísingamen! That was what my mother called it!
It was so surprising to hear its name.
The man continued in a rich accent I wasn't familiar with. "Surely you have heard the Norse tale?"
"Tell us Father!" the young girl chimed.
He smiled lovingly at her then addressed us all. "Freya is the great Norse goddess of love, beauty and… magic," he said as he touched the tip of the little girl's nose, making her giggle again. "She wears the most enchanted necklace in all the world. The Poetic Edda—an ancient writing that records the
stories of the Norse gods—tells us that even the powerful thunder god Thor borrowed Freya's Brísingamen to retrieve his hammer from an enemy thief. But the trickster god Loki would stop at nothing to obtain the great Brísingamen and attempted to steal it on several occasions. For not only does it bestow great beauty upon the wearer, Brísingamen is said to be made from the stars, perhaps the very Milky Way itself," he finished, looking at me with a soft smile. "It was crafted for Freya by those who adored her."
The little girl smiled and leaned up next to me taking my attention. "They must love you very, very much."
Everyone laughed and I was thankful for the distraction.
"This," Captain Max began, gesturing with his hand toward the man who told the story, "is Dr. Augustus Bjorkman, his wife Maria and their lovely daughter Ruby."
"That's me," little Ruby announced in my ear, causing me to smile brightly.
"Next to me on the right is Mr. Erick Sorrensonn. He is a diplomatic ambassador and liaison from Norway."
"Charmed to make your acquaintance, madame."
"Equally, sir," I responded.
"Seated to my left are Mr. Daniel and Michael James. They are brothers from Australia and are both travel writers," continued Max.
"Good evening," they both said in thick Australian accents.
I smiled and returned the phrase. "Good evening."
"Of course you are all acquainted with Freya's husband, Theron." Everyone nodded and smiled politely.
"Shall we begin with tea," Captain Max stated rather than asked.
Three waiters catered to the needs of everyone at the table. They poured steaming black tea from three polished silver service sets on three side tables then offered cream and sugar.
"I like lots of sugar in mine," Ruby said wiggling in her seat.
"I do too," I confessed to her.
Pleased with my answer, she righted herself and blew over her steaming tea cup.
"So you're both travel writers?" Mr. Sorrensonn began to the James brothers. "Are you penning a transatlantic piece?"
"No," answered Daniel.
"But it's a good idea," smiled Michael.
"We've just finished a manuscript on the historical significance and battle sites of the American Revolutionary War," Daniel explained.
"Our next project is about the fjords and scenic waterways of Scandinavia," Michael continued.
"Are you including the Gullmar?" inquired Dr. Bjorkman.
"Absolutely," Michael said.
"I grew up near there as a boy—idyllic scenery."
The conversation lulled for a moment before Dr. Bjorkman turned to Theron and I. "How did the two of you meet?"
That was a question I hadn't been prepared for! What was I supposed to say? Honestly, while I was on the run from Social Services, the Takers overtook a bookstore and shot at us. Theron drove the getaway car. When it overturned, I found out he had been hit by a bullet so I helped drag him into the woods where we hid for a night? Yeah, sounded great!
Theron caught the ball. "We met on a Saturday in an overcrowded bookstore. She was trying to make her way across the room when someone accidentally tripped her—I caught her before could she could fall." He reached over and took my hand. "We were both signed up for a trip to an indie concert that day a few hours away in Lexington. We got to know each other on the ride. We've been together ever since." He kissed my hand.
That was how we met. Why hadn't I thought of that version? He was so charming.
Daniel turned the conversation in a new direction. "What about you Mr. Sorrensonn? Why are you aboard a cargo ship and not the Queen Mary?"
"That is easy. Captain Max and I have been friends for years," he explained. "And truthfully it is peaceful to travel where everyone doesn't know me or want to talk endless politics. What about you Mr. and Mrs. Bjorkman? What do you do?"
"Please, call me August—"
"Certainly," Captain Max interrupted. "First names all around?"
Everyone gestured in agreement.
"I am a professor at Linneaus University. My wife Maria is an analyst for Volvo," August said.
"What are you a professor of?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Mathematics," he answered. I wondered immediately if he had ever heard of my mother. I'd approach him later in a more private setting.
"What do you both do?" Maria asked Theron and me.
"We're students. We took the semester off to travel abroad," I said. "We both felt the European experience would enrich our portfolios. We're enrolled for the fall semester at Stockholm University."
"What are you studying?" asked Erick Sorrensonn.
"I'm studying documentary journalism," I began.
"Computer engineering," Theron finished for himself.
The first course of the meal arrived, and conversation turned to mild pleasantries. When we were finished with one dish, another replaced it. All of the food was gourmet—from the roasted quail and French truffles to the hollandaise asparagus and French onion soup over crusted bread and the Swiss cheese, to a dessert of flaming Baked Alaska and Belgian chocolate-covered hazelnut crèmes.
As we were enjoying an after dinner tea Theron stood up, pushed his chair back and asked me, "Would you like to dance?"
I took his hand. "Thank you, yes."
He walked me out to the middle of the ballroom floor and bowed as the orchestra started playing a new song. I nodded and he brought me into his embrace.
"They're playing 'Iris,'" I said in astonishment as he swept me across the dance floor.
"I requested it before you came in."
"I have a secret," I said as he lightly spun me and retracted me back into his arms.
"What is that, madame?"
I lifted the hem of my gown just enough to reveal my bare feet. He laughed.
He pressed his hand onto the small of my back and brought me in so close that our waltz became a romantic slow dance.
I rested my head on his shoulder, and he sang to me, "I'd give up forever to touch you… "
I smiled up into his eyes and he kissed me lightly on my forehead. He continued to sing the words of the song gently to me. I melted into him. For a few moments it was like we were the only two people in the world.
The song ended too soon and we returned to the table.
"Friends, we have quite a vocalist in our midst… " Max said.
Everyone looked surprised and then sized each other up, trying to figure out who it could be.
"Freya, would you please honor us with a song?"
What?!? "Me?" I exclaimed.
Max said, "I have heard from a very reliable source that you have a voice like a songbird."
I'm going to get you, Scarlett! I mumbled inwardly. "I don't think… "
"Oh please, Miss Freya! I would love to hear you sing," Ruby pleaded.
"So would I," Theron smiled, amused.
"Just one, okay?" I negotiated.
"Deal," Theron, Max and Ruby said in unison.
I moved to the conductor and whispered the name of a song into his ear. He nodded happily and I stood up to the very chic forties big band microphone. I went through that nervous assault—the one that numbs your mind and makes your blood turn to ice in your veins. I reminded myself to breathe as the music started to play. I closed my eyes and folded the palm of my hand over the side of the mic.
I sang Celine Dion's "Taking Chances." I stared directly into Theron's eyes because he made me feel steady. Now, he looked mesmerized. Once I rounded the chorus, the nervousness had fully subsided and I felt at one with the music. It felt supernatural—like flying. I was hitting every note flawlessly—I was soaring above the ground. I glided through the final chorus and it all calmed into the coda. I realized I had closed my eyes again. I opened them back up as the music stopped and was greeted with a standing ovation from my tablemates, the orchestra musicians, and the crew that had meandered in to see who was singing.
I curtsied my thanks to the group, and that nervous shyn
ess gripped me again.
Theron made his way to me and reached out his hand to help me from the stage. "You always amaze me." He smiled proudly and then escorted me back to the table where everyone lavished compliments on me.
After a time, the conversation once again turned to idle chit chat. Little Ruby began yawning and the Bjorkman family were the first to excuse themselves. Soon each party said goodnight as the evening came to a close. Only Captain Max and Erick Sorrensonn were left, talking like old friends when Theron gave my hand a light squeeze and we bid them goodnight.
Theron and I went up to the deck and strolled under a black canopy arrayed with the most dazzling diamonds.
"Look!" I grabbed his arm. "A shooting star! Make a wish."
"What if I already have everything I could wish for?"
I stopped to study him. A chilly ocean breeze cooled my skin and I shivered ever so slightly. Theron noticed. He removed his white tux jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.
"Better?" he asked.
I nodded. "Mmm-hmm."
"You captivated everyone tonight, especially me."
"And you"—I unknotted his bow-tie—"were so very handsome and charming… and also very… " I hesitated. I should have stopped at charming but my brain ran away with my mouth.
"Very?" Theron picked up.
I unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons.
"Very?" he insisted.
"And irresistible," I admitted, dropping my eyes.
"Irresistible?" he verified, his voice husky.
"Oh yeah," I exhaled. How could he undo me like this?
He crashed down on me with a smoldering kiss.
Our lips parted but only barely. He rested his forehead against mine. His breath caressed my face. "Freya, you set me on fire."
This time I kissed him—first on the top lip, then the side of his mouth, next his bottom lip, then fully. The kiss was hungry and passionate.
Hunted (Dark Secrets Book 1) Page 18
