“No,” he said.
“You are not very courteous.”
“Courtesy has nothing to do with it. It’s a great temptation. Perhaps in a few weeks I’ll get some leave—”
“Even that would be nice.”
“Would you settle for that, Sigrid?”
She rolled over on her back. She was silent for a long time. The Vesper rolled, lifted, and forged ahead. Water ran whispering along the fine lines of her hull. Durell sat down beside her on the edge of the bunk. She reached up and touched his mouth with an exploratory fingertip. She wore a sweater and skirt which, woman-like, she had managed to change into after boarding the yacht. Under her tan, her face was still pale, but whether it was from the wound and the bruises she had suffered, or from an inner anxiety and uncertainty, he couldn’t know. Her long, pale hair spread on the pillow about her as she considered him.
“I loved Olaf,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“But I was so mistaken about him. I forgot my work, my duty. I risked my father’s life, everything—”
“Hush. It’s over with.”
“No, it will always be with me. Am I mistaken about you, too, Sam?”
He leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips were cold. He spoke against them. “I’ll ask for two weeks in Stockholm. Try me then, and we’ll see.”
He really had to radio McFee, he thought.
Sunlight came through the cabin port and touched Sigrid’s face. It was warm and friendly. She lifted one arm and clung to his neck and then she kissed him back, an exploratory gesture at first, then suddenly filled with need and longing.
“Fabulous man,” Sigrid sighed.
He decided that McFee could wait.
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Assignment - Black Viking Page 17
