The soft voice repeated, “Stop dancing. Go sit down.”
Suddenly, Marc became angry. Why should he stop? What harm was it doing? Crystal was enjoying herself. So was he. Very deliberately, he danced Crystal away from their table and out the French doors.
After all, what harm can there be in a dance in the moonlight? he thought.
~*~
Angelina had been told that men dressed as gladiators could be found at the Amphitheatrum Flavium—the Colosseum—and that the gladiatore were always happy to have their pictures taken with the turistas. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she rented a scooter and drove with Karl to the Colosseum.
Neither of them had driven a scooter before, and the ride was turning out to be a wild riot of fun. Most traffic laws didn’t apply to scooters, and Vespas were allowed to drive opposite the centerline, around stopped cars, and even on sidewalks. The governing rule of Roman scooter driving was reaching a destination in the quickest way possible.
Angelina had driven first and enjoyed it, but the zooming cars were intimidating, so she kept to narrow side streets. When she’d had enough excitement, Karl took his turn. When she climbed behind him, he grinned at her in a wicked way and told her to hang on.
As he roared down the busy streets, it became apparent that he was relishing the freedom the scooter gave him. With great gusto, he wove in and out of traffic, zipping into holes between cars and barreling around motorbuses. Angelina kept her head down and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She was no longer breathing—just giggling, and gasping, and squealing with delighted terror. Karl had a big grin on his face, and it was obvious that he was enjoying the scooter ride just as much as she was—in fact, more.
~*~
The pain behind Andrew’s temples was so intense that he was nauseous. Finally, he turned to Liz and cut her off midsentence. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have a migraine. I need to leave. Would you like to stay here and have the car come back for you later, or would you like me to take you home?”
Liz looked at him with disappointment. “I’ll stay.”
Nodding, Andrew gave an inward sigh of relief. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to bear with her voice on the drive home.
~*~
Standing on the roof of an apartment building across from Agent Ruthford’s burning house, Drake grinned. He gloated to himself as he watched flames painting the black sky. From his vantage point, he could see firefighters scurrying about. He looked down the street, anticipating Ruthford’s arrival. He couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
~*~
Marc sighed. The moon was filling the balcony with soft, silver light, and the twinkling stars were spread across the sky in a glittering wave. Crystal had her eyes closed, and he wondered if she knew they’d left the ballroom. There were other couples dancing in the moonlight, and as one couple came too close, Marc pulled Crystal tightly to his chest to avoid a collision. Instead of loosening his grip, he kept his arms wrapped around her. Now, rather than dancing, it was more like they were hugging snugly while moving to the music. He could feel the tenuous grip he had on his self-control continuing to falter.
Again, warning bells went off in his head. “Stop dancing. Go back inside.”
Again, Marc ignored the voice and deliberately did the opposite. He moved Crystal away from the other couples, dancing her to the most secluded corner of the wraparound balcony.
In the darkness, the moon caught the stones around Crystal’s throat, making them sparkle softly. She was humming with closed eyes and a gentle smile. Suddenly, dancing with her wasn’t enough anymore.
What harm can there be in a kiss in the moonlight? he reasoned. After all, Crystal is beautiful, she’s desirable, and she’s in my arms.
Even as the thought of kissing Crystal passed through his mind, the warning bells blared even louder. The voice shouted, “Stop!”
Marc did what he’d been doing ever since the waltz began—he ignored the voice and did the exact opposite. His feet stumbled to a halt.
Crystal opened her eyes and smiled at him.
That was all it took. Marc lowered his mouth to hers, intending to give her a gentle kiss. As soon as his lips touched hers, a rolling ball of fire rose within him. The last slender hold he had on his self-control snapped.
Crystal made a surprised sound as his lips not only touched hers but pressed down with crushing force.
He held her body firmly against his own, bending her slightly backward.
Again, Crystal made a sound of objection. Putting her hands against his chest, she tried to push him away.
Holding her even more securely, Marc devoured her lips with his own. A rushing sound filled his ears.
She tried to move her head away, but he pressed his lips down harder and deepened his kiss.
Crystal made another harsh sound and pushed against his chest with balled up fists.
Suddenly, he felt her biting his tongue. Giving a gasp of surprise, he loosened his grip.
She wrenched herself away, wiping a shaking hand across her mouth.
As soon as she left his arms, a wave of longing washed over him. He felt like part of himself had been torn away. His mind was so muddled that his only thought was that she was his very own Grace Kelly and he wanted to kiss her again. Almost blindly, he pulled her back into his embrace.
“Grace,” he murmured thickly.
Crystal slapped him across the face. The force of her blow threw his head to one side. Stumbling, he put a hand to his cheek.
“How dare you call me that!” she snarled. “You have no right. Just what do you think you’re doing? Kisses are to be shared by people who truly care about each other—not taken by force in the dark.”
“Cris—”
“Why did you kiss me? You don’t love me. You hardly even like me. We’ve known each other for years, and you’ve made it clear that you think I’m a ridiculous joke. You didn’t want to work with me. You didn’t want to date me. Why are you suddenly kissing me? I thought you at least respected me, but you don’t kiss someone like that without their permission, if you respect them. Ever since we met, you’ve acted as if I’m a misfit, but the moment I put on a pretty dress, you can’t keep your hands off me? What type of man are you? I thought you were a Christian.”
Crystal’s angry face turned white. She froze. “Why did you kiss me?” she demanded in a troubled voice. “Are you making fun of me? You are, aren’t you? That’s it, isn’t it?”
Marc watched with dismay as her face crumpled.
“I know you think I’m a zero in the looks department,” she said. “Are you trying to find out if I’m a zero in the kissing department as well?”
He took a step toward her. She stepped away quickly. She was starting to cry. He could barely make out her choked words.
“I’m a joke to you, aren’t I? This whole night’s been one big joke. It doesn’t matter how pretty my dress is, I’m always going to be a punch line, aren’t I? Mother was right. I’m a social misfit, and I always will be.”
Marc felt more ashamed than he’d ever felt in his life. He no longer wanted to kiss her; he just wanted to stop her tears. He reached for her, but she took one look at him and vaulted over the balcony rail. The distance to the ground wasn’t too far, but the sight was unnerving. Crystal landed on all fours, lurched up, and ran. She only made it five feet before she fell flat. Getting up, she ran a few more steps and then fell again.
Marc watched with dismay. She’d spent the last couple of hours dancing in his arms with ease, elegance, and grace. Now, she couldn’t run five steps without tripping. The pit fell out of his stomach. He wondered what type of damage he’d done to her. He felt as if he’d been holding a lovely butterfly, and then very deliberately, he’d torn off its wings.
Jumping over the rail, he called to her.
Crystal was sprawled on her face, but as soon as he shouted her name, she lunged up and sprinted away. She fell, landed heavily on her knee, tore he
rself to her feet, and continued running. By the stumbling way she was moving, Marc knew she was running blind. He heard her sobs. He was certain she was crying so hard that she couldn’t see. He watched with increasing horror as she ran toward the street.
“Cris!” he shouted frantically. “Stop!”
Crystal ran even faster, each step taking her closer to the road. Marc felt terror rippling down his spine as a taxicab turned the corner.
“Cris!” he shouted again. “Watch out! Stop!”
Crystal didn’t pay any attention to his words. The lights of the taxi flooded the road just as she sprinted onto it.
18
“The hawk is in the egg,” Agent Ruthford murmured into the microphone hidden in his sleeve as he closed the door of the vice president’s Cadillac. “Prepare the nest.”
“Nest secure,” a voice replied over his earpiece. “ETA?”
Ruthford watched the convoy of cars pulling onto the street. “Fifteen minutes, depending on traffic.”
“The pot is on the stove,” the voice replied. “The kettle is singing. Guests?”
“Negative.”
Ruthford motioned to Agent Grant. “I want you to stay and guard Miss Anderson. I’m heading…home.”
Agent Grant winced. “Good luck, sir. I hope it isn’t as bad as we’ve heard.”
Ruthford forced his lips into a grin. “Me too.”
A horn sounded in the distance. Ruthford spun around. He saw the armored, bulletproof Cadillac turning the corner. Realizing the horn wasn’t coming from the vice president’s convoy, he gave a relieved sigh and walked toward the parking lot.
~*~
Marc tried desperately to reach Crystal, but he knew he’d never make it in time. He heard the taxi’s horn. He saw Crystal standing frozen in the street. The terror he was experiencing made him physically ill.
“Cris!” he shouted.
The taxi’s headlights pierced the darkness, making Crystal’s hair shimmer in the night. It was a ghostly image that Marc knew he’d never forget. With a sharp squeal of breaks, the cab stopped within inches of her legs.
Laying splayed fingers on the cab’s hood, Crystal staggered. Seeming to collect herself, she glanced over her shoulder at him and jumped in the cab’s backseat.
Marc just managed to touch the door handle before the cab pulled away. As he watched it go, he remembered he had Crystal’s purse in his pocket. She had no way of paying her fare. Dashing forward, he ran behind the cab until he was able to read the company name and car number. Pulling out his cell phone, he gave the dispatcher his payment information.
Finishing the call, Marc walked slowly across the lawn, finding things Crystal had dropped as she ran. Her possessions were scattered in a long, wavering trail. He picked up her bracelet, her shawl, an earring, and her hairclip. Holding her belongings in his arms, he sat on a bench in the building’s garden.
A wave of shame encompassed him. Trying to stem it, he mumbled, “She completely overreacted. She acted like I was trying to assault her. All I did was kiss her.”
Immediately, Marc felt the conviction of the Lord. He knew his justification was wrong. Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:28 flooded his mind. “But I say: Anyone who even looks at a woman with lust in his eye has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”
He may not have physically crossed the line, but he had mentally crossed the line. Crystal knew it, and she’d reacted accordingly. Hugging his arms to his chest, he faced the ugly truth. He’d lost control, and Crystal had paid the price.
He picked up her bracelet. It twinkled softly in his hand. What harm is there in a kiss in the moonlight? Marc thought. I’m looking at evidence of harm this very moment.
Studying the glittering bracelet, Marc remembered Crystal’s shocked words—I thought you were a Christian.
Groaning, he muttered, “God, I blew it with that kiss, didn’t I?”
Sitting with his head in his hands, he felt the soft voice of the Lord speaking again, “What else did you do wrong?”
Marc squirmed. “I didn’t act out of love. I wasn’t thinking about Crystal’s feelings at all. I was selfish, and I acted like a brute.”
“What else did you do wrong?”
Thinking back over the night, Marc realized that he’d heard God warning him that he was headed for danger, but he’d ignored each of the warnings and done the opposite.
He grabbed fistfuls of hair on either side of his head. Marc felt tears choke him. “God, I just didn’t think a kiss would be a big deal.”
“I knew it was going to be a big deal which is why I tried to stop you.”
Nodding, he said brokenly, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Marc felt a flood of warmth invading his spirit.
The voice spoke again, “I forgive you, but your actions will have consequences—greater consequences than you could imagine.”
As he prayed, Marc saw a vision of himself standing by a pool of water. He picked up a stone and deliberately—and carelessly—threw it into the middle of the pool. As he watched, the stone sank, but from its point of impact, ripples fanned out in every direction.
“Every act of disobedience to My voice has consequences. Your act will hurt many people.”
Marc gave a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. Please help me make things right.”
“I must make things right, and you will have to endure.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Pray for those you have hurt, and do not sin against them again. Ask for their forgiveness. Walk in love. Be humble. Be understanding. Be slow to anger.”
Marc sighed. “I’ll try.”
“I know. I will be with you.”
~*~
Agent Ruthford couldn’t park close to his house. Fire trucks were blocking the street. Pulling next to the curb, he watched giant flames leaping toward the sky. Arcs of water glowed like silver streams in the floodlights.
“This can’t be happening,” he murmured, squeezing the steering wheel.
Everything he had was in that house. All of the mementos from his past were being reduced to ash. Trying to convince himself that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, he left the car and walked toward the flames.
~*~
Turning on the television, Andrew leaned back in his recliner and placed an icepack over his eyes. He tried to silence his whirling thoughts and breathe through the pain of his headache. Hearing the soft sounds of a violin, he sat up and lowered his icepack.
It’s her.
His violinist was in a spectacular red dress. Her golden hair was braided and wrapped in a shining coronet around her head. She looked as delicate as a red rose and as breathtakingly powerful as a stream of molten lava. Studying the backdrop behind her, Andrew realized that she was playing at the Teatro di Marcello.
She’s in Rome.
Her playing at the Teatro di Marcello was even more spectacular than the masterful performances she’d given in Ireland. Unsurpassed, heady emotion was flowing from her bow. He’d never experienced music played with such feeling before. It was as if all of the beauty of creation was streaming from her fingertips and being displayed in a riot of lovely notes.
Leaning back in his recliner, he let the icepack fall from his fingers. Her music was all he needed to soothe the pain away.
~*~
Parking their scooter within walking distance of the Colosseum, Karl looked over his shoulder at Angelina. Her face was buried against his back, and she was holding onto his waist with a viselike grip.
He chuckled. “You can open your eyes, fraidy cat. We’re here.”
Angelina gasped with laughter. “We’re not completely here. My stomach was left behind when you zoomed around that truck. I don’t care how freaky it is, I’m driving back. Your scooter skills just did me out of twenty years of my life. I can’t believe we made it in one piece.”
Grinning, Karl reluctantly untangled himself from Angelina’s clinging arms. “Admit it, you enjoyed ev
ery second, didn’t you?”
“I enjoyed it all right, but has my hair turned white?”
“Your hair is as golden as ever.” His lips twitched. “Let’s go find us a gladiator. After we’ve taken our picture, I’ll flip you for the right to drive the scooter. I think I have a two-headed coin somewhere in my pocket.”
~*~
Drake chuckled with delight as he spotted Agent Ruthford next to a fire truck. Feeling a surge of pure joy, he watched as the nosy agent turned toward the twisting flames. Even from across the street, Drake could see the dejected slant to Ruthford’s shoulders. He knew he had struck the agent a heavy blow.
“It’s time to turn the knife,” he murmured, reaching for his disposable cell phone.
~*~
It didn’t sink in that her cabdriver hadn’t asked for money when he dropped her off. All Crystal knew was that she felt numb all over, except around her heart where a deep, searing pain was burning. She went to her apartment door and realized she didn’t have her purse. With stumbling steps, she walked over to the hall’s fire extinguisher and felt behind it for her spare key. When she opened her door, she didn’t bother locking it behind her. She simply didn’t care. Drake could come get her. She wouldn’t try to stop him.
Crystal stumbled straight to the bathroom, retching as she went. She knelt in front of the toilet, but nothing came up. Her whole body shook. Eventually, she rolled to her feet. Looking at herself in the mirror, her face filled with revulsion.
“I hate you.” She snarled at her reflection. “I hate you.”
Once again, she felt like she was going to vomit, but again, nothing came up. Looking at her reflection a second time, she realized that her pretty dress was ripped and grass stained. Her lips twisted wryly. Even with all her awkward falls, the bodice had stayed up. Nicole’s magical sticky tape had done its job.
Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to get out of that destroyed dress. She tugged and ripped at it, feeling the tape tearing her skin. She didn’t care. The pain seemed welcome. When she had the dress off, she threw it into the trashcan, burying it with discarded tissues and empty shampoo bottles. She took off her remaining jewelry and got into the shower. As she turned on the water, her strength gave out. Sinking to the bottom of the tub, she let the hot spray flow over her.
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