Free Topaz Dreams by Marilyn Campbell

wearing, he
reached for her hand. As he did, she curved her fingertips into his
palm and he found himself bending at the waist to brush the back of her
hand with his lips. "Welcome to my home, lovely lady. I am your host,
Gordon Underwood. May I put a name to my good fortune?" He suddenly
felt like a young boy, playing at some long-forgotten game.
She
bowed into a deep curtsy before him, and when she rose, her emerald
eyes met his with open friendliness. "My name is Delphina, your Grace.
I do not believe I am where I was supposed to be. Might I be so bold as
to ask my location?"
"You may ask as many questions as you like, as
I will of you. But first, I believe some refreshment is in order. King,
champagne and pate in the drawing room, please. Oh, and bring some here
for Mr. Nesterman as well. I believe he also deserves to celebrate."
When Underwood offered her his arm, she gracefully placed her hand on
it and smiled her willingness to follow his lead.
And follow his lead, she had.
When
he had questioned her upon her arrival, her candidness had disarmed
Underwood. It was almost as if she could not have lied even if her life
had depended on it. This should have been an incredible stroke of luck
to help him carry out his plans. With her, he would need no tricks, no
chemicals, no deceptions or coercions. She had made no attempt to evade
his questions. The problem was she did not seem to have many answers,
and he had known instinctively that she was being completely truthful
every time she answered, "I do not know."
Underwood had immediately
noted she wore no ring. In fact, her only jewelry was a thin gold
choker which she had explained was a universal translator. She could
have responded in any language he spoke. She had shown no fear, no
conhision over her situation, and only mild curiosity as to her future.
Delphina had accepted her circumstances with surprising ease.
Delphina
had also made no objections to the fact that she was not permitted to
leave the house or to speak to anyone other than Gordon. When she was
not secured in her room, King was always close by, but she had made no
mention of her lack of freedom or the fact that the man she had met
upon her arrival had even stricter confinement than she did. It was
almost as if she had expected it to be that way.
Their lives had
quickly taken on a certain pattern, a mixture of reality and fantasy.
Underwood worked all day, but stopped to share each meal with her. She
had no preferences herself, always choosing exactly what he selected to
eat and drink.
Afterward they sat together in the drawing room over
coffee or crystal snifters of warmed brandy, talking or playing games.
Sometimes she would sing for him. From her ballads, he had learned the
history of Norona and Innerworld, where she had been born. When he had
questioned how much of the song was truth and how much folklore, she
had not seemed to know that there was a difference.
Delphina also
entertained him with her stories, another of her creative skills. Like
Scheherezade she could weave a spell about him with her imaginative
tales of faraway places and wild adventures.
At first Gordon had
done most of the talking without being aware of how that had happened.
He would begin asking her a question about her life, and he would end
up talking about his own. She was the perfect listener, turning
questions back on him, never interrupting with her own story, always
making eye contact with him, hanging on every word he said.
Eventually,
he had controlled the effect she had on him enough to learn about
Innerworld. She had created vivid pictures for him of cities where
crystal prism buildings stretched up to a lavender sky, and the barren
deserts of the far provinces where the large orange sun with its white
ring seemed even bigger because of the emptiness. Instead of attracting
an astrophysicist or chemist to his lair, he had a very creative,
stimulating sociologist. Delphina was well versed in the culture and
lifestyle of her