The story is set in a small town on the coast of Nova Scotia, in Canada, in 1931.
___________
Lawrencetown,
Nova Scotia, Canada, 1931
I walked into the playhouse hall after my father’s performance, amazed at how many people decided to attend the opening night’s reception. Two brilliant gold chandeliers hung overhead with glass candles sending soft light into the room. The hall was large and easily accommodated the play’s audience. The walls were laced in gold trimmed leaf. My sister, Sophia, and I, exchanged smiles, excited and a bit giddy to be here tonight.
Lawrencetown was small, yet somehow it remained prosperous amidst the depression of our neighbors to the south, the United States. Still, I wasn’t quite sure what made it such a lively community. It was a medium sized fishing village and just recently, with the patronage of a new resident, did it begin to embrace the arts.
“Do you see father, Sherlyn?” asked Sophia. She was seventeen, two year younger than I.
“Not yet,” I simply replied.
Our father was Alexander Dumont, an acclaimed Shakespearean actor. He’d spent much of his early years in London performing until he came to Canada and met our mother. After settling in Lawrencetown and starting a family, he found work with a traveling Shakespearean theatre. We’d missed his presence, but were glad to have him home now. By a stroke of luck, his company had been hired by a local merchant to perform a number of plays for six months. To the best of my knowledge, this was made possible due an anonymous donation.
“There he is,” said Sophia, pointing to him.
Our father was a tall man with thin hair and graying temples. A crowd of people surrounded him. Several waiters bused by us with trays of champagne flutes and little nibbles of food.
We began to make our way through the crowd, as I recalled his performance. He was Romeo Montague’s father in tonight’s play. I had always enjoyed the tragic love story of “Romeo and Juliet,” but quite honestly, I had yet to find such a captivating love in my life. Currently, I worked in the local system as a grade school teacher. I enjoyed the children, but the work left me with little time to attend to my social life.
Sophia was much more outgoing and flirtatious, and there was a part of me that wished I could draw a man’s attention as she did. Even now, the crowd was affecting my sense of shyness, and I ran a nervous hand through the long curly tresses of my hair. Casting my eyes down, I followed Sophia through the almost unbearable sea of people as we wormed our way closer to our father. It was then when I bumped into…him.
He spun around trapping my eyes with his. Deep brown and sensitive, I could not turn away. We locked on each other for that briefest second, and I felt a little faint from his intense attention.
“Oh, excuse me, Miss…” he began.
I swallowed nervously, further drawn toward him by the rich smoothness of his velvet voice.
“No, it’s my fault…” I stammered.
He placed a hand on my elbow, drawing me closer to him. “Don’t apologize, Miss. I assure you, the fault was mine.”
“Still, I…I…could have been more careful,” my voice drowned off, as he ran his eyes over me. Cool goosebumps tingled my skin. He was incredible. Tall and handsome, with dark hair that matched his olive complexion, I wondered who this foreign, exotic man was that held me riveted to the spot.
“I am Antonio de la Vega,” he answered, as if reading my mind.
“Sherlyn Dumont,” I replied, thrusting my hand boldly at him, trying to move past the shyness that usually kept me from being as outgoing as my sister.
“Good evening, Miss Dumont,” he purred, taking my hand and placing a gentle kiss in its palm. The contact sent a ripple of pleasure shooting through me that I’d never felt before. It was warm and exciting.
“I…I…have to go,” I whispered, suddenly fearful of the such stimulating emotions. My eyes cut in the direction of my father. He seemed to stare at me painfully, as if I’d committed some grave trespass.
Antonio nodded his head and allowed me to depart. Still, I could feel his eyes watching me, studying me, exploring me like no other man’s ever had.
As I approached the crowd around my father, one of my father’s friends looked at me with disapproval. “I see your daughter has made the acquaintance of de la Vega,” his friend sneered.
“Sherlyn, I don’t want you to go near that man again,” my father said, using a stern tone of voice.
I raised a curious eyebrow, but to my surprise, Sophia also schooled me with a severe stare.
“He’s a scoundrel, Miss Dumont,” my father’s friend added, sympathetically.
“He is?” I questioned. What made him such? After all, he was very handsome and his manners were appropriate. Was it because he wasn’t white?
“They say he’s got money coming in from questionable sources,” my father added.
“It’s best to just leave it alone, Sherrie,” said Sophia, with a slight smile.
I nodded my head and that seemed to appease them. Still, I was curious about Antonio de la Vega. After settling in, my trespass seemed forgotten, and I excused myself to freshen up. Taking my time, I made my way to the powder room, purposely trying to learn more about Mr. de la Vega. What I heard stunned me.
He had lived here for six months, but during those six months, he was always the topic of conversation. Rumors persisted that he made his money running alcohol to America since they had banned such drinks. He lived in an opulent cliff house overlooking the Atlantic that was furnished with the finest paintings and most expensive furniture. Surprisingly, that did not dissuade me of thinking about him. What did shock me were rumors he’d gotten Mrs. Constance Vernon with child, and then refused to acknowledge such. She was the wife of the town’s mayor. Supposedly, she’d had an abortion to save her husband’s reputation.
The rumors and gossip were too much for me. I did not care for such tales, but as my eyes sneaked glances at him, I couldn’t help but wonder what was true and what wasn’t. Even though our meeting had been brief, I did not want to think him capable of such cruelty. Oh no, as I studied his rugged features, his chiseled cheekbones, and his full lips, I could not find the scoundrel everyone warned me about.
**********
Over the course of the next two weeks, Antonio de la Vega haunted my dreams. We shared dance after dance, but then the tales I overheard would come back to me, and I turned away when he tried to kiss me. I would wake up every time at this spot in the dream, unable to fully commit to him.
To my surprise, Antonio had invited the town to his house to view one of his galleries. He was particularly keen on French impressionist art, and the newspaper wrote of his acquiring two very valuable Monets for his collection. Sophia and I asked our father if we could attend this event, and he agreed, reluctantly, to escort us. Sophia suspected he wanted to see the paintings as much as we did, but would never admit to it.
It was a Friday evening as Father drove our car to his estate. Parking was organized neatly near Antonio’s house, with attendants to watch over the cars. As we approached, I noticed several reporters, even one from Halifax attended this event.
There was a part of me that hoped I would catch Antonio’s eye tonight as I had before. To that end, I took more care with my appearance. My dress was a black social one that came down just past my knees. I wore a pearl necklace, earrings, and a bracelet. My hair was up in a bun, with little chestnut curls framing my face. Sophia helped me with my attire, claiming she wanted to find a man for me. I shyly laughed at her comment, as I don’t think she had Antonio in mind.
As soon as we entered, Antonio himself greeted us. He wore a dark tuxedo with a crisp black bow tie around his neck. Our father was coolly polite to his welcome, but I was disappointed that Antonio’s eyes did not linger on me. It was only when I turned around on a whim, did I discover him looking at me like he did the night of the play. My father turned around, and I cast my eyes down sharply at the ground, hoping I did not betray my desires to him. He put his hand on my back, and escorted Sophia and I inside to a large dining hall where wine and refreshments were served.
*******
My father introduced me to several young local men. I was polite, yet none of them intrigued me like de la Vega. One man, in his middle twenties, Seymour Bellflower, led me to the bay windows overlooking the ocean and we talked. I listened and tried not to show my boredom as he talked of his farm. I did not have aspirations of being a farmer’s wife.
“Our host is most gracious,” Seymour said nervously. “Did you know he was the one who donated the money to have your father’s theatre company play here?”
“Really, that’s surprising. My father does not have one good word to say about him,” I replied, learning that Antonio was very generous with his money.
“He’s done a lot of good around the community. Some people don’t want to admit it though, because of the way he earns his money,” Seymour continued, sipping his wine glass.
“Is it because he runs alcohol to the States?” I interjected.
Seymour almost spit his drink into his glass and nodded his head. “You know?”
“I’m not totally in the dark,” I added.
My wine glass was low and he offered to refill for me. I got the impression Seymour really didn’t want to talk about gossip and rumors any more, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn it was Antonio who had paid to keep father’s theatre company in town. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as some of the townsfolk made him out to be. As I waited patiently for Seymour to return, a waiter walked by me and slipped me a note.
“Meet me in the garden, A.”
I bit my tongue and knew if I hesitated, I would never have such an opportunity again. Noting that Seymour was busy and my father was preoccupied, I broke for the French glass doors that led outside and quickly departed.
The night air was cool, laced with just a hint of a breeze and a dab of salt in the air. I wrapped my shawl around my bare shoulders. Antonio stood next to a statue of a naked Venus, and just the sight of him drove the chill away. A full moon cast long shadows over the contours of his face. His full lips curved into a delightful smile. Part of me was afraid of what was to come – part of me hungered for it. I suppose I should have feared him, but I did not, having just learned there was more to him than the rumors that circled Lawrencetown.
He reached out, taking my hands in his, and quietly led us away from the statue, deeper into the gardens, to a gazebo that was out of sight of the bay windows. Now only the seductive scent of lavender and violets lingered in the air, the moon the only being watching us.
“Thank you for coming, Sherlyn,” he said, as we walked inside the wooden structure. How bold he was to use my first name. I quickly turned on him.
“I didn’t say you could call me that.”
He chuckled, his dark eyes sweeping over me. “By accepting my invitation you had to know I wanted some privacy with you…and such privacy, implies intimacy as well.”
“I’ve heard about the likes of you,” I fired back, almost appalled at how forward he was. I could easily lose control of my senses, and I did not want to disappoint my father. Still, I had to satisfy that hunger inside to get to know him better.
“Um…,” he purred, bracing one hand one of the gazebo’s pillars, his eyes refusing to look away. “What did you hear?”
“You are a scoundrel.”
His rich laughter filled the space between us. “And why are you here with such a scoundrel?”
“Because I…well, I…”
“You are as intrigued by me, as I am by you, Sherlyn. That night I saw you, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I made it my business to find out about you. I know you that you teach at the local school…and that most find favor with your outgoing younger sister. No…most men think you unattainable, standoffish. They think you’re a snob…” he teased with his rich voice, as he slowly walked toward me.
“And you don’t?’
“No, I don’t,” he confirmed, now standing before me in my personal space.
“Most men think you earn your money illegally, Mr. de la Vega…”
“Antonio, please…” he begged, raising his hand to touch my elbow. The gesture was smooth and his touch weakened my resolve.
“They say you take what you want…even if it is a married woman,” I added.
He seemed to flinch at that, and I felt bad that I had cut him like so. “Some rumors aren’t true , Sherlyn.”
“Oh?”
“There is no woman that has interested me since I arrived here, until I met you. You heard about Mrs. Vernon?”
“I did.”
“Then know I did nothing inappropriate towards her.”
“Antonio…” I whispered. He curved his fingers around my chin,
forcing our eyes to meet.
I grew weak in body and spirit. How I wanted to believe such rumors false – that he was a good man who was genuinely attracted to me. He didn’t speak again. Instead, his lips found mine, and he caressed them gently, yet with a hunger I did not know a man could possess. His hands fell to my arms and he drew me closer to him, pressing our bodies together. I felt the hardness of his chest, his rippling muscles hidden underneath his clothes and I lost all sense of danger. His lips continued their tender assault until finally he dared to run his tongue over them, pushing and testing. I was too far gone into the pleasure he gave me. I allowed his tongue to mingle against mine as my hands found their way around the nape of his neck, teasing the curls that lay there.
Finally, his lips broke away, leaving me gasping for breath. He undid the pins that held up my hair, sending the tresses cascading down my back.
“That’s better,” he whispered, his lips sweet inches from my ear. “I want to look at you, really look at you…”
All I could do was nod my head. He stepped away then, loosened his tie, and threw it on the floor of the gazebo. Then he unfastened the buttons on his white shirt, baring his chest to me. As if a patient teacher, he placed my hands on his masculine chest and dared me to explore.
I was thrilled, yet scared. Unable to stop myself though, my fingertips danced through the fine dark layer of hair that covered him. Then one of my thumbs discovered his hard, male nipple and he closed his eyes, groaning with pleasure as he did so.
“Your touch…your touch…” he huskily whispered. “More, God, I need more…”
I smiled at that, my fingers now raking down his stomach, only to discover hard muscles, tight and patterned. Then his mouth was upon mine again, his urgent tongue pushing past my now pliant lips.
“Antonio…” I begged, as he tore away from me. I couldn’t stand the sudden abruptness in which he withdrew from me.
“Stay right there,” he commanded, walking around me. Then I felt him walk in back of me. He undid the button of my dress and I almost panicked, but I did not feel it fall. Instead, his hands snaked their way inside the fabric, and he cupped my breasts that were still in my bra. He made no effort to push the restrictive fabric away, but tenderly kneaded and squeezed them. I felt my nipples growing hard, and I knew he could feel that hardness through the cloth. Then his lips began to kiss the nape of my neck. They began to suckle me as one of his hands ran down my stomach, falling to my panties. He slid his hand inside and it was like an explosion of heat ripped through me. His hand cupped my sex, his fingers teasing the curls underneath.
“Sherlyn…” he whispered. “Sweet Sherlyn…”
The minute his finger brushed against that part of me I didn’t realize existed a wave of pleasure washed over me. I trembled in his arms, moaning his name, giving into the feeling that was pure bliss. The only other thing I was aware of was his rapid heartbeat and my name on his lips.
As he backed away and I felt his hand leave the intimacy of my body, I knew I had to have more of him – all of him – no matter what that meant.
“We should go back,” he began, breathing as I deep as I.
“Antonio…what… did you do?”
“I released the woman in you. I want you, Sherlyn, but I will not take you here, though the thought is tempting, and you must admit it is…” he continued.
I nodded my head. It was very tempting.
“Believe me, you are the only one I want,” he said, buttoning my dress back up. “But first I want a chance to court you, like a honorable man would. There will be a time and place for us. This is not it,” he concluded.
I nodded my head, awkwardly reaching out to button his shirt as he walked out from behind me. Antonio smiled at me then, watching me attend to him. His dark eyes filled me with warmth. Then he placed his hands over mine.
“It does not bother you I am different – Spanish?”
“No.”
“Good. I will call on you tomorrow.”
I nodded my head, but before we left, we shared another tender kiss. I was grateful that the moon was our only witness.
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Synopsis
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