Leaning against the white stucco wall, he inhaled the sweet scents of the night. A fire was burning nearby, probably in one of the outdoor kilns. Hay from the stables. The breeze coming from the valley. And what was that particular smell? Ah, yes. Night-blooming jasmine.
'I must be the only one awake in the pueblo,' he mused, relaxed by the complete silence that blanketed him.
He soon learned this was not the case as a shadow to his left caught his eye. It seemed to slip into the yard unnoticed until it was right before him.
"Good evening doctor," the Queen said as she stepped into his line of sight.
"Your highness," he replied, saluting her with his wine glass.
He tried to keep calm, even though the sight of her sent fire through his veins. He hadn't seen her since that day on the shore when she'd helped Camilla and her servants escape from Wentworth. As far as the doctor was concerned, the proverbial ball was now in her court. He had told her how he felt. Well, maybe not in so many words, but she had to know how he felt about her. Shouldn't she?
"It's a nice night to be outside under the stars," she said, leaning beside him against the wall. "But not for drinking alone."
"Some things are unavoidable," he quipped, bringing the glass to his lips again.
She turned to watch him consume the red liquid and it was a lovely sight. Long, strong fingers held the glass captive as he guided it to his waiting mouth. Lips caressed the rim of the glass invitingly. The slow rise and fall of the Adam's apple moving along that graceful neck. After the final swallow, the tip of a pink tongue stole out along his lips briefly to ensure he'd gotten the very last drop.
'Madre de Dios! He makes the simple act of taking a drink incredibly sensual. Does he know how incredibly sexy he looks doing that?'
"Can I interest you in a glass?" he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"No thank you doctor," she replied tightly as she pushed herself off the wall to put some space between them. Then she added more playfully, "I never drink and ride."
Chuckling silently, Helm nodded and bowed his head.
"I needed to talk to you," she said, causing his head to come up again, their gazes meeting.
"About what?" he asked, moving toward a small, wooden table he had set up outside.
"About what you said to me that day on the shore," she answered softly.
Helm nodded again, and set the now empty wine glass on the table top. "About which part exactly did you have questions?"
Tessa seemed to be choosing her words carefully, and then a decision was made. "You stayed here in Santa Helena because of me."
It was not a question, rather a statement she needed his confirmation on.
"You, and of course my thriving medical practice in this great metropolis," he replied, motioning to the sleepy pueblo that surrounded them. Then he took a few steps closer to her and added in a quiet voice, "but it was mainly you."
Tessa couldn't keep the smile from her face and at first she cursed the traitorous muscles of her face. Then seeing how his eyes lit up in reaction to her grin, she didn't mind so much anymore. She also didn't move away when he closed the space between them.
Before she realized what he was doing, his warm hands were cradling her face between them. She figured it was only fair. She had pretty much dictated their first kiss. Then he bent his head toward her and gently brushed her lips with his own. Again, different than the brief, fiery kiss the time before. He pulled back and she saw that his eyes were dark and heavy lidded. Was he asking her permission to continue? If he needed prompting, she'd give it to him. Placing her black-gloved hands on his chest she raised up to meet his lips with hers.
Encouraged by her enthusiasm, Helm gentled the kiss from a soft, feathery touch to a caress and then to a friction-filled mating of tongues and teeth. Tessa felt like she was flying. She'd never been kissed by any man like this before and it was all she could do to stay on her feet. However, it wasn't the threat of falling that drove her to wind her willowy arms about his neck as they continued to explore each other's mouths.
After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, Tessa felt Helm's hand along the side of her face. It was slowly pulling the back lace mask down. It would be so easy to just let it happen. Let him know the truth. So easy!
"Doctor Helm!" she managed to get enough breath into spent lungs to say as she wrenched her mouth from his.
"Please," he spoke low against her ear. "Please, let me see who hides beneath the mask. I want to see--"
"I can't!" she cried as she freed herself from his grasp and backed away from him.
"Why not?" Helm replied exasperated. Running a hand through his now- mussed hair, he collected himself and repeated more calmly. "Why not?"
"When I was a little girl," she started hesitantly as she wandered the small enclosure that was the back yard, "my father had a tiny ship inside a glass bottle. It was the most handsome ship I'd ever seen. Four tall masts supported these blindingly white sails. The Spanish flag waved proudly from the top of the crow's nest. The detail was incredible. And amazingly, it was all inside this little glass bottle. One day, my curiosity just got the best of me, I suppose. I asked my father how the ship got inside the bottle. After he told me, after I knew the truth, that ship wasn't half as interesting to me anymore. It held no fascination for me at all."
Helm stood there looking at her, not a little bit of shock on his face.
"Is it me you love?" Tessa pressed, this time meeting his gaze straight on. "Or is it the *idea* of me that you love?"
Before Helm could sputter out any sort of reply, there was a loud thumping on the front door of his office.
"Dr. Helm! Open up."
It was unmistakably Captain Grisham's voice that bellowed from the other side.
Spinning around to face her, Helm pleaded with his eyes but knew that she wouldn't--couldn't stay. Sighing he turned and headed for the door. Pulling it open he nearly spat, "Such a pleasure to see you captain!"
"Good evening to you too, doc," Grisham replied with a grin.
"What do you want?"
"One of my men says he saw the Queen of Swords ride into town not long ago," Grisham explained, pushing past the doctor and into his office. "You'll forgive me if this is the first place I thought of looking for her."
"You can't just waltz in here--"
"Oh but I can, Dr. Helm," Grisham informed him. "This is official military business. I don't need you permission to do my job."
With that the captain noticed the open back door and smiled. Helm groaned as Grisham made his way toward the back yard. Stepping into the night, he surveyed the darkness with a critical eye. Seeing no one there, he placed his hands on his hips and laughed to himself. 'How typical,' he thought. He turned to face the doctor who just arched a brow and shrugged.
Glancing back to the single wine glass on the table, Grisham inquired, "Drinking alone doc? What a tragedy."
Leaving the flippant remark hanging between them, the captain made his way past Helm and around the side of the house.
Peering once more at the moon, its beams reflecting off the empty wine glass, he replied, "You've no idea."
