It was late afternoon. . .and the hurricane was definitely getting closer. The wind was getting stronger, and the surf was getting higher; the blue Hamptons sky was disappearing behind threatening clouds. The crew from Shadow Pond was already working to secure her house. Annabelle thanked them on her way out, tossed her things in the back of her Jeep Grand Cherokee, and headed for Shadow Pond.

When she arrived at Shadow Pond, she found Boris where she had left him earlier, still working in the library. He glanced at his watch; she was earlier than he had expected!

"Annabelle! Back so soon?"

"You sound surprised, Sweet Pea! I thought you WANTED me here?"

"I do! But. . .knowing how much you like to. . .challenge me. . .I feared that you would stay at your beach house until it was too late!"

Ha! I DO love to challenge you, Boris. But. . ."

"But?"

"But. . .this time. . .I think you might actually be right! If my beach house goes sliding into the ocean. . .I think I'd much rather be here – with you! So. . .here I am. . .yours for the duration! The question is. . .now that you have me here. . .what ARE you going to do with me?"

Boris smiled in spite of himself. "Well. . .my plan is to keep you here. . .AND to keep you safe!"

"Hmmmmm. . .I think your plan needs some work, Boris?! It's lacking structure – which is SO not like you – and, more importantly, it's lacking adventure!"

Boris shot her one of his classic 'king of the castle' looks. "Annabelle, a hurricane is a serious matter; this is NOT an adventure!"

Annabelle chuckled. "OK, Boris. . .I'll concede that point. Don't get your knickers in a knot!"

"There is that expression again! Please to tell me. . .what, precisely, does it mean? It sounds rather. . .unpleasant!"

Annabelle chuckled. "Well. . .taken literally. . .I'm sure it would be!. Figuratively. . .I think you know EXACTLY what it means! Your English is flawless, Boris – and you have no problem with idioms! But you DO have a problem when people. . .hmmm, how shall I put this. . .THWART you! And that, my love, is when you tend to knot up your knickers!"

Annabelle waited for Boris to respond. He opened his mouth to speak – and then closed it again without saying a word!

Annabelle chuckled again. "HA! I've rendered you speechless! It must be a hurricane miracle!"

"Annabelle. . .you are aware, are you not, that you can be. . .exasperating?!"

"Boris – you say that like it's a bad thing!"

Boris shook his head in resignation, and threw his hands up in mock surrender; he should have known better than to argue with Annabelle! "All right, Annabelle – we shall continue this discussion at a later time. But, right now, bitte, go get changed for dinner!"

xXXx

"Annabelle, I cannot believe that you seriously considered staying at your beach house for the duration of the hurricane!"

"Well – honestly? I just thought that the hurricane would turn out to be much ado about nothing?! The weathermen ALWAYS exaggerate about EVERYTHING! I figured I could ride out the storm AND get some work done. I was even planning a little 'hurricane picnic', complete with hotdogs on the grill!"

Boris shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, speechless.

The look on Boris's face made Annabelle chuckle. "Ha! You just aren't a hurricane picnic, hotdogs on the grill kind of guy, are you, Boris?"

"Nein! I am not!" Boris studied Annabelle's face for a moment, and saw the corners of her mouth twitching, ever so slightly. "And you are teasing me again, ja?"

Annabelle couldn't contain her giggles any longer, and threw up her hands in mock surrender. "All right, Boris! I'll behave myself! No more teasing – I promise!"

Annabelle had to give Boris credit. . .he was the perfect host. They were having dinner in the formal dining room. . .complete with fresh flowers and candlelight and servants in white gloves! Thank God. . .knowing Boris as well as she did. . .she had packed her favorite all-purpose 'little black dress' at the last minute!

As the storm escalated outside, they enjoyed their dinner, safe inside the sturdy walls of Shadow Pond. The rain was pounding against the windows, and the lights flickered once or twice, but the wine was delicious. . .the chicken picata was excellent. . .and the conversation was fascinating. Boris was usually a man of few words – but when he was with Annabelle, he could talk for hours and never run out of things to say.

They had lingered over dessert – crème brulee with cherries, one of Annabelle's favorites. Boris watched Annabelle as she regaled him with a very animated version of her friend Charlotte's latest adventures in London. Every time Annabelle gestured to make a point, her ruby and diamond bracelet twinkled in the candlelight. She was making one of those points when she glanced at Boris. . .and stopped in mid-sentence. His beautiful aquamarine eyes were glowing like embers in a fireplace; he had the look of a starving man.

She cleared her throat, then continued. "So. . .what do you have planned for after dinner, Boris?" The point she had been making earlier was suddenly forgotten. "Trivial Pursuit? Perhaps Monopoly? You could give me a chance to win back the four bazillion dollars I lost the last time we played!"

"Nein. . .I think not. Not tonight."

"All righty, then!" Annabelle couldn't quite read the expression on his face. She hesitated, then asked, "Why?"

Boris gestured with his hand, dismissing the servants who were hovering in the background.

The last of the servants left, leaving Boris and Annabelle alone in the dining room. Boris still hadn't answered Annabelle's question.

"Boris. . .are you angry with me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Nein!" Boris stretched his arms out to the side, crossed them over his chest, then sat back in his chair. "No, Prinzessin, I am not angry! I am. . .I suppose I am. . .perhaps, weary."

"Weary?" Annabelle was still confused. "Boris – you're going to have to give me more than just 'weary'!"

"Hmph! Annabelle, we follow a pattern, you and I. We play games. . .we negotiate silly wagers. . .and, ultimately, we have a. . .a sexual encounter. But I negotiate business deals every day – and, sometimes, I grow weary of the negotiations. Sometimes, I would just like. . ."

"You would just like to skip the games and the negotiations?"

"Ja!"

"Go directly to me naked in your bed, do not pass go, do not collect $200!"

"Well. . .that is, perhaps, a rather. . .crude reference, but. . .ja!"

"Hmmm. . .bold!" Annabelle waited a moment. . .then flashed Boris a grin. "But I LIKE it!"

Boris looked surprised. "You. . .do?"

"I DO! I LIKE 'the king of the castle' – he's very. . .masterful – and bloody sexy! So. . .I just have one question. If you're the king of the castle – does that make me the lusty serving wench?"

"Hmph! Lusty, perhaps, but. . .serving wench? Hardly!"

Annabelle chuckled, and tapped the face of her wristwatch. "Well. . .tick tock, Boris! If the king of the castle wants the lusty serving wench to shag his brains out – what are we waiting for?! The hurricane isn't going to last forever!"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the chair. She was laughing as he pulled her along behind him.

Dieter could hear them laughing the whole way up the stairs. He smiled. . .and then went to check the doors.