One Night to Remember (2 page)

She made a right turn up ahead. Flew down a set of stairs onto F Deck. Then turned sharply around another corner and down the next corridor. Soon, Thomas was following the whipping tail of her gown. Finally, a few turns down bustling corridors later, she was gone.

With a deflated ego and a tired set of lungs, Thomas came to a stop and folded his arms over his chest. She couldn’t have gone far. She had to be around one of these turns. One of the alcoves leading to any of the third class cabins.

He waited seconds. Minutes. Dozens of men and women whisked past him speaking languages Thomas couldn’t translate, none of them aware of the game of cat and mouse that was being played around them.

As he was about to turn back, return to the dining hall and report the theft to Lady Grace and the Master at Arms, a soft sneeze sounded down the hall. Instead of dashing after her, Thomas hid in a little alcove near cabin F38.

Easier to catch a mouse with cheese than a bullhorn, he figured, and waited for the woman in red to emerge from her hiding spot. Which she did, not two minutes later.

She emerged three alcoves down, smoothing down the ruffles of her dress, tousling the waves of her honey-blonde hair. He had to admit, she was definitely the most gorgeous thief he’d ever seen in his life. She had skin like a porcelain doll, milky white and smooth as glass. A dainty neck tapered upward to a softly rounded chin, which led to high cheekbones and the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. Against the boldness of her dress, her eyes paled, but sparkled none the less.

As she walked down the corridor, deeper into third class, Thomas fished a set of handcuffs out of his back pocket. It was going to be a damn shame to arrest a woman that beautiful.

*

Elizabeth didn’t have much time.

Whoever that man was who’d followed her had gotten close. She wasn’t about to go to jail for stealing some silver and a little cash from a woman who’d surely lose it in one of Lord Grace’s betting hands anyway! From the tenacity in that gentleman’s eye, Elizabeth bet he’d report her immediately.

Which meant she had to accomplish what she’d started and return to her room before Mr. Meddler could file his complaint.

She rounded another corner and continued down the narrow, poorly lit corridor. The halls smelled a bit musky, and the growl of the Titanic’s engines was a bit louder, but Elizabeth didn’t mind in the least. She didn’t mind the looks she garnered, either.

Men in twill coats and brown trousers nodded her way as she passed, smiling gently. Women eyed her curiously, glaring as if she didn’t belong among them. Odd to think that not twenty four years ago, she’d been born into their ranks. Not that they’d believe she had a meager upbringing if she had the chance to explain it.

Before she’d realized it, Elizabeth had reached her destination: cabin F 73. She knocked. Waited. And smiled brightly when a young girl not seven years old answered the door. Her ringlets were natural and fine, brushed to a frizz by her mother no doubt.

Elizabeth peered into the room. The girl’s mother looked to be resting, lying on the top pullout, while her two brothers slept below. Where this young girl found room to earn her own rest, was Elizabeth’s guess.

A sweet smile crossed the girl’s mouth as she stared, wide-eyed at Elizabeth’s gown. “How can I help you miss?”

Elizabeth kneeled to her level. “I have something for your mother. A delivery of sorts.”

“Delivery?”

As the girl turned to call for her mother, Elizabeth caught her by the shoulder and gently spun her back around. “It’s more of a gift, really,” she whispered. “A secret. Could you give her this special gift if I left it with you?”

The girl’s blue eyes sparkled like sapphires.

Elizabeth removed the fork and knife from her purse and handed it to the girl. “I don’t have much use for these anymore. I thought you could take them home with you and sell them.” She had to speak fast. She didn’t have much time. Any minute, the girl’s mother would be wondering who was at the door. She needed to be well and gone by then. “I have something else for you too, but you must promise not to give it to your mother until you’ve shut the door and counted to one and thirty. Can you do that?”

The girl nodded.

“Now,” Elizabeth said, reaching into Lady Grace’s purse. “Close your eyes.”

As the girl did as she was told, Elizabeth fished a handful of bills out of Lady Grace’s coin pouch and put it into the young girl’s palm. She closed her fingers around it as the girl opened her eyes and flashed a brilliantly innocent smile.

“For you, darling,” Elizabeth said, and eased the door closed.

When she was left to the long, blandly white corridor and the pleasant thought of that young family having a fresh start on the harsh streets of New York, Elizabeth sighed and let her feet carry her back the way she came.

She turned a corner, practically glowing. And ran right into the gentleman who’d followed her out of the dining hall.

She gasped as she rebounded off his great wall of a chest, then tried to collect herself by curtseying as she continued down the hall. She didn’t miss the scent flowing off him—rich and spicy like cigars and fine wine. His shoes were polished leather. Handmade in Italy. And his slacks needed a hem.

Had to be first class. Maybe she could pick his pocket on her way to the stairs.

“I’m so sorry, Miss,” he said, following after her. “I should have been more careful.”

“It was my fault.” Elizabeth curtseyed deeper and tried to bolt from this man a second time.

He gently grabbed her by the elbow, applying enough pressure to assure Elizabeth that she wouldn’t be going anywhere until he released her. Heat sizzled beneath his fingers, searing the skin through her gloves.

“Are you lost, Miss…” he waited for Elizabeth to fill the silence, but she was too confused by the magnetism of his touch to acknowledge him right away.

“Scott.” She glanced over her shoulder. The stairs were there.
Right there.

“Allow me to help you find your appropriate deck, Miss Scott.” His voice kicked up an octave.

With a sigh, Elizabeth turned around and finally drank in the details of the gentleman’s face. The warmth in his eyes nearly took her breath away. They were deep chocolate brown, almond shaped with an unyielding glare. His hair was short, swept to the side, framing a set of razor sharp cheekbones. His jaw was square and hard set, providing the perfect platform for a wide, supple mouth.

“I can find my own way, but thank you.” She cleared her throat and tried to pull away. Under different circumstances, maybe they could’ve been a little something. He was good looking enough, in a chivalrous, Prince Charming sort of way.

As he tugged her close, shivers bloomed across her skin. He held her gaze. “It was not a request. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”

Air ripped from Elizabeth’s lungs. She’d met forward gentlemen before. Hell, she’d taken forward gentlemen to bed before. But this man didn’t seem to fit that bill. From the look in his eye in the dining hall, Elizabeth thought he’d looked offended and downright prudish. Only…prudish men did not make such advances.

“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth put a hand over her heart, feigning her own offense. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

As a couple passed behind them, they squeezed together against the corridor wall. When their bodies touched, something rippled through the air between them. Like an electric current zapped through her body, the blood in Elizabeth’s veins sped and her cheeks flushed.

The gentleman felt it too. The dark of his pupils widened. Desire, raw and hot, flamed in their depths. Elizabeth was hypnotized. Too captured to move.

After the couple passed by, the gentleman didn’t grant Elizabeth more room. He stayed pressed against her, crowded into the right half of the corridor. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want space. Didn’t want to be alone to work things out by herself.

Despite herself, she couldn’t resist the allure of this man. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted another.

“I’m Thomas McGuire,” he whispered, feathering chills down her legs. “And I’m second to the Master at Arms.”

Elizabeth’s heart gave a ratchet. He was military. A cop. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid not.” He reached behind her back, bending close enough for their lips to touch with the smallest flinch. Her stomach gave a little flutter…until he snatched both of her wrists into his steely grip. “Miss Elizabeth Scott…you’re under arrest.”

CHAPTER THREE

“For the last time,” Elizabeth said, her fingers drumming against the table in Thomas’s stateroom on C Deck. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m a first class passenger. A lady.”

Oh, she played the part of a lady all right. Her scarlet dress was cut low, cinched at the waist and ruffled to the floor. Her jewels sparkled beneath the yellow cabin lights. And the feather in her hair was a nice, delicate touch that added a flare of femininity.

But Miss Scott was more than a lady. She was a master manipulator.

She’d begged to be released each step of the way back to C Deck. She’d told the same innocent story of mistaken identity for the last hour. Now the begging had stopped and she was pleading to his logic: true ladies didn’t steal from their own kind.

Lucky for poor Lady Grace and her husband’s gambling fund, Thomas wasn’t falling for Miss Scott’s games. No matter what he thought he saw down in steerage—had she really given the money in Lady Grace’s clutch to a child or were his eyes playing tricks on him?—he knew what he saw in that dining room.

Miss Scott was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“You
are
a first class passenger. And you
are
a lady.” Thomas removed his coat and draped it over the back of the chair facing Miss Scott. “But you are also a thief. A beautifully dressed, well-spoken, thief.”

He loosened his tie, but it did not help his lungs suck in more air. Since Miss Scott had stepped into his stateroom, the air had grown heavy with some sort of tension. It was thick, sticky, barely sliding down his throat.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” she said, her green eyes widening in feigned shock. “This is absurd. I own my own clothing company in the states. I’m sailing the finest ship and I daresay my stateroom is larger than this one. I may even have more money than Old Bitty Grace. There’s absolutely no reason for me to steal from her. I demand to be released.” She held up her shackled wrists that he’d tied in front of her.

Thomas smiled. “I said nothing about stealing from Lady Grace. Only that you were a thief. You added that confession on your own.”

“I—I did not. Earlier, you said…” Pausing, her rose-glossed lips pressed into a thin line. “I merely—oh, you fool.” She sighed and tapped her fingers against her lap. “I did not mean anyone harm.”

She began to glisten under pressure, her neck and cheeks glowing with unease. It was an oddly erotic sight. Thoughts of Miss Scott’s silky smooth skin glistening as a result of their love-making instead of her nerves, made Thomas yearn to release her and then swiftly seduce her.

But duty came first. And Thomas’s duty called for him to report her ill behavior to the Master at Arms.

“You may not have meant anyone harm, but I doubt Lady Grace or The White Star Line would view your intentions as well and innocent. You stole silver from this ship and money from her.”

“I gave to a family who needed it.”

“That does not negate the crime.”

Her thin eyebrows rose smoke-stack high. “It should.”

Thomas walked around the table separating them and faced Miss Scott. Her green eyes shone like emeralds and her eyelashes were so luxuriously long that when she blinked, they nearly batted her cheekbones. Despite his initial impression of her character, Thomas couldn’t help but think the woman was being honest. She truly believed stealing to be a good deed.

“Miss Scott, facts are facts. You stole from Lady Grace. You stole from The White Star Line. You will have to face the punishment for that crime when we land in New York.”

Her lips twisted. Thomas tried not to think about how kissable they were. How plump and soft they’d be working against his.

“Mr. McGuire,” she whispered, leaning forward. He struggled to keep his eyes off the full mound of her breasts and on her eyes, where his gaze belonged. “Are you really going to arrest me for stealing from a woman who has more money than she knows what to do with and giving to a family that can barely afford food to fill their bellies?”

“That’s up to the Master at Arms to decide.”

“And where is he?” She scanned the well-lit corners of the room, to the bed lining the far wall, the sink and hutch near the door, the dresser to her right. “We’ve been here an hour and he’s not yet arrived or sent word that he’ll be late.”

“I haven’t yet alerted him that there’s been a theft.” Thomas got the feeling he shouldn’t be telling her this. He shouldn’t reveal his doubt and his hesitation to turn her in. He should remain stoic and strong and keep those cuffs on her wrists come hell or high water. “There’s something I need to know. Something that’s been on my mind since I saw you swipe that fork off the table in the dining hall.”

As Miss Scott sat back in her chair, strands of golden hair cascaded over her shoulders. Thomas had the gut-clench reaction to reach out and run his fingers through them.

“Go ahead,” she said, eyeing him expectantly.

For a second Thomas thought she could read his mind. But, as all fantasies went, they were cut short. He’d had a question for her, hadn’t he? How did he expect to interrogate fully when he was so distracted by her radiant beauty?

“Why?” he blurted. “Why put your own freedom at jeopardy to help those less fortunate?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

He went palms down on the table. “There are a million reasons. If you are as well off as you say you are, you could have any gentleman you wanted. You could marry well, bear children, promote your fortune and build a legacy to be proud of. Dedicating your life to charity is honorable. Spending your life behind bars is foolish.”