One Night to Remember (4 page)

Wrapping her legs tight around his hips, Elizabeth gasped and met his eyes.

“There you are, love,” he said, and pulled taut, bracing himself on his arms.

As he thrust a second time, Elizabeth brought her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her mouth. Thomas kissed her on a moan. Suckled her bottom lip into her mouth. Drove into her over and over again.

When their bodies molded together as one, his shaft swelling within her, his lips on her lips, his tongue rolling along hers, Elizabeth let the feelings simmering beneath her skin erupt to the surface. She cried out as her nails gouged the ridges of muscle on his back.

All the sensations that’d been flickering inside her gathered together, tighter, hotter, and then…exploded. Heat flashed through her body. Her core clenched, harder and harder, drawing on the thick length of him.

Thomas’s body seized as she rode the last, undulating currents of her orgasm. With a low groan, he thrust one last time, held tight, and emptied himself into her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Thomas wasn’t looking forward to this moment. The moment when he and Elizabeth would go their separate ways. Where would she go? Back to the clothing store she’d mentioned? Would he ever see her again? Would he want to? No matter how she’d tied him up in knots, she was still a thief, the same as she was an hour ago. Just because he’d brushed his hands over the milky white span of her body, didn’t mean her intentions were any purer.

Did that matter to him anymore? It should…
Lord above,
it should.

There were too many questions worming their way out of him. Far too many.

After removing the cuffs from Elizabeth’s wrists, they’d spent some time curled up in bed. They made small talk and laughed about how neither of them had done anything like this before. Under different circumstances, they probably would’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms. He would’ve undressed her completely, and relished the skin to skin contact as she nestled into his chest.

Instead, he’d gotten anxious about when his bunkmates would return and checked his watch.

Elizabeth noticed and excused herself from his embrace. Using the mirror in the hutch, she tousled her blonde hair back to life, adjusting the red peacock feather that’d shifted off-kilter. She smoothed down the ruffles of her dress and adjusted the top with a little shimmy.

Thomas put on his pants, boots, tucked in his shirt and left his tie hanging loose around his collar.

When Elizabeth spun back around, she looked just as she had when Thomas first saw her. Polished perfection.

“We haven’t much time,” he said, and rose to meet her. He tugged her into his arms and laid her head on his chest. His heart was beating stronger than it had earlier. As if she’d somehow sparked new life into it. “We’ll be getting company any minute.”

“I should retire to my room anyway. Ladies aren’t supposed to wander the halls this late.” She picked Lady Grace’s clutch off the table and handed it to him. “There’s no need to make this more complicated than it already is. I know you must report me.”

Truth be told, Thomas didn’t know what the devil he was going to do about the crime at hand. He’d still have to explain how he came into possession of Lady Grace’s purse.

“How much money did you take?” he asked.

She shrugged. “About three hundred.”

“More than I make in a month.”

“Less than her husband gambles in an hour.”

Their views were so starkly different. Elizabeth would defend her stance to the end—she’d done nothing wrong by stealing, as long as that theft benefited a lower class.

Despite the fact that she had a twisted sort of conscious, Thomas asked the question that’d been sizzling on his lips. “May I see you again, Elizabeth?”

“Perhaps.” She kissed him, slow and openmouthed, sending his world into a tailspin. Then she opened the stateroom door and strode into the hall. “You are an intriguing man, Mr. McGuire,” she called over her shoulder. “An adventure I didn’t see coming.”

Thomas watched Elizabeth walk all the way down the corridor, the train of her gown swishing over the dusty rose runner. She didn’t look back. Not once. Something inside Thomas told him women like Elizabeth never did.

Once she was out of sight, he retreated into the stateroom, took three hundred dollars from his wallet—nearly all he’d been saving for a fresh start in New York—and slipped it into Lady Grace’s clutch.

He looped and tucked his tie, threw on his coat and pocketed the purse. If he didn’t run into the Master at Arms on the way to the bridge, Thomas thought about tracking down Lady Grace and saying someone had found her missing purse in the dining hall. All that mattered was that Lady Grace should recover her money and Miss Elizabeth shouldn’t be involved.

After locking up his stateroom, Thomas wound his way up to the boat deck. He braced himself for the brisk night air and pushed out onto the first class promenade. The night was dark, nearly black save for the twinkling lights of the stars.

No passengers milled about. They’d all retired indoors for the night. Smart move considering how biting cold the night had grown. It didn’t take but one breath for Thomas to chill to the bone. He cinched his coat tight and made his way forward to the wheelhouse, passing one of his stateroom bunkmates along the way.

“’Bout time you show your face,” George said, his Irish accent thick. “Joseph left his post ten minutes ago to try and find ‘ya. We was beginnin’ to think you fell over the side.”

Thomas feared he had fallen all right, but not into the Atlantic’s icy waters.

“I’m only but five minutes late.” He checked his watch.
Eleven thirty five
. “If I gave you this kind of shite every time I had to cover your post for a few minutes, you’d be swimming in it.”

“Aye, but you can expect me to be late. You’re always five early.”

“Tonight,” Thomas said, remembering how wonderful Elizabeth had felt in his arms. “You’re lucky I showed up at all.”

Thomas entered the wheelhouse and took his post near the back wall. A floppy haired, brown eyed fireman stood next to him, his arms folded over his chest.

“Cold out tonight,” the fireman said, leaning over to make small talk. “It’s dropped below freezing.”

Thomas nodded, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Been quiet like this long?”

While two young officers checked gauges in front of him and one officer stood just outside the wheelhouse, they were silent, rarely breathing two words to one another.

The fireman shook his head in answer. “Some pack ice and small growler warnings, but nothing major. Captain’s rerouted the ship to the southern shipping lane as a precaution.”

“Icebergs?” Thomas hadn’t thought about the possibility, though the cold certainly was bitter enough to form them, wasn’t it?

“The officer over there,” he nudged his chin at the officer standing outside the wheelhouse, “said there’s not much to worry over and if he isn’t worried, I’m not worried.”

Thomas looked out over the helm, where the pointed bow of the ship ghosted through the water. Air froze in his lungs.

There—hovering along the glossy black horizon—was the outline of something massive. A shadowed form, well over a hundred feet tall. Thomas stepped closer to the helm, squinting through the dark.
It couldn’t be.
Surely his eyes were blurred, playing tricks.

Three rings chimed from the wall. Sixth Officer Moody raced to the phone.

“What is it?” Moody asked, as Thomas moved closer still, disbelieving the sight before him.

The black silhouette slid closer, its rocky outline emerging through the dark.

“Iceberg right ahead!” blared over the phone, stripping the words from Thomas’s lips.

Everything jigsawed into a blur. First Officer Murdoch hollered, “Hard a’starboard!” from the bridge and jerked the engine command from stop to full reverse. Hand over hand, the helmsan spun the wheel, faster and faster, until there was no more turn to give.

The bow of the ship seemed to slice through the water seamlessly as if pulled to the mountain of ice by some unforeseen force. The men waited, statue still. But the tip of the boat didn’t turn.

The berg loomed closer, its groves and edges materializing into a menacing snarl of ice and gloom. The Titanic continued full steam. Thomas grasped the brass rail near the door.

They were going to hit.
Devil below, they were going to hit.

His heart raced, pounding through his ears until he was sure he could hear no other sound in the world as harshly.

Seconds dragged slow, screeching to an impossible halt.

The bow began to veer, ever slowly, inching left. The snaggled face of the iceberg leered over the deck. And with a heart-mangling crunch, they hit.

A wall of ice crashed onto the forward deck, breaking into lead-like chunks on impact. The iceberg scraped along the Titanic’s side, unyielding in its assault. The ship trembled under the berg’s massive force, the floor beneath Thomas’s feet alive with a terrible buzz.

“Hard a’port!” First Officer Murdoch yelled, and sent the helmsman cranking the wheel full-bodied in the opposite direction.

When Thomas’s feet finally came alive and blood hammered through his veins once more, he ran out of the wheelhouse and watched in horror as the tower of ice skid along the side of the ship. He watched, heart in his throat, as the middle portion of the ship detached from the iceberg’s frosty embrace. And finally, when the back end of the Titanic slowly straightened out, Thomas took a short, jagged breath.

What had they done?

CHAPTER SIX

A shudder rippled through the ship and vibrated Elizabeth’s bare feet.

At first, she thought the trembling was coming from inside her, but when the shudder died off completely, like a switch flipping off, Elizabeth knew that wasn’t the case.

Her knees were, in fact, still wobbly from earlier this evening. She’d been trembling since she left Thomas’s stateroom and had to admit that it’d put a touch of a smile on her face. She sat in front of the hutch in her first class stateroom, staring into the gold rimmed mirror, marveling at her glowing reflection.

She’d never felt this way before. Never had this kind of a buzz humming through her.

It was a bit scary to think a man could elicit this kind of reaction.

That’s probably why she liked it as much as she did.

A quiet knock pecked at the door, startling her. She wasn’t expecting company. She’d traveled alone and hadn’t told Thomas her stateroom number. Pulling her wrap from her wardrobe, Elizabeth tied it around herself and quickly examined her appearance in the mirror. Both her nightgown and robe were white cotton with hints of lace—scandalous attire to be greeting company—but at least there were now two layers of fabric cloaking her body.

“Who’s there?” she asked, pausing at the door. If it was someone from The White Star Line, they were about to get a bit of a peep show.

“Thomas…McGuire.” His voice was raspy. Rougher than it had been before. Her heart gave a little hitch.

She opened the door a sliver, shielding her near-naked body from passersby in the hall. “Well good evening, Mr. McGuire. How, may I ask, did you find me?”

“I checked the first class passenger list.”

Stated so simply, Elizabeth felt foolish that she’d asked in the first place. He was an officer, second to the Master at Arms. Of course he would have access to such privileged information.

“I realize it’s late, but are you decent enough to come out on deck?” he asked. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

She eyed her nightgown and robe, then with a teasing smile, pulled the door open wide. “Is this decent enough?” she asked, feeling the chill of the hall lick up her robe.

“Good Lord, woman.” Thomas pushed into the room and quickly shut the door behind him. Elizabeth gave a little laugh as he spun around, and awkwardly folded his arms over his chest. “There’s been an accident,” he blurted. “We’ve struck an iceberg.”

“What?” That must’ve been the shudder she felt. “Is the captain calling for passengers on deck?”

“No, passengers have been instructed to head back to their rooms.” He slowly paced the cramped corners of her stateroom, the air about him calm and collected. “Officers are assessing the damage as we speak. We should be on our way shortly.”

“Thank God,” Elizabeth said, relaxing the drumming of her heart. It was a good thing the Titanic was unsinkable; they could’ve been in real trouble.

“There is nothing to fear, Elizabeth, I assure you.” He brushed his hands over her shoulders. “The berg was enormous—I saw it with my own eyes—but it glanced off the hull of this ship like it was nothing…we’ll be fine.”

“Is that why you came here? To tell me the news?”

“No.” His gaze drifted to the lace collar of her robe and for a breath Elizabeth thought he might’ve come back for a second affair. “When we scraped the berg, it dropped chunks of ice on the forward deck. A group of second class passengers are kicking it around, playing some sort of game. I thought you might be interested in watching a bit.”

He wanted to spend time with her.
Outside of the stateroom. She kinked her neck to the side, eyeing him carefully. “What of Lady Grace’s clutch?”

“I returned it to the Master at Arms on the way here. He’ll be delivering it to its rightful owner.” Thomas’s jaw ticked to a clench. While talking of icebergs and collisions, he remained composed. One mention of Elizabeth’s proposed guilt and Thomas was a tightly wound spring. He’d tried to play it cool. Like letting her go free was no big deal. From the sharpness of his tone and the pallor of his cheeks however, Elizabeth could tell that it was.

“So you have decided not to take me into custody after all?”

“I’ve gone on break.” His eyes shone the color of rich driftwood, one of her favorite shades to use while designing. “And I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my cuffs.”