Authors: Janet Dailey
Any distance she had managed to put between them in Helen’s mind, had been wiped out by his few words, which could be read with such heavy suggestion. Irritation glittered as she met his dry glance.
“I hardly think that would look proper, would you?” she refused with mock demureness.
“And we must be proper at all times, mustn’t we?” he chided in a drolly amused tone.
His response was even more damning. Seething, Rachel gave up the conversation and reached stiffly for her menu. By innuendo Gard had implied that they were having an affair and trying to cover it up in front of others. At this point an outright denial
would add fuel to the growing suspicions, and Rachel didn’t intend to feed anything but herself.
The waiter paused beside her chair, pen and pad in hand. Rachel made a quick choice from the menu selection. “Prosciutto ham and melon for an appetizer,” she began. “The cold cream of avocado soup and the rainbow trout almondine.”
There was a lull in the table talk as the others perused the menu and made their decisions. When the young couple joined them, Rachel deliberately turned away from Gard and engaged the talkative Jenny in conversation.
There was a languid warmth to the night air as the ship’s course entered the fringes of the tropics. The breeze was no more than a warm breath against her bare arms as Rachel stood at the railing and looked into the night. A wrap was not necessary in this mild air.
Beyond the ship’s lights the sea became an inky black carpet, broken now and then by a foamy whitecap. Far in the distance lights winked on the horizon, indicating land, but there was no visible delineation between where the sea stopped and the land began, and the midnight sky faded into the distant land mass.
The stars were out, a diamond shimmer of varying brilliance, and the roundness of a silver moon dissolved into a misty circle. In the quiet there was only the muted sound of the ship’s engines and the
subdued rush of water passing the ship’s cleaving hull.
She had the port side of the Promenade Deck to herself. The passengers who hadn’t retired for the night were either attending one of the lounge shows or gambling at one of the casinos on board. After dinner Rachel had sampled each of the ship’s entertainment offerings until a restlessness had taken her outside into the somnolent warmth of the tropical night.
Her mind seemed blank of any thoughts save the gathering of impressions of the night’s surroundings. The opening of a door onto the outer deck signaled the intrusion of someone into her solitude. Rachel sighed in a resigned acceptance of the fact. It was too much to expect that it could have stayed this way for long, not with the number of passengers aboard.
With idle interest she glanced back to see her fellow sojourner of the night. Her fingers tensed on the polished wood railing as she saw Gard’s dark figure against the lighted backdrop of the ship’s white bulkhead. His head was bent, the reflected glow of a cupped match flame throwing its light on the angular planes of his handsome features.
When he straightened and shook out the match, there was no indication that he’d seen her. The blackness of her long gown and hair helped to lose her form in the darkness of the night. Rachel held herself still, yet she was disturbed by the certain knowledge that it was inevitable that he would eventually notice her standing there, off to one side.
She waited and watched while he turned his gaze
seaward. As the moment of discovery was prolonged, the anticipation of it began to work on her nerves. Her pulse was jumping when his gaze made an idle drift toward the stern. There was the slightest hesitation before he changed his angle and wandered over to her. Rachel made a determined effort to appear indifferent to his approach, casually turning her gaze away from him to the distant land lights.
“I thought you’d be safely tucked in your bed by now,” Gard said, casually voicing his surprise at finding her there.
When he stopped, it was only inches from her—much too close for her strained composure to handle. Rachel turned at right angles to face him, thus increasing the intervening space. She felt the stirring of her senses in direct reaction to his presence.
“It’s such a beautiful night that I came out for some fresh air before turning in.” It was a defensive answer, as if she needed to justify her reason for being there. She was disturbed by the effect he was having on her.
“Don’t let my coming chase you inside,” Gard murmured, seeming to know it was in her mind to leave now that he was here.
“I won’t,” she replied in denial of her true desire.
“It’s a calm night,” he observed, briefly releasing her from the steadiness of his dark gaze to cast an eye out to sea. “You’re lucky to have such smooth seas on your first cruise.”
“It’s been perfect,” Rachel agreed.
His gaze came back to drift over her smoothly composed features. “It isn’t always like this when you sail on the ‘bosom of the deep.’ At times you’re forcibly reminded that bosoms have been known to heave and swell.”
The downward slide of his gaze lingered on the bodice of her gown, subtly letting her know that he was aware of the agitated movement of her breasts, which betrayed her altered breathing rhythm. The caressing quality of his look seemed to add to the excitement of her senses. Irritated that he had noticed her disturbance and, worse, that he had drawn attention to it, Rachel could barely suppress her resentment.
“And I’m sure you are an expert on bosoms, aren’t you, Mr. MacKinley?” There was veiled sarcasm in her accusing observation.
“I’m not without a limited experience on the subject,” Gard admitted with a heavy undertone of amusement in his voice.
“I believe that,” she said stiffly.
“I knew you would,” he murmured and dragged deeply on the cigarette. Smoke clouded the air between them, obscuring Rachel’s view of him. “I don’t believe I mentioned how becoming that gown is to you.”
“Thank you.” Rachel didn’t want a compliment from him.
“I suppose it’s fitting. Black, for a not-so-merry widow.” He seemed to taunt her for the apparent absence of a sense of humor.
“It’s hardly widow’s weeds.” She defended her
choice of dress. “No well-dressed woman would be without a basic black in her wardrobe.”
“I’m glad to hear it. If you aren’t regarding that gown as widow’s black, you must have begun accepting social invitations,” Gard concluded. “I’m having a small cocktail party in my suite tomorrow evening and I’d like you to come.”
“A small party ... of one?” Rachel was skeptical of the invitation. A jet-black brow arched in challenge. “Am I supposed to accept, then find out when I arrive that nobody else was invited?”
“That’s a bit conceited, don’t you think?” The glowing red tip of his cigarette was pointed upward for his idle contemplation of the building ash before his glance flicked to her.
“Conceited?” His response threw her.
“You inferred my invitation was a ruse to get you alone in my cabin. That is presuming that I
want
to get you alone in my cabin. Don’t you think you’re jumping to premature conclusions?”
“I ...” Rachel was too flustered to answer, suddenly caught by the thought that she might have misjudged him. An inner heat stained her cheeks with a high color.
An ashtray was attached to the railing post and Gard snubbed out the cigarette and dropped the dead butt into it. When he looked at Rachel, she was still struggling for an answer.
“I admit the idea is not without a definite appeal, but it isn’t behind the reason I invited you to my suite,” he assured her. “I am having a few of my friends on board in for cocktails—Hank and the purser among others. I thought you might like to
join us—especially since you expressed an interest in the suite at dinner this evening.”
“That was for Helen’s benefit.” Rachel admitted the reason behind her inquiry.
“Why?” he asked with a quizzical look.
“Because she found our names on the passenger list posted in the Purser’s Lobby, with the same cabin number.” She paused to lend emphasis to the last phrase. “She remembered I had said we weren’t married. She put two and two together and came up with a wanton answer. So I tried to make it clear to her that we weren’t sharing a cabin.”
A low chuckle came from his throat, not improving the situation at all. Her brief spate of embarrassment fled, chased by a sudden rush of anger.
“I don’t think it’s funny,” Rachel said thinly.
“It’s obvious you don’t.” Gard controlled his laughter, but it continued to lace through his voice. “It wouldn’t be the first time an unmarried couple shared the same cabin on a ship. Why do you care what that woman thinks? You know it isn’t true and that should be good enough.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have expected you to understand.” It was a muttered accusal as Rachel made to walk past him rather than waste any more of her time trying to make him see her side of it.
A black-sleeved arm shot out in front of her and blocked the way, catching her by the arm and swinging her back to face him. Both hands held her when she would have twisted away. A slate-colored turbulence darkened her eyes as Rachel glared up at him.
“Why should it upset you so much because a
bunch of strangers might think we’re having an affair?” There was a narrowed curiosity in his probing look. “I’m beginning to think the lady protests too much,” Gard suggested lazily.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” But Rachel strongly suspected that she had become too sensitive about any involvement with him, thanks to Fan’s advice. It had put her thoughts toward him on a sexual basis right from the start.
The grip of his hands was burning into her flesh, spreading the sensation of his touch through her body. In defense of being brought any closer to him, her hands had lifted and braced themselves against the flatness of his hard stomach.
“What is it you’re fighting, Rachel?” he asked with a quizzical look. “It isn’t me. So it must be yourself.”
“I simply find it awkward being alone with you when so many people have made the mistake of thinking we’re married,” she insisted, her pulse flaring at this contact with him. “It’s bound to put ideas in your head.”
“And yours?” Gard suggested knowingly.
There was a split-second hesitation before Rachel slowly nodded. “Yes, and mine, too.”
“And these ideas,” he continued in a conversational tone while his hands began absently rubbing her arms and edging closer to her shoulder blades in back, slowly enclosing the circle, “you don’t want anything to come of them.”
“Nothing would,” she insisted because the cruise only lasted seven days. And at the end of it they would also part. That was always the way of it.
These sensations she was feeling now would leave, too, when the freshness of them faded.
“How can you be so sure?” Gard questioned her certainty.
“I’m not a starry-eyed girl anymore.” She was a mature woman with certain adult needs that were beginning to be brought home to her as she started to feel the warmth of his body heat through the thin fabric of her gown. “I know all things have a beginning and an end.”
“But it’s what’s in between that counts,” he told her and lowered his head to fasten his mouth onto her lips.
The searching intimacy of his kiss unleashed all the restless yearnings to sweep through her veins and heat her with their rawness. Her hands slid inside the warmth of his jacket and around the black satin cummerbund to spread across the corded muscles of his back, glorying in the feel of the hard, vital flesh beneath her fingers.
There was sensual expertise in his easy parting of her lips and the devastating mingling of their mouths. Her senses were aswim with the stimulating scent of him, male and musky. The beat of her heart was a roar in her ears, deafening her to any lingering note of caution. His shaping hands moved at random over her spine and hips, pressing her to his driving length.
A raw shudder went through her as his mouth grazed across her cheek to nibble at her ear, his breath fanning the sensitive opening and sending quivers of excitement over her skin. Rachel turned her head to the side when he continued his intimate
trail down the cord in her neck and nuzzled at the point where it joined her shoulder. She could hear the roughened edge of his breathing. There was a measure of satisfaction in knowing she wasn’t the only one aroused.
Then he was drawing back slightly to rest his hard cheekbone against her temple, his lips barely brushing the silken texture of her black hair. While his hands were curved to the hollow of her back, Rachel slipped her arms from around him so she could glide them around his neck.
“I told you it’s what’s in between that counts,” Gard said with a rough edge to his voice that left her in no doubt of his desires. “And you can’t deny there’s something between us.”
“No.” The way she was trembling inside, Rachel couldn’t possibly deny it. Neither could she tell whether it was purely sexual or if there was an emotional fire there as well. Liking a person was often a spontaneous thing; so was physical attraction. But love took a little longer.
“I thought I’d get an argument out of you on that one,” he murmured, absently surprised at her easy agreement, but only she knew the qualification she had attached to it.
When his mouth turned toward her, she welcomed its possession. Her fingers curled into the mahogany thickness of his hair to pull his head down and deepen the kiss. She arched her body more tightly against the vital force of his, her breasts making round impressions on his solid chest. There was a completeness to the moment, the iron
feel of a man’s arms about her and the passion of a hungry kiss breathing life into her desires.
Locked together in the heat of their embrace, it was several seconds before either of them became aware of the suppressed titters behind them and the whispered voices. Their lips broke apart as they both turned their heads to see the elderly couple tiptoeing past them. Rachel recognized them as the pair that had been so grateful for her help that morning when she had carried juice to the table for them.
They had seemed a romantic pair despite their advanced age. She didn’t really mind that they had been the ones who had seen her kissing Gard. Still, this was a fairly public place to indulge in such private necking. She lowered her arms to his chest and gently pushed away.