A Wedding Story (18 page)

“Somebody should have pressed you into the diplomatic core long ago,” he mumbled under his breath. “The Americans might have avoided that whole business in the Philippines.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He grabbed her elbow and tugged her a few feet away from her clutch of admirers, who had now expanded to five. “We’ve got to get you out of here before there’s a riot.”

Stunning as she was, Jim wasn’t at all sure he liked this version. The woman who’d chased up and down the seacoast with him, that was
his
Kate. The one that only he had been allowed to see and appreciate. This Kate—this was the Kate that belonged to Dr. Goodale. Or rather, he decided, a woman who might have allowed a few men along the way to believe that, but who’d never given away a piece of herself that she hadn’t calculated to the precise quarter-inch.

His Kate,
he thought, bemused and more than a little concerned. Just when had he started to consider her that? Better he was reminded now, before it was too late, that she was not his Kate and would never be. She was her own Kate, and any man who believed otherwise was a fool.

“Not to worry,” she said. “I’m going.” She turned to face the harbor. “Will you wait again?”

“For what?”

“For me to take care of things.”

“There’re barely two hours before she sails,” he reminded her.

She tossed her head and gold shimmered like a king’s treasure. “This won’t take long.”

Except that it did, much longer than Kate anticipated. Talking her way onto the ship proved to be simple, but tracking down the captain was nearly impossible. Truly, shouldn’t the man be at his helm this close to sailing? There were people everywhere, rushing here and there, the decks crowded with passengers, reporters, and dignitaries with temporary passes, and workers still loading supplies. So by the time she’d completed her business and dashed back to the dock, Jim was gone.

There’d been no time to look for him. She’d hesitated only a moment before scurrying back aboard.

And so now she sat in her cabin, on the little pseudo-Louis XIV settee which was no less pretty for being pseudo—and tried to decide what to do next. Unpack? Freshen up for the departure? Begin searching this monstrous behemoth of a ship for the next clue?

She’d become so accustomed to Jim’s ordering her around—whether she followed his commands or not—that his absence now was unsettling, as if she were listening to an orchestra where one instrument was perpetually a beat behind.

And then her door flew open and he was there, soaked to the skin, clothes clinging to a form that seemed much larger in the small space of the cabin than he had in the open air.

“You’re dripping seawater on the carpet,” she told him. “It’d be a shame to ruin it already.”

“Toss me a towel, would you?” Unconcerned, he dropped his pack, as sopping wet as he, to the floor and shook himself like a dog, spraying droplets.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She raced over to the small armoire bolted to the wall beside the porcelain sink, grabbed a thick white towel off the stack, and tossed it to him. “It’s a very good thing you’re usually in a tent, if this is how you treat a decently decorated place.”

He scrubbed the towel briskly over his head and then looped it around his neck, hanging on to both ends as he contemplated her through the dark, damp strands of his hair drooping over his eyes. “What were you doing?”

“Right now?” At his nod, she continued, “Waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” he repeated with enough surprise to make her smile.

“Oh, I had a suspicion that a little detail like a ticket wouldn’t keep you off this ship,” she said, then looked pointedly at the puddle around his feet. “Though if you’d had a bit more trust in me and waited, I could have gotten you on without quite so much…trouble.”

He shrugged. “Needed the exercise.”

“How’d you find me so quickly?”

“Believe me, darling, all I had to do was eavesdrop on a couple of the sailors. Your arrival on board was not exactly unremarked upon.”

“It’s so nice to be noticed.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, carefully neutral, then quickly surveyed the cabin. “Nice place.”

“Yes, it is.”

One of the smallest of the first-class cabins—a fact for which Captain Dupree had apologized most profusely—it was nevertheless well appointed. The berth stowed neatly away, leaving a charming salon with furniture that looked as if it had been stolen from a lovely chateau. There were taps for both cold and hot water, subdued electric lighting, and a button which the captain had assured her would summon a steward in a matter of moments.

“So? What did you have to promise to get it?”

“Jim!” Pain stabbed, quick and sure. How
dare
he, after all this time—

“I’m sorry.” He took a step toward her and lifted one hand, as if he meant to touch her. Water trailed off his cuff. He grimaced and stayed where he was. “Jesus, Kate, I’m sorry.
Sorry.
It was a reflex. An idiotic one, I’ll admit. But there you were, looking like…” He trailed off.

“Like Dr. Goodale’s wife?” she asked tightly.

“I—” He clamped his jaw together.

Sometime in the last few weeks, she noted, the man had finally learned when to shut up. “Never mind,” she said, wondering just why it bothered her so much. It wouldn’t have before—when had she ever cared what others thought, except as necessary to further her own ends? But he’d seemed to believe her so easily in that cave, the kind of faith that no one but her sisters had ever shown in her. It had…touched her, tempted her.

Oh, grow up, Kate, she scolded herself. The man had a reflex reaction. And hadn’t she had enough of building him up into something he wasn’t by now? “Besides, I do owe this”—her gesture encompassed the entire cabin, and perhaps more—“to Doctor Goodale. Have you heard of Emile Marcil?”

“Who hasn’t? Banking magnate, railroad magnate, shipping magnate. Not to mention owner of this fine vessel.”

“That’s the one. Also an old acquaintance of Dr. Goodale’s. And mine.”

“An admirer,” he said.

“Well. Of a sort.” She would have given a lot to know what was going on behind Jim’s neutral expression. There were few men who could hide things from her, especially after she’d spent some time and effort into discovering their secrets. It was alternately frustrating and immensely intriguing that he continued to be able to do so. “Marcil came over on the maiden voyage, of course, and is staying for some time in New York. He’s quite pleased at the publicity generated by having part of the competition take place on his ship, and more than delighted to allow me passage back.”

“So there’s no more Katie Riley, hmm?”

“Oh, no, he’s more than happy to keep my little secret. And you, by the way, were to be my trusted manservant. He even offered you a third-class cabin. Not nearly as nice as this, of course, but I’m sure it would be far more comfortable than you’re going to be as a stowaway, bedding down in some hidden corner of the cargo hold. Not to mention having to work off your passage as a stoker once you get caught.”

“Lucky for me that won’t be a problem, isn’t it? Since I’ll be staying in here with you.”

Her blasé confidence evaporated.
A bed. A door. Jim.

Trouble.
“What?”

“What’s the problem? You’ve been sleeping with me all along—”

“I have not been
sleeping with
you.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“I—” Mercifully, the long blast of the ship’s horn split the air, saving her from having to explain something that she couldn’t.

“Guess we’re shipping out,” Jim said. “Want to go?”

“I suppose we shouldn’t miss it, should we?” And we shouldn’t stay in here alone, skirting on the edge of things that were best approached cautiously, if at all, she thought.

“We shouldn’t.” He offered his elbow, which dripped steadily, and for a moment Kate wondered if it were only the launch he referred to.

“Aren’t you going to change?”

“Into what?”

“Oh.” She started to take his arm, then thought better of it. She tugged off her gloves and tossed them on a small, marble-topped table before linking her hand through his arm. His flesh was cold, the fabric so wet as to be no barrier at all. She swallowed hard.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” she said.
Ready for what
, she wondered.
Ready for anything?

They peeked at the port side of the ship, a wild, happy festival both on board and ashore, jam-packed with people, confetti, and streamers thickly showering the air and the excited crowds. And then, deciding that even in that carnival Jim’s appearance might provoke one too many questions, they retreated to the starboard side.

In contrast, here it was nearly deserted. They chose a spot on the lowest promenade, near the stern, so they could look out at the water as the rest of the passengers contemplated the land.

Jim leaned on his elbows on the mahogany rail, his face unreadable as he stared out at the river.

“The beginning of another journey,” she said. “You must feel right at home.”

He took so long to answer she’d begun to think he wouldn’t. “Yes.”

One syllable, that did nothing but whet her curiosity. “Do you have a plan for the next trip? After this is over?”

“No.”

Clearly the man was not in a mood to be forthcoming. But when had that ever stopped her? “You must have some idea, though? Someplace that you’d like to return to, or somewhere you’ve never been?” It would be helpful to fix it in her mind. Jim would be leaving when this venture was over, heading off to someplace that the mere mention of would give her shudders. It would keep her from letting her imagination run away with her again.

There was one final blast and a cheer went up from the other side of the ship. Powerful engines rumbled deep within the hull, and the ship inched from her berth.

“You should go back.” Jim pointed over his shoulder with his chin. “No reason to miss all the fun.”

Kate turned away from the water, and him, choosing instead to survey the ship. “She really is magnificent, isn’t she? The next clue could be anywhere.”

Jim made a noncommittal sound.

“I believe I’ll begin the search,” she said. There was clearly no point in talking to him right now. “Why wait?”

“Good.”

“Are you coming?” Kate asked.

“You take half the ship, I’ll take the rest,” Jim said. “You pick.”

Kate huffed and flounced down the deck. Jim tried not to watch but couldn’t help sneaking a peek or two. Damn, but the woman flounced well. A jiggle here, a wiggle there. If the aim of a woman’s flouncing was to get a man to come after her, he had to admit hers was world-class.

But he was sticking with staring at the water. She hadn’t earned his rudeness and he knew it, but he just…he just had nothing to say about what happened when this contest ended. Why couldn’t women comprehend that sometimes a man just had nothing to say? Best that she understood it right now. Of course he was going back out. That’s what he did. And if heading out in search of the unknown now had a few terrible memories attached, well, he’d just have to get over it, wouldn’t he?

It’s what he was. Moving out, moving on. He knew nothing else, knew how to do nothing else. And if the truth was that he’d never quite found what he was looking for out there, that didn’t mean a man should quit trying.

Boats clustered around the ship, carrying city officials, reporters, curiosity seekers, barely giving the ship enough clearance. The
Emperor
eased through the water; she’d be slow and careful until they cleared the river and the bay beyond.

Hands flat on the smooth railing, he leaned over to watch the water slip beneath, the movement barely perceptible. His chest smacked against the railing as someone hit him hard from behind, nearly sending him over the rail. He clutched at it, dipping his knees as he bent to bring the bulk of his weight safely below the rail’s danger point. But then hands slammed beneath his back, pushing him up. Reflexively Jim dropped one shoulder into solid mass, and then heaved upward. His attacker, who’d thrown all of his weight behind his own upward thrust, had too much momentum and was catapulted over the railing.

“Aahh!”

The shout brought Kate running, dashing back with her skirts lifted, with more speed than he’d given her credit for. She leaned over the railing, then whirled on Jim. “You threw him overboard?”

“No. He was throwing
me
overboard. I just went with it.” Lifesaving rings hung along the promenade wall. Jim grabbed the nearest, took firm hold of the rope, judged his target, and gave the ring a toss.

“But—but—” She bent over the side again, far enough to give him a sweet view of the curve of her rump, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d seen the first time. “That’s the major…oh, hell, Major What’s-his-name.”

“Major Huddleston-Snell.” The major bobbed in the water, arms flailing. His lips were flapping, too, and Jim had a perverse wish to know just exactly what the major was calling him. The lifesaving ring was just out of his reach and Jim took three quick steps down the promenade, trailing the ring into position. When the Major grabbed it, Jim let go of the rope. “Good thing the ship’s not moving too fast yet, isn’t it?”

“But—you—he could
drown
.”

“Naw. One of those boats’ll pick him up in no time. Good story some reporter’ll get out of it, too.” True to his word the nearest boat, a spiffy mahogany pleasure launch, spurted through the waves toward the major.

She gaped at him and Jim couldn’t help but smile. She was so shocked. Imperturbable I-know-men-better-than-they-know-themselves Kate was completely stunned by what he’d done.

“But—”

“Somehow I think we’ll have no more trouble with broken stairways and missing maps and stolen boats.”

“Hmm. Really?”

“I’d bet on it. A bit of convenient sabotage now and then is the major’s stock in trade. I’ve got more than one scar to prove it.”
Oh, just give me a chance,
he thought.
I’d love to make you just that shocked again. In a much, much better way.