Catch Me If You Can (12 page)

She shook her head, smiling. “I cannot help being curious, and…I find I wish to know you better.”

There was that heavy glance again, luring him in.

Rivers coughed and rearranged his necktie. This was no easy task he’d set himself. “I’m a Guillaime through and through. I’ve my reasons for not being with my family or being associated with them. I wished to create my own destiny.”

He could feel his expression tightening. He didn’t want to dwell on the issue. If she continued to quiz him, he might well tell her the whole truth about his break with his family. If he did, she may not want anything to do with him, which would make his carefully made plans to escort her even more difficult to execute.
God forbid.

“I’ve intruded,” she whispered, her expression concerned. “I’m sorry.”

“Eleanor, it’s simply history I left behind a long time ago.” 

They turned the deck for a third time.

“I think perhaps it’s time. Would you care to visit the bridge, most important business is done by the captain and his crew?” 

She smiled up at him and took his arm again. “Yes I would and thank you, Rivers. That was a wonderful idea.” She glanced up at the row of windows marking out the bridge. “I would love to do so, with you.”

He didn’t miss the inference, and thanked god he’d had the foresight to arrange a distraction.

* * *

The bridge was sparser than either of them had imagined. There were rows of controls along all the windows and the ship’s wheel stood alone in the center of the space, rising up from the floor on a huge brass column. The room was subdued in lighting, with only one officer watching over the controls. He welcomed them in.

“Once the course has been set,” the officer explained, “as long as the conditions are good, there’s no need to have a full compliment of men. The lookouts are located elsewhere of course, and the first officer can easily be reached in an emergency.” He indicated the brass communication nozzle hanging on the wall.

Eleanor walked around, peering at all the dials and buttons with interest.

Rivers followed, enjoying her curiosity. The brass cases of the dials gleamed, thin hands flicking over the gauges.

She walked over to the ship’s wheel and touched it gently, as if impressed by the huge carved wooden object and the power it had to guide the ship through the waves. She unbuttoned her heavy coat and loosened it. A skein of her hair had come undone and trailed over one shoulder. He quelled the urge to go over to her, lift the soft hair and pin it back in place. It was a strangely intimate urge, the likes of which he’d never encountered before.

“Doesn’t someone need to steer the ship?” she asked.

“No, the course is set and the steering is locked for the majority of the journey,” the attendant officer replied. He then collected a logbook he’d been writing in and stepped into a small anteroom. They could hear him but he’d gone quite out of view.

Eleanor watched the officer’s departure then regarded Rivers with a determined expression.

He realized she was about to say something. The tension between them had notched up, rapidly.

“Rivers, we find ourselves all alone here…here at the heart of the matter.” 

He stared at her, the blatantly flirtatious look in her eyes registering quickly and firing his blood.

She slipped her hand onto his arm and drew it in around her waist. She moved her mouth close to his ear. “I enjoyed the kiss you pleasured me with in Oaklands. Could I avail of another?” 

As she moved her head back she let her lips draw across his cheek.

Why, the little wanton is leading me on!

First she demanded he leave her alone, then she interrogated him about his history, and now she was propositioning him. The irony of the situation struck him as he gazed at the intense desire expressed in her upturned face.

“Here, Miss Craven? Is that not rather reckless, even for you?”

“Right here, right now.” She reached her lips to his and kissed him.

He found her mouth soft and pliant and he returned her kiss hotly, his passion flaring. She reached for his chest, sliding both her arms around him, and pulled his body against hers. He fast reacted.

A soft moan escaped her when his hard body crushed against her soft one.

He pulled away to look at her. He couldn’t believe it was happening, and had to reassure himself. Steadying himself with one hand on the control panel, he found himself looking into mischievous eyes, eyes that sparkled with fire. Her lips were darkening, patches of color high on her cheeks indicating her arousal. There was no denying it was happening.

“Mr. Rivers, please take the controls once more,” she said, glancing down at his hands, and laughed in delight.

“You are being outrageous, you little minx.” His embraced her waist and then shifted his hands higher, to the underside of her breasts. His dipped down and rested his lips on the small area of soft skin that was uncovered at the base of her neck.

He caressed the outline of her body, encased in soft wool and layered undergarments.
Damn the gown
. He longed to remove every stitch of clothing and kiss her whole body from head to toe. He longed to hear more of those sweet moans of pleasure she was making. He trailed kisses down the soft skin of her throat.

“I find you affect me in astonishing ways, Mr. Rivers,” she murmured.

The words sent tension through his body, which was already taut with amorous desires. He growled against her throat, then pressed her back over the illuminated dials to kiss her again.

A sound reached him, reminding him where they were.

The officer was returning. Lifting his head, he caught sight of a reflection of himself in the mirrored dials. He had a crazed look on his face, as if he’d been thrown overboard and hauled back in.
What on earth is happening here?

He straightened up, backed away from her.

Desire filled her eyes, her expression laced with disappointment when he moved away. She was like a little lost kitten that needed to be stroked again.

At that moment he realized what it was that made her so fascinating to him. Her perfect mixture of candor and innocence. That was far too heady a concoction in an attractive young lady for him or any man to be able to deal with in a logical fashion.

“I’ll escort you back to the terrace lounge.”

He gave the officer a curt acknowledgement and thanked him for his time, then directed Eleanor out by the arm.

He led her quickly down the many staircases and corridors back toward the passenger decks, relying on their pace to rule out the possibility of further conversation or interaction.

“Is it your intention to run me off my feet?” she said, on their third staircase, and she gasped for breath.

He drew to a halt. “It is my intention to deliver you back to your friend. I’ll comply with your request to leave you alone by maintaining some distance between us, which –- might I point out – I’ve tried to do, despite your endeavors to make that request untenable.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Can’t I admit to being in error when I made the request?”

The plea in her expression made him ache. He softened. He knew how hard that must have been for such a headstrong young woman to admit. Her contrition was adorable.

“The thing is I don’t believe you were in error, my sweet.” The small distance between them was vanishing again. He sighed. “It’s for the best.” He lifted her chin with one finger, allowing himself one moment to sink into her eyes. The longing he saw there was echoed within him. “In the confines of the ship, I find you a dangerous temptation.”

Her eyes widened, as if she were surprised at his comment.

Act now, further your cause.
“May I call on you at your friend’s home in New York, where we can hope to restore our friendship?”

She nodded. There was confusion in her expression. However, it couldn’t equal the turmoil in his mind. His shallow attempts at reason and logic could only push forth the alternate plan he’d been considering, to monitor her and waylay her in New York.

“Are you intending to avoid me entirely, until then?” she whispered.

“Believe me, I don’t wish to do so, but perhaps it’s for the best.”

He glanced around and found they weren’t far from their original starting point. “Can you find your way from here?”

She nodded again, sadness in her expression.

He bent over her hand, kissing it gently, his eyes closing. Then he said goodbye.

Back in his cabin, he couldn’t rid himself of the bereft, unhappy look she’d given him as he took his leave. Would it have been madness to stay with her, or had it been madness to leave her side?

* * *

Eleanor burned up with embarrassment.

Yet again, she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of Mr. Rivers. He didn’t find her attractive. It was as simple as that. It had to be. He’d said he wanted to “restore their friendship.”

She vowed not to be so foolish again.

From that moment on, she flung herself instead into the activities offered aboard ship, partaking in both shuffleboard and a draughts tournament before the afternoon was out. It was quite exhausting, and still it was impossible to keep her mind from wandering back over what had taken place between them.

After dinner that evening, Hilda, the dowager from the captain’s dinner table, attached herself to the two young women – much to Miette’s chagrin. However, Eleanor was glad of any such distraction and asked her and Miette to share a game of backgammon with her, in order to fill her mind with something other than memories of Rivers – his powerful arms, and the astounded look on his face when she’d been forward.

Miette took her leave at the mention of the game and retired to her cabin.

“Your friend is a flighty thing,” Hilda said, when she’d gone.

Eleanor didn’t know quite how to reply, being both implicated and amused at the same time.

The older woman, however, developed a sparkle in her eyes. “Mind you, there’s nothing wrong with that, when you are young enough to enjoy it.” She smiled to herself, as if hunting back through her grand collection of memories. “When my husband and I headed to the Klondike back in the fifties, many a lusty young man was after me as we traveled along the route.” She sighed deeply, her massive bosom heaving with the effort. “Not that I suppose you would believe that, looking at this old lady in front of you now?” 

She sat back in her chair and looked at Eleanor, awaiting her response.

“You traveled to the Klondike?” Eleanor said, her eyes opening wide.

The dowager looked surprised, for she’d obviously been expecting a gracious remark about her looks, which would have set her rambling through the long tale of her love life.

“Yes, m’dear. Wagon train, 1852. Bit of an eccentric my husband. God rest him.” 

Eleanor’s spirits lifted at the unexpected find. “I must hear all about it. I’m most keen to travel overland myself and have an eager ear for anyone’s experiences.” 

The evening pianist had taken his seat and began to play.

Eleanor drew her chair nearer to her companion.

It was obviously not quite what Hilda had in mind, but she quickly adapted her storytelling material to suit the company.

Eleanor kept her chatting until well after they should have retired, and until she’d quite worn the old dear out. Hilda had painted some marvelous images with her tales. It was the perfect antidote to the unfortunate episode earlier that day. That night, Eleanor’s dreams were filled with sights and experiences she hoped to experience on her own journey.

* * *

The following morning Eleanor lay in her bath watching the water as it followed the roll of the ship, thinking of the journey ahead. The lap of the water against the sides of the bath seemed quite dramatic all of a sudden. It splashed quite high on one side, spilled over the edge of the tub, then veered back to do the same on the other side. The weather was changing. The sea was getting rougher.

She left it until eleven before journeying along to Miette’s cabin.

The ship lurched dramatically and she bumped along the corridors, knocking into other passengers who clasped onto her, before continuing their passage in their own direction. Stewards were putting ropes along the corridor for the passengers to hold onto as they walked. She also noticed the ominous presence of red buckets hanging from hooks, every ten feet or so. She was about to ask their purpose when a passenger staggered toward one, green to the gills.

She tapped lightly on the door and it was opened as before. Miette was wrapped in a sheet, hair awry. When she put her finger to her lips Eleanor wondered if this occurrence would be repeated on every morning of the voyage.

However, Miette crooked a finger and beckoned her in, walking back toward the bed, the sheet trailing behind her. The bed was empty.

Eleanor shut the door and followed her.

She was about to say something when the sound of splashing water emanated from the bathroom. Miette wasn’t alone, after all. She turned, horror stricken, to Miette, who again put her fingers to her lips and assumed a serious expression, indicating Eleanor should do the same.