Catch Me If You Can (13 page)

Eleanor shook her head. She couldn’t possibly stay if the captain was here.

The bathroom door handle turned. It was too late to escape.

Eleanor’s stomach tightened with the suspense. The door opened and a naked man emerged, his face buried in a towel. Eleanor averted her eyes from what she assumed was the captain’s manly nakedness, but as the man removed the towel and looked up she realized it wasn’t him at all, it was in fact Officer Freddie Simpkins.

The young man stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her standing there, his eyes large and his expression aghast as he looked from one woman to the other. His mouth fell open and he quickly moved the towel southerly, to hide his embarrassment.

Eleanor looked at Miette who had assumed an innocent, enquiring expression. Eleanor maintained her composure as best she could, wondering what would happen next. She didn’t intend to say anything, and clearly Miette was going to wait and see what the poor man did next.

Freddie gulped nervously then glanced around the cabin in desperation. He darted out, grabbed his clothes from a chair, ran back into the bathroom, and bolted the door heavily behind him. A muffled groan of despair followed.

The two women looked at each other and Eleanor had to cover her mouth to quell the laughter bubbling up inside. Miette turned on the bed and rolled her face onto the pillow, her body convulsing.

When he eventually emerged, dressed, his face was pink to his hair roots and his eyes seemed unable to look anywhere but at the floor. Eleanor was seated in a chair to one side of the cabin, where Miette had instructed her to sit, and she herself was propped up on her pillows, a blanket held delicately up to her shoulders.

He mumbled, “Excuse me, ladies,” and nodded vaguely around the cabin, his head bobbing about as if he wasn’t exactly sure where they were.

He started toward the door with his hand outstretched to the handle.

The ship lurched, and he was thrown off his course. With a loud gasp, he clambered back to the door, breathing fiercely, like some desperate, condemned man. He wrenched the door open as the ship again lurched, and his hands clawed at the frame. He finally dragged himself through the door, the ship apparently endeavoring to make his escape every bit as difficult as the two women had.

It was a long time before they stopped laughing. Eleanor joined Miette on the bed and their two bodies quaked with it while they spoke disjointed sentences to one another, recounting the poor man’s actions and expressions.

“You are cruel, Miette,” Eleanor said, eventually calming, her stomach aching with laughter.

Miette gave a vague wave of dismissal with her hand in response.

“Hardly,” she replied. “I was hoping that finding us both here, he would pleasure us both with his attentions.” 

Both of them?
Eleanor stared at her friend in stunned disbelief. She was quite convinced she knew nothing about the world and its peculiar ways, after all. Seeing the smirk on her friend’s face, though, she quickly gathered herself. “If that was your plan then you should have picked a more mature man.”

She was bluffing and Miette clearly knew it.

She lay back against her pillows and looked at Eleanor with narrowed eyes. “A more mature man, such as…Ari Redon?”

The unexpected mention of their old fencing master startled Eleanor. “Ari?”

“Yes, Ari.” Miette reached for the steward button and pressed three times, her code to beckon for Felix. “He’s in New York.” 

Eleanor stared at her, her mind trying to comprehend the series of revelations Miette had launched on her.

“Oh dear, I feel the sea in my stomach.” Miette grimaced at the increasing roll in the ship’s passage, but continued with her story. “Ari was suspended from his position in Toulouse. It was the dragon, Madame de Oublette. You were correct when you said that she wanted him. However, Ari didn’t want her. She saw to it that his reputation was ruined.”

Eleanor listened, fascinated. Miette hadn’t told her this before now.
Why not?

“I kept in touch with him and, eventually, when I settled into New York society, I arranged for him to take a teaching post there. In fact we sponsored a new fencing academy and he’s now the director.” She looked at Eleanor. “We see him regularly.” 

Before Eleanor had a chance to muster a reply, there was a tap at the door and Felix entered.

“Felix, darling, please bring me some warm milk and a poached egg. Do you know if we have to endure this rough weather for long?” 

Felix came right over to them, his legs brushing against the bed, his sharp eyes taking in the two women amongst the tumble of sheets and pillows.

“I believe it may be like this or worse for some time.” 

“Oh dear, better make it milk and brandy then. I’ll try to sleep through it.” 

Eleanor was surprised for she’d not realized that her feisty friend had such a delicate constitution. The movement of the ship hadn’t affected her own well being adversely. “I’ll leave you to sleep then, unless there is anything I can do?” 

Miette waved her hand vaguely, turning into the pillows.

Eleanor took her leave. As she walked back to her own cabin the news that Miette had imparted sank in.
Ari Redon is in New York.

It was the last thing Eleanor had expected to hear.

Chapter Ten

The Hunter Stalks

The bad weather lasted for several days.

Miette was totally confined to her bed and there appeared to be no sign of Rivers either. Eleanor found herself concerned as to whether he too had been afflicted with the seasickness. She shooed the thought from her mind, for she found it made her worry and she advised herself she shouldn’t be concerned about his well being. For some reason it was difficult to dismiss her concerns altogether.

Christmas Day came and went with a somber collection of passengers gathered for the midday service and the celebratory dinner. Less than one quarter of the tables were occupied and Eleanor once again found herself invited to dine with a small group at the captain’s table.

The captain was as jolly and endearing as ever, delighting her with tales of previous storms he’d encountered, including one where they had to bolt all the doors from the inside and keep everyone including the crew locked in, for fear of being washed overboard. He didn’t appear to notice that many of the guests sat in silence during his tales, the color slowly draining from their faces.

Hilda was seated opposite Eleanor, having dragged herself from her cabin for the special occasion. She sat, strangely diminished in stature, pushing her food around the plate with her fork, one hand constantly on her stomach as if to quell the storm raging there.

“Will the bad weather slow the ship’s progress?” Eleanor asked.

“I’m afraid so, Miss Craven, probably an extra day or even two, if it carries on this way.”  He smiled at her over his punch goblet. It didn’t worry him, he was apparently at one with the elements. “You seem to be faring pretty well, despite the discomfort. Even some of my crew have been hit by this one, but you still seem as rosy as ever.”  

She was pleased at the flattery in his words. She rather enjoyed the image of herself as the intrepid and invincible traveler.

Hilda waved a lace handkerchief in front of her face and mumbled something about leaving their company. She promptly passed out on the table, her plate tipping up against her hair, its contents sliding over the tablecloth. The captain gave a surprised glance at the woman and beckoned to a steward. Eleanor sprang up and asked if anyone had lavender salts. Hilda was soon after returned to her cabin when their efforts to revive her were rewarded by a faint smile on the woman’s gravy stained face.

Eleanor spent much of this time in her cabin reading through her father’s diary and making a list of things she would need to buy in New York, or St Joseph, for the journey on horseback. The diary lifted her spirits, and she planned to give it to Frieda when she arrived in California, for it was Frieda’s story too.

She had her food delivered to her when she was hungry. There seemed little point in trying to keep up the charade of elegant dining when plates slid about on the table and the sounds of crashing utensils from the kitchens provided the music for the occasion. The ship journey had become increasingly boring and for the first time she understood why Miette thought it tedious and had to devise distractions.

The drama of the weather itself entertained her somewhat and she spent a good deal of time watching the sea from the portholes along the enclosed part of the promenade deck. Huddled in her big coat, she let the ship’s movement fill her view entirely with sky one moment and entirely by the peaked waves of the ocean the next. She thought about Ari. She’d been rather enamored of him three years before.

What would transpire if they met again?

She thought, too, about Rivers. She looked for him on her walks.

He was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

In the afternoons she played patience in the terrace lounge, on a table with a covering that helped to hold the cards in place during bad weather. Often she was the only passenger there and the steward adopted a less formal attitude, chatting to her about his work and what they had seen of New York. Meanwhile, the pianist played on and on, the flourish of his hand movements somehow exaggerated by the ships rolling.

She was sitting there one evening when Freddie Simpkins approached, a plea in his expression.
Dear Lord, he’s going to attempt to apologize for his behavior.

The idea of it was too much. She turned her shoulders haughtily away, as if hurt, and when she looked again he’d gone. She felt concerned for him, momentarily, but the thought of his puppy-dog face soon banished it.

To escape his presence, she decided to take a walk around the promenade deck, even though it was already growing dark and the wind had not diminished at all.

She donned her big coat, tied a scarf around her hair and set off. Glancing through the porthole she realized it looked exceedingly rough, but she reminded herself that if it had been too rough to take a walk, the captain would’ve had all the doors locked to keep the passengers and the crew inside. She pulled up her collar and tightened the scarf around her head.

“Isn’t it rather dangerous for a promenade?” 

Rivers stood against the far wall.

A quick glance revealed he was in good health and hadn’t been unnecessarily bothered by the rough seas. Relief poured through her, relief and something else, something like liquid heat welling inside her. She turned to face him and leaned her back against the door to the deck.

“As you well know, I’m quite willing to court danger.” She flashed him a challenging smile. She hadn’t seen him in days and looked at him with fresh, hungry eyes. She noticed then how precisely the line of his hard cheekbones matched that of his brows. His face was dangerously handsome, his eyes sharp and focused. “Besides, the presence of your coat suggests you may also be considering the risk?” 

He came closer and inclined his head, a smile hovering on his lips.

“Indeed…It appears that I, too, thrive on danger.” His tone was cynical, his smile insinuating. He put his hand on the door handle beneath her elbow. “Shall we?” 

There was a devilish edge to his expression.

Their eyes locked, the question hanging between them. They both knew this wasn’t just about a dangerous promenade. No, the danger went much deeper than that. Something twitched inside her, a physical response, a yearning. She nodded.

His hand rested against her back while he eased them through the door and into the face of the dark, stormy night and the ensuing gale. Even through her heavy coat, the touch of his hand made her ache inside.

The gale immediately caught them off balance.

She found herself in his arms and looked up at him, gasping.

A sense of abandon raced through her.
Oh, I feel such desire for him
.

Was it boredom that diminished her sense of responsibility, causing her to step outside, into the stormy weather, into the arms of Mr. Peter Rivers?

His eyes glittered with pleasure and he held her close for a moment, before hauling the door shut behind them and reaching out for the railing. She clung to the rail along the inside of the deck and gasped at the strength of the wind, the icy air catching in her throat and lungs. Water sprayed at her, cold jets of rain and seawater.

He meshed her fingers with his and pulled her onward, into the elements.

Her free hand trailed along the rail, ready to grip for survival. She leaned into the wind, weighing herself against its powerful force, anticipating the lurch of the ship that would realign them.

They passed about twenty feet that way before he moved toward the outer rail, looking back over his shoulder. His hair whipped around his head and she couldn’t discern his features. The roll of the ship sped her toward the outer edge and she gasped when her body hit the rail with unexpected force. He grabbed her against him and she held tight to him, her body pressed hard between him and the rail for support. The roar of the ocean and the wind buffeting her made her as wild and restless as the waves themselves.

He nodded toward the sea. She looked over the edge of the rail and the crested tip of the waves emerged from the encompassing blackness of the ocean. It seemed to suggest, by its very closeness, that she could reach out and touch the waves. Her senses were filled with the experience, the physical nature of it. Her body and mind were locked into the jeopardy.

She twisted round to look up at the ship, to gain some awareness of solidity. The two funnels stood out against the dense sky. A huge light made sweeping arcs across the sea ahead. The bridge was illuminated and other lights dotted about on the decks above them glowed orange in the gloom.

Rivers had his arm around her waist, holding the rail on the other side of her body. He watched her face as she took in the experience. She turned to him, realizing she could see him better now, in the illumination from the lights on the ship above them. His eyes shone, his expression intense.

He spoke but his words were swept away on the wind. He jerked his head back, indicating they should move on. He led, drawing her in against the wall of the deck again. As he turned to make sure she was all right, her scarf flew up into the sky and her hand automatically followed its path. She looked back at him as it disappeared into the darkness of the night and was captured by the passion in his expression. She had a sudden feeling of significance, as if the scarf had torn away some facade between them. They were alone in the face of the elements. A deep tug of affection and desire anchored her to the man who stood watching over her, as if encouraging her to be as wild and free as the wind itself. Was she dreaming this moment?

Her hair leapt up around her, dancing with the wind.

Rivers guided her to one side, into a recess. She caught her breath, the force of the air was less fierce in the more sheltered spot and she leaned against the wall of the bay. A dim light from above illuminated them. He came closer. His eyes were glinting.

“Is this enough danger for you, my dear Eleanor?”

There was more than a question in his eyes, there was a suggestion, and a hollow ache inside her wanted to know what the suggestion was. Her hair was caught again, and wet strands of it whipped across his face as he came closer still. A sudden tremor ran through her body. It was as if they were both possessed by the chaos and passion of the elements.

“Perhaps not…” she dared to whisper. “What else had you in mind?” 

Rivers gave a dark smile, his eyes on her lips. He ran his warm palm up the back of her neck beneath her hair, cupped her head, and pressed his mouth to hers.

The firm warmth of his lips on hers kindled a flame deep inside her, a flame that fired through her blood. Her response was urgent and immediate, his hard lips met by her soft, eager mouth. Their hands left the railing to explore each other. The urgency and passion in his kiss fuelled her, then they lurched apart with the roll of the ship and she laughed. Her hair danced up around her again, and she relished the sense of liberation coursing through her. He hauled her close again and kissed her earlobe, smoothing her wild, flying hair, then pulled back to look at her again.

“Pray tell me, why do you consider this to be dangerous?” She arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Things between us are fragile enough are they not, my dear? If we become...”

“Lovers?” she stated. There was a new directness between them now. Was it a gift from the elements?

He stared into her eyes. “If we become…closer, yes, it will change things between us, forever.” 

He’d been thinking about the implications of this as much as she had. He did want it too. A thrill ran through her. “Rivers, things changed between us the moment you first kissed me, back at Oaklands.” 

He stared at her face.

She smiled. “I wanted you then and I want you now.”

“And I you… you are an attractive woman and very difficult to ignore.” He sighed and brought her fingertips to his lips to be kissed. “If I were thrown overboard, my one regret would be that I had not done this again.”  With that, he took into his arms once more and kissed her deep, long and hard.

Opening to him, she relinquished any last shred of resistance, casting it off into the night winds. She was giddy with arousal, reckless with abandon, thrilled at the mutual desire confirmed in his words.

“Take me,” she whispered.

He groaned, holding her tightly in his arms.

“Make love to me, Rivers, I want you to make love to me…”

“Do you know what you are saying?” His voice was low, a growl in his throat. His eyes were wild, his expression predatory.

She shivered, then nodded.

“Eleanor, it’s been hard enough being close to you, wanting to hold you in my arms and do just that…” His voice was hoarse. “That surely will change things between us.”

“Rivers, if it’s my honor you are concerned with…please remember I’m a grown woman, one who can make decisions on such matters.” She managed to speak with a lot more conviction than she felt. A momentary doubt had crossed her mind. Would he find her gauche and unsophisticated in the ways of lovemaking? Would he prefer a woman like Miette, a sophisticated, knowledgeable collaborator? She hoped with all her heart she wouldn’t disappoint and clutched him, physically reassuring him her desire was strong and her intention real.