Separate Cabins

Rachel straightened from the wall she had so recently leaned against and broke eye contact with him, but that didn’t stop the nervous churnings inside. Moving briskly, she returned the ticket packet to her purse, a certain stiltedness in her actions.

“That’s very amusing, Mr. MacKinley.” But there was no humor in her voice. Just saying his name and knowing it was the same as her own seemed to add to this crazy turmoil.

“Gard,” he insisted, irritating her further with his easy smile because it had a certain directness to it.

She ignored his invitation to address him more familiarly. “We were both assigned to the same cabin by mistake, but it’s a mistake that can be remedied,” she informed him with a trace of curtness, her gray eyes flashing. “The simplest thing for you to do would be to simply move to another cabin.”

“Now, I disagree.” There was a negative tip of his head. “The simplest thing would be to let the present arrangement stand. This suite comes with two separate beds, and there’s more than enough room for both of us.” The corners of his mouth deepened in the suggestion of a dryly amused smile.

All sorts of images flashed through her mind—the prospect of lying in one twin bed knowing he was in the other, bathing with him in the next room, wakening in the morning as he was dressing. Rachel was disturbed by the direction of her own imagination.

It made her rejection that much stronger. “I think not.”

“Why?” Behind the calmness of his question she could see that he was amused by her curt dismissal of the idea. “It could be interesting.”

“I don’t think that is the word I would use to describe it,” she replied stiffly. “But it hardly matters, since I have no intention of sharing my cabin with you.”

“Somehow I knew that would be your answer,” Gard murmured dryly and set his empty glass down to walk to the telephone. She watched him pick up the receiver and dial a number. “This is MacKinley in 347 on the Promenade Deck,” he said into the mouthpiece, sliding a glance at Rachel. “We have a rather awkward situation here. You’d better have the purser come up.” The response must have been an affirmative one because a moment later he was ringing off. “Until it’s decided whose cabin this will be, may I offer you a drink?” Gard gestured toward the wet bar, offering her its selection.

“No, thank you.” The urge was strong to pace the room. The purser couldn’t arrive soon enough and rectify this whole mess as far as Rachel was concerned, but she tried to control her impatience.

Gard took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, then hesitated. “Cigarette?” He shook one partway out of the pack and offered it to her.

“No, I don’t smoke but go right ahead.” She motioned for him to smoke if he wished.

He gave her a look of mock reproval. “You don’t drink. You don’t smoke. You don’t share your cabin with strange men. You must lead a very pure . . . and dull life.” A wickedly teasing light danced in his eyes.

“So others have informed me,” Rachel acknowledged and wondered where her sense of humor had gone. Half the reason Gard MacKinley was making these baiting remarks was because she kept snapping at them. She was handling the situation poorly, and she wasn’t too pleased about it.

A silence followed, broken only by the strike of a match and a long breath expelling smoke into the air. The quiet was nearly as unnerving to Rachel as the conversation had been.

Gard seemed to take pity on her and asked a casual question. “Is this your first cruise?”

“Yes.” Rachel tried to think of something to add to the answer, but her mind was blank.

“Are you traveling alone or do you have friends aboard?”. He filled in the gap she’d left with another question.

“No, I’m alone,” she admitted. “I don’t know a soul.”

“You know me,” Gard reminded her.

“Yes, I do—now.” She was uncomfortable, but how could she be natural with him when they had met so unnaturally?

The knock at the door startled Rachel even though she’d been listening for it. She pressed a hand to her stomach as if to check its sudden lurch. Before she could move to answer it, Gard was swinging across the room to open the door.

“Hello, Gard. It’s damned fine to see you again, boy.” The officer greeted him with a hearty welcome, clasping his arm as he shook his hand. “Hank told me you were aboard this trip.”

“Come in, Jake.” Gard escorted the officer into the sitting room.

He was a short, rounded man with full cheeks and a jovial, beaming smile. When he noticed Rachel in the room, his blue eyes brightened with interest and he removed his hat, tucking it under his arm.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

“Both Mr. MacKinley and I have been given this cabin,” Rachel explained in an even voice. “But we aren’t married.”

“Even though the British pride themselves on running a taut ship, I doubt if Jake would be either shocked or surprised by such an announcement,” Gard informed her dryly, then glanced at the officer. “I’m sorry, Jake. I didn’t introduce you. Meet Mrs. Gardner MacKinley.”

“Mrs. MacKinley?” he repeated and frowned as if he were sure he hadn’t heard right. “But she just said you weren’t married.” He pointed a finger at Rachel. “Are you divorced? I don’t even recall Hank telling me that you’d ever been married.”