Separate Cabins

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.

Chapter Five

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 solit

ude. 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.