Catch Me If You Can (14 page)

He kissed her mouth, her face, and her eyelids. His body was taut with restraint. “Dear god,” he murmured. “I don’t think there’s any way I could turn away from you now.”

“Then it’s settled, let’s go to my cabin.”

* * *

Something akin to madness must have infected his blood, he decided, as he they hauled themselves back inside, their bodies wrestling with the sway. He pressed the door closed behind them and looked around. There was no one else in sight. He wondered vaguely whether he was going insane. He was going to bed her, that much was certain. This thing had gone too far to stop it now.

Eleanor sidled close, put her arm around his neck, and continued the interrupted kiss. She smelt fresh and alive and he tasted the sea on her lips. He wanted to strip her and crush her to him, to hold her lush body and lose himself inside her. He moved her up against the wall, lifting her easily against the hard surface. She gripped his collar in both hands, breathing fast, her eyes wide. He wanted to get her out of her coat, out of her clothes, to feel her need trembling through her naked body, to answer it with his own.

They moved along the corridor.

“No, wait,” he said, and led her different way, a short cut to the cabins along a service route, away from the passenger aisles.

When they were inside her cabin, she quickly raised the light of the lamps, unbuttoning her coat as she went. He stood inside the door, watching her from under furrowed brows. She dropped the coat in a wet heap on the floor and turned back to him. There was a moment of hesitation, a shadow of doubt. Then, as her hands reached for the buttons of his coat, it was gone, and they were both locked into the moment, unable to turn away from the desire that had set its course in their veins.

With a sigh of long withheld need, he lowered his head and kissed her. When she melted against him, everything was pushed from his mind except the hunger he had for her, the deep need that could only be satisfied by uniting them in the most intimate way possible. His hands crept around the outline of her bottom and pulled her close against him. She pulled away and her eyes blazed, beckoning to him, there was a shy nervousness in her expression too. His little wanton, she was such a chameleon. He smiled, pleasure running rich and hot through his veins.

He lifted her skirts while he kissed her. She gasped when his fingers plied beneath her petticoats and headed for her warmth. He found the slit in her drawers and eased his fingers inside.

“Oh my sweet, you are aglow.” His hips shifted, crushing her body against the wall.

“Surely we can make it to the bed?” Patches of color appeared high in her cheeks.

He was struck by the undercurrent of innocence and tenderness in her. She was everything at once, and he was hungry for her as he’d never hungered before.

“I fear I cannot wait another second to touch you in your most intimate places,” he breathed. His fingers stroked over her belly and tenderly slid into the warm soft curves of her most sensitive places.

Her breathing altered.

“You are wet, my darling,” Rivers murmured. He was painfully hard, throbbing urgently, dear god the waiting and the wanting was sweet, now that its end was so close. He eased his finger inside her groove. He groaned when her intimate flesh grasped at him. She breathed quickly, her mouth opening.

“I think we have waited too long already,” he added.

She nodded, her lashes falling, her head going back against the wall.

“Oh,” she whimpered, when his slid his damp finger in and out.

His blood roared. She was ready all right. He coaxed her some more. She moaned and clutched at him. She was so ripe, more than ready, she was close to climax and he wanted to be inside her when she was driven to that particular distraction.

He drew away, abandoned his coat and knelt down to remove her buttoned-up boots, his hands clasping her feet as they slid out. He smoothed her stockings down the length of her legs, looking appreciatively at her exquisite pale flesh and the shapely curves. His need was growing more urgent. He stood and quickly undid the small buttons down her back, his nails scratching at the stiff corset enclosing her waist when it was revealed. She struggled to assist. He managed to free her breasts, squeezing his palms against her corset to press their soft flesh out of its constraints. He dropped down to take her nipples in his mouth. His teeth grazed her flesh, threatening her with their ferocity. Her body arched under him, the laces of her corset dangling neglected in her hands. He tutted and returned to his undressing of her.

When she stood naked, he stepped away to look at her beautiful body, the thing he longed to see and hold. His gaze moved from her flushed face to her gloriously bountiful breasts. Her legs were long and strong, her hips softly curved, her waist an invitation to rest his hands there. Her breasts were already sensitive with their lovemaking – the wine-colored nipples peaked before his eyes.

She blushed.

He took her hand and led her to the bed. She laid back and held her breath when he stroked the full globes of her breasts, then she reached up and parted his shirtfront. She pulled it over his head and fumbled with his breeches. She paused, looking down at the large bulge she encountered, her eyes wide.

“Yes, look at the state you’ve got me in,” he said, accusingly.

She looked positively daunted, the cheeky wench. He pressed her over the bed with one hand on her shoulder, undid the buttons on his breeches and sprung free. She seemed to look at his manhood with a mixture of longing, fear and appraisal. It sent a dangerous thrill through him. He laid his weight over her. He almost came apart immediately when he eased the crown of his cock inside her sweet entry and felt the firm, moist grip of her warm flesh. He drew back, about to thrust deeper and give her the full length of his manhood, when she let out a fevered gasp and her body tensed.

Easing back, he realized he’d met some resistance.

For a moment he couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

Eleanor clutched at his arms, her eyes pleading with him. “Please, Rivers, please don’t stop. I want you there. I want you to take me.”

“I don’t understand, I thought…” He paused, unable to order his thoughts.

She’d mentioned other men. Hadn’t she told him she was mature enough to make this decision?
Oh, but wasn’t that so like her?

“– you are a virgin?”  He was ready to pull away when her legs moved up round his hips, arresting him.

Her fingers gripped onto his shoulders. “Please, Rivers, I’ve wanted this for the longest time.”

By god, she was a determined little wanton, he couldn’t stop now.

He thrust gently and more deliberately, his body closing on hers. He stroked her cheek, soothing her, making her relax again.

The tension in her gave way.

“My sweet love,” he whispered. “Tell me if I hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you.”  

“No it feels good. Oh...Rivers, how I’ve dreamed of you.”

Her words released a heady confirmation in his mind and body.

She’s mine.

He plowed on, rising up onto his arms to thrust into the tender space that she’d offered him. Such a gift, and she’d given it to him. A fierce ache lodged in his chest as he watched the expression on her face change from fear to rapture. Her head rolled from side to side, her mouth open in an ecstatic moan.

“Oh my. The intensity, it overwhelms.” She gasped for breath. Her eyelashes were wet. Even in the grip of impending release he knew it wasn’t the tears of loss but those of extreme pleasure.

He was close to spilling. He slid one hand down to where they were joined. He couldn’t hold out much longer. He silently vowed to bring her pleasure higher… until – yes, there she was – he’d sent her over that dizzy edge.

A startled moan escaped her, her lush, tender flesh embracing him over and over. It was his final undoing. He managed to pull out in time and spilled his warm seed over her belly.

* * *

Lying in his strong arms with the aftermath of those exquisite sensations washing over her body was the most delicious thing Eleanor had ever experienced. His long hard thighs were pressed against hers, his arms gently cocooning her. They nestled that way for some time, regaining their senses. Then he rested soft kisses down the side of her face while he dabbed gently at her belly with the bunched corner of the sheet.

“Why did you…?”  She was looking at where he was wiping away the evidence of their lovemaking.

His mouth twisted in a cynical smile. She saw chastisement in his eyes. “My dear Eleanor, I’m making an effort to salvage something of your honor.” 

He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through her hair, spreading it out across the pillow. “We cannot have you heavy with child when you arrive in California, can we?”

Eleanor blushed, annoyed with herself. If she’d thought about it, if she’d waited until her mind could think straight, she could have worked that one out for herself.
Fool.

She’d been embarrassed when she’d seen the look of horror in his eyes, when he’d realized that she was a virgin. Now she’d made herself look even more gauche and silly.

He shifted his body alongside her, one hand cupping her right breast.

“I’m very annoyed with you,” he said, resting a kiss on her breasts.

Annoyed? He was annoyed, with her?

“What do you mean?”  Her voice was terse. She was starting to get rather annoyed herself. The way he spoke to her, now of all times.

“You misled me, if I had known…” He had a stern look of reprimand in his eyes.

“I didn’t mislead you.” It was a sharp retort.

He ran his finger over her tightening nipple and she rolled away, huffily, annoyed that her traitorous body reacted to his touch so readily.

“Oh yes you did,” he whispered, his hand now cupping her bottom from behind. He chuckled – quite rudely she thought.

“However, now that the act has been done, perhaps we will enjoy more of your brazen behavior as we journey to our destination, together.” 

Her body tensed, her heartbeat pacing up several notches.

How dare he?
How dare he take for granted that they would travel together, when she’d told him quite clearly it wasn’t going to happen?

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

“Mr. Rivers, I may have deemed this…”  She struggled for the words.

“Lovemaking?” he offered, in a sardonic tone.

“Yes, I may have deemed this… lovemaking,” she spluttered out the last word, she couldn’t help herself, she was annoyed. “…appropriate. That doesn’t mean, however, that I’ve abandoned my senses. I won’t allow you to continue to treat me as if I were a helpless female who needs your every guidance.” 

Her little speech was met with silence.

After a few uncomfortable moments, she forced herself to glance round at him. He was lying on the bed as before, but his expression had turned black. His eyes were filled with thunder, his handsome mouth firmly shut as if he were quelling the urge to bellow at her.

He rose to his feet and paced the cabin, grabbing his clothes from the floor and pulling them on.

“You are the most stubborn, hot-headed young woman I’ve ever met,” he said in a low angry tone, as he hurriedly dressed.

“Oh, so you thought that by seducing me you would convince me to travel with you?” Logical thought had gone out the window. “If I …if I’m stubborn then you… you are the most arrogant man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.” 

He turned and glared at her. There was hurt in his eyes. The sight of it sent a deep pang of regret through her. Her words had been too harsh, she wasn’t thinking rationally.

“I apologize,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I over stepped your precious boundaries.”

“Yes, you have,” she blurted. “Our physical  ...compatibility...”

He stared at her, his coat hanging from one hand.

Heat flushed her face and she floundered, recalling the experience so fresh in her body. “Well, it doesn’t seem to temper the obvious clash in our personalities.”

Her voice was still terse but her mood was one of growing sadness. When they had clung together on that intense plane of physical intimacy she’d been so close to him. It seemed their bodies would merge forever. Now the looming chasm of misunderstanding was pushing them apart again. Her heart ached, and she wasn’t sure why. Her body had already begun pining for proximity to his.

He reached for the door. “If that is how you feel, then I deeply regret the intimacy that occurred between us.” His expression was hard, closed. “For my own part, I don’t agree with your sentiments, I will, however, respect them.”

With that he left and once again Eleanor found herself sobbing ruefully into her pillow because of Mr. Peter Rivers.

Chapter Eleven

The Hunter Circles

There was an insistent knock at her door.

Eleanor roused herself. She’d had a fretful, restless night.

“One moment,” she called out.
Could it be him, back to make amends?

She leaped out of bed, and as she reached for her robe she realized the movement of the ship was much calmer. The storm had finally passed.

Miette marched into the cabin when she opened the door, looking as bright and breezy as if she’d never lain sick in her cabin for nearly a week. She walked straight over to the steward button and rang.

“I’m starving. Are you?” Her glance moved to the tousled sheets of the bed. “I suspect you are. You’ve obviously been kept busy in my absence.” She laughed. “Anyone I know? Mr. Rivers, perhaps?” She sidled across to the chair.

Eleanor turned away to go to the mirror and arrange her hair. A pale, morose reflection looked back at her.

“Oh, perhaps. Perhaps not,” she replied.

“How naughty you are, Eleanor.” Miette laughed in delight. “Did you seduce him well? Should I be proud of you?”

Eleanor pondered the question. She wasn’t sure who had seduced whom, after all. She couldn’t suppress a brief, sad smile, aware the passion and desire between them had been wonderfully mutual and all encompassing. If only it hadn’t gone so horribly wrong. She sighed, looking at the forlorn expression in her eyes.

“I don’t want to discuss it,” she announced, when Miette asked again.

Miette shrugged indifferently. “All right then, I won’t pry…anyway we have my party to plan for.”

Yes
, Eleanor thought, recalling that Miette was planning an event for New Year’s Eve, while she was still in New York. It would distract her, she decided, and she attempted to shake off her lassitude. She had to be supportive to her friend and hostess.

Miette ordered them a veritable mountain of food and coffee when the steward appeared. They sat either side of the writing desk eating, and Eleanor related the story of Hilda and the Christmas day meal.

“Oh my, I would have loved to have been there to witness that. The woman is too irritating. She clings to her old-fashioned bustle as if it alone is protecting her feminine virtue and…and she reminds me of The Dragon, Madame de Oublette!” She collapsed in peels of laughter.

“Miette, hush. She is most agreeable and she’s traveled widely, with many interesting stories to tell.” Eleanor couldn’t help smiling for the comment about the bustle was rather apt.

“Hmm, well I hope she hasn’t encouraged you, for I hope to do the opposite. It is not suitable for you to go off on your own, Eleanor. I intend to keep you in New York, with me.” Miette spoke in a matter of fact tone, as if it had been agreed.

After a night lying awake lamenting her latest argument with Rivers on the same topic, Eleanor had neither the strength nor the urge to battle. Miette had made up her mind. The less Eleanor said about it at this point in time, the better. When the time was right she would simply take her leave, as planned.

“What a pity the weather has ruined our journey, I had many plans for us.” 

Eleanor nodded and leaned back in her chair. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand and found she was stiff in places she didn’t even know she owned. She stretched her body like a waking cat. “We still have today. Yesterday’s bulletin said we should dock tomorrow. First I must bathe and dress.”

Miette gave a perky smile. She was eager to get her friend out and about for the final day before their arrival in New York. “I’ll wait for you in the terrace lounge darling.” Her voice trailed off as she spied a faint mark upon her friend’s shoulder where the robe had slipped open. She walked over to her. “Your Mr. Rivers is a passionate lover, you are marked with a hungry kiss, mon amie.” She chuckled in delight.

“Yes, I suppose he was,” said Eleanor tersely, and stood. Then she gave a dramatic wave of her hand. “Shoo, or we will waste today as well.”

Miette walked off toward the door, waving her hand as she went.

As Eleanor sank into her bath, she thought about Rivers. His prowess as a lover was breathtaking; she didn’t need to be reminded of that. And the ache inside was unrelenting, the ache that longed for more of him.

* * *

The passengers tried to rekindle the former, jolly atmosphere of the ocean liner on those final two days, but their depleted spirits left real enthusiasm only for the journey’s end.

Eleanor was eager to leave the confines of the ship too, and as it drew into New York harbor, she stood on the deck, her eyes on the skyline with its impressive array of buildings. She’d thought Southampton dockyard awesome, however the New York docks seemed immense compared to Southampton. The massive hulk of the liner seemed suddenly quite small. It was bitterly cold and snow was falling, giving her heavy cloak a shawl of white around the shoulders. She joined Miette in the main saloon as the ship drew along side the dock.

Miette’s husband, Frank, met them with a handsome carriage that was followed by another larger carriage that would carry their entire luggage to the house. Frank was a big burly man of Irish descent, not unlike the captain in looks, clean-shaven, and he fussed around the two women as if they were china dolls. Miette was tiny in stature next to him and nestled up to his arm like a small bird seeking attention. Her husband wore her, as if she were another diamond pin on his lavish necktie. They made an outstanding couple, she dressed in her long fur coat, with a big muff and hat that left her face a tiny spec amongst the cocoon. He deposited her in the carriage and tucked a rug around her skirts, then helped Eleanor take the opposite seat. He issued instructions to two footmen who were to assist Felix in collecting all the baggage, then spoke to the driver before climbing in alongside them.

As the carriage edged away from the crowded dockyard, Eleanor watched the piles of luggage emerging from a gangplank, further down the ship than where they had embarked. A feeling of loss stole upon her, for her time aboard ship had been memorable. Especially the time she’d spent with Rivers. A pang of yearning ran through her when the physical memory was recalled.

“How are the plans for the ball coming along?” Miette asked, her eyelashes fluttering up at her husband.

“Everything is organized my darling. You can rest until the event.” 

Miette turned to Eleanor who was peering out of the window, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

“We must check the guest list over to make sure you have invited everyone. Eleanor wants to meet our old acquaintance, Ari, don’t you?” 

Eleanor turned and caught the smirk on her friend’s face. She fumbled for something to say, having been taken by surprise with the remark. She gave a weak smile.

“It would be good to meet Ari again.”  She mustered the response, but she wasn’t sure quite how she felt about the imminent reunion.

“I say,” Frank said and leaned forward to peer out of the carriage window. He chortled loudly and hitched up his silver-topped cane in his hand, banged it on the carriage roof, alerting the driver to stop, then pushed open the carriage door and shouted to the driver, pointing him over to the right.

Miette craned her neck to see, for she was on the far side of the carriage.

Eleanor was on the nearside, opposite Frank. She was aghast, for she could see exactly who it was that Frank was looking at.

“Why, if it isn’t Peter Rivers.” Frank’s voice boomed out across the crowded dockyard.

Eleanor sank back in her seat, pulling herself right down into her coat and wishing herself away. Was there anyone in the world who didn’t know Mr. Peter Rivers?

Frank leapt out of the carriage and Miette tipped forward on her seat, her pretty forehead furrowing as she tried to see what was going on.

Eleanor bit her lip and crushed herself in the corner of her seat, her face against the curtain beside the window.

“Frank O’Neill!”

His voice, now so familiar to her, ran over her body like molten fire. Confusion sped through her veins. She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her rather than face him again, and yet something inside also longed for the sight and sound of him.

Curiosity soon got the better of her and she peeped around the corner, one finger cautiously pulling the curtain aside. Rivers had been talking to a uniformed customs man when she and Frank had both caught sight of him. Now they were closer, she witnessed his expression. It was still overcast – goodness knows what would happen when he realized she was with the man he was now greeting.

“Peter, what are you doing here?” Frank pointed around at the warehouses. “Are you working here these days?” 

Rivers grasped Frank in a warm handshake, the heaviness in his expression lifting somewhat. Eleanor edged forward a little more, for he’d not spied Frank’s two companions as yet.

“No, I’m back in California now. I’ve been in Europe.” He indicated the looming shape of the ship behind them. “I docked on the Baltic.”

“In that case, the ladies must have met you aboard ship.”  Frank turned toward the carriage.

Eleanor gasped and jerked her head back against the headrest, dropping the curtain back into place.

“Oh yes, we have all met before, haven’t we Eleanor?” Miette preened as she revealed her identity to the onlooker.

The hair stood up on the back of Eleanor’s neck.

There was no escape now. She forced herself forward and made herself look into his waiting, watchful eyes. They were dark and stormy and the smile on his face quickly faded. She found she was unable to speak.

“
Pierre
and I met …oh, must be about eight years ago,” Frank announced.

Eleanor thought Rivers could look no more ill humored but his expression turned even more disgruntled at that point. Frank slapped him on the back, laughing heartily. “Your fellow Frenchman, my dear ‘Ettie. Did you find out that he gets annoyed if you call him
Pierre
? It’s his weak point.” 

“Pierre?”  Miette looked from Eleanor back to Rivers again with a distinctly curious expression on her face. “Well it’s always useful to know what a man’s weak point is, isn’t it, Eleanor?” 

Eleanor grimaced. She didn’t need to know anymore helpful hints on how to annoy Mr. Rivers. She seemed able to find his trigger points all by herself and without any effort whatsoever.
And why did everyone seem to know him better than she did
, she thought, jealousy surging through her veins.
Pierre indeed!

Her cheeks flamed. Miette, in comparison, seemed most amused by the whole encounter and Eleanor supposed that it might seem funny after some length of time had passed, but not right now. And still she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

“We must catch up with one another while you are here, how long will you be staying in New York?” Frank was jolly and gracious, completely unaware of the discomfort he was causing.

Eleanor swallowed, with difficulty. How could she possibly endure another second of this awkward encounter?

“I’m not sure. I have some… problems with…my cargo, that I need to attend to before I can leave.”

Eleanor sighed fretfully.
He thought of her as his cargo now, did he?

“Will you be staying at the Carlton?” Frank queried. “The club has rooms for members now and I’m sure they will remember you – from the old days.”  He chortled loudly, as if at some private joke between the two of them.

Rivers smiled but looked straight back at Eleanor while he replied to Frank. “In that case I shall stay there. However I have secured an invitation to call on Miss Craven while she’s in New York – if it still stands?” 

Eleanor gasped.
The impudence of the man.

“Good, good,” Frank answered, oblivious to Eleanor’s shocked expression behind him. “In fact the sooner the better, we have a lot of catching up to do.”  He turned to Miette and Eleanor. “Peter and I go back years. We ended up together while I was on one of my last hunting ventures in Canada.” 

The discourse was interrupted by shouts coming from behind the carriage. They were blocking the exit for all the other passengers trying to leave the dockyard.

“We better be on our way. Let me write down our address for you.” He delved into the pockets of his overcoat.

Rivers stared at Eleanor, as if silently awaiting her response.

Lord, he was so handsome, even when he was scowling. She melted. She managed to give him a weak smile, in the hope he would take it as a suggestion of peace. He was still annoyed with her, that much was obvious.

“Aha, just the thing.” Frank pulled out a parchment sheet printed in calligraphic font. “Peter can join us tomorrow evening and help us welcome in the New Year.” 

Miette shrugged, the corners of her mouth going down, as if she didn’t relish control of her guest list going out of her hands.

“I would be pleased to do so, if the ladies approve of the extended invitation.” 

Oh, he was such a clever observer
, Eleanor thought, with a sense of irony. He had the good sense to check neither woman was going to be put out or make a scene about it, even if it meant making everyone on the entire dockyard wait, and suffer the barrage of shouts now issuing from behind the carriage. She looked over at Miette, who waved her hand.