Ship of Dreams (15 page)

Seeking to reassure him, she said, "I hope the weather is as perfect for the second half of our voyage as it has been for this half. And I confess I'm quite eager to see Havana—I've heard so much about it."

He locked his eyes with hers for a long moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly, as though satisfied with what he read there. "I look forward to showing it to you. It's more civilized than Panama City, you'll discover."

"Will we be allowed to disembark in Havana, then?" asked Mary Patterson from his other side. "Robert thought we might not, for fear of disrupting the schedule."

"I presume so, as I was allowed to go into that city on my way to California six months ago," replied Kent, "but I confess I have not discussed it with the captain."

"I have," offered Ansel Easton, across the table. "He said it would depend on the hour of the day or evening that we arrive there. A few passengers not bound for New York will be disembarking, so there may be a chance of a few hours ashore for the rest of us."

With the prospect of spending most of the next day on land, crossing the Isthmus of Panama, several people then expressed their readiness to leave the ship, despite the delightful weather and company they had enjoyed thus far.

Della scarcely heard them, acutely aware—again—of Kent close by her side. The masculine scent of him, the lines of his body beneath his clothing, the very fall of his dark hair across his forehead, all called to her senses. It took every bit of her self-control not to slide closer to him, to "accidentally" brush his hand with hers as she reached for her wine glass.

It was almost a relief when the meal ended and Virginia Birch called for another game of charades. The tables were cleared and the group of players assembled, along with a sizeable audience of fellow passengers bored with card-playing.

Della's earlier relief evaporated abruptly when she read the first word she and Kent were to act out for their teammates:
kismet
.

Della swallowed hard, not daring to look at Kent. There was only one conceivable way to act out that first syllable, and no way that she could see to avoid it. And now they would have to confer, if only to decide how to act out the second. Moving a bit apart, they turned their backs toward the others for their conference.

Kent cleared his throat, and Della risked a glance at him, marginally relieved to see that he looked as uncomfortable as she felt. "I suppose we can't very well ask for another word," he murmured.

"No, I suppose not," she replied softly. "But we're both adults. Surely we can manage a polite kiss in company without betraying our secret." She was far from certain that she could keep her own feelings secret from Kent during the process, however. "Only we will know that it means nothing.," she added, trying to convince herself more than him.

He nodded almost mechanically. "Right. Of course. Now, what of the the
-met
part? Come from opposite ends of the room and shake hands?"

"That seems the most obvious way to portray it. If we have to do the whole, we'll confer again. That could prove difficult." Her pulse was beginning to slow to normal, now that the embarrassing part had been settled. "The word means 'fate,' does it not? How would one portray that?"

"We'll simply have to do well enough with the two syllables to make that academic," he suggested. His eyes sought hers, but after only the briefest glimpse of the question there, she averted her gaze.

"Let's get it over, then," she said, not caring how brusque she sounded in her effort to conceal her emotions.

They returned to the group and took their places. Once they had everyone's attention, Kent signaled with his fingers that they were going to enact the first syllable of a two-syllable word. Della steeled herself, trying not to think, sternly willing herself not to blush.

Then, in full view of dozens of people, he grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. Since she didn't want anyone to guess
fight
or
rape
, she forced herself to relax under his grip, tilting her face up to his.

After a split-second's hesitation that probably no one but the two of them noticed, Kent lowered his lips to hers for what was to be their polite, perfunctory kiss. As their lips touched, however, something profound happened, changing the plan. Brief touches of hands or shoulders had been unsettling enough, but now a jolt of pure desire shot through Della, making her cling suddenly to Kent for balance.

That he felt something similar was obvious from the way his arms encircled her, supporting her, while his mouth covered hers far more completely than she had expected. His lips, his arms, his body, all felt wonderful. Without conscious thought, she parted her own lips slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The cheers of their audience brought her abruptly back to herself. She stiffened and Kent released her, though with obvious reluctance. As they slowly parted, his eyes asked an urgent question, one she silently answered in the affirmative. He looked nearly as dazed as she felt, but he smiled—a smile that held incredible promise.

She knew her face must be brilliant scarlet—and Kent's was only a shade less bright—as they turned to face their teammates. Kent bowed and Della curtsied, signalling the completion of the first act.

It took the Eastons only a moment to correctly guess
kiss
as the answer to their charade, which had been no charade at all.

Della acted out her part of the second syllable as though in a dream, approaching Kent from the opposite end of the saloon, silently exclaiming in greeting, then exaggeratedly shaking hands as they
met
. For a moment she thought he would sweep her back into his arms but, with apparent effort, he released her hand after a second or two—much to her relief, as she could not have resisted.

Now the Eastons held a protracted debate between themselves as to the second syllable, but Addie finally pronounced it
-met
, as that fit best with their first half. The other team applauded and acknowledged that the word had indeed been
kismet
.

The Pattersons went next, acting out the word
maritime
for the Birches to guess. Della paid little attention to their pantomime, first of a wedding and then the reading of a pocket watch. Since that shattering kiss, and the silent exchange that had followed it, she could think of nothing but the coming night. Though no words had been spoken between them, she knew what they had both agreed to.

Had she been in any doubt, Kent's behavior during the remainder of the evening would have dispelled it. He now sat close against her on the bench, one arm draped around her in a seemingly casual gesture—but something he had never done before. She was acutely aware of the warmth of his hand at her waist, searing through the fabric of her dress and shift. Soon, if she had read him correctly, she would know the feel of that hand against her flesh. Further ahead than that, she would not think.

When the Eastons performed their piece, a bit more attention was necessary, but she and Kent had a far more difficult time than they should have. They had to demand the whole before they were able to guess the word
millrace
. Then it was the Birches' turn, with Billy drawing laughs as usual, as he acted out the first part of
horseshoe
.

No one seemed inclined to play another round, as the evening was by now well advanced. When Kent accompanied her to the cabin rather than lingering behind as was his custom, it did not occur to Della to object. Eager as she was for what was to come, she also felt a sense of inevitability—a path already chosen. Kismet?

As Kent pulled the cabin door softly closed, his eyes met hers across the tiny room. Again she silently communicated her willingness to proceed—to commit herself to him for however long she could have him. Even if that proved to be only this one night.

He took a step toward her and she moved to meet him halfway. As naturally as breathing, she place her hands on his shoulders and lifted her face for his kiss. His arms enfolded her, and their lips met in a mutual vow of passion. She would not assume it was more than that. For now, it was enough.

She thought she was braced for the emotions that would surge through her at the touch of his lips, but she was wrong. Now that they were alone, with no spectators, the impact was even more profound than before. It was as though they became one when they kissed, two parts of a whole finally fused and healed.

And she wanted more.

Parting her lips, she invited him inside and he accepted the invitation eagerly, probing the recesses of her mouth with his tongue. The sweet violation set her vitals to burning. She wanted to draw more and more of him into herself until she engulfed him completely.

With a tiny moan, she clutched at him, pulling his head more firmly down to her, deepening the kiss until it could be no deeper. Still she wanted more, but didn't know what to do next.

He showed her. One hand still pressing into the small of her back, holding her tightly against him, Kent slid the other up her side, then around, cupping her breast through layers of fabric for an instant—too brief an instant!—before beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Eagerly, she helped him, then drew back slightly to begin on her own long row of buttons. Kent broke the kiss then, to finally speak. "Are you sure—?"

Della laid a finger on his lips to silence him. Words were more than superfluous right now. They were a threat. Without them, she was certain of what she wished to do, but if he were to ask her outright she would have to consider the possible consequences—something she very much preferred not to do right now.

He accepted her muting of his question, to her relief, and now turned his attention to helping her with her buttons as she had helped with his. So many buttons! But at last they were undone—only to reveal her corset and shift. Cursing the layers convention bade her wear, Della began working on her laces.

Again, Kent helped, if a bit awkwardly, and she found his very awkwardness endearing. It told her what she had already suspected, that he was no practiced seducer of women—that, while this might not be so novel an experience for him as it was for her, at least it was not routine.

Between them, delayed by frequent kisses, they freed her from her corset and hoops. Now they clung again, she clad only in her shift and he only in his trousers and boots. By mutual consent, they sank down upon her bunk to make removal of these final encumbrances easier.

She began unbuttoning his trousers, hesitating for a moment at the plain evidence of his desire. So much was new here, so much she was eager to experience. He lifted her shift, pulled it over her head, and when she could see again, he had freed himself entirely from the trousers. He was as magnificent under his clothing as she'd imagined all those nights when she'd listened to the sounds of him undressing.

Now nothing separated them. The sensation of warm skin against warm skin was an entirely new one for Della. She'd dreamed of this moment, but her imaginings fell far short of the reality. The feel of Kent's hard, masculine body against hers, the clean sandalwood scent of him, the sounds of his sighs against her lips, all overpowered her senses. She felt she could die right now and be happy.

But he had more pleasure in store for her.

Sliding them both into a reclining position, Kent again cupped her breast, now bare, with one hand. Della gasped, unprepared for the difference. He smiled, then shifted further onto his side so that he had both hands free. Teasing her nipple with his thumb until she thought she could stand no more pleasure, he slipped the other hand lower, until he found the cleft between her legs.

With one finger, he stroked her most sensitive spot. Della arched her back, her body demanding more of the incredible sensation. He obliged her. While she clung almost helplessly to his shoulders, dizzy with pleasure, he showed her levels of ecstasy she'd never dreamed existed. And still her body cried out for more.

Just as she was certain she must reach a pinnacle or explode, he moved his hips against hers and filled the place that had become the very center of her being. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, drawing him into her, inviting him to thrust more deeply.

He accepted her invitation—once, twice, and then Della did explode, or so it seemed. Wave upon wave of pure sensation crashed over her, becoming her, completing her. A moment later, with the deepest thrust yet, Kent clasped her even more tightly and held himself deep within her, pumping his life into hers.

Together, they sighed. In a warm haze of happiness, Della knew that whatever came after, this moment, here, now, was worth it all.

*
         
 
*
          
*

Kent felt his heartbeat gradually slowing. Never had a woman affected him as Della did, her essence demanding a response from every fiber of his being. This was no mere physical joining. Their very souls had been entwined.

He'd decided two days ago that he was willing to risk any consequences, in order to make her his. He'd rehearsed speech after speech to communicate his feelings, but when the time had come, words had not even been necessary.