Love at Sea

by Jennifer Blake

  “I noticed that Alexandros went as your escort.” There was an edge of disapproval in his voice.

  “Hardly that. We met on the tender, and he took me to one or two shops.” She did not know why she bothered explaining the outing to him, except she disliked being put in the wrong.

  “Alexandros is a good officer, and a steady one, but he considers himself a lady's man."

  Maura flung him a quick glance, her green eyes narrowed. “So nice of you to warn me, though I'm a little confused. I thought that before you were worried about the harm I might do to morale by leading the crew on. Now it appears I am to be on my guard against them."

  “I am only saying that it wouldn't be smart to encourage Alexandros, or anyone else."

  “Is it encouraging them to acknowledge their existence, to treat them as human beings, instead of robots here to serve the convenience of the passengers?"

  “If you won't understand, I can't make you,” he grated.

  “Personally, I see no reason for you to think you have the right to try. What I do is none of your business.” In her anger, Maura refused to concede, even to herself, that he had a point.

  “Anything that concerns the welfare of the Athena is my business,” he informed her, his hands clenching on the railing.

  “You can't protect her crew from all women!"

  He stared at her a long moment, a frown drawing his brows together. “It could be,” he said slowly, “that my purpose was the exact opposite: to protect one woman from her crew."

  Her eyes widened. “That—that's ridiculous. I am in no danger."

  “You are mistaken,” he said deliberately, and pushing away from the rail, turned and walked away.

  It was just as well that he did not wait for an answer. Maura had none. What was he implying? Did he think her incapable of handling any situation of a passionate nature that might arise between one of the crew, such as Alexandros, and herself? Or was he suggesting that she was likely to be so overwhelmed by attention that she would be unable to avoid problems? Both possibilities seemed unbelievable, but not so unlikely as the third that occurred to her, that Nikolaos was insisting she keep distance between the crew and herself because of his own jealous interest, hinting that her danger lay in him.

  It could not be. That was the conclusion she arrived at again and again as she bathed and dressed for dinner. She had known the man less than two days, and in all that time they had done nothing but argue and find fault with each other. Other than that one occasion during the storm, he had given no indication that he found her attractive except in the most abstract fashion. Given a choice, she suspected his strongest inclination would have been to put her off the ship at the first port of call. That he hadn't done so was a tribute to his concern for his grandmother's wishes and the dictates of civilized behavior. No, it was her inexperience in the field of romance that had been in his mind when he spoke; it had to be.

  And yet, his manner toward her later that evening was warm and pleasant. Over dinner, he drew her out, his dark gaze resting often on the burnished auburn-gold of her hair and the creamy curves of her shoulders above the neckline of the dress of Mexican lace she had bought that afternoon. It was odd how affecting his smile could be when it lighted the darkness of his eyes and altered the stern lines of his mouth. To be the object of his close attention was more disturbing than she cared to admit, as was the look of benevolent approval that Mrs. Papoulas turned upon them, and the tactful care with which she refrained from intruding upon their conversation.

  The elderly woman would have bypassed the Sadie Hawkins dance, retreating to the suite for the night, if Maura hadn't insisted that she join them. Once persuaded, however, her excited anticipation was evident.

  Nikolaos gave his grandmother a quizzical smile, as they took their places at a table in the lounge. “Who are you going to invite to dance?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Do you have your eye on some unsuspecting widower?"

  “No, indeed, curious one. I shall cajole you into being my partner, and then when I have lulled your suspicions, I shall entreat our handsome Captain Spiridion!"

  “As much as I hate to spoil your plans, my dear grandmother, I have to tell you that my friend the captain is much too intelligent to put in an appearance tonight. He would be besieged, and he knows it."

  Mrs. Papoulas heaved a sigh. “You are probably right. My hopes are dashed, and I'm certain there will not be another chance, not with his wife on board."

  Maura looked up, her attention caught. “I thought there was some mention earlier of his family?"

  “Has our captain captured your heart also, Maura?” the elderly woman inquired with a roguish look for her grandson. “It is a great pity, but yes, his wife travels with him, and their child also."

  “I saw a little girl, about two years old, beside the pool this morning with the woman who is assistant cruise director."

  “Yes, that is Katrina. A darling, isn't she? Everyone on the ship adores her, but especially her father. He is very Greek, is Captain Spiridion; he insists on having his wife and child with him at all times."

  “Have I met his wife?” Maura asked with a frown. “I can't remember being introduced last night at his table, but there were quite a few people seated with us."

  “No, I think not,” Mrs. Papoulas answered, “Katrina is to have a new brother or sister in a few weeks, and Madame Spiridion has been keeping to their quarters."

  Nikolaos leaned back in his chair. “I see you have been putting your time to good use, catching up on all the gossip."

  “Yes, indeed,” the older woman answered. “This afternoon I attended a tea for the grandmothers. There was much showing of photographs, reams and reams of pictures of babies and adorable children. It is a good thing I could claim some knowledge of Katrina, or I would have had nothing whatever to say."

  “Not so. I am your grandchild, after all,” he reminded her. “Don't tell me you didn't have a snapshot of me about you."

  “Well, yes,” the older woman admitted grudgingly, “but you have lost your charm, I must tell you. You cannot compete with the sweetness of an infant in arms."

  “You wound me to the quick,” he protested in a tone of mock injury.

  “I am sorry, Nikolaos, but the truth is the truth. If you would redeem yourself, you must give me great-grandchildren."

  He sent her a wry look. “All in good time, grandmother, all in good time."

  “So you keep telling me, but how much time do I have?"

  “I forbid you to say such things,” Nikolaos said, his smile fading.

  “Forbid as you please; I will still say what I wish. And for your stubbornness, I will not ask you to dance the first waltz with me. I will allow Maura to have that dubious honor and see if she can endure your selfish ways!"

  “That will suit me admirably,” he bantered. “Anything to get away from your complaints."

  The announcements were over, the rules of the games explained. The musicians were just striking up the first number. There was no graceful way to avoid the trap Mrs. Papoulas had so playfully set for her. With a strained smile, Maura rose to her feet, and led Nikolaos toward the dance floor.

  As she turned to face him, Nikolaos moved with a casual resumption of the dominant role to draw her into his arms. His hold was firm and steady, close but not too close. Their bodies fitted together in perfect unison and they moved as with one accord.

  Maura lifted her green gaze to his bronzed face, an odd, breathless sensation in her chest.

  “My grandmother is a devious woman,” he said, a smile glinting in the dark depths of his eyes, “but occasionally she has a superior idea."

  Maura managed a cool nod. “I think you will have to allow her to ask you for the next dance, though, or she will be disappointed."

  “She does seem to be having a good time. I would never have thought it would appeal to her."

  “It is a little surprising,” Maura agreed.

  “What about you? Are you li
berated enough to enjoy doing the asking for a change?"

  “I wouldn't know. I haven't had the opportunity yet."

  “So you haven't,” he agreed, his tone stiff. “That will have to be arranged."

  “It seems to me,” Maura went on, “that a liberated female would not be satisfied with a night of change. She would prefer to suggest dancing, if she felt like it, at any time."

  “I haven't noticed you making suggestions of any kind."

  “That's because I may be more than a little old-fashioned."

  “You may be? Don't you know?"

  “I know very well, but I see no reason why I should explain myself to you."

  “You are quite right; there is no reason,” he answered with hard abruptness.

  They did not speak again. When the dance was over, Maura preceded him back to their table where he was immediately claimed by Mrs. Papoulas as the next was announced.

  At that moment, Alexandros strolled into the lounge. His bright gaze swept the tables and came to rest on Maura. His expression expectant, he moved toward her. It was sheer contrary defiance that made her smile and step to meet him, ready to speak the invitation he wanted to hear.

  The dance was a rhumba, and there were a few hilarious moments as Alexandros tried to show Maura the proper movements while searching for the correct English word for a lady's hips. The ridiculousness of it was evident to him, and his laugh rang out with an infectious sound. As Maura's clear tones joined his, heads turned and a number of the other dancers grinned in enjoyment of the fun and gaiety of the moment.

  There was one person who did not. The face of Nikolaos Vassos was like a mask as he led his grandmother flawlessly through the intricate steps of the Latin number.

  Alexandros would not allow Maura to retreat to her table. With the simple expedient of retaining his hold on her hand and giving her a pleading look, he kept her at the edge of the dance floor for the few seconds that elapsed before the third dance was called. It was a polka, and though Alexandros threw himself into it with verve and rhythm, he did not have the height to prevent her from being jerked this way and that as he tried to keep up with the lively music. Maura was completely breathless when it was ended. She was fervently glad when a teenage girl tapped Alexandros on the shoulder, soliciting his company for the disco being announced, permitting Maura to wind her way back to where Nikolaos and his grandmother sat.

  Regardless, there was little comfort for her in being free of Alexandros. He continued to wink and blow kisses over his partner's shoulder, shrugging in resignation, and generally drawing unwelcome attention to Maura. She shook her head at him but without visible result.

  “You seem to have captivated that young officer,” Mrs. Papoulas commented.

  “I doubt that,” Maura answered in an attempt at lightness. “He's only enjoying himself."

  “It is rather fun, isn't it?"

  Maura gave her a bright glance. “You still haven't danced with your widower."

  “It's just as entertaining to sit and watch, my dear, at least when you get to my age."

  That was true, regardless of age. It was amusing to watch the reluctant men being pulled onto the floor, and the laughing aggression of the woman who insisted they come. It was also comical to see Alexandros become entangled with a bevy of excited girls, none of them over eighteen. Try as he might, he could not run the gauntlet of their clutching hands to return to Maura's table. Though he flung more than one look of exasperated entreaty in her direction, she refused to allow him to catch her eye, keeping her attention on the desultory conversation between Nikolaos and his grandmother.

  “Don't you want to dance again?” Mrs. Papoulas asked as other dances were announced.

  Each time, Maura shook her head. “Not just yet."

  At last the elderly woman said, “According to the program, Maura, this is the last dance, coming up. Now I think it would be a shame if you don't take advantage of it. If you don't want to ask some stranger, I'm sure Nikolaos would be happy —"

  “Grandmother,” Nikolaos began, the harsh sound of a warning in his voice, “if Maura is tired —"

  Across the room, Alexandros had finally broken free of his young partners. With a swagger in his stride and the complacent certainty of being welcome in his face, he bore down on Maura. The thought of dancing with the officer again seemed suddenly more than she could bear.

  “Not at all,” she broke in hurriedly. “Nikolaos, would you care to dance?"

  His brows were drawn together in a dark line as he came slowly to his feet. “This isn't necessary."

  Flicking a quick glance from Nikolaos to Alexandros, only yards away, she said, “I think it must be."

  The look of sudden doubt and disbelief on the face of the officer as they passed near him on the way to the floor troubled Maura, but she forgot him as she stepped into Nikolaos's arms. The feeling of rightness and relief, and something more that she refused to explore, was so startling that it drove all other consideration from her mind. Her absorption was such that the master of ceremonie's announcement that each couple then on the floor had an appointment to meet at midnight on the lido deck barely registered. She was grateful when at last the music stopped, and Mrs. Papoulas, pleading tiredness, brought the evening to an end.

  Maura went to her cabin, but she could not make up her mind to undress and go to bed. She felt restless, on edge. She took out the information on Grand Cayman, their next port of call that she had picked up at the purser's desk and thumbed through it, making a few notes on points of interest she should see. That done, she took out a pen and one of the ship's postcards showing the Mts Athena at anchor in a tropical bay. Scribbling a few lines for her great-aunt, she stamped the card and put it to one side to mail in the morning. It would probably reach New Orleans after she did, as slow as the mails were, but Aunt Maggie would like to have it.

  A schedule of events for the next day had been slipped under the door while she was above deck. She opened it, and scanned the listings. The ship did not dock at Grand Cayman until noon. There would be time enough in the morning for a swim and a little sunbathing. That was, of course, if she skipped the yoga class, the trap shooting, the Greek dance lesson, the Greek language lesson, and the bingo session.

  Smiling a little, she shook her head. Everything about the cruise might not be perfect, but the line and the crew made every effort to keep the passengers entertained.

  Take, for instance, the dancing this evening. The cruise director and his assistant had done their best to keep affairs moving. They had really done an excellent job of seeing to it that the evening ended on a lighthearted note. How many, she wondered, would keep the midnight rendezvous that had been set for them?

  She would feel ridiculous, setting out for such an assignation. It would, in any case, be a waste of her time, because Nikolaos Vassos would never dream of putting in an appearance. So much for the romance Aunt Maggie had been certain she would find.

  There was no harm in going up to see how many others showed up for the date though, was there? It might make an interesting observation for the books. At the same time, maybe the fresh air would clear her mind, blow away the clinging wisps of cobwebs and vague longings that disturbed her peace.

  The lido deck was virtually deserted. Though one or two people stood at the railing, most had gone to the lido bar, for through the long glass windows could be seen a fair number of people milling about, dancing to music with a disco beat, or sitting over drinks. Maura could not bring herself to go inside. Instead, she climbed the steps that led to the plexiglass-enclosed observation area.

  It was darker here without the light from the bar and protected by the weather-streaked plexiglass from the glow of the running lights. Maura strolled across the shuffleboard court to the far railing. The wind could just strike her there, ruffling the skirt of her gown and lifting the ends of her hair. At the same time, she could overlook the lido deck below without being seen herself.

  They were cruising at
full speed, Maura thought, no doubt trying to make up the time they had lost. The froth of their wake gleamed white in a spreading tail, and the hiss of the water could be plainly heard as they cut through the waves. The rumble of the engines was a steady drone. The black smoke of their exhaust was scattered as it left the blue and white stack above her, merging quickly with the night sky.

  There came the sound of a door closing behind her. She turned in time to see Nikolaos emerge from the area beyond the plexiglass shield, marked with a No Admittance sign, that led to the captain's quarters. He had removed his coat and tie and rolled his sleeves above his elbows. It gave him a look that was casual, relaxed, and at the same time, more virile.

  He came to a halt beside her, bracing one hand on the rail while he left the other pushed into the pocket of his trousers. “So you came,” he said. “I didn't think you would."

  “I—never expected to see you.” The wind fluttered the cream lace of her skirts against him, and she reached to hold them back.

  “Ah, Maura,” he whispered, removing his hand from his pocket, reaching to touch the cool skin of her shoulder, “how could I fail you?"

  “Fail me?” she repeated, her voice a thread of sound.

  “If it is romance you need, why should I not provide it?"

  He drew her to him with slow care. His mouth touched hers with gentle fire as he pressed her closer. The warmth of his body enveloped her. Her senses reeled, and she seemed caught in the ebb and flow of her own pulse, aware at the same time of the deep and steady beat of his heart.

  He drew back, but did not release her. As she felt her treacherous strength return to her, she spread her fingers over the muscled hardness of his chest, increasing the tension until he felt her resistance and allowed her to step back. She lifted her head, her green eyes dark with self-knowledge as she met his dark gaze.

  “Romance by itself,” she said softly, “is not enough.” Turning quickly, she left him.

  Chapter 5

  A knock sounded on the cabin door. Maura went still for an instant, then drawing a deep breath, she finished tying the apricot satin-jersey wrap skirt that went over her swimsuit as a cover-up. Moving to the panel, she pulled it open.