When Captain Jack Sparrow arrived on screen to dock at the precise moment his ship sank, Christophe laughed heartily. His unabashed joy made her feel things she couldn't fathom or even name. He couldn't turn away from the spectacle before him, asking her all sorts of questions about the supernatural aspects and commenting on things that were not fully historically accurate.
At some point, they ended up closer together, despite the chair arms separating them. His clothing had been washed and no longer smelled of gunpowder. Now he smelled of man and the coconut-scented soap. She tried desperately not to snuggle into him and remain nonchalant, something becoming increasingly more difficult as the film progressed.
What if he was honestly from the past? How could he adapt to a world far more advanced than he had ever been used to? He's adapted pretty well so far, mostly. In that moment, while he was watching the screen instead of her, Serena wanted nothing more than to believe him. To accept a miracle had occurred. To know there was someone out there for her, and all she had to do was believe a silly story. Could she take that leap of faith?
If he was from the past, it would make things more difficult in terms of living. He wouldn't have identification or records or finances. Her savings weren't substantial, and she made enough at her job to support herself, but could she survive with an added mouth to feed? Could she take him in and help him fit in to the twenty-first century?
Yes. She knew it in her heart she could make it work. Mrs. Baker claimed to know a guy who could help with documentation, and she was willing to help so selflessly. There were so many things that would need to be considered, if it were true, but not immediately.
But it couldn't be true. People didn't travel through time. Her heart was in perilous waters, and Christophe could drown it so easily. All he had to do was reject her now that she'd seen how genuine his reactions could be. Now that she'd experienced how his affection soothed her in all the right places even without touching her intimately.
By the time the credits were rolling, Serena feared she spent more time watching him than the movie itself. He said, "This Sparrow is somewhat brilliant. So clever though he seems unlikely to succeed at anything—and then he does."
"That's why they made several more films." She turned sideways, pulling her legs up in the chair, using her free hand to cover her lap so she wasn't vulgar. If he noticed, he'd not drawn attention to it. "Are you really from the past?" Her words were soft, but he heard. "Tell me you aren't going to build me up only to tear me down." She hated the vulnerability in her voice.
But he didn't laugh at her. Christophe released her hand and rubbed his palms comfortingly over her bare shoulders. "I swear to you, love. I'm here so long as you want me to be." His eyes were warm, but intense. She didn't know how to handle it.
Shyly, she tilted her head away, peeking at him through her hair. "Your reactions were far too realistic for a man who'd pretend never to have seen a movie, or had never come across a Jack Sparrow impersonator if pirate cosplay was your way of life."
"Cosplay?" He made a face as if the word tasted funny on his tongue.
"Wearing a full costume, but not participating in a production. Just for fun."
He nodded, understanding. "Does that mean you believe me?" His voice was soft, like he feared her answer.
"I don't know." Serena sighed. "I want to. It's just—"
"Doesn't seem possible," he finished for her, nodding. "I understand."
They sat in silence for some time, turned sideways in their chairs, facing one another, studying the other's features. Around them, people wandered away until, at last, they were alone in a darkened corner of the upper deck. Finally, Christophe asked, "When can we watch the next Jack Sparrow movie?"
Serena giggled, but stopped when he lowered his lips to hers. He hovered there for a breath before claiming her mouth. Were those her hands sliding up his back and clinging to his coarse jacket as he slipped his tongue in for a more intimate taste? He framed her face between his palms, tilting her head back, brushing his fingertips against the sensitive flesh behind her ears that made her shiver involuntarily and gasp against his machinations.
A woman could lose her heart to this man.
***
She tasted so sweet, like sugar plums. He wanted to devour her, to lick every inch. Yet too much too fast would push her away from him again when she was starting to believe him and realize what miracle had befallen the two of them. Christophe broke the kiss and leaned back into his own chair, keeping his right arm around his siren, holding her close to his chest. Only the arms of the chairs kept them fully apart. She blinked open her eyes as if in a daze, smiling despite herself, he was sure.
Christophe had been enchanted by the movie. He had seen several plays and operas and took the liberties for what they were: fictional renderings. A movie was like a play...but not on a stage, and captured almost magically to be relived like a visual book. The story had been captivating, but not quite as much as the beautiful creature in his arms. "What a perfect night," he mused. "I could not wish for more." He chuckled and added, "Your chaperone should be let go immediately."
"Christophe, I..." She broke off, looking away, not even commenting on his quip about her friend. Perhaps he'd been too forward in kissing her. The timing seemed right enough.
"What did I say about hiding your gaze from me?" He cupped her cheek, gently maneuvering her to face him. "I adore you; nothing you do or say can alter that. What were you wishing to tell me?"
"I wanted to know if..."
He leaned closer, pressing his forehead to hers. "Yes?" If she didn't speak up soon, he might kiss her again. He needed to, badly.
"Did you want to spend the day with me tomorrow on the island?" After she asked her question, Serena bit her bottom lip in a nervous fashion. A lip that was swollen from his kisses and begging him to resume with them. He nearly groaned.
"I would love to."
Serena smiled and started to stand. Her already short dress had ridden up to reveal as much as her attire from the beach earlier in the day, and he sucked in a breath before snagging her hand and attempting to pull her back to him. "Where are you going?" He wasn't ready for her to leave.
"I need sleep," she said huskily. Did he affect her like she did him? "And, well, I need to put some distance between us so I can adjust to this, to the concept of us. You know since my chaperone ditched us."
So she had heard him. Furthermore, she was opening up to him. Accepting him even though she didn't quite believe him. Who could blame her? Time travel? "Is there an us?"
"I don't know." She brushed her hair behind her ears and shrugged. He wanted to kiss her until she told him everything she was thinking, but he'd hold true to remaining patient. "We have tomorrow to see." She clasped her hands together and inhaled deeply. "Goodnight, Christophe." She hesitated, smiling shyly. "I had a good time."
Then, she didn't wait for him to respond before spinning around and rushing away as fast as those accursed shoes she was wearing would take her, tugging at the short dress as if doing so would lengthen it by about a foot or ten. Clothing in this era was impractical at best, but he admired the way they emphasized her legs. That dress...
She disappeared from view and he slumped in the chair, leaning his head back to peer up to at the stars. He was going to marry that woman one day. If he remained in this time, and she would have him, he wanted to show her not all men were horrible monsters and many had noble intentions, even if they could be wicked on occasion. He wasn't a saint.
Three hundred years he'd crossed for her, and only a fool wouldn't realize he'd been given a gift beyond measure.
***
Serena closed the door behind her and stood there, stunned. If she could accept all he claimed, Christophe had traveled across time to be with her, not knowing the why when it happened. It was like something from one of those romance novels she'd read on occasion when she couldn't handle twist endings and needed everything to end on a high note where even the
caddiest of cads could be redeemed and true love always won.
She flopped onto the bed and sighed blissfully, clutching the pillow to her chest. They had kissed for the second time, and once again she found herself highly aroused from it. Christophe hadn't pushed her. He'd respected her. Given her room to breathe. Allowed her to leave him without crowding her space.
A knock preceded Becky Ann unlocking the door and slipping inside. "You totally kissed him! I'm so proud." Her blonde hair was windblown, but she was smiling ear to ear like she'd won the lottery. Yanking her phone from her back pocket she thumbed the lock screen and said, "I took, like, two dozen pictures. You're welcome."
She tossed the phone onto the bed beside her. Selena stared down at the device, horrified. Yep. She was practically swallowing his tongue, and her dress was hiked up so high she saw butt cheek. "Becky! What the hell kinda chaperone are you?"
"Chaperone?" she howled in laughter. "I'm your wing woman. Get it right. You were in dire need of sexy time. I even managed to convince all the people near you guys to go away so you weren't disturbed." She coughed delicately. "And then hid behind the wall to the stairwell and took pictures. You're welcome."
Serena chucked the pillow she'd been holding at her friend who caught it easily. "I can't believe you embarrassed me like that at dinner. You were supposed to be on my side." Not to mention creeping on her and Christophe's make-out session. Eew! I'm totally sending myself all these pictures before I delete them from her phone. She snatched the device and started doing just that.
Becky Ann made an indignant sound in the back of her throat. "I am on your side. Why do you think I dressed you that way? I misread the scene; my bad." She paused. "You have this dreamy expression on your face right now though, looking at those pics. Which means it must have been worth it. Girl, you've got it bad for pirate dude."
"I do not." She totally did.
"You do. You loooove him." Becky Ann made a kissy face and hugged the pillow she'd caught to her chest. "Oh, Christophe. Let me shiver your timber."
Serena dropped the phone and hurled another pillow, this one beaned her friend in the head, making her shriek with guffaws.
"It is so on." She tossed the pillow she held back at Serena and collected the second before she charged. Giggling like young girls, they wacked each other upside their heads and in the chest with the pillows until they were laughing too hard to carry on further.
"I think he's telling the truth," Serena said breathlessly, laying on her back next to Becky Ann some time later.
"Yeah?" Her friend gave her a strange look. "About wanting you bad? I thought he was about to start humping the chair arm for a minute there..."
She snorted. "No. About the time travel."
"I don't know what to say. I know I ruffled your feathers, but even I have to admit, that's a new one. And I've heard a lot of made-up stories. The life of a party girl is never dull."
"I know it sounds insane." Serena nodded, attempting to keep Becky Ann on track of the topic.
"Yes."
"By believing," she added, "I'm setting myself up for either something fantastical or hugely disappointing." What did she do if it turned out to be a lie after she started to accept it, crazy or not?
"But how awesome would it be if it were true? It's like a fairytale," Becky Ann agreed.
Something else had been weighing on her thoughts. "We go through the Bermuda Triangle again when we set sail tomorrow night. Mrs. Baker, the lady who is letting him stay in her room and who supposedly recognized him by his aura, says we should know for sure if he stays or returns when we travel through it."
"You mean he might not stay?" Becky Ann sat up straight. "What happens if he goes home? It almost doesn't seem fair to throw him at you and then take him away. You know, if it is true." She bit her lip. "Would you be able to go with him?"
"Mrs. Baker doesn't know." Serena sighed and stared out the window at the ocean and the stars. "Life goes on." How tragic if she lost the one chance she had to be with her soulmate. If it is true. How many times would she say that to herself to justify her need to distance herself? Why couldn't she blindly believe in something? Take that leap of faith? Could she do anything to ensure he didn't return? Would she be able to go with him—more to the point, would she want to?
So many questions she couldn't answer and feared she never could. She felt so lost, yet her heart beat a little faster in anticipation of seeing him again.
Chapter Nine
"Wake up! Captain Charming is at the door."
Serena groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She'd been having the most wonderful dream about Christophe and pirate ships and sunsets. As Becky Ann's comment began to make sense in her haze of drowsiness, butterflies erupted in her belly. Oh, God. She was to spend the day with him, but she didn't know how to be flirty and open. All she could manage was awkwardness and bursts of sarcasm. "Tell him I'll be out in thirty minutes."
What to wear? What to say? Flinging the covers off, she rolled out of the bed and hurried to the shower to shave her legs and do something about her hair. A glance at the mirror confirmed its bird's nest state, and that wouldn't do at all. She could hear Becky Ann speaking through the door as the water ran, warming up. Wide blue eyes stared back from the mirror. What had she gotten herself into. Was she in too deep? Did she want to be?
After her shower, she didn't fuss much with her hair since it would get messy later. She quickly ran the blow dryer and put on sunscreen to allow it time to set in. She wanted to go swimming at some point before they left Bermuda. She was a decent swimmer, and could put distance between him by floating away. Maybe that's what they could do to distract her from being awkward.
Resolved, she grabbed a purple halter swimsuit top and the matching, skirted bottom. It was her favorite swimsuit because it was so feminine and flowy. Her cover-up was white lace with belled sleeves and fell to mid-thigh. "Too revealing?" she asked Becky Ann as she turned about and searched for her flip-flops. She spotted them kicked behind her suitcase stand and retrieved them.
"I could lend you my string bikini if you want revealing," Becky Ann said in a mournful tone. "You're as modest as you're going to get without a one-piece."
Serena waved off her offer and shoved a beach towel into her tote bag and a pair of sunglasses, along with a bottle of water, sunscreen, and a little bag containing her keycard, cell phone, and some cash for the day.
"By the way," Becky Ann said as she started digging through the bathing suits in her own suitcase. "I left some condoms in your bedside table. You're welcome. I'll stay scarce tonight unless you tell me otherwise."
"Becky!" Though honestly, she shouldn't even be surprised her friend would do that.
"Don't 'Becky' me. I bet you're concocting some method of avoiding him the moment we reach the dock tomorrow. I know you're not a one-night stand girl. You've told me a zillion times." She snagged a bikini from her suitcase, shut it, and faced her. "If you decide to sleep with him tonight, it means you've made a commitment. I'm eager to see if that happens or not because I want you to be happy. I want you to find love one day." She hugged her. "I also want you to stay safe while finding it."
That was kind of sweet, but a little mortifying. What's next? A lesson in how fertilization works? "I'm not thinking of tomorrow, or tonight. I am too overwhelmed to think past the next thirty minutes." Serena stepped out of her friend's embrace and untwisted the strap of the tote over her shoulder. "Everything is too real too soon, and it's sort of freaking me out."
"That's normal." She threw her hands up and shouted, "Congratulations, you're human."
Serena laughed, asked Becky Ann to join them at the beach for a little while, and headed out. Christophe met her as soon as she rounded the corner onto the deck. His gaze traveled over her and his grin faltered. "You're going to wear that?"
She looked down. "What's wrong with it?" Did she look awful?
"I'm going to have to murder every single man who looks at you with
lust in his eyes, love. What are you trying to do to me?" He groaned, rubbing a palm across his cheek.
With a snort, she brushed dark hair out of her eyes, thankful she remembered to push a rubber band around her wrist for later. "You had no complaint about the dress I wore last night, or the swimsuit I wore when you carried me off for lunch, which showed more than this one."
"That was before you agreed to give us a chance. Now I have the right to be protective of your virtues." He took her hand, entwining their fingers together.
She wanted to retort how she didn't need him to fight any battles for her. She could do it on her own. However, the way he was looking at her, like everything else had fallen away from his field of vision, left her breathless.
***
Christophe often wondered how a woman's mind worked. After laughing at him for his possessive streak upon seeing her beautiful body displayed so tantalizingly in that lace chemise, Serena had taken him to purchase a "swimsuit" of his own using his tips from the night before. He'd changed in her cabin while she waited outside. He'd used the opportunity to reveal that Josiah's paperwork had listed him as staying in the room with her for the trip. She'd railed about how presumptuous men were. However, she didn't seem angered by it, which had to be a good thing.
When he'd exited her cabin in naught but the bright blue short breeches she'd picked out, her gaze drifted from his naked chest to his stomach and her mouth gaped open. Serena continued to gawk, and his muscles clenched beneath her scrutiny. She made a strange, undecipherable sound. He peered down at himself where the scar from a dagger had left a jagged puckered line near his navel. Was it so grotesque then?
He took another look at her and froze. She wasn't disgusted by what she saw, but...aroused. Her breathing had deepened and her eyelids had lowered, almost as though she'd slipped into a dream state. Pride flooded through him. He flexed and she sighed, completely enraptured.
Despite his amusement, if she kept that up they wouldn't make it to the beach where she wanted to go, but they would definitely end up in her bed. "Enjoying the view, love?"
Through the Maelstrom Page 9