Catch Me If You Can

by Juliette Cosway

  The Tables Turn

  Eleanor tapped quietly at the door to Miette’s cabin.

  It was well after ten in the morning and yet she wondered if she’d left it late enough. After a minute passed the door opened a couple of inches and Miette was standing there, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders, her body wrapped in a sheet. Her face looked heavy with sleep and she peered out.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Eleanor whispered.

  Miette put a finger to her lips, opened the door a fraction wider and pointed back over her shoulder. Eleanor gasped, astonished when saw the bearded face of the captain asleep amongst the pillows on the bed. When Miette had said he was awaiting her company, Eleanor didn’t think she meant quite so literally. To witness their proud captain so thoroughly debauched at the hands of her friend – her married friend - was another matter.

  .“Meet with me in the Terrace Lounge in one hour,” Miette whispered, shooing her off with a smile.

  Eleanor nodded and slipped away.

  As she walked the corridors of the ship, she wondered if Miette’s relationship with the captain was the reason why she’d been more eager to meet with Eleanor in England for passage, than to have them take passage from Cherbourg. She shook her head, trying to get over her astonishment at Miette’s behavior. She reminded herself they’d both vowed to be women of the world. Miette, it seemed, had outstripped Eleanor in those particular stakes. In fact, Eleanor surmised, she doubted she could ever catch her up, or would, in fact, want to. Miette indicated her marriage was nothing but an agreement, Eleanor couldn’t fathom it.

  Surely, she mused, if one did perchance feel strongly enough to attach oneself to a man in matrimony he should be all that one could ever want or need. A passionate heart, a defender of the first order and a man one could be proud of and stand beside with true commitment. She shrugged the issue off, for at that moment it was beyond her and it muddled her beliefs. In fact, she felt much less worldly-wise than she’d previously believed herself, which came as quite a shock.

  The atmosphere in the terrace lounge soon distracted her. It was an elegant space with a tropical theme. Wicker chairs and potted plants dotted the length and breadth of the room. The floors were marbled with a luxurious walkway of carpet, set down the center of the room. Down one wall a mahogany built service area was adorned with mirrors, glasses and bottles filled with every manner of refreshment.

  A uniformed steward rushed to her attention when she arrived and she was sipping a cup of bouillon and reading the daily ship bulletin when Miette finally joined her, at nearly twelve o’clock. She looked fresh and sprightly, wearing a navy shirt-waister suit under which Eleanor spied the chemise that Miette had purloined from her own wardrobe. She waved at a steward as she walked over to Eleanor and ordered two more cups of bouillon.

  “My, it does seem cold today. Were you kept warm by your dreams last night, Eleanor?”

  Eleanor smiled. “Yes. I’m well today, thank you, and how are you, my dear?”

  Miette’s cheeks puffed up and she shook her head. “It was,” she searched for the word, “fun.”

  “Oh?” Eleanor said, feigning disappointment, trying to raise her enthusiasm for the outrageous coquetry of her friend, “only fun?”

  “The man is infatuated with the bosom. He barely raised his head from my cleavage all night.” Miette laughed. “It’s always such a waste when they confine themselves to the breasts and the whole body yearns to be adored in such a way.”

  Eleanor covered her mouth with her hand, smiling in confused embarrassment at Miette’s shameless statement. At home in Fossett, she was considered the precocious, uncivilized one. In comparison to Miette she was a saint. It was all relative, after all. “Miette, you are outrageous.”

  Miette waved away the comment. “And you, what have you planned for today?”

  “I shall be taking a walk around the deck with Mr. Rivers this afternoon,” Eleanor said, quietly, unsure quite how much she wanted Miette to know.

  “Aha, in that case you must have a good luncheon.” She called for the waiter, asking him to bring them the menu, patting her friend on the hand as if she was a convalescent who needed to build up her strength.

  Eleanor smiled to herself. It wasn’t far from the truth. Dealing with Mr. Rivers demanded her every ounce of strength, wit and willpower. And she intended to deal with him well. She’d vowed to take the upper hand from the outset.

  * * *

  Rivers stepped to the door then changed his mind and decided to take one more tour around the deck before collecting Eleanor. After their exchange the evening before, he’d lain awake half the night, slept fitfully, then proceeded to wear footsteps into the planks of the promenade deck. He had to strengthen his resolve. He’d a job to do.

  It was as simple as that. She had to be cajoled into being escorted. The task had fallen to him and he had to keep a level head if he was to oversee it. He sighed. That was the difficult part, keeping a level head when he was in her company.

  The previous evening he’d tried unsuccessfully to ignore her. She was far too attractive a damsel in distress to be ignored, especially with the sparkle of laughter and mischief in her eyes. Being alone with her was fatal. It was practically impossible to keep himself from touching her and he wasn’t altogether appreciative of the affect she had on him. He’d wanted to shred the remains of her torn gown off and take her into his arms right there, standing against the wall of the corridor. She was so lush and desirable. He was unduly intoxicated by her presence. Had his faculties entirely deserted him?

  Rivers considered himself a sensual man, but he’d never found himself overwhelmed by desire the way he was around Miss Eleanor Craven. Reeling in his urges with her was one of the hardest tasks he’d ever undertaken. When he let his thoughts idle on images of possessing her body, he realized the situation could only get worse. Intoxication was best avoided at all costs – especially if they were to travel together and share the same space for many weeks ahead. He paused, taking a moment to savor the thought of being with her, at length.

  “Damn it, woman,” he muttered. He turned his face into the cold wind and breathed in deeply before he set off to the terrace lounge, where he’d spied her taking luncheon earlier.

  Despite his pledge to consider her in entirely polite, platonic terms, he could barely drag his gaze away once he set eyes on her. She responded with a warm smile, standing to greet him. She’d begun to look happier. He was pleased to note the shadows beneath her eyes were disappearing. Her simple black mourning gown was made of the softest wool and quite plain in design, but that only seemed to emphasize the attractive figure within. He was relieved when she pulled a heavy tweed overcoat into her arms for their walk.

  “Good afternoon, ladies, I trust you are both well.”

  Eleanor gave a warm smile and nodded.

  “Quite well, thank you, Mr. Rivers.” The red-haired French companion spoke first. “Although I’m at a great loss now,” she added, pouting. “Since you intend to take my companion away. Do assure me you will at least keep her entertained.” The woman was eyeing him up and down with a critical eye.

  Rivers determined that he didn’t care much for this Miette Du Bois-O’ Neill, although for some reason the name seemed vaguely familiar to him.

  “I’ll do my best, Madame.” He turned to Eleanor. “I’ve arranged for us to visit the bridge later this afternoon.”

  Miette gave an astonished cry. “Even I’ve not had that pleasure.”

  She looked quite put out, and Eleanor chuckled. “That sounds delightful, Rivers.” She accepted his offered arm.

  As they took their leave he gave a quick bow to the woman they left behind.

  “Your friend is in poor humor today?”

  “No,” she was still smiling to herself. “Miette has the intimate acquaintance of the captain so she’ll think she should’ve had a tour of the bridge, although perhaps she hadn’t realized that before you mentioned it.”

  Riv
ers returned her smile. “Ah, I see.”

  They walked toward the door of the terrace lounge and he opened it and ushered her through. As she walked down the corridor in front of him, the roll of the ship suddenly threw her against the wall, and she lost her footing. Rivers helped her to steady her feet, with one arm around her waist.

  So much for keeping their distance.

  Fate had thrown them together inside the space of a minute.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He slowly lowered his arm from her waist. She stood still for a moment to regain her footing, and looked up at him with eyes lit with molten fire. Her soft lips parted as she gathered herself, and he knew by the quick rise and fall of her chest that her breath was coming quickly. Her proximity had brought an immediate response, his blood pounding, his arms aching with the restraint he had to muster in order not to pull her closer to him and kiss her parting lips. She seemed aware of the effect she was having on him and laid her hand against his chest, as if she was quite eager to be held.

  What was the little minx up to?

  As if it wasn’t difficult enough to resist touching her and taking her into his arms, she now seemed to be enticing him to do so. He tried to think of a simple way to extricate them from what seemed to be a locked position, leaning up against the wall of the corridor, looking into each other’s eyes.

  “The door,” he muttered, jerking his head toward the nearest door to the promenade deck.

  He led her to it with one hand beneath her elbow, and at arm’s length.

  Thankfully the blast of cold air that hit him as they stepped out on deck freshened him somewhat.

  “Oh my, it’s biting cold today,” she said, opening up her overcoat.

  He helped her into it, relieved her fine figure was to be concealed from his lecherous eyes. He was there to protect her, but who would protect her from him? He was beginning to grow cynical about his predicament. They were half way around the deck before either of them was able to speak, then they coincided.

  “How far —”

  “You slept well...? I’m sorry.” Rivers told himself to take his time. She couldn’t escape him aboard ship “What were you going to say?”

  “I wondered how far we are from England. However, I recall the newsletter announced the exact distance.” She blushed. “I slept quite well thank you, although I must admit I had rather a headache this morning. The wine.”

  “Wine is your friend, but you must treat it with respect, as you would an old and dear friend.” He couldn’t keep the teasing tone out of his voice.

  “I’m afraid I’m something of a novice in regard to such things, however I’ll remember your words. I didn’t embarrass myself too much, did I?”

  “No, I confess it was good to see you smiling again.”

  She seemed concerned about his opinion of her. That warmed him. He reminded himself this walk was simply to establish a polite, workable relationship between them, in order for further negotiations regarding travel arrangements once they arrived in New York.

  “You seem to know the captain well?” She had a curious and determined expression on her face.

  “I traveled with him several years ago and I’ve had the good fortune to meet him aboard ship on two more voyages since.”

  “He remembers you each time?” They stood against the ship railings as they reached the bow, to observe the ship cleaving its way through the heavy waters.

  “He remembers the wine,” he replied, flashing a grin. “I always carry wine whenever I travel and it’s good policy to bring offerings to people such as the captain, as we witnessed last night. He placed a regular order with my father’s distributor after the first time I traveled. Now I carry the Craven Estate wine with me. For a vineyard trying to establish itself, every opportunity must be taken to pass the good news.”

  “I see.” She looked thoughtful. “It was called Riverside, the wine, but the vineyard was of the name Guillaime.”

  Her inquiring gaze was steadfast. She seemed quite determined to quiz him.

  “Yes.” Rivers frowned. They set off again. He thought it best to keep moving. “My family name is Guillaime.”

  “And Rivers, is that a name you have adopted?”

  The discussion was entering territory he’d not trodden for some time. “Rivers was the name I was given at school. The teacher I had was rather eccentric and called the children after the name of the orchard lands they came from, which he claimed he could remember better than names that were foreign to him. It stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

  “I see. When I saw your family name is Guillaime I wondered if perhaps you were…” She blushed, her eyelids dropping.

  “You wondered if I was illegitimate, because I didn’t carry the family name?”

  Her mind had surely been working hard to try to figure out the puzzle. She was a bright, intelligent young lady. He’d never known a woman attempt to unravel his background before now.

  “Yes, well it is one explanation, is it not?” She was truly embarrassed.

  “Are you checking my credentials on behalf of your Aunt, Miss Craven?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “I cannot help being curious, and…I find I wish to know you better.”

  There was that heavy glance again, luring him in.

  Rivers coughed and rearranged his necktie. This was no easy task he’d set himself. “I’m a Guillaime through and through. I’ve my reasons for not being with my family or being associated with them. I wished to create my own destiny.”

  He could feel his expression tightening. He didn’t want to dwell on the issue. If she continued to quiz him, he might well tell her the whole truth about his break with his family. If he did, she may not want anything to do with him, which would make his carefully made plans to escort her even more difficult to execute. God forbid.

  “I’ve intruded,” she whispered, her expression concerned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Eleanor, it’s simply history I left behind a long time ago.”

  They turned the deck for a third time.

  “I think perhaps it’s time. Would you care to visit the bridge, most important business is done by the captain and his crew?”

  She smiled up at him and took his arm again. “Yes I would and thank you, Rivers. That was a wonderful idea.” She glanced up at the row of windows marking out the bridge. “I would love to do so, with you.”

  He didn’t miss the inference, and thanked god he’d had the foresight to arrange a distraction.

  * * *

  The bridge was sparser than either of them had imagined. There were rows of controls along all the windows and the ship’s wheel stood alone in the center of the space, rising up from the floor on a huge brass column. The room was subdued in lighting, with only one officer watching over the controls. He welcomed them in.

  “Once the course has been set,” the officer explained, “as long as the conditions are good, there’s no need to have a full compliment of men. The lookouts are located elsewhere of course, and the first officer can easily be reached in an emergency.” He indicated the brass communication nozzle hanging on the wall.

  Eleanor walked around, peering at all the dials and buttons with interest.

  Rivers followed, enjoying her curiosity. The brass cases of the dials gleamed, thin hands flicking over the gauges.

  She walked over to the ship’s wheel and touched it gently, as if impressed by the huge carved wooden object and the power it had to guide the ship through the waves. She unbuttoned her heavy coat and loosened it. A skein of her hair had come undone and trailed over one shoulder. He quelled the urge to go over to her, lift the soft hair and pin it back in place. It was a strangely intimate urge, the likes of which he’d never encountered before.

  “Doesn’t someone need to steer the ship?” she asked.

  “No, the course is set and the steering is locked for the majority of the journey,” the attendant officer replied. He then collected a logbook he’d been writing in
and stepped into a small anteroom. They could hear him but he’d gone quite out of view.

  Eleanor watched the officer’s departure then regarded Rivers with a determined expression.

  He realized she was about to say something. The tension between them had notched up, rapidly.

  “Rivers, we find ourselves all alone here…here at the heart of the matter.”

  He stared at her, the blatantly flirtatious look in her eyes registering quickly and firing his blood.

  She slipped her hand onto his arm and drew it in around her waist. She moved her mouth close to his ear. “I enjoyed the kiss you pleasured me with in Oaklands. Could I avail of another?”

  As she moved her head back she let her lips draw across his cheek.

  Why, the little wanton is leading me on!

  First she demanded he leave her alone, then she interrogated him about his history, and now she was propositioning him. The irony of the situation struck him as he gazed at the intense desire expressed in her upturned face.

  “Here, Miss Craven? Is that not rather reckless, even for you?”

  “Right here, right now.” She reached her lips to his and kissed him.

  He found her mouth soft and pliant and he returned her kiss hotly, his passion flaring. She reached for his chest, sliding both her arms around him, and pulled his body against hers. He fast reacted.

  A soft moan escaped her when his hard body crushed against her soft one.

  He pulled away to look at her. He couldn’t believe it was happening, and had to reassure himself. Steadying himself with one hand on the control panel, he found himself looking into mischievous eyes, eyes that sparkled with fire. Her lips were darkening, patches of color high on her cheeks indicating her arousal. There was no denying it was happening.

  “Mr. Rivers, please take the controls once more,” she said, glancing down at his hands, and laughed in delight.

  “You are being outrageous, you little minx.” His embraced her waist and then shifted his hands higher, to the underside of her breasts. His dipped down and rested his lips on the small area of soft skin that was uncovered at the base of her neck.