Waves began to assault the ship, each crash a reminder of the wild, untamable ocean that surrounded them. The tempest grew in strength, a relentless force that dwarfed her, made her feel small and unanchored. She pressed her hand to the glass and watched the water flee from her touch. So many nights during her marriage, she’d dreamed about this voyage, imagining it as her escape, her reclamation, yet here she was, trapped again by forces beyond her control.
She heard a low moan from Mrs. Carlisle’s room and sighed
Mrs. Carlisle was suffering from seasickness. She had taken to her bed and had hardly left it since their departure. Eden would have sent her back to London if she could, for the poor woman was completely miserable, but there was no getting off the ship now.
She cracked the door between their rooms and crept carefully inside. “How are you?” she asked softly.
Mrs. Carlisle lifted her head slightly, her pale complexion green. “I’m fine. I’ll get up if you need me to. Do you want me to make tea?”
“Nonsense,” Eden said sternly. “If I need tea, I’ll go up to the dining hall. All you need to do is rest and get better.”
Mrs. Carlisle swiped away a few impotent tears. “I’m no help to you at all, am I? I don’t even know why I’m here.”
It made no sense to Eden either, but the last thing she wanted to do was make the poor woman feel worse. She refilled the water pitcher and placed some dry crackers on the bedside table, glad that Mrs. Carlisle had apparently emptied her own vomit bucket.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Eden said, easing out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
The storm’s violence intensified, rattling the ship’s very bones. Eden found she couldn’t concentrate on her research, the maps, or even a book of fiction she’d brought along. She began to fear that she would not make it through the night alive, and the terror of being sucked down into the briny deep grew with each passing moment.
She finally decided she could not endure it here, alone, any longer. She gathered herself, clutching a shawl around her shoulders, and braced against the ship’s wild lurches as she made her way into the corridor.
She had not gone far when a particularly savage pitch threw her against Max’s door. Her hand caught the handle for balance, and the door flew open to reveal Max, staring at her in shock. Her eyes widened as she realized he was shirtless. His chest was wide and deeply muscled, but the raw power was marred by past injuries—pale, serious scars that cut across his sun-bronzed skin. He looked like a man who’d been forged in fire.
She swallowed thickly. He certainly hadn’t looked like this when they’d gone swimming at the pond on his father’s estate all those years ago. And they’d never been completely naked together, not even on those few occasions when they’d made love. It had always been rushed and secretive.
“Are you all right?” he asked, an edge of wry amusement in his voice. “You look a little worse for wear.”
“I thought it prudent to seek more stable shelter,” she replied breathlessly. “I was heading up top when I fell against your door.”Liar. She’d known the moment she left her cabin that she was searching for him.
He regarded her for a moment, a storm all his own brewing in those unsettlingly blue eyes. “The crew secured most of the passengers below deck. You’re far safer down here than you’d be up top.”
“Doesn’t this storm bother you at all?” she asked, trying not to look at the tantalizing expanse of sun-bronzed skin.Good heavens.Did he run around shirtless all the time? The urge to reach out and trace the pale scar running across his ribs nearly overwhelmed her. “I didn’t know it would be this terrifying. The sea is throwing us around like a top.”
“I’ve been through worse.” His smile was quick and fleeting. “But if you want to stay for a while, I wouldn’t say no to some company.”
She hesitated, weighing her pride against her fear. The ship lurched violently, throwing her off balance once again, and the decision was made for her. She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and immediately felt safer, even though the storm seemed to press in on them from all sides.
The cabin was modest, even smaller than her own, and there was nowhere to sit other than the narrow bunk or an uncomfortable-looking chair in front of the desk. She took a deep breath and perched on the edge of the bed, uncertain of herself in this unexpected intimacy.
“It appears we must endure each other’s presence,” Max observed wryly, slipping on his shirt and sitting in the chair across from her with an easy, sprawling grace as he buttoned it.
“So it seems,” she agreed, the hint of a smile playing on her lips despite herself. “Is that really such a bad thing?” She’d begun to wonder if he meant to keep her at arm’s length for the entire journey after their limited interactions in London.
“Not at all,” he told her, his blue eyes flashing in the low light. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. I was just wondering how you were faring, but I didn’t think it was appropriate to come down to your cabin, even though you have a companion.”
Her heart thrilled a bit at that knowledge, though she hated that the rules of polite society were following her even out here in the middle of the ocean. “My companion is seasick,” she said ruefully. “She’s been in bed since we left Dover. I don’t know how much chaperonage she’ll be able to provide. I still can’t believe Genevieve made me bring her.”
He grinned. “Did you know the duchess accosted me at the rail station? She wanted to make certain I kept you safe, and I assume she also wanted a chance to size me up.”
Eden groaned. “I’m so sorry. I should have known she’d do something like that.”
“Don’t be,” he assured her. “I’m glad you have people who care that much about you.”
She wanted to ask him if he had anybody like that in his own life but was fairly certain that he didn’t. She feared he’d probably spent far too much time alone since she’d last seen him.
They fell silent as the storm raged outside, the sounds of nature’s fury echoing around them. Eden found herself watching him, her attraction to him growing by the moment. He stared at her in return, and she wondered if he liked this older version of herself. What did he see when he looked at her red hair, freckles, and pale skin? She still wasn’t quite sure that he’d ever found her attractive. If he truly had, she feared he was the only one.
“You’ve changed,” she said, unable to hide the note of curiosity in her voice.
