Page 27 of Escape to the Sun

Hannah stared at the contents of her wardrobe, bemoaning her haphazard approach to packing for this trip. She had included a couple of dresses, but they’d been thrown into her suitcase with little thought attached to accessories to accompany them – like shoes, for example.

Could she go to a formal dinner in trainers? Or flip-flops?

Probably not.

Should she shout at herself for her own crappy planning? Or beat herself with birch twigs for her lack of forethought? Ask the captain to lock her in the brig and deal with her later? Possibly with one of the birch twigs…

Hannah caught her breath – shocked at the inference contained in her own thought. Did her best to stop the creep of heat that threatened to engulf her. It wasn’t like her to have those kinds of thoughts, especially about someone she barely knew. Couldn’t remember viewing Ian with that kind of abandon. They’d first met when she was seventeen, and back then she had been ridiculously naïve. After reconnecting a couple of years later, she’d never thought to look further than the tall and handsome guy who was a couple of years older than her, who was fit and athletic and friendly, who pursued her and ultimately – as the years rolled – made her feel safe and wanted.

Until he’d wanted someone else, of course.

Recalibrating, Hannah pulled one of the dresses from the rail and laid it on the bed. It was too floaty, with layers of voile-like fabric wrapped one on top of the other, but the alternative was one in a bright shade of pink, which Hannah had decided was a good idea in the shop in West Quay, but which was way too short for this dinner.

Would the tan gladiator sandals she’d decided would be ideal for walking on the beach look good with the floaty dress?

Hannah shook her head as she checked her watch. It was something she no longer had time to worry about.

She was still berating her packing decisions as she reached the Vivaldi restaurant. She grinned at the guy on the door, showed him her invitation and was welcomed inside.

Groups of people already chatted in tight formation; waiters glided silently holding trays of glasses. Everyone looked utterly at home in an environment for which Hannah had no frame of reference. Hannah took champagne from a passing waiter and sipped as she glanced around. Perhaps she should slide back out through the door she’d just come through and forget the whole thing.

Then Louis extracted himself from one of the groups and headed for her.

‘Hannah – you’re just in time,’ he said, waving away the offer of a drink from another waiter and drew closer. ‘I’m on the elderflower alcohol-free option. Really boring, but it is what it is. You look fantastic, by the way. Beautiful dress.’

‘Thank you.’ She buried her delight at his comment by taking a bigger mouthful of champagne, stifling a cough as the bubbles crowded the back of her throat. She glanced around the restaurant, the tables decked out with liveried crockery and linens, arrangements of exotic flowers on each table.

‘This place looks fantastic, too.’

‘You wait until we have the Christmas dinners – they really go all out for those. Do you like the champagne? I think it’s a decent vintage – not that I get to taste any of it.’

She sipped at her glass, the buzz going straight to her head. ‘I’m not sure when I last had any champagne.’

In truth, she remembered distinctly. It had been when she and Ian had announced their engagement to her parents. Her father had gone to the deli fridges, found a bottle of Moët & Chandon he said he’d been storing for just such a moment, and they’d toasted her – and Ian’s – future.

‘If you’d rather, why don’t you try one of the cocktails,’ Louis said, looking around for the waiter with the tray.

‘No, honestly,’ she said, tilting the glass and side-eyeing it. ‘Challenge accepted. I’ll make the best of it and push on through.’

Louis laughed and Hannah gripped the stem of her glass a little tighter. Something happened to Louis’ eyes when he laughed like that; they creased closed and yet managed to sparkle, all at the same time. She took a surreptitious glance at his uniform. It was incredibly smart, the collar starched to perfection and so pearly white against the sun-kissed tones of his neck, the white jacket stiff and formal, emblazoned with gold buttons and braids and stripes. It really was impressive. It also struck her that he was too hot for that jacket.

No, that was wrong… She meant he might be too hot in that jacket.

Hannah felt plenty warm enough in her beach-ready dress and he had on loads more layers than she did. That’s what she meant…

She cleared her throat as she tried to focus on something other than her thoughts on what lay underneath the tailored lines of his jacket, or the way they were making her feel. Did her best to focus on the details, the stitching on the jacket, the Blue Line emblem. The gold bands circling his wrists. Four, which denoted him as captain. It was the same number he wore on the shoulders of his shirt. The shirt that was, apart from the collar, mostly hidden underneath the jacket right now. If she unbuttoned the jacket, and pushed it apart, she would be able to check…

‘Thanks for coming,’ Louis said, unaware of her internal turmoil. Maybe she needed to have a couple of glasses of alcohol to relax and get herself under control.

‘I’ve asked for you to be on my table, I thought that might be appropriate as there may not be anyone else here you know.’

A matter of days ago Hannah would have taken offence, would have focused on the inference that she was here alone, would have imagined it laced with negativity and pitying thoughts. But that wound had made a start towards healing, and as she glanced around at the groups of people overflowing with confidence and noted the ease with which some folks seemed able to make small talk with complete strangers, she was grateful for his thoughtfulness.

‘We’re over here,’ he said, extending a hand to the air below her elbow as he guided her to the table in the centre of the room. He was careful not to touch her arm, presumably a chivalrous, formal dining thing – something Hannah had no experience of beyond watching a bit of Downton Abbey. But she really wished he’d get it wrong and bump against her skin.

Another swig of champagne gave her something to do, a waiter replenishing her glass as they neared the table and Louis showed her to her seat. Right next to his.

As though a secret code had been passed around the room the rest of the guests also started to take their seats and the meal began.