Page 133 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

“Oh definitely,” Linc says.

We wave goodbye, and the two of them head off, pushing Lily in her pram.

Linc watches them go, then turns to me. “That was fun,” he says.

“I think she liked that you cuddled Lily,” I tell him. “You looked surprisingly comfortable.”

“I have a friend in the UK who had a baby recently,” he explains. “I’ve held his son a few times, which helps.”

We begin walking slowly along the high street, past the busy shops. “Do you miss your friends there?” I ask.

“A bit.” He slides an arm around my waist. “London’s a great city. So much culture—historical sites, art galleries, theaters, concerts… You’d love it.”

“I’m sure I would.”

He pulls me toward him and kisses the top of my head. “Is moving there something you’d ever contemplate?”

I hesitate. “I don’t know. I’d miss my family a lot. Claire suggested the idea of being swallows—six months there, six months here.”

“Not a bad idea. Not sure how it would work out for jobs, though.” He looks away, at one of the displays in a nearby shop window.

“Mmm.” My heart sinks a little. It’s a nice idea for a retired couple—escaping winter by spending something like April to September in the UK, then October to March here—but it’s not so good for a working couple.

No, if I want to be with Linc, it’s looking as if the only option is to go to the UK with him. Can I really do that? Not only would it mean leaving my family behind, the notion of moving across the world is a scary thought. I’m sure London is a great city, but I’d have no friends and no job. And while I accept it wouldn’t take long to find my way around, especially with buses and Uber and the Tube, it’s a gigantic step for a girl who mainly walks from work to her apartment and then checks the locks fourteen times.

We don’t speak about it again and spend our time shopping before returning to the ship just after 3:30 p.m. Half an hour later, the gangplank is retrieved, and the ship sets sail again, this time for an overnight journey to Milford Sound.

We head down to the theater to listen to the afternoon lecture on cave paintings, including the relatively recent discovery in a cave in Sulawesi, Indonesia, that’s between 31,500 and 43,900 years old, which makes it the oldest art ever found, and stay for the questions afterward, both of us asking a few of our own.

We decide to have dinner at the Italian restaurant, and spend our time talking about the lecture, as well as a hundred other subjects—music and art and literature, wherever the conversation takes us. Linc is such an easy person to talk to, and even when I’m just listening, I find it hard to tear my gaze from him. I’m falling for him badly, I know, and I’m only making it harder for myself if and when the time comes that I have to let him go. But I can’t help it. He’s captivated me, put me under his spell. I’m crazy about him.

It can’t be love—it’s a childish crush, an infatuation, because love is something that grows over time. But it’s not going away anytime soon, and even though I know it’s probably going to end in heartache, I give myself over to it, because I like being in love, and I’m going to make the most of it while he’s here.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Linc

After dinner, Elora and I go up to the top deck, because tonight they’re showing the Dungeons & Dragons movie on the big screen. We find two loungers toward the far side, and Elora declares that she’d like to try a cocktail.

I know she likes fruit juice, and I can’t imagine she’s going to like anything too strong like an Old Fashioned, which is what I’m having, so I suggest a Screwdriver, which is just vodka and orange juice. When it comes, I warn her that she won’t be able to taste the vodka too much and not to neck it or I’ll have to carry her back to the cabin, and that earns me a mischievous glance, as if she’s telling me she wouldn’t mind that at all.

Oh, Elora. She’s determined to push me to my limits. Tonight she’s wearing a pair of very short, very tight denim shorts and a pretty white top that clings to her breasts, a far step from her usual librarian ensemble. Her hair is in its customary bun, but it’s very loose, and long strands twist around her face, making her look soft and sexy.

I keep telling myself I have to be gentle and slow and to treat her kindly. I remind myself that she’s only twenty-four, and she’s a young twenty-four in many ways—not one of those girls who’s traveled, who’s sexually experienced, and who’s at the other end of the scale from naïve.

But equally, she’s not eighteen, and despite her religious background, she’s not conservative. She’s clearly enjoying exploring her sexuality, and who am I to query that when I’m the lucky recipient?

We used to play D&D when we were young, with Fraser, Joel, Henry, and some of the others, and we laugh a lot as we catch references to creatures and game mechanics that we thought we’d forgotten long ago. It’s a really fun adventure movie, just like the sort we used to watch back in the day, and we both really enjoy it. Under Elora’s instructions, I order another cocktail each, and whisper something to the waiter, who delivers the drinks with my request—a Twix.

She laughs, opens the packet, and hands me half, and I elbow her as we eat it, making her smile.

She’s the first girl who was kind to me. The first who gave me a hug. The one who introduced me to archaeology, for which I’ll be ever thankful. And she was my first kiss. That’s a lot of firsts, and a lot of special moments. While I was in London, it felt as if a lifetime had passed since my time at Greenfield, but sitting here with her, watching the movie, it feels as if it all happened yesterday. I can’t believe we’ve spent so long apart. And so much has happened to both of us.

She’s grown up so much. She’s so beautiful now. I think back to meeting Claire and Gareth, and how I felt when Elora asked to hold baby Lily. I can honestly say I haven’t thought about settling down once in my life. Not with Sophia, or with any girl since. I live for today, and I don’t make plans, because in my experience life has a way of fucking you over when you do that.

But for the first time, watching her look down at the baby with a tender expression, I thought about how it would feel if we were married, and she was holding my baby.

I thought I’d feel uneasy, wary of the pressure of looking after a wife and child, and restless at the thought of being tied down like that. I do have a certain amount of wanderlust, and although when you’re married you’re not joined at the hip, I wouldn’t be able to just hop on a plane and go away when I wanted.

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