Page 32 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
Cecile rubbed at her eyes. ‘You’ve been out here, keeping watch?’
Lance nodded. ‘We’re in agreement. Someone’s playing games, deadly ones, and the captain’s not taking it seriously. Your brother’s valet, and my own man, Robson, are too old to stand guard like this all night, but they’re taking turns through the day, keeping an eye on the starboard side.’
Cecile glanced over her shoulder. ‘Our side of the ship.’
‘It might be coincidence, but it’s damn strange.’
‘What will you do, if you see someone?’
Lance lifted his jacket and she glimpsed the pale glint of steel.
‘You’ve a gun!’ She clapped her hands over her mouth as Lance hushed her again.
‘I won’t use it. Not unless I have to. Just pointing it should be enough to make someone think twice.’
Cecile considered for a moment. ‘Have you noticed anything yet? Anyone, I should say…’
‘The night-watchman makes his rounds of these decks every half hour or so—but there’s been nothing unusual. Unless you count someone in her nightdress, knocking on other people’s doors.’ He gave a wry smile.
‘I was trying to wake you, to let you know what I’d seen. I was hardly to know that it was you out here all along!’ Seeing his smile grow wider, Cecile gave him a punch on the arm.
‘And, it was mighty brave of you, I must say—though a mite foolhardy.’ His eyes crinkled. ‘I can hardly keep you from coming to harm if you’re out here wandering about.’
Cecile was tempted to argue, but the way Lance was looking at her arrested all thought. His eyes contained a glint of merriment, but something else too—a steadfast, searching look, as if to reach into the depths of all she was.
How had she not seen it before?
Quite suddenly, she knew what she wanted, and the intensity of his gaze told her that he felt the same.
He was bending closer, but it was Cecile who closed the distance between them. Tilting back her head, she placed her arms about his neck, her fingers in the curls at his nape. She pulled him down to meet her in the kiss she’d long imagined.
Parting her lips to the soft brush of his mouth, she kissed him, shyly at first.
His returning caress was given gently. So gently that Cecile trembled.
The knot of fear within her gave way; the fear that had plagued her since Scogliera.
This man was not Lorenzo. There was no coercion or intimidation.
Only the softness of lips that were coaxing, and the warm strength of a man who desired to protect her. With him, she was safe.
A small moan of desire escaped her. She opened her mouth to the press of his, and their tongues touched.
He needed no further encouragement, his arms enfolding her as the kiss deepened. Cupping beneath her derriere, he lifted her off her feet. Breathless, she surrendered to the pleasure of being held tightly, aware of how very tall he was, and how muscular.
Lightheaded, she broke the kiss at last, but he held her still, above him, and she made no attempt to wriggle away.
Surrounded by the drifting mist, it was as if only they were upon the ship, sailing into unchartered waters, and yet with the surety that there were no hidden perils.
The moment was broken by the horn sounding again.
What was she thinking: out here in her nightdress, and kissing him like this! ‘Lance, put me down.’
He did so without hesitation, though a look of hurt passed fleetingly across his face. ‘I’m sorry. That was a liberty.’
‘No. I wanted to. It was…’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I wanted to kiss you.’
‘No need to explain. You were frightened and needed comfort. That’s all it was.’ He reached for her hand, holding it briefly.
