An Unsinkable Love

chapter 6


Bree jerked as the doorknob rattled, sinking into the chair with relief when Elizabeth entered. She was making a silent prayer of thanks Eldon wasn't with his wife when Malcolm stepped into the room behind her.

He was very solicitous with his mother, leading her gently over to the chaise and helping her sit. When he turned his face, Bree saw a brittle gleam in his eyes. Apparently he had at least some idea of what happened.

"Mother tells me you've offered to sit with her tonight."

"Yes. I've been working on some of her other gowns, and it's no bother to stay." Bree couldn't tear her gaze away from his stormy eyes. They were indigo dark and bore into her with unnerving intensity. He shook his head and broke the spell.

"She's a little fatigued. Do you think you could help her to bed?"

"Of course." Bree laid the garment she'd been working on aside and quickly went to Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry I'm such a bother, dear," Elizabeth said.

Bree shushed her with a shake of her head. "Don't fret about it. We'll just get you settled in and comfortable." After she closed the bedroom door and helped the older woman out of the heavy gown and into her nightclothes, she gently brushed Elizabeth's hair. Pain lines deepened around her mouth and Bree quickly finished plaiting the silvery-blonde hair and eased her into the narrow bed, tucking the bedding close around her thin body. She fetched a glass of water from 68

An Unsinkable Love

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the bathroom, measured out the bedtime dose of laudanum then watched as Elizabeth drank it down.

"Thank you, my dear." Elizabeth reached up and brushed her hand across Bree's cheek. "You've been a godsend."

Bree grasped the thin hand as she stood, giving it a squeeze before tucking it under the blanket. "Sleep well, Mrs.

DuMont. I'll be just outside the door. If you need me, call out." By the time she reached the door, Elizabeth's eyes were closed, her face unlined and peaceful in sleep. She left the door open a few inches and went back to her chair. Malcolm paced the room, his agitation palpable.

"She's resting now. The doctor gave her something to help the pain. I think she'll sleep for several hours," Bree said, avidly watching his long fingers scrub through glossy curls at the nape of his neck.

Malcolm's shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes, but Bree saw a muscle ticking in his jaw and knew anger seethed just beneath the surface. If he knew how his mother was injured, Eldon likely wouldn't enjoy their next meeting.

Malcolm confirmed her deduction as he issued a muffled oath, followed by detailed descriptions of several rather violent things he intended to do to his stepfather when he got his hands on him. He stopped pacing and glanced over at her.

He noticed her wide eyes and slack jaw and gave her a sheepish look.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Barry. I've let my emotions run amok. Thank you for helping Mother. She speaks very highly of you. It's been difficult since her maid quit before we left Southampton. I don't believe Mother was particularly fond of 69

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Eleanor, since Eldon hired her without giving Mother any input, but they did eventually get to know each other's habits and such. It's clear she already thinks a great deal of you."

Bree smiled and nodded her thanks. Her smile faltered as Malcolm's deep blue eyes grew more intense, as though trying to read her thoughts. She quickly bent her head and focused on the dress in her lap. Should she comment on Elizabeth's injuries? It really wasn't her place. She wanted him to keep talking. She liked listening to his voice, liked having him near, even though it caused her to breathe too quickly. She didn't want him to notice, to wonder what it meant.

A muffled thump from the hallway startled her. Bree's gaze flicked to the door. The thought of Eldon walking in caused her heart to skip a beat. When the portal remained closed, she sucked in a breath and relaxed. As difficult as she found it to ignore the fact she was alone with Malcolm, she much preferred it to the prospect of being alone with Eldon.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, "but I think I'll stay a bit longer, to make sure Mother's sleeping comfortably."

Bree scrutinized Malcolm's expression, searching for a hint of his intentions. He stood in the middle of the room, feet apart, hands on hips, like a Greek god from the mythology lessons that had been part of her education at the Rothberrys. The sight gave her a strange flutter in her belly

... and lower. She bit her lip in consternation.

Malcolm noticed her stare and mistook its meaning. He motioned to the connecting door. "If you prefer, I can remove 70

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to Eldon's room. Somehow I don't think we'll be seeing him for the rest of the night. But if I do, that would be fine too."

Bree was torn. Having him close kept her on tenterhooks, and she was succumbing to a strong attraction despite her attempts to the contrary. She tried to convince herself it was just worry about being alone if Eldon returned that made her want Malcolm to stay, and nothing to do with how he made her insides feel all fluttery and warm.

He was well within his rights to stay near his mother.

Besides, they weren't technically alone together. It would be quite proper. Bree managed a casual shrug and said, "Why would I mind? I certainly understand your wanting to be near you mother."

He grinned at her, deep dimples bracketing his perfect smile. The sudden transformation was devastating. She felt her heart stop, or maybe it just truly started for the first time.

Bree sucked air into her lungs. She'd forgotten to breathe for a long moment as she stared. Malcolm tilted his head and gave her an assessing look. She realized with an embarrassed start that her hungry gaze had gone on far too long. She swallowed and quickly turned to her sewing. Malcolm further tested her composure when he made himself comfortable on the sofa directly across from her.

He tucked a pillow into the small of his back, wriggling until satisfied with the fit. "Since we're going to spend the evening together, we should get to know one another better.

Tell me about yourself, Miss Barry."

Bree slowly raised her eyes and she saw his benign expression of polite curiosity. She gnawed the inside of her 71

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lip. "There's not much to tell, really. I was born and raised in Queensland. I have seven brothers—" She paused at a gasp from the sofa.

"Seven brothers? My word, that doesn't seem very fair."

Malcolm's eyes sparkled as his mouth curled into another devastating grin. Her heart gave a hard hiccup.

She took a shuddering breath and managed a small smile of her own. "No, actually, it wasn't very fair. We lived in a cottage on the Rothberry estate. My father's family has been gamekeepers there for several generations. My mother was the mayor's daughter, but when he died suddenly and left her destitute, she became a maid at the manor. She married my father just before the old lord died. His eldest son, the new lord, brought his wife to live at the manor, and she had my mother trained as a seamstress. When mother took sickly..."

Bree paused and cleared her throat. "When mother took sick, I would go with her and help. She taught me everything about her work. She was a very good seamstress. After she died, I took her place at the manor." Bree looked down at her hands, clasped so tightly around the fabric she feared she'd never get the wrinkles out.

"How did you come to be on the ship? Is your family emigrating?" Malcolm asked.

"No. I left on my own." Bree kept her gaze averted as she smoothed the gown across her lap. She couldn't see his face.

She feared if she did she might see he really wasn't interested, just making idle conversation. As long as she didn't know for sure, Bree could pretend he really wanted to know about her.

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"How old are you, Miss Barry?" Malcolm chuckled at her affronted gasp. "I know that's quite an improper question, but you don't appear old enough to be on your own."

Bree sighed. How had she ended up in this most unusual conversation with him, anyway? She should stop it right now.

Send him off to the other room so she had some peace and quiet. But she didn't like the idea of him thinking her a child, so she answered, "I'm nearly nineteen. Plenty old enough, thank you very much."

"Really?"

She heard genuine shock in his voice and looked up with a frown.

He must have realized how he sounded and gave her an apologetic shrug. "Well, be that as it may, being on your own in America is a tough proposition. Or do you intend to stay with White Star and travel the world?"

Bree tipped her head back and stared at the figured tin ceiling. She hadn't expected to be hired by the cruise line when she left home; she'd just wanted to get as far away from her family and the Rothberrys as possible. It had never occurred to her she could live on the seas and see exotic ports of call. She looked at Malcolm with a smile, "Now there's an idea. Maybe I will."

"With a boy in every port?" A devilish grin lit his eyes and deepened the dimples.

Bree couldn't help but laugh. "You never know."

As Malcolm opened his mouth to respond, a knock sounded at the door. Bree tensed, glad Malcolm was near. He stood 73

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and called, "Come in." Mr. Cave entered with a wheeled trolley. Bree sagged back into her seat.

"Here you are, sir. You didn't mention how many were dining or any particular preferences, so I took the liberty of making a selection for a light repast, along with coffee and tea."

Malcolm stepped to the cart and lifted silver domes off several plates to reveal fruit, cheeses, fancy iced petit fours and fat golden biscuits with jam and honey. "Thank you, Cave. This is more than adequate."

The steward gave a brief bow. "At your service, sir." He made a crisp turn and let himself out.

"I figured you might be hungry, Miss Barry. Mother and I had dinner, but you were left on your own."

Bree stared at him in surprise. "This is for me? Why, I couldn't eat all that."

"He was quite zealous in his selection." He smiled down at her. "Come now, take a break from your labor and have a bite. Mother would never forgive me if she thought you were being mistreated." He picked up a small frosted cake and bit into it. A fleck of icing at the corner of his expressive mouth captured her attention and she had to stop herself from licking her lips.

Bree's stomach rumbled loudly and she blushed. "Well, as you put it that way, I suppose I could eat something." She reached for a biscuit. From beneath lowered eyelids she hazarded a glance at Malcolm. His heavy-lidded eyes were half-closed, but the sparkle of blue revealed he observed her 74

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closely. She blushed deeper and looked away, silently cursing her fair skin.

He laughed softly and plopped back down on the sofa. She felt him watching as she made additional selections and poured herself a cup of tea. She used the china plate to nudge the sewing kit over and set her cup and saucer on the small side table. His intent scrutiny ruined her appetite.

As if he read her mind, he leaned back, tipped his head to the ceiling and perused the intricate patterns just as she had.

Bree's gaze focused on the tanned cords that ran up the sides of his neck. She noticed a sable curl wrapped around his right earlobe, cradling it. She yearned to reach out and touch it but picked up the cup of tea and saucer instead, taking a sip to wet her suddenly dry mouth.

"The steward will return shortly with linens to make up the sofa. If you prefer, I'll take the sofa and you may use the other bedroom."

Her cup rattled against the saucer and sloshed tea over the side. "I'd prefer the sofa, thank you, Mr. DuMont." She set the drink down as she tried to exorcize thoughts of occupying the big bed with Malcolm from her mind before she made a complete fool of herself.

"Enough of the 'Mr. DuMont,' please. My name is Malcolm, or Mal if you prefer. Mr. DuMont is far too formal for our circumstances. Besides, it makes me think of Eldon and I really don't care to think about him right now."

Bree nodded. "As you wish, Malcolm. You may call me Bridget."

"I thought I heard Mother call you Bree?"

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"Well, yes. That's what my friends and family call me," she replied.

He laughed. "And I am not to call you Bree, I take it?"

She couldn't help the impish smile that turned up the corners of her mouth. "Not at this time."

He snorted, giving her the distinct feeling he wouldn't tolerate her mandate for very long.

Mr. Cave returned shortly with the linens. Malcolm stood to allow him to turn the sofa into a bed. After the steward left, Malcolm began pacing again. Bree watched, thinking of a tiger she'd seen once in a circus cage. They both showed the same sinewy grace and single-minded intent.

He halted and she dropped her gaze before he caught her staring. "I'll return shortly, Miss Barry. I think I'll see if I can find my stepfather and let him know of the new arrangements. I'll ask the steward to keep a close eye on the suite. I don't like to think about you and Mother being on your own here."

Before she responded, Malcolm strode purposefully out of the room then paused with the door half closed. "Lock the door behind me Bree, and the one to the adjoining room as well, if you please." She nodded somberly, not wanting to read too much into his concern.

She flipped the latch behind him then did the same to the door into Eldon's chamber. The sudden silence in the suite became oppressive and Bree experienced a twinge of disappointment she would no longer be sparring with Malcolm. She knew it would be more restful without him 76

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watching her every move with those magnetic eyes, but still...

As she flounced into the chair and took up her sewing, her lips curled in a fiendish grin as she considered what might happen to Eldon if Malcolm caught up with him while in a temper. Eldon was a big man, but going to fat, while Malcolm was just as big and didn't appear to have a soft spot on him.

Not in those broad shoulders, or narrow waist, or long legs.

She chastised herself. It wasn't the least bit proper for her to have such intimate thoughts about a man she'd met only a few days ago. Oh, but he was quite a magnificent specimen of manhood!



* * * *

The clock on the mantle chimed half-past eleven, startling Bree. She glanced up in surprise. Surely it couldn't be so late?

With dismay, she realized she'd never sent word to Mr.

Thorpe that she would be staying to help Mrs. DuMont. It was too late now. "Oh, what if he fires me?" she moaned. Her vivid imagination conjured up several different scenarios, from being put off the ship on a desert island, to being sent to work in the bowels of the ship shoveling coal, to the unlikely event Mr. Thorpe would smile and say it was just fine, so long as she made the passenger happy. Unable to keep her mind on the gown she was working with, she stood and stretched, wincing as her stiff shoulder muscles popped. She rolled her neck and let her head hang, thoroughly exhausted and depressed.

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A muted rumble and a vibration lasting several seconds brought her head up with a snap but the sounds weren't repeated. Bree wandered around the room aimlessly as she worked the kinks out of her back. With a heavy sigh, she picked up the gown again and prepared to get back to work.

A loud thumping began at the door.

The normally composed voice of Mr. Cave shook with emotion. "Miss Barry? Miss Barry, please come to the door.

It's urgent."

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78

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson