by Jina Bacarr
He couldn’t stop looking at her as she reached the top of the gangway at the same time as a bumboat pulled up alongside the ship, and a man stood up in the dingy and yelled—
‘Stop that redheaded girl! She’s wanted by the law.’
That piqued Buck’s interest even more.
A damsel in distress, is she?
A girl as beautiful as that couldn’t be guilty of anything more than making a man fall in love with her.
He couldn’t stand by and not help her. The girl had assisted a man of the cloth, dammit. It had been a long time since a woman had touched his soul.
Moving with long strides, Buck raced to the stairs leading to B Deck, confronting danger head-on as he always did.
No doubt about it. This trip just became a hell of a lot more interesting.
7
‘Stop, I say,’ yelled the purser. ‘Stop!’
‘Not by the sword of Saint Joan, I won’t,’ Ava yelled out, spinning around on the gangway and running through the shell door leading to the lower deck for second class. She brushed past curious passengers, who didn’t stop her.
God help her, the purser was after her and, she imagined, the constable, too.
She heard fast footsteps moving closer behind her. She eluded them by ducking behind a portly gentleman in a tight suit and his wife wrapped up in numerous black furs, mumbling in a language she didn’t understand.
Neither did the purser.
He ignored the man calling out to him and kept running down the hallway. He didn’t see her. Oh, Mother of God, whatever blessed thing she did in the past to earn this favor, she’d do it again. A hundred-fold.
Ava took off in the opposite direction, holding her small bag to her chest, running wildly and scolding herself for her own foolishness. If she hadn’t been staring at the handsome gentleman, the constable wouldn’t have seen her.
That had done her in.
Her with her fancy thoughts about how grand it would be up there on deck with him, standing under a delicate ivory lace parasol and holding onto his arm. He had a bronzed, raw appeal that made her tremble inside.
A wise girl has no time for the likes of him, she could hear her mum say and right she was. Look at her, pulling at her wool collar and breaking into a cold sweat, breathing so fast she thought she’d die if she didn’t stop to catch her breath.
Ava kept running down the hallway until she came to a pair of baize doors. She had no idea where they led to. Did it matter?
She bolted through them into a lighted hallway, racing up the stairway, then the next, the steel tread beneath her feet giving way to smooth flooring. Polished, off-white wood hugged the walls adorned with fancy cornice work. Overhead lighting from rounded bulbs guided her.
Taking two or three heavy breaths to calm the pounding in her chest, she took a moment to get her wits about her.
She was safe. For now.
Closing her eyes, she leaned against the staircase wall, wild thoughts racing through her mind. Where was she to go?
‘I’ve been looking for you.’
She opened her eyes and let out a loud gasp. She was taken aback by the utterly amused expression on the man’s face. Dear sweet Jesus, it was him. The gentleman she’d seen on deck, watching her. And here he was, the fine scent of him filling her nostrils with a heady perfume she couldn’t resist. What swayed her not to run was his sheer masculinity, drawing her to him as she looked him straight in the eye. Like a burst of golden sunshine he was, shining down on her after she’d been drenched by a cold, drizzling rain in her dark, gray world.
What lass wouldn’t fall for his blarney? And like it, too. He was a handsome man, with black hair and black eyes that held dark secrets that could make her blush. He had an aristocratic air about him that tamed his wildness just enough to keep him on balance.
And put her off balance.
And that voice. Smooth as glass but deep as the darkest night when a girl should be asleep, but instead dreaming of him whispering in her ear and slipping his hands around her waist before he stole a kiss.
Aye, he’d be the undoing of her. She had to find her way down to steerage since she’d never pass for anything else. Her with Paris frocks and evening gowns? The saints were laughing at her, more so because she wished she could linger with the gentleman, flirt with him. That was a danger to her heart no girl in her predicament could afford. The law had found her and she’d best be quick about escaping.
Where was she? The hallway with its ornate walls and rich flooring spoke of a grandness she’d seen only in the manor house where she worked.
Make your move.
Stepping away quickly, almost too quickly, she flinched when his strong hands grabbed her around the waist, then hoisted her up into the air. Oh, the grandness of a knight he had and the strength of a warrior. But he could be as dangerous as a dragon’s fiery breath for the likes of her. The heat of his body stole the dampness from her wet clothes penetrating her bones, warming her. Making her want something from him that melted her like ice under his burning gaze.
By the Virgin Mary, what next?
Ava wrestled to get away from him.
Struggling, she cried out, ‘Let me go!’
‘Be quiet, you little hellion,’ the man said, his voice ringing with authority. She shivered. Did he have to sound so wonderful that a girl wanted to hear more? ‘I know you’re in trouble—’
‘Me, Ava O’Reilly, in trouble?’ she said, chin up, his powerful and pleasing presence arousing her. ‘What makes you think that, sir?’
He put her down but didn’t release his hold on her. ‘Steerage passengers don’t belong up here in first class.’
First class? She blinked. That explained the ornately carved banisters and wide staircases. She’d heard the steerage passengers extolling about the luxury on board, from the swimming pool and Turkish baths to fresh strawberries served in first class.
‘Now if you’ll point me in the right direction to the third-class deck,’ she said, showing him her ticket, ‘I’ll be on my way.’
‘And right into the hands of the law.’
She took in a deep breath. So he did know.
He continued, ‘You have no choice but to allow me to offer you my protection.’
‘And who are you, sir?’
He bowed slightly. ‘Captain Lord James Blackthorn, at your service.’ He winked at her and her toes curled. ‘My friends call me Buck.’
By the holy stones, he was offering her escape.
Ava shivered and not from the cold. She’d never be safe with the likes of him making her blush and her knees wobble. Aye, his good looks could steal a girl’s soul away from her. He was tall, muscular and possessed an arrogance that intrigued her. Not to mention a heat building inside her that warmed her insides like melted honey. He seemed more alive to her than any man she’d ever seen. A man who knew his charm and savored it.
‘And why would you help the likes of me?’ Ava demanded with a proud air.
He smiled at that, continuing to stare at her, his eyes dark and searching. ‘Come with me and find out.’
Ava laughed, disbelieving. After all she’d been through and now this. Why did God put such temptation in her path? The devil himself he was, mischievous, wickedly self-assured and alive with a vitality that set a girl’s pulse racing.
‘Escape with you where?’ she asked, the words flying fast and quick between them.
‘To my cabin in first class,’ he said.
‘First class?’ she said. ‘With all them rich swells?’
It was too much for her poor, tired mind to take in. Here were riches beyond those she’d ever dreamed. Here was the smell of grandness, that rich, seductive, cloying smell that grabbed her heart and singed her soul.
To run off with such a man was a sin, the priest reminded her each Thursday in the confessional box, but the law was after her. They’d take her back to Cork in chains with the shame of stealing marked upon her forehead.
Ava
was at a loss. What was she to do? No time to escape on her own. She could hear the sound of voices and footsteps pounding on the stairs, coming closer and closer.
‘We must go, now!’ he said brusquely. ‘Or I won’t be able to help you.’
The steadiness in his dark eyes wavered for a moment, as if they were caught in a sudden storm. A rush of adrenaline raced through her at hearing his chilly tone. The handsome gent wasn’t playing games. He knew the consequences if they caught her. Locked up, then sent back to Ireland.
‘’Tis true what you say but…’ She hesitated, still unsure.
He leaned down and smiled at her in such a way she wanted to believe him. ‘I want nothing but to see you continue your journey… I swear on my oath as a soldier in His Majesty’s service no harm will come to you.’
His words brought her to tears, though she refused to let them fall and show weakness in front of him. She had to do what he wished and face the consequences later. He wasn’t a bad sort like Lord Holm with his glib talk. He was dressed fancy, but he was a man who’d served his country. That settled it with her.
Ava nodded. ‘Aye, I’ll come with you, Captain Lord Blackthorn.’
‘Hurry, they’ll be upon us in a minute.’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her close behind him. Why did that feel so right?
Holy Mary, Mother of God, she prayed in a somewhat uncertain state of mind, her feet flying over the smooth flooring down the long hallway. Did the holy saints have something more alarming in store for her?
She found out when he ordered her to take off her clothes.
She’d nearly wrenched his arm off when he pulled her into his cabin, letting go with words no lady would utter, alerting the nosy stewardess smoking a cigarette in the darkened hallway. What if she told the captain?
Aye, she’d take her chances with the handsome lord.
‘I asked you to remove your wet and ripped clothes,’ he said.
‘And why should I?’ She jutted out her hip, determined to hold her own against him.
He turned around with his back to her.
‘There, I’m not looking at you,’ he said firmly. ‘Now will you take off those wet clothes so I can get on with my plan to save you?’
‘You mean so you can turn back around and get an eyeful?’ She laughed.
‘You’re trying my patience, Ava,’ he said, perturbed. ‘If you don’t cooperate, I will have no choice but to turn you over to the captain.’
‘Will you?’ she said, stalling. ‘If it’s only a kiss you want, I can kiss you with my clothes on.’
That made the gentleman laugh. ‘I have a proposal for you on a grander scale and it doesn’t involve kissing.’
‘By the souls of the martyred saints, you waste no time, milord.’ She hesitated, trying to catch her breath. ‘If I agree to do what you want, what happens after?’
‘I will hide you where no one will find you.’
‘And for that you expect me to sin with the likes of you?’
He teased her with, ‘You could do worse.’
‘And who says I couldn’t do better?’ she shot back. ‘I’ll find me a nice gentleman, one who won’t ask bawdy things of me.’
He turned around and came toward her. ‘Shall we let the captain decide your fate?’
She stepped back.
‘I swear upon my mum’s rosary, I’m not guilty of any crime,’ Ava insisted, ‘but if you’re like most gentlemen, you won’t believe me.’
He didn’t press her further and insisted he’d offered her his protection without any strings attached and he was honor bound to stand by that.
‘I’m still waiting for you to remove your clothes,’ he said, agitated. Ava was more intrigued by the double sink and commode. The canopied bed and elegant furniture polished so shiny it glowed. As grand as any room in Cameron Manor. What to do? The price to be paid for such grand living was her freedom. The very thing she sought to find on the Titanic.
She muttered a prayer, then said, ‘If you’re a true gentleman, sir, you’ll turn back around and keep your eyes to yourself.’
‘As you wish.’
‘Now your mind can imagine what your eyes wanted to see.’
‘I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.’
‘Skip your fancy talk, Captain Lord Blackthorn. If I do your bidding, and I’m still discussing that with the Almighty, it will only be to save my arse.’
‘You needn’t worry, my dear, I have no intention of taking advantage of you,’ he said honestly. ‘I’ve never made love to any woman unless she was willing.’
‘Then what do you want of me, sir?’ Glory be, she didn’t see that coming.
‘I want you to meet someone.’ He tossed her a blanket to wrap around herself, then faced her. ‘I can’t introduce you to a countess looking like a street beggar.’
A countess?
She didn’t protest when he hustled her into the bed with the night curtains drawn, and then rang for the stewardess. He charmed the woman with a phony story about needing a female attendant’s uniform so the girl he met in second class could come and go without curious passengers asking questions.
Who would believe such a tale? Then again, why not?
The man was irresistible to women. And she, Ava O’Reilly, was no different. He was strong and appealing with a dash of the devil in him.
His lordship threw open the curtains after the stewardess left, dangling a black uniform and ruffled white apron in front of her nose. ‘For you, Ava.’
‘You want me to put on a maid’s uniform?’ Ava blurted out. ‘I’ll not do it.’
‘You must and you will,’ he said, exasperated, tossing the uniform to her and then turning around so she could dress. ‘It’s the only way I can help you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Ava fussed with the buttons on the uniform.
‘You will when you meet the countess. She needs a lady’s maid and since you’re in need of a place to hide, I can’t think of a better solution to both your problems.’
‘Why would she hire the likes of me?’ Ava asked, curious but still cautious.
‘Her maid had an unfortunate accident and the countess needs assistance during the voyage.’
Ava shook her head, not believing the fates wouldn’t leave her alone. Making her work for an aristocratic lady who was presumably lamenting over losing her maid as if it were the worst thing that could happen to her. Another creature cut from the same dull cloth as Lady Olivia.
Yet she had no choice, did she?
‘I’m waiting, Ava,’ he said impatiently, tapping his feet. To her surprise, he didn’t try to peek.
Well, what’s stopping you? Your pride?
Her mum always said she was a natural rebel and defied all authority, whether God or manmade. Ava couldn’t deny it. She abhorred the strict rules of class that kept her from getting an education, but the world was on the brink of change.
It wasn’t changing fast enough for her.
‘You must understand, your lordship. I’m leaving my homeland to be rid of such frippery and do fine and proper work.’ Ava started putting her clothes back on. She wasn’t going to America all blushes and roses only to be pushed back into service. ‘No, milord, I’ll take my chances with the captain.’
‘Then you won’t change your mind?’
‘No.’
‘Too bad,’ he said with a smug attitude. ‘The countess’s stateroom has its own private bathroom.’
Her eyes bugged out. ‘You wouldn’t fool me?’
He shook his head. ‘I hear there are only two tubs in steerage for seven hundred passengers.’
‘Two tubs for all them people?’
‘Rather cozy, if you ask me.’
‘And you call yourself a gentleman?’ Ava asked. A girl might be convinced to meet this countess for a private bathroom.
He smirked.
‘Sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ Ava said, putting the uniform on right quick. She fastened the buttons down the front, adjus
ted the pert round white collar and cuffs, pulled the apron with the White Star Line red flag logo tight around her waist, and then plopped the small white cap on her head. ‘There. It’s done.’
The gentleman turned and nodded his approval, then helped her push her long hair under the cap. He fancied to impress this countess by showing up with a lady’s maid so she wouldn’t have to lift her little finger to fasten a hook or pour a cup of tea.
‘I’m thinking she has two heads,’ Ava blurted out, not sorry she had.
‘You’re wrong, Ava,’ his lordship said with reverence. ‘The countess is a poetic and gentle soul, a true lady.’
‘Who is she?’ she asked, envious of the titled lady he held in such high esteem.
‘Fiona Winston-Hale,’ he told her. ‘Sixth Countess of Marbury.’
An arrogant, silly woman, this countess is, Ava decided, following the gentleman down the hallway to the electric lift, keeping a discreet distance behind him. She showed humility when they entered the first-class elevator, standing instead of sitting on the soft sofa as her station dictated and keeping her hands folded like a good servant.
Inside she was feeling scared. The beating of her heart was like the loud ticking of a clock, much like the ongoing repetition of her life.
Tick tock… tick tock… always searching, but never finding the freedom she craved.
And now believing his lordship was interested in her, only to find out he didn’t want her at all.
She was merely a way for his lordship to impress this countess.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, Ava could well imagine what her mum would say.
That she was a bloomin’ fool.
And right she was.
8
‘Countess,’ said Captain Lord Blackthorn, ‘may I present Miss Ava O’Reilly of County Cork, Ireland.’
