by Bonnie Dee
The officer opened his hand and Jody dropped the coins, secure in the fact that the bulk of his savings remained hidden in the soles of his shoes.
He turned away, congratulating himself on a near miss, when the man grabbed hold of his arm. Hot, rank breath wafted against his cheek. “I know your kind, visiting a certain sort of gentleman in the night. Think because you’re at sea, proper behavior doesn’t apply. I won’t abide it. Not on my watch. Cross me again, and you’ll know my wrath.”
Jody wanted to laugh at the bully’s dramatic words. He’d never admit that a breath earlier, he’d as much as propositioned Jody. Instead, he hid his urges under pompous platitudes.
“Yes, sir.”
Jody continued on his way. He didn’t fully breathe until he reached the sour-milk-and-onion-scented hallways of third class. His encounter with authority filled him with the usual mixture of gnawing fear, surly anger, and exhilaration at escaping unscathed. What if the man had caught him leaving Cyril’s stateroom? What foolish danger he’d placed them both in. Next time—for of course, there would be a next time—a simple change into gentleman’s attire should be sufficient to convince anyone who spotted him that he belonged there.
His confidence regained, Jody whistled softly as he returned to the cabin he shared with three other men. All were deeply asleep in their berths despite one of the chaps snoring nearly as loudly as the rumble of engines.
He climbed into his upper bunk, hoping to catch up on rest, but instead kept reliving the past few hours. He couldn’t stop grinning like a fool at the memories of Cyril’s warm voice, his gentle laughter, and fierce lovemaking.
Beneath him, Jody’s bunkmate shifted, before he resumed snoring at the same awe-inspiring volume. Jody sighed and rolled over, certain that between that racket and his joyful reminiscing about the night’s activities, he would get no sleep. Yet at some point, he drifted off, for when he opened his eyes again, his cabin mates were all gone, leaving him in peace to rise, wash up, and dress for the day.
Intent on visiting the upper deck again no matter the risk, Jody donned a proper suit before going to meet Cyril at the place they’d appointed. On such a large ship, the chance of encountering the crewman from the previous evening was unlikely. Besides, the man probably wouldn’t look past the costume that defined Jody as belonging. One could pass quite unnoticed if he simply looked the part.
As he neared the chosen spot on the aft deck, Jody began to hurry, praying Cyril hadn’t given up on waiting for him. One glimpse of the sharp profile, eyes shielded by a hand as Cyril gazed up at the sky, made Jody’s heart swell until his chest ached. Such a ridiculously over-the-top reaction, yet the soppy stuff of romantic poets filled him as he approached the object of his infatuation.
Cyril noticed him and smiled like a sunrise. “Good morning.”
Jody’s heart quite literally skipped a beat, or so he thought. “Morning. Sorry I’m late.”
“No trouble at all. I was just watching the sky and trying to decide if these clouds auger the coming of a storm. They don’t look too peaceful, do they?”
Jody tore his gaze away from Cyril to scan the horizon. Although the day was bright at present, ominous gray clouds billowed there. “I expect you’re right, which means the ship will be pitching and rolling later.”
“Not again.” Cyril sighed. “Let us go fill our bellies so I’ve something to lose to the sea later on.”
After avoiding first-class dining since his first encounter with Cyril, Jody was happy to return to the finely appointed dining hall and better-quality grub.
They were late for the meal, so the staff had already cleared most of the room. Cyril and Jody were among the stragglers served by rather impatient staff. But Cyril, with his ready smile, cajoled some good humor from the waiter before the meal was over. It didn’t hurt that he offered a large tip.
“Shouldn’t waste your money,” Jody said after the man had gone. “Let me make up for it.” He started to reach for his wallet.
“No, no. You can afford it less than I. I’m quite solvent since the sale of my house and with the tidy sum you dropped on my doorstep. I’m well able to pay my own way until I find employment, whatever that might be.”
Cyril folded his napkin and rose. “Let’s stretch our legs before we’re confined below due to a storm. I pray you’ll retire to my cabin then?”
“Might not be too safe. I was stopped by the watch this morning.”
“Really? What did the man say? Did he threaten you?” The concern in Cyril’s voice and eyes melted Jody.
“I paid him a few coins to look the other way, and he dropped the matter. I only mention it to remind you we must be circumspect in public and much quieter when in your cabin. The walls are not paper-thin, but still, one of your neighbors might hear.”
“I do not want to put you in any danger. Perhaps we should keep our friendship above board and not seek more private time together.”
Silence followed Cyril’s proposal.
The last thing Jody wanted was to put an end to the physical part of their relationship. He blurted, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“No,” Cyril rushed to agree. “We only need be more careful, as you pointed out. I see no need to put a stop to, ah, certain activities.” The heat in his gaze left no doubt he’d like to engage in those activities right then. “Let us walk back to the stern and watch the wake. It is a bit more private there.”
Jody fell in step with him, strolling toward the rear of the ship where the white froth flowed endlessly behind them in a ribbon that seemed to tether the ship to England still.
A bolt of sadness pierced him. Madness to suddenly wonder how that old scab Lassiter was doing. But knowing he’d never again see the man who’d been a father to him, nor the streets of Shoreditch that he knew like his own body, struck like an arrow. His old world became a tiny pinpoint on the globe, slipping further and further into the past.
“What are you thinking of?” Cyril asked softly.
Jody blinked away the momentary melancholy. “Just looking back for a second, but there’s nothin’ and nobody I’ll miss in England.”
“Still, it’s the only home we’ve ever known,” Cyril said. “I understand how you’re feeling. I’ve seen pictures of America, read books about it, met people from there, but it is a foreign country. Imagine how terrifying it must have been for the first explorers to cross this great ocean not knowing if they’d ever see land again. The thought of dying at sea and being cast into the depths is horrifying.”
“What a pleasant thought. Thank you for that,” Jody said dryly.
They stood at the rail, shoulder to shoulder. Cyril bumped his arm against Jody’s. “It seems I am a physician of sorts, for I have discovered a cure for melancholia. Shall we find a secluded spot where I might implement my treatment?”
Jody’s fleeting sadness evaporated in a hot dragon’s breath of lust at Cyril’s sultry tone. All care for the risk evaporated as they hurried to find a secluded spot.
“There!” Cyril commanded and grabbed Jody’s hand to pull him into the shadow cast by a metal housing taller than a man. The roofed shelter, which held coils of rope, chain, and a lockbox for tools, made a perfect shelter for a lover’s tryst.
Cyril pushed Jody against the wall and crowded close, body pressing tight, hands sliding underneath Jody’s jacket and making him shiver. Jody also sought Cyril’s body heat and wished he could touch nude flesh rather than a linen shirt and waistcoat. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to Cyril’s urgent kissing. For a man who had little experience, Cyril had quickly become adept at applying the perfect amount of pressure and employing an agile tongue. Neither wet nor sloppy nor jabbing, these kisses were prize-winning gems. Or perhaps that was because Jody found irresistible the man whose mouth pressed against his own.
As their ardor increased, he rubbed his erection against the matching bulge in Cyril’s trousers. Soon, kissing and embracing would not be enough, but this shelter was
too dangerous a spot to go any further. At length, Jody pulled away with a gasp. “I fear I’ll spill in my drawers. Leave me some dignity, man.”
Breathing heavily, Cyril rested his forehead against Jody’s. “Indeed, we cannot encounter other passengers in this condition. Best to separate and settle ourselves before resuming our promenade.”
For several more minutes, they remained content in each other’s loose embrace, listening to the constant rumble of the engine and the endless swooshing of the wind and the wake. At last, the voices of approaching passengers put an end to their moment.
Jody reluctantly drew away from the shelter of Cyril’s arms. “We had better move along.”
“Have you had enough of fresh air? Perhaps it is time to retire to my stateroom.”
“You are incorrigible. Yes, I would adore another look at your orchids and perhaps a nip of brandy.”
“I invite you to come with me and make yourself at home.”
How easy it was to laugh and talk this way, as natural as breathing and with a fine gentleman, nothing like the coarse riffraff he’d grown up with. For the first time in Jody’s life, he felt truly comfortable and relaxed. He’d had to act tough and hard with his old mates or risk being pummeled. Softness meant weakness in their world. As for the gents he’d fucked or been fucked by, he’d always held his true self apart and pretended to be something better or different than he was.
Now here was Cyril, a man who knew all the parts of him and accepted them, even after Jody had lied and tried to steal from him. How was it possible a person could be so kind and forgiving—and welcoming? For when Jody followed Cyril from the alcove to his cabin, he truly felt he had arrived home.
Once inside the cabin, talking ceased and clothes came off. As if they’d been denied each other’s bodies for weeks rather than a few hours, they came together with explosive force.
Afterward, panting and weak, Jody sighed. “I could become as addicted to you as I once was to opium.” He kissed Cyril’s shoulder. “My new drug.”
Cyril’s smile disappeared, and Jody wished he hadn’t said it.
“I hate to think of you so unhappy that numbing yourself was the only way to bear your life. Please tell me you will not succumb again.”
“Trust me, if I were going to return to old habits, it would’ve been after my unmasking at your house. The terrible look of disappointment on your face…” He shook his head. “I nearly lost my resolve then. I wanted to erase the memory of that look, but I punished myself by bearing the pain. The sense of loss gaped like an open wound that could not be healed.”
“I felt the same loss,” Cyril confided. “Mad, since I barely knew you, and what I did know was a lie, but watching you walk away that night, I felt as if I’d lost a limb, something too precious to part with.”
Jody’s gut twisted. “I’m so sorry for lying to you.”
“You are forgiven.” Cyril gave him a soft kiss in benediction. “You may stop apologizing.”
Jody rested his head on Cyril’s chest, and they lay for some time, listening to the sounds of the great ship on an ocean that rocked them as gently as if in a cradle. Lulled by Cyril’s heartbeat beneath his ear, Jody slipped into a doze.
He awoke alone in bed to the sound of Cyril retching. That looming storm had reached the ship and set it plunging from high swells to deep troughs. The pitching hadn’t disturbed Jody, but Cyril sat on the floor with a chamber pot clasped to his chest.
Jody slipped out of bed to kneel beside him, rubbing his heaving back. “Poor dove. I’m sorry you’re so ill.”
“I’m not ill,” Cyril snapped. “I’m seasick. And why are you so damnably unaffected by the motion?”
“Don’t know. Wish I could do something for you. Would you like a sip of water?”
Cyril shook his head and unleashed another wave.
Jody went to the washstand to dampen a cloth which he pressed against Cyril’s brow. He’d never had much patience with the weak or infirm, but now he wanted to coddle and soothe Cyril. “The nausea can’t last much longer,” he assured.
“How do you know?” Cyril grumbled.
Even his foul mood was adorable.
How easy it was to give a little of oneself to a person he truly cared about. Jody hadn’t realized there was satisfaction in nurturing or having someone depend upon him—and not in the greedy way Lassiter had relied. Jody wished he and Cyril could remain together in this smelly, lurching cabin forever. He would gladly care for Cyril for as long as Cyril needed or wanted him to.
Chapter Seventeen
Several days later, as Cyril grasped the railing and inhaled a draught of salty air, it was easy to forget the throes of nausea he’d suffered. The past couple of days had been fine and fair and filled with Jody. Cyril had not encountered anyone from his old life to ask questions about the handsome man he spent his days with. He and Jody strolled the deck, shared meals, and occasionally joined a game at one of the card tables in the lounge.
Jody caught on to cribbage quickly and carried off his pretension of upper-class status with panache. Females cast longing looks and flirted outrageously with him. Cyril too gained his fair share of feminine interest. If either of them had actually been interested in a liaison, they might have bedded any number of wealthy widows or wives searching for a shipboard dalliance. But, of course, at the end of each day at sea, Jody surreptitiously entered Cyril’s cabin and stayed until just before dawn.
Their routine became so natural, they occasionally dared to hold hands on the foredeck, albeit in the shadow of the deckhouse that protected the windlass. Sometimes the chilly wind forced them to stand very close together in their shelter, or even put their arms around each other and press their lips together in order to stay warm. Foolish amour displaced common sense. The sense of a clock ticking down on their time together drove Cyril to cling to Jody for as long as he could.
A day away from Celtic dropping anchor, their bubble of oblivion shattered. Cyril was so lost in a haze of kissing, he didn’t hear the approach of footsteps until a strident voice demanded, “Ho there! What are you blighters up to?”
Jody released Cyril so quickly that he stumbled backward and slammed his elbow into the metal windlass. Lips still vibrating and damp, Cyril turned to find Third Mate Charles Longbow glaring at them, his lip curled in disgust.
“Think I didn’t notice you two prancing the decks practically arm in arm? I followed you here, and look what I find. Your sort should be locked up.”
Cyril stopped breathing. Blood rushed in his ears, and his jaw locked so he couldn’t speak. Discovery—the beast he had dreaded all his life, had come to devour him.
“How much?” Jody asked calmly. “Or perhaps there’s another sort of arrangement we could make?”
Longbow went pale and still. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are, the very idea offends me, you vile creature.”
It took Cyril a moment to comprehend that Jody was suggesting sexual favors. Such an idea would never have occurred to him. It was a mad offer, and yet, Cyril detected a certain gleam in Longbow’s eyes despite his protestations.
The inertia of shock broke. Cyril said, “I will pay you for your discretion. Will that be sufficient to buy your silence?”
Longbow’s eyes narrowed. “I imagine a man of your station could easily afford several hundred pounds to protect his reputation.”
He might as well have asked for the moon as the sum was far beyond Cyril’s means. “I’m afraid my financial circumstances are constrained just now, but I could remain in contact with you in America and work out some sort of payment schedule. Perhaps after—”
Jody interrupted. “We will pool our resources and come up with a suitable sum to be delivered at a location of your choosing.”
A long pause followed before Longbow nodded. “The aft deck by the lifeboats at nine. Don’t think I’m fool enough to meet you in some out-of-the-way spot where you might set upon me and throw me overboard.” He glanced around befo
re leaving the deckhouse, his back ramrod straight in the proud posture of the self-righteous.
“Don’t put thoughts in my head, you fuckwit,” Jody snarled. “I’d like nothing better than to throw you in the drink.”
Cyril slumped against the wall. “What are we to do? All our money together won’t be enough to appease him, and he might turn us in just for spite. The captain will surrender us to the authorities once we land. What is the American law concerning sodomites? Will we be jailed or fined?”
“Don’t panic,” Jody snapped, smacking down the fluttering wings obscuring Cyril’s sense of reason. “We weren’t caught in any terribly lewd act. I’ve dealt with his sort before. He doesn’t honestly care about exposing anyone. Leave Longbow to me. Now we’d better separate before some other fucking sailor comes across us.” He shook his head and mumbled, “So careless, we deserved to be caught!”
“Wait!” Cyril reached out, but Jody was already stalking away. The rigid set of his shoulders was as stiff as Longbow’s had been.
Cyril crumbled inside. He was the one who’d insisted on bringing their relationship out of the cabin and nudged them into taking risks aboveboard. Every time Jody had tried to caution him, Cyril had wheedled for kisses with a cavalier disregard for safety.
Jody had not so much as glanced at him before leaving. Was he angry at Cyril or at the situation? Was this his silent indication that their romance had come to an end? The ship would drop anchor in New York Harbor tomorrow. They had made no plans beyond that point. Now it seemed their glorious daydream had come to an abrupt and ragged end.
Chapter Eighteen
Jody shadowed Longbow as he had once followed marks whose wallets he intended to steal. The pattern was as familiar as breathing: keep distance lest the victim spot him, hide in a crowd when possible, seek paths of escape in case he was caught in the act. Except this time, Jody wasn’t going to steal. He planned to give the one thing he suspected Longbow craved even more than money and despised himself for wanting.
