Through the Maelstrom (9 page)

She grabbed a clean towel from the cabana as she passed and lay it across a white, reclining chair in a shaded area, out of view of the walkways.
Perfect
. The peaceful calm already began soothing her frayed nerves. A few families with children had come to swim in the uncrowded pool, but thankfully they weren't loud as they floated through the sparking cerulean water. The familiar scent of chlorine tickled her noise as she laid back on the chair and closed her eyes. With a sigh of contentment, she emptied her thoughts and tried to relax.

Calming breath
. No people talking or crowding her.

Exhale
. Blissful solitude.

It only lasted so long, but how long exactly she didn't know. When she started to doze, someone gripped her shoulder and shook.

"You can't sleep outside without using your sunscreen, girl. You trying to go home lobster colored?" Becky Ann dropped a cover-up in her lap, a hat, and her sunscreen.

Pulling the sheer material over her head, she lifted her hips to pull it under her. As soon as her hat was in place, she began applying the lotion. "Where's the new boy toy?" She didn't even try to hide it. Becky Ann had winked at her when she'd opened the door and caught her in the act.

Her friend shrugged. "Hell if I know. I wore the poor guy out. Probably off finding himself a bacon cheeseburger to pack on carbs and protein to push his heart one meal closer to an attack. But enough about Paul." Becky Ann studied her nails on her left hand where the hot pink polish had begun to chip. "Where's Christophe? He carried you off the beach like a caveman, and it was
sexy
. I didn't expect to see you back so soon and alone." She turned, lowered her shades to the tip of her freckled nose, and narrowed her eyes. "What did you do to scare him off? You didn't pretend to go to the bathroom and then climb out the window, did you?"

"What? No!" The thought had crossed her mind ever so briefly. "He's a con artist, and I left because he was trying to trick me into sleeping with him and God knows what else."

Becky Ann threw her head back and laughed. When Serena didn't join in, she sobered. "You're serious? All men are con artists in that regard. Ninety percent are after scratching an itch, and if it is good enough, they may be willing to stick around. It's the sad truth."

Serena told her everything, including his proposition from the night before. Her friend nodded solemnly as she processed the information. "I guess you're lucky fate took mercy on you and brought him here instead of sending you back where there's no toilet paper, eh?"

Nodding, because no toilet paper would suck, it took Serena a moment to truly register the comment. Then her ire bubbled up. "You can't possibly believe it. It's so ridiculous!" Her friend should be on her side. Should think the whole con absolutely insane, but she wasn't even taking it seriously!

Becky Ann shook her head, then pursed her lips like she did when she was concentrating hard on something. "Who said I did? I'm just saying...going backward in time is far less sexy hygienically. Dude seemed to have decent teeth. Jab him with a syringe of penicillin and you're good to go. P.S. use a condom if he's been boning eighteenth-century trollops. STDs back then were gnarly."

She couldn't tell if she was being sincere or teasing her. A little boy cannonballed into the pool, slightly splashing them both. After their mother apologized, Serena plucked at the terrycloth towel next to her hip. "Becky... I'm not going to sleep with him. And I don't care how attractive he is." Unfortunately, every time she saw him, her body geared itself up for precisely that.

Becky Ann crossed her legs and leaned forward, brushing off stray droplets of water. "Yet."

They stared at each other in silence.

"You're gonna surrender the booty." Her friend nodded as though it finalized things. "Christophe is the gift that keeps giving. Oh, my God. This is enough fodder to tease you for an entire year. I highly doubt some old lady is helping him steal your measly savings. Please. There has to be a better explanation. Maybe he's a secret agent."

Deadpan, Serena replied, "So, his cover is time traveling pirate? Definitely won't receive unwanted attention there."

"Could be a test. Which you failed since you ran and told me immediately. Now he has to kill you."

Were they really having this conversation? "You're not funny."

"You told a crew member about him, right?" Becky Ann waited for her nod to add, "They'll investigate him. If he's the villain you desperately want him to be so you can save your virtue from him, then there's nothing to worry about."

Nearing the end of her patience, Serena growled. "I'm not putting out for a complete stranger, especially one who is telling me he time traveled. Sorry to disappoint you." She would have thought her best friend capable of stopping the jokes and supporting her.

Becky Ann sighed. As always, she could tell when she'd hit the final nerve. "I pester you, I know. I do it out of love." She sat up, bringing her legs over the side of her chair to face Serena. "I don't want you to do things you aren't comfortable with—but that's the problem. You're not comfortable with
anything
. You won't go out and meet people, and when guys flirt with you, you brush them off and pretend not to notice. How are you going to find the right one if you find fault with everybody?"

Serena had struggled with her ability to shut everyone out her whole life. What if she settled for the wrong guy because she let things that bothered her go and then got stuck with someone she didn't love and who didn't appreciate her? She
was
picky—horribly so—but didn't she have the right to decide who she wanted to be with? "It's not like I'm waiting around for Prince Charming on a white steed to rescue me. It would be much simpler though."

I wish I could fall in love with a man who's unlike any other I've known.
Wasn't she doing exactly that? Making wishes on stars. Turning everyone down over petty issues.

"Instead, you found a pirate who traveled three hundred years into the future for his soulmate, all within minutes of wishing on a falling star." Becky Ann snorted. "Whether you believe it's true or not, his timing's pretty remarkable. You owe it to yourself to see what he's about. You never have to see him again when we return home if he's a dud."

Could she look past the horrible fictionalized story he'd sold her? "But—"

"No buts! If you don't get him arrested by the cruise police, have dinner with him. I'll sit a few tables away and will kick his scurvy arse if he so much as attempts to do anything untoward." She snapped her fingers. "They're showing
Pirates of the Caribbean
tonight on deck. The first one."

It was one of her absolute favorite movies. Romanticizing pirates aside, the adventure and the comedy was a perfect mix. It was also gorgeous with the costumes and the cinematography. She wouldn't be able to stay away. "I guess...but you won't leave to bone...Peter?"

"Paul. And no. However, he did invite me over to his room tonight, so I can easily disappear if you need me to, but not until then." Becky Ann leaned over and hugged her. "I'm sorry this birthday has not gone as well as we'd like, but I'll make it up to you when we go home." She stood. "Now, why don't we change, get out of the sun for a while, and then go back on land to shop before it starts getting dark. That's always fun, right?"

Serena smiled even though she didn't really want to do the tourist thing anymore. Yet, it was better than hiding and feeling sorry for herself. She'd agreed to give Christophe one last shot to demonstrate he wasn't a creep and she wasn't being
dismissive
, but she fully expected not to see him again after what she'd told the ship employee. One less thing to worry about on the trip home.

She fully expected the remainder of the trip to go back to how it was before Becky Ann had gotten sick...and
definitely
before Christophe ever turned up.

C
hristophe forced another smile as a swarm of children awaited turns to have miniature portraits made with him. No. Photographs, they were called. The children he didn’t mind. Their mothers were a different story. The clothing in this era, combined with the way the women were touching his backside, made him feel justified in how he'd made the mistake with Serena before. Of course, he’d never tell
her
that. Mrs. Baker either. A lot had changed in three hundred years in regards to the behavior of women. He accepted it, but it was difficult to turn off how things were with how they had become when he didn't have anything to focus on instead.

He'd get there.

Meanwhile, Josiah didn't speak to him unless he needed to. He had every right to worry for his mother, but Christophe wouldn't turn down her assistance until he could afford to do so. First he needed to make enough to provide for himself, and for Serena, and he would pay the Bakers back every penny. The tips from the photographs would not be enough to do so, but it was a start. It was also something to do while he gave Serena the space she needed to consider what she'd learned about him.

Which was why he didn't complain about the ladies with roaming hands or the children with snotty noses and happily put up with Josiah's scrutiny. Much needed distractions kept his mind at bay, and it worked. But before long, the group of children had moved on, and his thoughts returned to keep him company.

"You have got to be kidding me." Serena's voice sent a rush of anticipation through him, even when it trembled with hostility. "How—why?" She came fully around the curve of a corridor leading to cabins, dressed in a pale pink dress with skinny straps over her shoulders and a hem that stopped at her knees. She pinned her glare on Josiah and he grimaced. "
You
. Can I talk to you a second?"

"I'm busy." Josiah tinkered with the device he'd called a camera and avoided eye contact. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow.

Serena angrily bit out something in a hushed voice. Christophe didn't hear it, but he was sure it had to do with how she'd reported him to Josiah and the man clearly hadn't done a thing about it.

"I know, ma'am. I am aware of the situation." Josiah sighed. "Why do you think I'm glued to his side, keeping an eye on him?"

She stomped a foot encased in a thin sole that strapped across the top of her toes. Not practical footwear. "Why are you working with him instead of locking him up?" She shot him a dirty look before turning back to Josiah.

Christophe almost missed the days where women of good stock couldn't wait to gain his notice when he'd attended balls. He'd found avoiding being trapped in a marriage with them exhausting, yet there he was, trying desperately to win this woman's affection. Of course, he didn't know if he would remain in this time or leave again, and if he stayed he had no idea how he would get on. But to have the love of a woman, his supposed soulmate... That would make all the hardship, all the struggle, worth something. He hoped if he earned her love, he could stay with her and prove he was worthy of it. To put her through all this and then disappear on her... He didn't want to think about it.

Serena compelled him, even when she sneered at him and tried to scare him away. What he wouldn't give to see her look at him with longing, as she had so briefly when he'd kissed her. She'd nearly melted at his touch.

"Oh, my goodness!" an older woman said as she sashayed around the corner. "Look at this delectable soul."

Christophe peeked over his shoulder, praying she meant someone else. His shift—apparently
not
women's garments if referring to employment—was near its end. He couldn't hear Serena and Josiah's discussion, which galled him since it was most definitely him they were arguing about.

The lady giggled and wrapped an arm around his waist. "You wouldn't deny an old lady a moment of your time, would you?"

He put on his best smile. "No, ma'am." Josiah came over and took a few pictures, wrote the numbers he saw on his camera on a ticket and handed it to her.

"Thank ye, Capt'n." The lady traded green paper—his tip—for her ticket, waved the ticket in the air, and then swished her elderly hips all the way to the nearest bar.

Christophe noticed Serena watching him with her arms crossed and a bemused expression passing over her features. It was a step up from the scowl. He bowed at the waist and held a hand out to her. "Care to have your portrait made, love?"

She arched an eyebrow. Josiah glanced at each in turn, like he expected all hell to break loose and didn't know what to do about it to keep people from noticing.

"Come on..." Christophe said. "Even if nothing comes from it, you'd have the image to tell people of the pirate you bewitched with your immeasurable beauty."

Her lip twitched. "You're crazy."

Christophe grinned back. "For you, love. For you." Only.

She tapped a finger against her elbow, but she wasn't storming off, which was a good sign. "I don't know. If I take a picture with you, will you grant me a boon?"

What could she wish of him other than for him to leave her be? "If what you desire is
not
for me to keep distance between us. I fear I cannot stay away." He took a step forward and she took one in retreat.
Ever skittish.

"Yeah, that seems to be a given," she said dryly. "Though I don't know why. I'm not exactly warming to you. In fact, you should be running away, screaming, like everyone else would by now." The wind blew her dark hair into her face and she brushed it back, using the opportunity to glance away from him. He wanted to pull her close, let her know not all men feared a timid woman. They merely lacked the patience to do right by her.

But he knew she'd wouldn't allow it, so he masked his expression as best he could. He would be the one to climb past her walls, that barrier she'd erected around herself. He'd been intent on escaping his pirate life and returning to society, of taking a wife. Fate had given him this chance, and he intended to make the most of it.

If Serena was the reason he'd crossed time, then she was his purpose. She was
all
he needed. Her distrust of men, people in general even, would not be enough to deter him. Weak-minded men gave up so easily. For them it was lust, not love, that drove them. Too much effort for a tryst could become burdensome when that was the primary objective in the pursuit. Sure, he had plenty of lust for her, but the circumstances, his compulsion to be with her every minute, and Mrs. Baker's explanation... No. He wanted more. He wanted it all.