Ship of Dreams (16 page)

Kissing her once more, he slid a hand up her back to run his fingers through her fiery curls—something he'd wanted to do since the day they'd met. They were just as soft and silken as he'd imagined. Finally, she opened her eyes and regarded him with something akin to wonder in their green depths.

"Now I know I made the right decision," she said on a sigh.

Though startled by her phrasing, he smiled. "What decision was that, exactly?"

"To seize the moment while I could. And oh, what a moment!"

Kent was happy to know her pleasure had apparently matched his own, but he needed to let her know the depth of his commitment. "More than just a moment, I hope. Della, I want you to stay with me, even after we reach New York. I want this to be for a lifetime."

Instead of the delight he'd expected, she frowned, pulling away from him until only their hands touched. "Kent, I went into this with my eyes open. You don't have to—"

"Don't you understand what I'm saying?" he interrupted her. "I want you to marry me, Della. To become my wife in truth, and forever."

But still she did not smile. "Yes, I understand. And I won't deny that I've dreamed you might ask. But you've only known me for two weeks, so—"

"The best two weeks of my life," he interjected.

"So while I'm grateful," she continued, "I won't hold you to any promises just yet. This is enough for me, for now. I'm content to let the future take care of itself."

Frustrated at her unwillingness to understand, he tried again. "But I
want
to plan for the future. I need you to know this isn't just a passing fancy for me. You mean far too much to me for that. I want to take care of you, to protect you with my name, my position."

She did smile now, finally, but he thought something was missing. "Very well. I will consider myself engaged to Kenton Bradford, of the New York Bradfords—at least for the remainder of the voyage. As long as we can continue as husband and wife in all the ways that matter."

Though still not satisfied, he reluctantly nodded. Della had had a hard life, he reminded himself. It was no wonder she found it difficult to trust. He would simply have to convince her. As long as she allowed him the time to do so, he had no doubt he could accomplish it.

"You may consider it temporary, if you wish. Just as long as you know that I do not."

He kissed her firmly, hoping to show her with his lips what he had apparently failed to do with his words. She responded enthusiastically, and soon they were joined again. It was more than an hour later before they both finally fell into an exhausted, sated sleep.

*
           
*
   
        
*

CHAPTER 11

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky

I heard the sky-lark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are,

How they seemed to fill the sea and air

With their sweet jargoning!

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

The morning bell awakened Della. Even before the fog of sleep cleared from her mind, she knew something momentous had happened. At a slight movement in the berth beside her, full memory came flooding back.

She rolled onto her side to face Kent just as he started to sit up, and accidentally knocked him off the narrow berth entirely, onto the cabin floor. Despite the carpet, he made a surprisingly loud thump.

"Oh, my goodness! I'm so sorry—are you all right?" she exclaimed, sitting up in her turn.

He sat on the floor, rubbing his elbow ruefully and looking rather dazed. "Why do they make these bunks so damned narrow?" he grumbled.

Her concern relieved, Della began to giggle at the sight of him sprawled on the floor, stark naked and complaining. He shot her a glare, then chuckled himself. "You must admit, these beds weren't exactly designed for honeymooning couples," he said.

That sobered her abruptly. "No, I should say not." She successfully kept her sudden nervousness from her voice. Was that a reference to his proposal of marriage last night, or had it been a mere jest?

Before she could decide which would be better—or safer—he scrambled to his feet. "We should reach port shortly after breakfast, I believe. Let's go take a look, shall we?" Already, he was pulling on his underclothes.

Though she knew it was silly, Della felt belatedly modest. "You go on ahead and I'll catch up. I fear I'll need the cabin to myself to get into my hoops properly." Even as she spoke, though, she realized the other married women aboard must manage that operation—and other, more embarrassing ones—every morning with their husbands present.

Kent did not argue with her, though he shot her a rather knowing glance. "Very well—if you're certain you don't need any help."

Still embarrassed, she shook her head. At the very least, she needed a few minutes alone to sort through her thoughts about the changes last night had wrought in their relationship. A few moments later, Kent left the cabin and she jumped out of bed to attend to her own toilette. Though she tried to think rationally while she dressed, all she could seem to focus on was how Kent had made her feel last night. Never had she even imagined ...

Della finished dressing, brushed her hair back and tied it with a ribbon, then left the cabin, no closer than before to a settled way of looking at things. All she had managed was a determination not to raise her hopes too high too soon.

Most of the passengers had breakfasted quickly, and were already watching the rapidly approaching shoreline from the promenade deck or through the windows of the dining saloon. Kent handed Della a plate as she reached him, and she needed no encouragement to hurry. After two weeks at sea, she found she was as eager as any of them to feel solid ground beneath her feet again, however briefly.

"We are scheduled to dock at around eleven o'clock," he informed her as she took a big bite of pastry. "I recall that the train across the isthmus takes no more than four hours or so, which means we should be boarding the steamer on the other side by late afternoon."

As he spoke, he draped an arm across her shoulders. He'd done it before during their masquerade, but now, with the memory of last night heightening her senses, she found it both distracting and intensely pleasurable. She turned to him with a smile.

"I've just had my first ocean voyage, and now I can look forward to my first ride on a train. What an adventure I'm having!" Though she didn't mention the other, more significant "first" she had experienced, he clearly read the unspoken addition in her expression, for he tightened his hold on her.

"One you'll recall with fondness for the rest of your life, I hope," he said, infusing his words with a meaning that made her drop her gaze.

Clearly, he still thought they could make this work as a lasting alliance—a real marriage. Della still had serious doubts, but after a moment she lifted her head and smiled at him again. Whatever the future held, she was determined to enjoy the time she still had with him. She would let the future take care of itself.
Carpe diem
.

"I'm certain I will," she declared, adding silently,
No matter what
. Whatever else might be taken from her when they reached New York, the memory of her time with Kent would be hers forever.

Gulping down the last of her coffee, she declared herself finished. "Come, let's go topside for awhile, before we need to come back down to our cabin to pack."

*
          
*
          
*

Kent felt warmed by the confiding, natural way Della slipped her hand into the crook of his arm as they went up to join the crowd at the railing. The approaching coastline was lush and green, and Della exclaimed over it, as it was unlike anything she had seen before.

He reminded her that they were near the equator, where tropical conditions reigned year-round.

"Will we be passing through real jungle in Panama?" she then asked him eagerly.

Kent smiled down at her. What a lust for new experiences she had! What zest for living! "Unless things have changed since my trip west, yes—for most of the train ride, in fact."

"Might we even see wild animals?"

He hid his amusement, not wanting to dampen her excitement even slightly. "Some have reported seeing monkeys, crocodiles, and even jaguars," he replied, "though I don't recall seeing any wildlife beyond parrots on my own trip."

"Oh, my," she breathed.

He considered her enthusiasm a hopeful sign. At any rate, if she were anxious to see the jungles, she'd be unlikely to desert him when they reached Panama—not that he really believed she would, after last night. Still, he had an uneasy feeling that she was holding a part of herself back from him.

Not her body—she had been gratifyingly, eagerly, generous last night, so much so that he'd hoped her last objections to marriage had been swept away. But he still sensed an emotional distance that he suspected only time and trust could bridge. Again he vowed to take the time and build that trust.

He placed a hand at her waist, and she did not object, continuing to stare ahead with great interest. In half an hour they had entered the gulf surrounding the Pacific side of the isthmus. Regretfully, Kent suggested they return to their cabin to pack up their belongings.

"I'm just as glad now that I have so few," Della commented. "Packing should take me no time at all. I very much want to see the docking."

True to her word, she had her valise filled and fastened in only a few minutes. Alone with her in the cabin again, Kent nearly suggested lingering for another taste of new physical delights, but restrained himself. He didn't want to spoil the wonder with hurry. Besides, if Della agreed she would miss the docking.

Sternly suppressing his desire, he held open the cabin door for her so that they could return to the promenade deck for the steamer's final approach to the docks at Panama.

"All packed?" Robert Patterson greeted them as they reemerged into the late morning sunshine. "I had Mary do hers last night, for fear we'd miss debarking if she left it till today. What a lot of clothing women feel compelled to unpack for such a brief trip!"

Mary gave a self-deprecating smile of agreement before turning to talk to Della. Kent found himself thinking how glad he was that Della wasn't afraid to speak her mind to him—and that she had such a quick mind, with opinions worth voicing. He'd never noticed that in a woman before, and wondered how uncommon it truly was.

"... and actually saw an ocelot!" Mary was saying, relating her previous trip across the isthmus a year ago. "At least, that's what Papa thought it was. Spotted, and more than twice the size of an ordinary cat—and with such a long tail! I still remember it quite vividly."

Della was listening with rapt attention, though her gaze strayed to the city just ahead, and its surrounding jungle. "Kent recalled seeing parrots, as well. I can scarcely wait! It's like a different world."

The steamer slowed and turned, its engines churning noisily as it eased up to the dock so that the gangplank could be extended. Excitement aboard was at a fever pitch, with nearly everyone eager to be among the first ashore.

"Should we have brought up our luggage?" Della asked Kent softly when Mary's attention was claimed by the activity on deck. "A few others seem to have done so."

He shook his head. "Those are the steerage passengers. Stewards will handle ours. They're most efficient, as I recall. We should find our bags waiting in our new cabin on the other side."

"Oh, of ... of course."

He was reminded that luxuries he took for granted were still novelties to Della. Somehow that knowledge only served to endear her to him more. He very much looked forward to showering her with
real
luxury when they reached New York. Stubbornly, he refused to think about the various obstacles to their happiness they might face there.

"Tell me what I can see," she said to him now. "Are those ruins over there, beyond the clustered buildings?"

He nodded. "Panama is a very old city, by American standards. The Spanish settled it early in the sixteenth century, though little from that era survives. The pirate Henry Morgan razed it some two hundred years ago and the rest was rebuilt afterward by the Colombian government and businesses."

"How fascinating! Did you learn its history when you passed this way before?"

"Before that, actually. Knowing I was to travel through this part of the world, I made a point of researching it in advance."

She looked up at him, speculatively. "Do you always plan everything out to the last detail?"

Though she spoke playfully, he thought for a moment before answering. "I've always prided myself on doing so, but I'm beginning to discover certain rewards to acting on impulse."