The women approached and Ellie met his gaze, a flush rising up her neck and cheeks. He wondered if she was remembering last night—or that morning—
“You’ll take good care of her, won’t you?” Alice’s voice was pointed and pulled Henry out of his thoughts.
“Of course.” Guilt swam in his gut. The world had not changed while they were wrapped in each other’s arms. He was still engaged, and she was still committed to remaining unmarried.
They shared farewells with the Richardsons, exchanging addresses and promises to write, a promise that earned Henry a pointed look from Ellie, although she then winked and clasped his arm. Her affection almost pierced the chill settling over him. He didn’t deserve her adulation, her unwavering faith in him.
Their journey to the port was blessedly swift, and they stood side by side in the rising heat as they waited to board.
“I should have bought you something,” he said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, “something more significant to remember the trip by.”
Ellie met his gaze. “I won’t forget it, even without baubles.” She bit her lower lip. “Should I return your ring now?”
He looked at her askance. “My ring?”
She glanced towards her left hand, the one Henry held. “Your grandmother’s ring. You said—”
“I want you to keep it,” he said impulsively.
“Henry,” Ellie said, her voice low. “I can’t keep this. It’s too important to you.”
“Youare important to me.” The words seemed wholly inadequate. Hell, the entire English language, or at least his mediocre grasp of it, failed him. No words, no piece of art or jewelry would ever be adequate for her.
“But what about Miss—”
Bile rose in his throat. “Idon’twant to talk about my engagement.” He felt her stare on his profile, the tension in her hand still gripped in his palm. He released it, worried he would crush her fingers in his. Exhaling through his nose, he faced Ellie, lifting the brim of her straw hat so he could see her clearly. “I’m not ready to think about what happens when we get back.”
Ellie’s arched brows knit together. “But we need to. I need to know…” She pulled in a breath, and a wave of hope rushed through him. Perhaps she would fight for him, maybe she would ask him to end his engagement, make what they had permanent—
“Will you tell people about the trip, about what happened between us?”
What happened? She had used the past tense, as though nothing would happen again. There was no future, barely any present. Only the past.
“I’d never use your name, El, unless that’s what you wanted.”
“No, I don’t,” she said, averting her gaze, and hot shame crept up his neck. He shouldn’t be surprised, after all. What decent woman would want her name associated with his?
She leaned forward, her cheek resting against his chest as she released her breath. “Until things are settled with your engagement, we need to keep this quiet. Besides, we have two days until we reach London,two dayswithout worry. I want to use them.”
His arms wrapped around her of their own volition, keeping her close. As though he could convince her to stay, to give him a piece of her heart to match what she already possessed of his. To fill the empty space in his chest that would be a cavern of pain when she left. Once she knew what he had done—and what he still had to do—she would leave and never look back.
But he had two more days. Two days to live the life he wanted, the life he had found with Ellie as his lover, his partner. The life he would have to let go, but would do his best to remember.
It must be a dream.
Ellie fought to maintain her somnolence, grasping for the edges of her dream. This couldn’t be reality, not a place where she was awakening, naked and warm, to see Henry’s eyes gazing at her longingly.
“Good morning,” he said with a half-smile before looking down at his lap. He wore only his trousers, the light playing across his bare chest and arms and making her yearn for his touch. She began to push herself up on her elbows, but Henry put his hand out to stop her. “Not yet. I’m almost finished.” His sketchbook lay open on his legs, the pencil flying over the paper. His fingers were smudged with lead, some of which had transferred to his nose.
“Are you drawingme?”
“Of course.” He narrowed his eyes and then resumed his work. “Consider me inspired.”
She fell back on the pillow, her loose hair partially obscuring her face. Even though she was bare from the waist up, she had no desire to cover herself. She felt beautiful, wanted, seductive, all the things she had never been before.
If only he loved me as well.
But she would hold on to this feeling, the confidence he gave her, the knowledge that she could be enough for a man like Henry. If they returned to London and he changed his mind, she would still have the memories they created together. But until then, as long as they were on this ship, nothing could touch them.
