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‘You must have,’ he muttered, as if he hadn’t even registered the fact that I had slapped him. ‘You must have some girl’s clothes.’
‘No.’ For some reason, my voice was suddenly soft, hardly loud enough to be heard over the roar of the storm in the background. ‘Why do you care? They’re clothes, Sir, just clothes.’ Almost involuntarily, my hand reached up to clasp his trembling fingers. ‘It’s what’s underneath that matters.’
‘Not right now,’ he murmured, his voice more controlled again, but just as ferocious as before. ‘Don’t you see, Mr Linton? The captain said “women and children first”. Women.’
It took a moment for the penny to drop. I had gotten so used to my disguise, to pretending that I was a man, that I hadn’t even thought of the meaning of those words. Women first. I was a woman. I could get a place on one of the lifeboats.
I can survive this.
My eyes, which had reached out into the far distance, snapped back to Mr Ambrose.
But he can’t.
He seemed to read the thought on my face.
‘Mr Linton,’ he said, his voice colder than I had ever heard it, ‘you will be on one of those lifeboats. No discussion. This is an order.’
‘You can order as much as you want,’ I whispered. ‘I don't have any girl’s clothes. Nobody will believe I’m a woman.’
‘They will! I will make them believe!’
‘Why do you care anyway?’ My voice suddenly sounded hoarse. Was I catching a cold? Well, on the bright side, it wouldn’t really matter, because I would be dead soon. ‘Why do you care if I survive? If I drown, at least you’d be rid of me at last!’
He took a step closer. His dark eyes, burning with cold fire, didn’t leave mine for a second. ‘Maybe I don't want to be rid of you.’
I had to swallow. It was hard. ‘And maybe I don't want to leave you behind.’
He went rigid, as if suddenly paralysed by some hellish poison - or a heavenly one.
‘Mr Linton, I…’
Suddenly, the ship, hit by another wave, gave a violent lurch, and I was hurled forward, towards Mr Ambrose. His arms came up reflexively to catch me and, just as reflexively, his lips parted. There I hung, limply, in his arms. The force of the wave was spent. I was no longer being forced forward, and yet I was, by another wave, a wave of unknown emotions welling up inside me, keeping me moving, until his face and mine were just inches apart.
I stared into his fathomless, sea-coloured eyes and saw in them volumes of unspoken words. For just the briefest of moments I thought I felt a gentle caress of his lips on mine - then, another wave hit, and I was thrown back, away from him.
Crying out, I reached for something, anything to hold me upright and grabbed a coat hook on the wall. With my other hand I reached up to brush my lips. God almighty…!
Mr Ambrose, too, had grabbed a coat hook to hold onto. He let go of it now, and fixed his eyes on me. The shock of the second wave seemed to have shaken him out of his momentary paralysis.
He grabbed my hand.
‘What are you doing?’ I demanded, my voice breathy.
His hand tightened around mine. ‘I’m going to see to it that you survive this night!’
‘I said I didn’t want to leave you!’
The fire in his eyes sparked in a way that was both infinitely hot and infinitely cold. ‘Is that so? Well, you are just going to have to, Mr Linton.’
‘You can’t make me!’
‘There you’re wrong.’
Before I could say or do anything, strong arms took hold of me and I lost my footing. It took a moment to realize: Mr Ambrose had swept me off my feet! I was so stunned, I didn’t even contemplate my natural response, which would be bash his head in with a parasol.
But since I didn’t have a parasol, that wasn’t really an option, anyway, was it?
Crash!
