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The thought made her almost sick with revulsion. At him, but more at herself. She would have to get into bed with him tonight, into this same lumpy bed, even though everything was different. She could already feel his hands on her skin, the smooth warmth of his body, his strength and his certainty as she caressed him, moved her body so he could come into her easily, hold her close to him.
Could his gentleness turn to violence in an instant, if she gave him cause? How easily Aiden had shot Ferdie the instant he believed him to be on the other side.
But which side was Ferdie on?
And what about Max Klausner? Had he discovered something that had cost him his life? Had their discovery of his body been far from accidental?
Elena felt the chill around her. Was Aiden playing both sides, while working for the Nazis? Perhaps he always had been. Is that what she had feared at the back of her mind, and denied each time?
Whatever the cost, she must survive, get back to London, and tell Peter what damage Aiden could do, if they went on trusting him.
How could she get the belt, or at least see what she believed it hid? If she found the list and read it, could she remember it? Could she turn the tables and play him?
And then it settled in her as a deep, cold conviction, as she should always have known: Aiden Strother had no emotions, no real ones. Nor did he have true loyalties. What he needed was the constant thrill, the danger, the risk. The wild and heart-lurching exhilaration in the place of real emotions. He seemed so much more alive than other men, but perhaps that was because he was painting a patina of life over a dead heart.
She straightened up the bed and combed her hair, but not with Gabrielle’s comb. That was for wearing. She would keep it close to her.
She went out into the cramped passage, then up the steps, clinging to the rails, and onto the deck. She must behave naturally, friendly, but not too curious.
“Hello, darling!” Aiden was there immediately. “Look!” He made a wide sweep with his arm, indicating the white wake of the ship and the wheeling gulls above. “Great unbounded sea. Not another soul on it. Except the gulls, of course. Do gulls have souls?”
She smiled. This was going to be the act of her life. “Of course they do,” she answered. “Aren’t they supposed to be the souls of lost sailors, or something of the sort? I can think of worse things to do than ride the wind and the sea forever.” She smiled up at him and deliberately met his eyes.
He was surprised. It was clear in his face for an instant.
Mistake. She tried not to make him rethink anything. “I read that once,” she lied, “and I remembered it. It was a good thought.”
He relaxed. “Did I thank you for reminding me? It’s good to be free…at last.”
She linked her arm in his and they watched the gulls over the water, the ship’s wake streaming behind them.
CHAPTER
21
The day seemed to pass on leaden feet, but eventually it was dinnertime and then the hour for bed. Elena had been dreading it, but now it was here and she wanted to get it over with. She smiled at Aiden deliberately, as if she were looking forward to the night with more pleasure than before, now that she was gaining confidence. Except that she wasn’t, of course. She was terrified, revolted, uncertain what to do, how to behave as if she were still in love, so pliant and willing, aching for his touch. If that were true, she would not be filled with doubts that were hardening by the second, lies dissolving into dreadful certainty.
Should she take it for granted that they would make love? Anticipate him a little? No, don’t take it for granted. Don’t assume that he would want her. She wore her slip, letting it slide over her naked body. She brushed her hair to make it shine and swing loose.
She was waiting for him when he came in. He smiled at her and locked the door. She had expected that, but it still made her stomach roil.
He looked at her with appreciation. Did he mean that, or was it to keep her calm?
She smiled back.
“A slightly unorthodox cruise, but fun, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Unforgettable,” she replied, then laughed at his momentary confusion. Did he like that, or would he think she needed taming a littl
e? Had she really been so naïve before, so dependent? Perhaps that was one reason he had never been in love with her. She was so predictable that he was bored.
Don’t be a fool! How nearly she had slipped. Aiden Strother did not love anyone; he merely found some women less boring than others. Love was caring about someone, being prepared to sacrifice, to think of their good and their happiness, not always your own.
He was undressing. He took off his shirt and underwear, then climbed into bed naked. For a moment, she froze, then she moved toward him and into his arms.
“What?” he asked. “You’re shivering.”
“Hold me,” she said.
