Chapter eighteen:

The ship left a wake of white foam, above her the sunset was perhaps the most wonderful which she had ever seen, and Rose ignored the stunning view in favour of studying the deck at her feet. She didn't mind the concentration it took. Instead, she relished the temporary distraction from her confusion. Finally reaching the bench, she dropped onto the wooden planks and pulled her shawl further about her. She prayed for the sound of the waves lapping against the ship to soothe her as it cut its way through the ocean bound for its destination. Praying for her mind to be taken away, on another adventure away from her own world. Just months before, she would be able to easily open a book at a page and become lost in the poetry, in the words of another place and time which existed purely in her own mind and yet, now, it seemed the only thing which she was capable of allowing to consume her mind was him.

Rose recalled the first moment she'd laid eyes on Jack Dawson. She remembered how her breath had caught in her throat and how hot her skin had suddenly become, how her breathing and heart rate had quickened until she thought she might swoon. Those had not been singular reactions. She had felt them many times since then and even just that morning when he had smiled at her, all masculine beauty in church. She couldn't live like that, couldn't see how anyone could live consumed by a lust that seemed insatiable. Unschooled as she was, she hadn't known a body could crave the touch of another the way it did food or air. It wasn't just the touch of his, or a single look, it was the conversations which they had together. The way he promised her things, she trusted him so easily and with her entire life. A man as seductive as Jack Dawson was dangerous to a girl of her station. He could ruin her, and in part it seems that he already had. She was falling over everything just because of a first-time spark. He was a bad habit; conversations with a stranger who she had barely known and yet, when she looked for a way out of him, there appeared to be no escape for either of them. Mr. Dawson was beneath her skin. To consume her more. To leave her breathless every single day of her life would be a disaster. Her life had become dangerous; almost like a plot within a book to kill the heroine. She was the 'damsel'. He was the hero on the white horse. She laughed at her own utter foolishness. One man tried to seduce her, another wished to marry her. Hockley was the one who had almost become her husband and yet, he was nowhere to be seen in this entire mess. That was the ultimate danger. Caledon Hockley did not stir so much as a glance within her stupid, unresponsive body.

Tilting her head, Rose closed her eyes and rested her cheek against her palm. Why couldn't Jack simply stay away? There had been nothing but utter grief of the engagement as well as the sheer, all-consuming spell which Jack Dawson had placed her under. Instead, now she was waiting eternally. Waiting for him to return to her, fearing each and every time he left her side. Images of him brutally kissing her lips as though it would be the last time. Bubbling beneath the surface had been the absolute instinctual urge to place her hands beneath his shirts and allow him to lead her to lay beneath him. In times of need, her infatuation for him had multiplied. The animal sense within her seemed to come alive. Literally everything about him intoxicated her, brainwashed her and made her believe that he was the one who she was meant to live her life with.

She was angry. At herself. At Jack. At all involved. She had come here to collect her thoughts before returning to dress herself for dinner at the captain's table where she would have to endure yet more mindless chatter. If she screamed out now, in an abandoned area of the ship near to the bow, would any other hear her except God? Even he wasn't interested in the slightest of her misery. If he was, then surely, he would offer an answer of some kind.

It was too much to endure and it would only be so soon before her own mother would be hurt. Rose had already been impaled. It wounded her to be away from Mr. Dawson. Yet, her mother was the only reason for her to remain in a loveless marriage. Her mother. The situation was precarious and leaving the debts would cement the family's fall from Grace but by God, the fear of marriage was instilled within her to the point where she had been contemplating a life with a strange man. Just what did he want from her? What could he offer? Freedom, yes. The sordid ways in which he stole her kisses, her breath and potentially even her heart was frightening and she knew that her mother was correct about one thing; Jack Dawson was not a gentleman. Society had him painted as a man unable to stay away from elegant French prostitutes, a man who was ruthless with business although he didn't give a damn about the steel industry. It was all so—conflicting. Startling. But above anything else, Mr. Dawson was honest. Unflinchingly so. That was the most frightening part of it, so when he had sworn to her in the gymnasium that his intentions were in fact honorable; she had believed every word despite telling him otherwise. Staying well away from him was the only answer. The voice of reason had spoken to her for days on end, convincing her and now she had finally seen sense. They would have to stay away from each other. The thought was unsettling, making her stomach feel sensitive and her shaking palms to tremble even more but what was the alternative? There was none.

What could Jack Dawson offer her aside from temptation? What about once the infatuation ended? He said himself that he had no intentions to marry. Had no intentions besides finding the freedom which he apparently longed for himself. His main fear was walls, ceilings and anything which could contain him within them. Claustrophobia. Entrapment.

Raising to a stance, Rose came to walk along the side holding the rail until she came right down to the bow; the front of the ship and it seemed to open her eyes in a wonderful way. The sky was painted an array of blues, purples and oranges. Every colour of the rainbow and it seemed to be the most startling of hues Rose had ever witnessed. Her breathe was stolen and even more so when she laid eyes on a figure hunched over right at the front of the ship. Just from his stance, she gauged his mood.

Jack had never looked more virile, the roughness of his edges unblunted by any social veneer. His hair was styled back, but the salty breeze tugged the silken strands free and blew them softly across his handsome face. Just looking at him made her feel like crying and then, something beyond beautiful happened to her for the first time and it was hard to determine what it was.

''Hello, Jack.''

His shoulders stiffened as he turned, seeking out his tormenter as his eyes seemed dazed by some emotion.

"Damn you." A muscle in his jaw ticked as he took a step toward her. ''Damn you to hell for throwing away what exists between us as if it does not signify. Never in my life—" Rose hands clenched into fists at his wounded tone. He had always been so inviting and now, this was an edge to a man one had never seen.

"-perhaps, perhaps I have changed my mind." It came tumbling out before Rose could stop them and suddenly, his eyes were wide. Changed her mind of what? There had never been an offer of his to be refused. Never had he extended his hand to her, but she had somehow taken it beyond knowing.

"The only bit of sense you've shown since I met you."

"You frightened me." She cried, her voice just louder than the sounds of the sea. "You have from the first. Seducing, scheming, and manipulating me however you wish.''

Turning from him, Rose started for the rail behind her but Jack caught her arm as she attempted to pass, pulling her to a stop. She struggled with a frightened cry, alarmed by the possessiveness of his gaze. ''I have done nothing of the sort. All I have done, is act the way that has felt natural to me. Yes, I thought that I could perhaps coax you, somehow, but you are a stubborn and infuriating woman and your fire...'' His voice trailed off, unable to speak any more or he would either insult her or confess lunacy.

Rose's eyes started to sting in the salty breeze.

"I was content before you came along. My life was simple and orderly.'' Jack watched her with an almost disappointment. As though it was her fault for their meeting and no one else's. Her eyes were lined with unshed tears. Here was the tight nip of pain which he had so often heard she was capable of causing. ''Now, I am scared to death of this.''

Eyes wide, Rose turned to face him again. Like the time he'd asked her to dance, his sapphire eyes sparkled with challenge. This time though, she would not be goaded into acting foolishly, and she would act accordingly. Perhaps she was cease fighting against what had felt to be the most natural thing in the entire world. Like breathing, or existing...

"Perhaps," she admitted, lifting her chin. "You frighten me, too. Your determination, your recklessness, your passion. Everything about you scares the wits from me. It's not how I wish to live my life."

Jack's chest expanded on a deep breath. Behind him the waves continued to beat upon the ship, the relentless driving rhythm. He laughed, with maddening nonchalance. "You know my feelings towards you.''

Rose searched his face, looking for deceit and found nothing but cool impassivity. His face, so breathtaking, revealed nothing of his thoughts. The determined line of his jaw, however, was achingly familiar.

''Is that so?''

''Yes, you know as much or you wouldn't have sent me away earlier.''

''Excuse me?''

''You were frightened of Hockley. Of your mother. What has he done to keep you so trapped inside that gilded cage that your so frightened to even free yourself?''

''And you know so much of me, do you?'' She called, her free curls whipping about her face in the wind.

''Yes, I know all of you.'' He told her calmly. His voice was soft, as soothing as the waves which lapped against the ship. He was almost a lullaby, calming a young child to sleep. The flush of his cheeks with the wind caused his face to be all the more handsome. Was the possible? He was so still, so unnerved. ''I know that you're afraid to fly, so let me show you. I know how you're so afraid to leave this small little box and yet you're longing to be free.''

The lightness of his grip, of a man mindful of fragility, Jack took her hand and led her forward towards the bow. The waves below were louder than she recalled and Rose began to protest.

"Shh." Jack placed his finger to his lips and shushed her. She glanced at him. "Give me your hand."

He held out his hand to her in a daze, she slipped her bare fingers into his palm. The moment her hand went into his, she felt as though this was all a dream. He came closer to her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. For all that she had built up within her mind, he could tear it all down with one single press of his lips to hers and Rose knew that she would surrender without any shadow of a doubt. She would surrender literally everything because she had already told him so.

"Now, close your eyes," he told her softly, and she hesitantly did so.

Glancing at him, Rose felt her insides rearrange. Jack turned her body to face forward and pressed her gently to the rail, standing right behind her.

"Now, step up onto the rail. Keep your eyes closed and don't peek."

He held her two hands and she stepped up onto the rail, trusting Jack completely but beneath the exterior, she was a quivering bundle. He collected her back against his hard chest and he held her firmly. Feeling him kiss the hot, exposed curve of her ear, Rose shuddered.

''Do you trust me?'' His voice was unsteady against her sensitive ear.

''I trust you.''

The scent of his shaving soap drifted to her nostrils, the masculine fragrance comforting and familiar and realised that she was trying to fight her way deeper into his embrace, as though he was her saviour as well as the sinner.

Jack stood behind her on the rail and then slowly took her hands and outstretched them on each side. Rose went along with him, trusting him with her life.

''This is all I wished for you to see. For you to fly. To show just how easy it can be, once that first terrifying moment is over.''

Jack lowered his own hands and placed them on her waist, leaving her arms stretched outwards like wings. A sharp wind was hitting her face, caressing her hair and caused the chignon to fall out of its pins and simply billow behind her in the breeze of the ocean waves. Her breathing came in shallow and unsteady bits as she felt his grip upon her as well as the rapid turning of her stomach.

"All right. Open your eyes," he whispered into her ear.

Rose opened them. As she saw the beauty before her, she gasped. There was nothing in her field of vision but water. It was like there was no ship under them at all, just the two of them soaring. The Atlantic unrolled toward her, a hammered copper shield under a dusk sky. There was only the wind, and the hiss of the water fifty feet below.

"I'm truly flying! Jack!" she gasped, and leaned forward, arching her back as tears sprang to her eyes. It was the most emotional that she had ever felt in one single second.

Jack put his arms further around her waist to steady her. ''Do you see how beautiful it is to soar?''

Rose closed her eyes, feeling herself floating weightless, far above the sea. She smiled dreamily, then leaned back, gently pressing her back against his chest. He pushed forward slightly against her. Slowly, he raised his hands, arms outstretched, and they met hers, entwining their fingers and moving slowly as they caressed each other through and around each other like the bodies of two lovers. The watery lines which were cradled in her eyes were now freed, trickling down her cheeks and disappearing into the beyond. She was so shocked to feel his lips brush her cheeks and she closed her eyes so that the tears instantly evaporated. When she finally brought herself to look at him again, she saw that he was wearing a faint smile. He smoothed her hair, and stared into her grief-ravaged face with a depth of concern she had never seen from him before. It frightened her to realise how much of herself she had just given away. Now he knew everything she had tried to keep secret for so long. Or perhaps he didn't. It wasn't verbally spoken but it was within her chest and her heart as her hands worked against his fingers like the wings of a bird that had found itself trapped indoors. Like that hummingbird...

"Jack," she said with difficulty, "what do you want from me, truly?"

"I'm surprised you have to ask," he murmured, still caressing her fingers. "I want you."

Of course, she thought, bitterness welling. "To be your mistress."

Jack's voice matched hers exactly for calmness, in a way that conveyed gentle sarcasm. "No, that would never work. You're far too prickly tempered to be a mistress. You're far better suited as a wife."

"What?" she asked with disbelief. ''Whose?''

Jack stared directly into her narrowed eyes. "Mine, of course."

Rose shook her head, unable to speak as he took her shoulders, fitting her against himself with extreme care. Her pulse ran riot. She shouldn't allow him to hold her. Someone might see, even secreted out on the bow as they were, but then there was also the opportunity for someone to see them like this; a member of society to report to Cal or Lovejoy, but as her muscles drew in the warm pressure of his body, the pleasure of it made her dizzy, and she stopped caring about anyone or anything outside his arms.

Jack's fingertips drifted with stunning delicacy over her throat, behind her ear, pushing into the satiny warmth of her hair. Gooseflesh rose wherever his breath touched. "I can't f-fathom-"

Jack's mouth stole the very words from her mouth, sensation of him all around her.

"Jack," she whispered in between kisses, "I've felt so—"

He crushed her mouth with his desperately, as if he could smother not only the words but the emotion itself. He stole as deep a taste of her as possible, ardently determined to leave nothing unclaimed. She clung to him, her body racked with sustained shivers, her nerves singing with incandescent heat. He was all she had ever wanted; all she would ever need.

But a sharp breath was torn from her throat as he pushed her back, as they fell down from the bow, leaning against the front rail of a great ship and breaking the warm, necessary contact between their bodies. Jack's eyes were a stark contrast; obsidian fire and a responsive shiver chased from beneath the framework of her corset. Rose had never found it so difficult to master her emotions and she swallowed them back along with the hundreds of questions which sprung into her mind. Marriage. To Jack Dawson. It was unsettling and yet it seemed to not serve the correct purpose. If Rose to be free to marry whomever she chose, then it would have to be for love, but as she watched his razor-sharp gaze over her, it sent her thoughts spiraling once more.

For a long moment neither of them moved, both striving to recover equilibrium. And as the glow of desire faded, Rose heard Jack say roughly, "Doesn't it feel like paradise?"

Rose had started to lose control of what to say; her eyes simply stunned by the view before her and the seductive notes of his voice in her ears. ''Yes.''

''This is a bad habit,'' he whispered against her ears, ''but we shall burn until the fire goes out.'' Feeling the stiffness of her neck muscles, he coaxed the tension out of them, kneading lightly. "I want you. I want to lie with you beneath constellations and clouds and shade trees."

Before she could answer, he covered her mouth with his. She felt a jolt of heat, her blood igniting, and she could no more withhold her response than stop her own heart from beating. She reached up to his hair, the beautiful blonde locks curling slightly over her fingers. His breath roughened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue penetrating in silken demand.

The approaching moon sent shards of light through the beech boughs, outlining the silhouette of Jack's head, touching her own skin with an unearthly glow. Supporting her with one hand, he cradled her face with the other, his breath hot and scented with sweetness as it fell against her mouth. Rose clung to his shirt, his neck, his mouth and everything about him knowing with absolute certainty that this moment was about to alter the course of her destiny.

And breathe...for a little second before shit gets real! ;)