Number ten- i think that was how Rose viewed it with Jack not just in this story but in the movie too. until after the ship hit the iceberg and Jack was taken away, I don't know if she would have been in love with him by that point. intrigued and infatuated, yes but I think until shoved into life or death situations it was just fun and whilst the beginnings of fluttering of love may have been emerging as you say, it takes long to develop (or so I think).

so in this version, at this point, if she was to marry Jack just for reasons involved then it wouldn't be for love- they have passion and fun and an understanding but anything else would be an addition, same as many other marriages at the time were just the same and if love develops then, great!

second, your reviews and messages about this story are making me happy! Reading just for a little bit a day makes me so happy and so hope it does you too and just escape from your life for ten minutes, and I will keep writing as long as my mind produces ideas for the world of Jack and Rose.

last, apologises for my lack of grammar and punctuation in this rant, written on a phone that is hard to use!

R rated a little later on in the chapter.

Chapter twenty-one:

Jack's suite was built only for a single occupancy and it was far too late to go to the Pursers office to see about a vacant stateroom for the two of them, nor would it be proper. Even with his intentions to marry Rose DeWitt Bukater now that she was a single, unattached woman, he wasn't about to debauch her reputation by sharing a room with her for all of society to know about, and so, he had to leave her with the family but it was inevitable she would leave that very day, or so he hoped.

Fury wouldn't be a big enough word to describe Hockley's reaction and Jack was prepared for a war of some kind, if not now, but once they arrived in New York. A brandy did nothing to relax his weary body, and so, he had written a small note and pressed it beneath the door of Molly Brown's stateroom to keep her abreast of the situation and to trust her with absolute discretion whichever way Rose decided to turn, he would like her to be safe. Turning to the open door of the stateroom, Jack took a very hesitant few steps into the darkness. His body was still trembling from evening; how beautiful Rose had been beneath her clothes and as much as he could lay with her right then, he also cared deeply for her innocence. For a man deemed to be such a scandalous and thoughtless rake, he was very much thinking of Rose's reputation and feelings at every single second. Even though none of the scandals were strictly true, he had never quashed them for that would make him just as bad as the gossips and also, it would appear that he cared of his reputation; he didn't.

It was strange, but with all the problems that he faced, the thing that kept him from sleeping was the question of whether or not Rose DeWitt Bukater could grow to love him, and could he ever feel more than fondness for her? He had told herself that love was a luxury for most people, that his career was a difficult one, and he had been faced with an impossible choice. He had done what he'd thought best at the time. Perhaps it had been wrong of at certain times and perhaps even now, it would be worse...

Hockley was not a man who took lightly to losing anything, especially not the woman who was to be his wife in just a few weeks' time. Jack knew Hockley wouldn't wish to fail in his endeavours to secure the finest wife, even if it did come with a ton of debt as Rose had described. However much the creditors needed, Jack would pay to keep them at bay and to ensure that Mrs. DeWitt Bukater would be left with at least her good name, regardless of the scandal Rose's marriage to him would be, at least her mother would be away from it all. It was a lot for any man to take on, but if there was a fondness for the catch then why should that matter? Although Mrs. Dewitt Bukater had been nothing less than cold towards him, she wasn't even a thought in the process of his wishing to marry her daughter.

Perhaps after sleeping on such matters, Rose would come to some conclusion that his proposal wouldn't be enough and that sacrificing her entire life and the contents would cause resentment, misery...or, maybe, she would come to him in the morning, with a suitcase in her hand and naivety in her eyes but enough solid strength to take him on as a husband, when he had no clue how to even conduct himself as anything other than a single man. A single man who had only ever had himself to contend with. When he was displeased, he liked to participate in physical pursuits, when he was tired, he could still rarely sleep. A man who had decided long ago that he would never have a child and since Rose had mentioned carrying his baby, it had been a strong image at the forefront of his mind. Did she wish to have children? Could he cope with an infant, one which he had sworn would never be born for fear of living under such scrutiny in the world of society just as he had these last few years and Rose had for the entire course of her life. Or could a child be raised without solid walls and furnishings and be out in the country air as he had been as a boy? Could a child be a blessing for them? Could he love the infant the way that he was sure Rose would as a mother? The thoughts unsettled him more than he thought could be possible, and not because he had never thought of himself as a father, but because now, he was in the picture with Rose and a child. Good Lord, he was racing ahead of his own mind...tiredness must be consuming him. It was ridiculous.

The interiors of his luxurious stateroom seemed to be now completely redundant and the initial excitement appeared to have passed and now turned to an urgency for the ship to reach New York in order to just return to Boston. To the tedious life which he despised so well. Pride was the only thing to keep him afloat, not in himself, but in his uncle and how a man who came from very little had built such a booming business from scratch. Returning with a wife, however, would be an entirely different challenge.

The door opened in a well-oiled arc from his bedroom and Jack was startled, not knowing he wasn't alone. He saw the shadows change, felt a presence in the room. Turning with a start, he saw Rose standing just inside the door. Her heart began to drum with furious force. He looked like something from a dream, a dark enigmatic ghost. All thoughts which had tormented his tired brain at that moment were scattered to the winds as just the sight of her was enough to know in absolute, solid certainty that whatever happened, however Hockley came at them, he would fight until every ounce of his breath was gone. He would do what he could for her, for them. Jack would give her a life, one worth giving up her entire life for, for surely that the reason that Rose had come to him, now, before sunrise?

Jack approached her slowly. The closer he came, the more it seemed everything around them was unravelling, falling away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Jack's breathing wasn't quite steady. Neither was hers. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "I have one request." He reached for her slowly, giving her every opportunity to object. Through the cottony gauze of her nightgown, he touched the curve of her hips. He brought her close, into his hard weight and she seemed to fall there, into the crevice and contoured her body against his as though they were moulded for the other.

''Anything.'' Rose whispered into the complete darkness.

''Now that you are here, make sure that you never wish to go back.''

Hearing the unsteady way, her breathing came out in waves, Jack softened his approach.

"So, we're going to take this road," he murmured, "and see where it leads."

Jack waited for a signal, some syllable of objection or encouragement, but she could only stare at him, transfixed and helpless. He smoothed her hair, whispering for her not to fear him, he would take care of her, want her. His fingers found the sensitive curve of her scalp, cradling her head as he kissed her. He dragged his mouth across hers, again and again, and when her lips were open and damp, he sealed them with his. Excitement flooded her, and she gave in to the dark pleasure, opening to the penetrating strokes of his tongue, struggling to capture the silkiness.

''Does he know that you are gone?''

Rose breathlessly shook her head. ''He will when he sees the note, the drawing and the contents I left behind. Perhaps he already has.''

Jack's hands gently urged Rose backward until her balance collapsed. She lay on the tumbled bed as if on some pagan altar. Bending over her, Jack kissed her throat.

''I couldn't leave you, once you were gone and they returned, I just knew that I couldn't stay. You told me to wait until morning but I can't, I won't.''

There was a series of quick tugs at the front of her nightgown, and the edges of the garment parted. She felt his urgency, the heat radiating from his body, but every movement was careful, lingering, as he reached beneath the fragile cotton and caressed her breast. Her knees drew up, her entire body arching to contain the pleasure of his touch. With a wordless sound Jack coaxed her to relax, his hand gliding from her chest to her knees. His parted lips brushed the naked tip of her breast, toying with the hardening bud, his tongue skimming wetly. She brought her hands to his hair, tangling her fingers in the darkened blonde locks, trying to hold him to her. His mouth closed over her nipple, tugging lightly until she quivered and tried to roll away, unnerved by the feeling that she was being driven to the brink of some new sensation altogether.

Jack pulled her back to him and bent over her once more and his mouth covered hers, while his teasing fingers pulled the hem of her night gown higher and backs of her thighs. Rose reached for his shirt with trembling hands. It was loose-cut and collarless, the kind that lifted over the head instead of buttoning. Jack moved to help her, pulling the garment off and tossing it aside. Soft light from the porthole gilded the supple, muscular lines of his body, his chest taut and smooth. Flattening her palms against the hard flesh, she drew them gently downward to his sides and around his back. He shivered at her touch and lowered to the place beside her, one leg sliding between hers. The gown fell open to expose her chest completely, the hem bunching high on her thighs. His lips descended to her breast again, while he cupped and kneaded the firm flesh. Arching up to him, she struggled to press closer, to bring his weight more fully over her. He resisted, his hands traveling over her in caresses meant to calm her. She quivered at his gentleness, her hands gripping his back. She couldn't think clearly, couldn't find words. Twisting against him, she felt the desire sharpen to unbearable intensity.

''Jack..." She pressed her face to his shoulder.

Feeling the dampness of her lashes, he eased her head back and touched his tongue to an errant teardrop.

"Patience, Rose. It's too soon." She looked up into his shadowed features.

"For you?"

There was a moment's pause, as if Jack were struggling to hold back a sudden laugh. "No, for you."

"I'm almost eighteen years old," she protested. "How could it possibly be too soon for me?" Rose exhaled. ''I am to be married to you then-''

Jack couldn't suppress his laughter then, burying the low, rich sounds in her mouth. The kisses turned harder, longer, and in between; Jack spoke to her in slow, soothing whispers than were barely audible to her. Grasping her hand in his, he brought it down his body to the urgent thrust of his erection. Shocked and fascinated, Rose eased her hand along the length of him, her fingers moulding hesitantly over the hardness. Jack groaned as if in pain, and she snatched her hand back at once.

"I'm sorry," she said, flushing, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me." There was a flick of tender amusement in his voice. He caught her hand and brought it back down.

Rose explored him shyly, her curiosity stirred by the heat and suggestion of movement beneath the taut fabric of his trousers. He seemed to revel in her touch. Both his legs were between hers now, widening the space between them, the nightgown crumpled around her waist. Exposed, mortified, excited, she felt one of his hands roaming low on her stomach. Soon there would be pain and possession, all mysteries solved. She thought perhaps now would be an opportune time to mention something.

''Jack?''

His head lifted. "Yes?"

"I've heard there are ways this can lead to—having, well creating—"

"You don't want me to give you a baby." His fingertips played gently through her intimate red curls.

"Yes. That is..." Her breath tangled around a moan. ''At least I just don't know how to prevent such a thing, for now, if you wish to never have-.''

"I won't. Yet. Although there's always a chance when we make love." He found a place so alive with sensation that she jerked and drew her knees up. His fingers were light and gentle as he parted the soft cleft. ''The question is whether you want me enough to take the risk when I make love to you.''

Rose senses swam in shame and pleasure at the way he touched her. Her entire existence had dwindled to the sly teasing of one fingertip. And Jack knew. He waited for her answer, stroking, shaping the tenderness with his fingertips, paying careful attention to every shiver and twitch of her body. The pad of his thumb stroked downward, gliding through a patch of inexplicable wetness. Before she could say a word, he had pressed into the moisture with his thumb and invaded her slightly.

"Yes," she said unsteadily. "I want you."

His lashes lowered over devil-bright eyes. "Do you want this?" he whispered. She nodded and tried to say yes, but all that came out was a low whimper.

Deeper, a gently inquiring stroke and he made slow circles inside her, the smooth teasing and rubbing until she felt faint and hot. Her heart was thundering and her hips nudged rhythmically against the heel of his hand. But then the exquisite invasion was withdrawn, and her body clasped desperately around the emptiness. She reached for him, clawing him in her frantic need, and Jack had the effrontery to laugh softly "Easy, sweetheart. We're still at the beginning. There's no need to hurry through it."

"The beginning?" Stunned and throbbing, she could hardly speak. If there was one thing, she was certain of, it was that she couldn't bear much more of his refined torture. "I would have thought you'd have already finished by now.''

She felt him smile as he kissed the inside of her elbow, working his way down to her wrist. "The point is to make it last as long as possible.''

"Why?"

"It's better that way. For both of us." He pried her clenched fingers apart and kissed the palm of her hand.

He was only half aware of what he was saying, drunk on the scent of her and the heat rising from her body. He opened her robe and gown, dreamily pulling the soft fabric away from the deep curves of her breasts and waist. She was so beautifully made, lush and firm, the pale skin burnished with light. Voluptuous shadows dipped into places he yearned to touch and taste. He followed her spreading blush with his mouth, pursuing the wash of colour. She shivered beneath him, her hands gripping the bulging muscles of his upper arms. He cupped her breasts and teased the peaks with his breath and tongue until they were hard and silken. Softly he drew one between his teeth, held it there until she whimpered and lifted upward. Jack tugged at the tangled layer of her gown between them. The cove of her navel rose and fell with her breathing. Easing his mouth over it, he sank the tip of his tongue into the tight circle, filling the hollow.

"Jack . . . oh, wait . . ." She was squirming now, pushing at him in earnest. He caught her hands and gripped them close against her body, and breathed hard against her stomach.

Fighting for self-control, Jack laid his cheek against her skin with all the gentleness he was capable of. "I won't hurt you," he whispered. "I'm only going to kiss you..."

Her voice was plaintive. "Not there."

Jack couldn't suppress a smile. This was new, this mixture of amusement and arousal. "Especially there." He let his fingers drift over her hip and thigh, into the soft curls. "I want to know every part of you. Hold still for me.'' He moved downward, shaking with hunger. The scents of intimate salt and female skin had kindled an unbearable craving. His mouth brushed intimately closed lips. He licked them open, delving into the heat, the taste of her pleasure, having never performed the act before. It was silent except for her broken gasps, her legs clamping hard against his sides. Helplessly she followed the sinuous pattern of his tongue, her entire body arching and yearning. He soothed her, provoked her, his mouth as playful as a swallow in flight. His breath fell rapidly on her wet flesh, her erotic incense. He slid a finger into the silkiness. She made a sound of distress as she lost all self-control, and he gloried in it, his mouth punishing in its gentleness. He drew out the torment until the soft female moans broke into sobs. She tightened and twisted, her fingers closing in his hair, hips pulsing in helpless movements as he licked away every twitch and throb. After a while he moved to gather her against him, with her hair draped across his arm and his shaking body beside his.

With the weight of Rose's head upon his bare chest, Jack gained clarity which he never believed could ever come to him. It hit him at lightning speed, shaking him through to his very core.

''I thought that there would be more-'' Rose whispered, timidly.

Jack smiled, shaking his head against her cheek. ''Not until we're married. I told you that my intentions were entirely honourable.'' The humour in his voice faded out as soon as he caught sight of her eyes in the dim light. ''Well, maybe not so much. A part of you has been compromised, and I am certainly a changed man.''

''What do you mean?'' With eyes as large as the moon, and as innocent as her very heart, there was almost a guilt which wrapped about him for claiming her in the way in which he had.

''I mean that you're my clarity.'' He told her, softly, guiding her head back down to his chest where she tangled her hands up in the thin, sparse curls of hair there. ''That I would marry you tomorrow if I could and I fear that I would be handing my heart over to you as well.''

''You already have mine.''

There, revelling in the joy that a woman could bring to such a dull and organised life, Jack realised that everything had changed. That having Rose as his own would alter the course of his life, for the better. He would marry her without a second doubt, not just for convenience, but because he was falling-

An explosion cut off Jack's entire thought. An eruption of some kind. Enough to stall Jack's hearing briefly. The ship felt as though it had grown sluggish, trembling and if it wasn't for Rose's wide, eyes and her mouth uttering something which he still couldn't quite comprehend, he would have thought himself to be dreaming. Upon the explosion, Rose had jumped up, startled in his arms and it was apparent that they were not the only ones to have heard the quivering foundations of the walls as out in the corridor, voices sounded and screams came and there seemed to be one word in particular that was the focus.

Smoke.

A fire.