Chapter thirty-one:

Beneath the bright lights of desire, of longing and love, Rose was dazzled at just how Jack approached her, after a long and stressful day back at the office; living as an imposter. There seemed to be a change to him, a need, something which had perhaps smouldered beneath the surface but now seemed to come at her full force. His arms were at her waist, pulling at the linen of her nightdress and she almost believed that he may have traced his fingertips upwards to pull it from her body, and how she would have welcomed that, just feeling his touch went away the doubts which had been chasing through her own mind for most of the day spent alone and lonely. He wore the days stress upon his face and she reached to touch the lines of worry and soothe them away with just a swipe of her fingertips.

"I can see the difference within you already," Rose examined the way his eyes were full of queries, his mind processing them and the weight was fully visible to see thrust upon his shoulders. "You are not wrong to want to leave this place."

''I know that.'' Jack exhaled, holding her to him where he needed her the most. ''I feel nothing but the weight of the burdens.''

''Did you manage to do much work?''

''What is there to do when the entire place is surrounded by the damned press. I felt as though I was about to be put on trial.'' He ran his fingers through his hair. ''Charlie revels in that. He can make a success out of anything. Me, I can barely even walk in a straight line these days.''

''Oh, Jack.''

He was about to shrug off her pity, when he softened to realise just how well she meant. Instead, he nuzzled his face into her neck; inhaling the scent, his home. His.

''I'm sorry.''

''I want you to be happy. To be content. Carefree. Wherever that would be.''

His lifted his gaze to face her, serious. "What about you? Would you be happy here, with me. I go to the office each day and you remain at home, the wife of a Boston steel "tycoon". He laughed at his exaggeration. ''That was what you would have had with Hockley, isn't it?'' There was a cold reminder of the fact that he was now almost making her do the same thing which she had regretted agreeing to with Hockley to begin with.

Rose pressed a finger to his forehead to smooth out the lines there. "I shall be happy with you."

Jack would have called her a liar if he wasn't a witness to the pure sincerity and softness upon her face. She really was a fool for him. The adoration for her, in return, had grown a great deal. Since arriving in Boston from the cramped quarters of the Californian, to a deadly quiet dock where no one was any wiser of the true tragedy of Titanic, they had spent every waking hour with the other whilst he recovered from the latter end of his injuries. The Carpathia, however, had received a mass amount of press attention and once the survivors had arrived and the rumours began, that was when the heat had begun in Boston. Now, though, he felt as though he was on display in some kind of glass jar; unable to escape, but determined enough to go, somehow.

"Do you recall when we were on board the ship, I told you that we would travel for a year or so and then perhaps settle somewhere?"

"Yes. I want that. With you. No anchor to anything but each other."

Jack laced his fingers through her hair, threading it through and tenderly stroking at the wispy escaping curls.

''That is what I intend for us, still.'' He smiled at her curious eyes. "I expect to hear back from the senator by the end of the week, maybe early next. I sent the letter in this mornings mail."

"What did you tell him?" Rose softened, aware of the circus surrounding him at the moment.

"The truth. I can offer no more. I am not an integral part of the steamer. I know nothing of maritime problems but this company provided the steel for the damned ship. I believe there to be no fault, if there was then I wouldn't have been sat beside hundreds of letter just this morning."

"Letters of what?"

"I left Charlie to open them." Jack exhaled his frustration; it was growing again just thinking of the piles of mail. "He's a good businessman, perhaps he inherited the ethic from Eric. I rather wish he had been the one left to steer the successes."

"This is truly a large burden?"

"It was.''

''What of the fires? Have you heard of any fault of them starting yet?''

Jack shook his head once. ''No, but Mr. Andrews told me that they had been raging since Southampton. Perhaps they had tried to extinguish them. Perhaps it had weakened the bulkheads to allow water in. Perhaps...''

''Will we ever truly know?''

''That is what the investigations are for.'' Jack told her, admiring her need to know the truth. ''Mr. Andrews, I am told went down with the ship, along with Captain Smith.''

''I have heard so.'' Rose dipped her head. ''And I have heard no further news of my mother.'' Jack was about to come to her in comfort but she stopped to shake her head. ''No, Jack, I shall mourn when I feel ready to.''

Jack nodded, understanding that perfectly well.

''What of Mr. Lovejoy?''

''His name appears on no list that I have seen. Perhaps he was the only one who's fate I am glad to have been met in such a way.''

''Yes,'' Rose came to him then, her hands upon his chest. ''The melancholia has fallen over the entire country.'' she told him, softly.

''It will remain for a time but I intend to marry soon, and then my honeymoon will not be spent in this city!"

Rose was swept from her feet as she laughed, and Jack carried her from the main reception hall to the ground floor bedroom with her screams of protest penetrating the walls. The corridors were narrow, the décor dark but truth be told she paid no mind to it, only the sounds of Jack's feet tapping against the wood and the feel of his body as he laughed along with her. She made an inarticulate sound that was vaguely embarrassing, but she was utterly helpless to prevent it. If she could have managed to draw air into her lungs, she would have groaned. Oh, he was simply divine. Divine and devilish; parts of the man who she had met aboard the ship without the burdens which had been thrust upon him since.

''You are to carry me over the threshold once we are married, Mr. Dawson!''

''Perhaps, I am in need of some practise.'' Jack's lips hovered so near her own, she felt his breath with each word. "Do you recall what it was like the first time I kissed you in the library?''

"Yes," she whispered, staring at his mouth. ''You were so utterly rude and without any warning.''

''It wasn't ordinary I shall say that much.'' Jack gazed at her. His head tilted. "And did it feel like this?"

This was heaven. Jack fitted his mouth masterfully to hers, his lips warm and firm, gliding sensually without a moment of hesitation. It was not the soft, gentle kiss of a man concerned with offending her. Nor was it the dry, obligatory peck of Hockley's had been. As strong arms wrapped around her waist and pressed her breasts to his hard form, she marvelled at his confidence. Then all thoughts of assessing the kiss flew away like a dandelion tuft on the wind as his hot, slick tongue slipped along the seam of her lips. It felt impossible to even respond to him.

Jack pulled away for the barest moment. "I want to taste you, Rose," he whispered, tugging at her lower lip with his finger. When she obliged, he swooped back in, this time thrusting his tongue inside her mouth and great need of ... something. It felt the way that it had previously; desperation spread through her, having dampened through his injuries but now, the fire which seemed to have been lowered, burned brighter now, than she had before. Distantly, she noticed a hard and rather large object pressed against her midsection. But a moment later, she was distracted by one of his hands moving up over her ribcage and cupping her right breast. The most pleasurable tingles erupted from the centre as he skimmed lightly over her breast with his palm, then returned to stroke insistently with his thumb. Truly, she was awash in tingles of every sort, in every place she could imagine and some she tried not to think much about. She could feel herself panting, the sensations overwhelming whatever faint notion of propriety might have flitted through her head. Indeed, her mind was sluggish and spinning, every sense singing to the tune only he could play. Abruptly, both his hand and mouth were removed from her person. But it was no reprieve. She clasped onto his lapels; suddenly aware just of how many layers they both seemed to have been wearing.

"I want to feel your skin," he gritted. She glanced at his face, seeing the muscles tighten in his jaw and no hint of his earlier sardonic smile. Of the stresses of the day. Was he displeased? She couldn't decide why he suddenly looked so tense. Then his head dropped forward, his hand cupped her breast from beneath, and his mouth covered her nipple. She heard herself squawk, but could not bring herself to care with his fiery mouth drawing so pleasurably upon her nipple. He licked and stroked, even glided his teeth gently along the tip, causing her legs to weaken in an alarming way. She feared she might collapse, were it not for the iron-like arm wrapped tightly around her waist. He was always there, to hold her weight just as she had started to think she could perhaps fall beneath his beautifully tender touch.

He shifted her so that his thigh wedged high between her own as he worked and laved at her nipple. At first, this seemed to soothe the infernal ache she felt deep inside. Then, like a fiendish devil, it caused an even deeper emptiness and tension. Occasionally, his thigh would brush against a hidden spot and a sharp burst of pleasure would erupt, causing her to cry out and grind herself against him. This repeated over and over, almost rhythmically, and each time, the coil inside her wound tighter.

Rose's hands were in his hair, threading through the strands to keep a hold of her own sanity. It wasn't like before; it wasn't tender and loving, although she felt the love radiating from him until his mouth pulled away for a moment while he tugged her other breast free and latched onto her left nipple, giving it the same treatment as the right. She moaned and threw her head back, clutching desperately at his hair as the torturous ache between her legs rose to an unbearable height. His thigh pressed harder at that sensitive centre. Without warning, the tension gave way in an explosive spiral. "It's like I am going to the stars,'' she whispered as her body spasmed in a crescendo of echoing pleasure.

''You will go higher one day, Rose. Flying. Soaring. I promise you.''

As the feeling seemed to continue, even though it was winding downwards, Rose clung to him with beads of sweat across her forehead. His expression was soft, as his hands came to stroke and soothe at her face. How young he looked now within the darkened shadows of the evening. Upon arrival back at the house days before, Jack had shaved away the growth of hair which had appeared since the sinking and Rose had been the one to aid him, trusting her implicitly. Now, as she ran her fingers across his smooth chin, she was deliriously enchanted by his beautiful face.

''I trust you.'' She whispered in return, holding her head to his chest and savouring the feel of his body against her own. They weren't moments of rarity, but ones which she truly cherished. Now, with herself half on display, she pulled the dress across her chest before she heaved herself up to prop onto her elbow so that she could look at his face in the dim light of the gas lamps. A silence fell over the regular, comfortably and now, as the peaceful aftermath of their exchange set in, Rose inhaled and exhaled slowly simply listening to the wind in the trees outside the windows, to the creaking of the strange house settling, the occasional crackle of the fire which was low in the grate. It was the sounds of a household; a complicated, burdened, happy one. There wasn't too much wrong with walls and ceilings, not if Jack was there with her. Freedom was with him, always.

''Your intentions have changed then?'' She smiled, through her sincerity. ''How one time, you were fully intent on never ruining me.''

''Maybe I had other intentions.'' Jack raised a brow, trying to gage her mood and a smile played upon his lips.

''Such as marrying me for the conveniences of society?''

The softly spoken words jarred her terribly, not because they were false. Because they were true. This scandal was as much her fault as his. More, perhaps. She was the one who had been betrothed to another man. She was the one who had allowed fantasies and romantic nonsense to weaken her. He had come to the door with devious intent, yes. But she was the one who had swung it wide and that she would forever be grateful for.

''Yes, I started out with that idea but I think we both know just how much this quickly changed and evolved into something much bigger than we could have anticipated.''

"You believe our marriage will quieten the scandal?" she said.

For the longest time, he did not reply. His eyes explored her face, his expression almost concerned. The truth was, with or without the scandal attached; she had given her heart to him and was now willing to take whatever chance that she did have. The scandal about the fire had been reported daily; Jack's face splashed across every newspaper in the city. Callers had come by in their hundreds to speak to Jack, to get another account but he had shunned the lot of them and instead chosen to simply respond to the senator who was conducting the enquiries in New York.

"I believe without it; your reputation will never fully recover for what you did to Hockley. I do not wish that for you but my reputation isn't too sparkling either."

''You're the hero for saving the lives of those in need below decks.''

''Yes, for now. To others, I am the wrong one. To Hockley, I am the devil.''

''To Hell with him.'' Rose lay herself flat on the bed in a fluster. ''I couldn't care in the slightest what he thought. His jealousy added to your injuries aboard the ship whilst we waited for the lifeboats.''

''He will never take lightly to us. To what I did to his manservant or his damned ego. He also will never accept losing you.''

''He will come looking for us.'' Rose stated, matter of factly.

Jack exhaled. ''Rose, he will already know where we are. Think about it, the media are not exactly shy about printing this stuff. I just don't want your reputation to suffer because of this.''

''I find how little I care of that.'' Rose glared down to him. ''Why should I care of that? My mother was the one so wrapped up in appearances that I fear she failed to see a true emergency when one was presented. I ought to differ drastically from that.''

''Perhaps.'' Jack thought of Ruth DeWitt Bukater and how blasé she had been about the entire charade that last meeting. Could they have fought harder to ensure she was taken up on to the deck?

''Your mother never knew any different I could suppose. And one day I fear you will feel her loss.''

Rose was quiet for a moment, and then she looked up. ''Yes, I will. And when that time comes then I shall mourn her loss, but until then, I am numb in every way.''

''I know how that feels. To be guarded after losing both your parents in such a short length.'' There, mirrored in her eyes was the broken remnants of a child who had lost each person dear to him, too. Then, he was shaking his head, giving her a dark look. He held up three fingers, wiggling each one in turn as he spoke. "Engagement. Scandalous liaison. Wedding." His arm dropped and his head tilted slightly. "What would they say if they knew the truth about how I feel?''

''Hmm, I cannot imagine that half of their ears could take it.'' Rose smiled, half wishing to see the faces of society scatter to the winds once they knew of her wedding. ''So, you intend to marry me this week?''

''Yes.''

''For the convenience only?' Rose her brow, returning to their flirtation.

His half-smile returned. "A little more than that."

"Where would the wedding take place?"

Glancing around the room, he said, "Here at the closest church?"

"When?"

"As soon as it can be arranged. I shall need only a few days to acquire a special license."

A few days? Blood rushed from her head, sped on by a heart that doubled its pace. ''It can be arranged so soon?''

Jack was still for a moment, then leant toward her slowly. Cautiously. one finger rose to stroke her cheek. She jerked back, startled. It caught briefly on a curl at the top of her jawline, then disappeared.

"Yes, and then everything which we have spoken about can be put into place," he whispered. ''You can be my wife.'' It sounded like a vow. She realised that she wasn't stammering from surprise but because it was slowly dawning on her just how deadly serious, he was. How much he truly needed her. How much she wished to marry him and had from the very start. She felt hunted, herded into a corner from which there was no escape. And the hunter was also the bait. Tempting. Seductive. More than that, however, she felt the walls of duty pushing her toward him but the duty to be a protector to him, a proper wife; the kind that he deserved to have. She thought of her mother; serene and perfect. A woman of grace, if not great beauty. A woman who had always done the proper thing and here Rose was about to do the exact opposite. Funny thing life was. #

"You would be my husband." It was a whisper to herself, but he heard.

"In every way," came his hoarse confirmation.

Nodding, she clasped her hands at her waist, then dropped her gaze to her twisting fingers. "Would we have children, Jack?"

"Yes." His tone was softer, gentle. ''If you care for them?''

''Yes, I would.''

Lifting her head once again, she stared for what seemed like years into his beautiful, cornflour eyes. In the few moments they stood gazing at one another, she imagined an entire lifetime with this man. Their wedding. The nights when he would make love to her in their bed. Children with his hair and perhaps her green eyes. Sons who would grow tall and strong and handsome like their father. Daughters who would be doted on and spoiled. A family. A family with a vision and raised with such a sense of freedom, of value and so happy together, that even through the times of strife, of trouble and turbulence, they would remain together.

It all existed within the eyes of one boy.