9. David

9

David

A s he watched Caroline zip about their first-class suite with an expression equal parts excitement and amazement, David realised just how much he took for granted about his life.

Crossing the Atlantic had become such an ordinary thing for him that he’d forgotten just how extraordinary it was to most people—let alone in a ship equipped with Pompeian swimming baths and opulent ballrooms.

“I never realised how enormous the ship would be,” Caroline exclaimed, her eyes glittering with joy. She stood at the cabin window, watching the Jurassic Coast sail by. “It’s incredible. I didn’t expect there to be swimming baths too! On a ship . How marvellous!”

“Indeed.” He smiled. A possessive streak of desire suffused him at the sight of her in here with him. He’d never travelled with a woman before—other than his sister. And they certainly hadn’t shared a room.

“So we’ve each got a bedroom?” she asked, pointing to the two doors on either side of the living room.

“Correct, but we’re sharing this bathroom over here. Apologies, I did ask for an en suite each, but they’d already been booked.”

When he was younger, he’d wanted this. A wife. Perhaps children. He wanted to share his life with someone, to travel with them. Now he was getting the experience…with the one woman he couldn’t have .

“Oh, that’s no bother.” Caroline waved a hand. “I’ve never stayed in a hotel before. I assumed the bathroom would be a communal one.”

The revulsion on his face made her laugh. “I wouldn’t put you through an ordeal like that, Starling.”

“You say you travel on this ship several times a year?”

“Well yes.” He nodded, polishing his glasses on his tie. “Sian and I take it in turns. Twice a year I go and stay in New York, and twice a year Sian comes to stay at Castell Du'r Arddu. That was her condition when Roscoe asked her to marry him.”

Caroline’s smile was bittersweet, coloured with a hint of envy. “She must love you very much.”

David didn’t even have to ask her who she was thinking about. It was her brother—the brother she’d lost. He would feel the same if he lost Sian, and a hollow cavern would be forever carved into his chest as a result.

And Caroline’s big blue eyes? He wanted to sweep her into his arms and make it all go away.

“Perhaps.” He nodded, resorting to anything other than acting improperly with his son’s wife. “Sometimes I think she returns so often just to get a drop of alcohol in her system.”

A snort ripped from her throat—and Caroline clapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to make that noise. I apologise.”

David chuckled. “You never have to apologise, Starling. Not with me.”

A flush bloomed on her cheeks. “Are you sure your sister will be all right with a surprise guest being dropped on her doorstep?”

“I’m sure. She’ll be thrilled to meet Harry’s wife, even if she hasn’t met Harry.”

With a blink of surprise, Caroline frowned. “She hasn’t met Harry? How is that possible if she visits Castell Du'r Arddu twice a year?”

Leaning against the cabin wall, he was silent for a long moment, trying not to be mournful of the time he’d lost with his son. “Harry’s mother and I had a…brief relationship in the summer of 1902. We were both holidaying in Aberystwyth—a seaside town a few hours from Castell Du'r Arddu. I was all of 16, still a lad, and Alice wasn’t much older herself. A freer spirit I had never met. It was a few weeks of fun and then we went our separate ways with no hard feelings.”

She nodded.

David shifted his jaw, choosing his words carefully. “And then in June 1924 I got invited to her funeral—by her solicitor.”

“That must have come as a shock.”

“For a variety of reasons. It was at the funeral where I learnt I had a son.”

“Wait,” Caroline said, aghast. “She never told you she was with child?”

“Never.”

“So you’ve only known Harry for, what, 18 months?”

David nodded. “About that time.” And during it Harry had managed to burn through every penny of inheritance he could get his hands on, gambling and drinking and accruing debts across London. David knew that Alice kept some of Harry’s inheritance locked up in a trust, but Harry was spending money quicker than he was receiving it—often before it even arrived in his bank account.

In the first few months, David had provided whatever Harry wanted, but when the debts kept piling up, he’d needed to change that. Instead, David allowed Harry to live at the family’s London home—provided that it be kept in good condition. He paid for food, clothing, and club memberships, but he’d put a stop to paying gambling debts.

Harry needed to learn how to manage his finances himself. All young men had to learn how to be responsible. At 23, he was taking longer than most, admittedly. Certainly longer than Caroline. Shame he hadn’t asked her for advice on his finances.

But David knew his son would get there eventually.

“But,” Caroline spluttered, clearly scrabbling for purchase, “why didn’t Alice tell you she was pregnant?”

He raised his shoulders, feeling the material tighten against his skin. “I shan’t ever know for certain, but I have theories. In the short time I knew her, Alice was haute bohème personified. She lived a very bohemian lifestyle, publishing poetry and travelling wherever the wind took her. As an heiress, she never wanted for money, only the freedom to do as she pleased.”

“A bohemian heiress.”

“Quite.” He chuffed out a breath of amusement. “But I think that might have been part of it. Alice never wanted to be tied down, and had I known she was pregnant, I would have married her—and being married to me comes with obligations. The title is full of conventional commitments and duties, and she would have despised it.”

“Even so…” Caroline trailed off; her features downturned. “You must have been very hurt.”

He had been. Devastatingly so. “All I can do now is move on. It does no good to linger on old wounds.” David swept his hand at the cabin. “Not when we’re afforded such luxuries. How are you finding your first hour at sea?”

Her smile was shy, but her excitement quickly returned. “It’s smoother than I thought it would be. I was worried the ship would be thrown around by the current, but it’s marvellous. I hadn’t given it much thought, but I never expected the ship to have things like smoking lounges and ladies’ rooms. I heard one of the passengers talking about a ball…”

Warmth began to grow in his chest, and David found himself thinking that he could listen to her for hours. Of all the women that Harry could have dumped on his doorstep, David was glad it was Caroline. The haunted look that she’d had in the days after she’d first arrived had disappeared, he was relieved to realise.

There was a sense of accomplishment there; he’d done that. He’d nursed his injured Starling back to health, to a place where she could chat excitedly about their trip across the Atlantic, barely stopping for breath.

Nodding along, David’s gaze dipped downwards, watching her lips move. He shifted closer, filled with the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he lurched backwards, sucking in a breath so quickly he choked on it.

Caroline was there, putting a comforting hand on his forearm. “David! Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he choked out a protest, waving her away. Fuck, he’d come within a hair’s breadth of kissing his daughter-in-law . What kind of bastard would do such a thing? “I’m fine. I’m feeling rather tired at the moment—do you mind if I go and lie down in my bedroom for an hour?”

“Of course. Do you need some assistance?”

Definitely not. “No.” He shook his head, hoping to rid himself of his caddish thoughts. He’d thought it best to book them one of the two-bedroom suites for Caroline’s first trip on a ship; they each had their own bedroom, sharing a living room and a bathroom. Now he wished he’d booked two separate cabins. “No, just knock on the door if you need me.”

David stumbled into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

He needed to put some distance between them—before he did something he’d regret.

Each day was harder than the last.

In some ways, travelling with Caroline was far easier than travelling alone. On previous trips, he took meals by himself, often misreading the times the dining saloon opened or when the deck games were to begin. And even when he did end up in the dining saloon at the right time, he’d be a solitary creature. Very occasionally, he’d end up running into someone he knew, but his time aboard the passenger lines was normally companionless.

He'd never bothered, for instance, to attend the balls held on the ship. He’d never had a partner, so there had been no point.

David shifted as he waited in the living room of their suite, stepping in front of the mirror to ensure his tie was correct. Before the war, the dress code for these events had been white tie, so it was a refreshing change for them to be relaxed somewhat.

Perhaps if he’d paid closer attention to the balls, he’d have noticed when that change had occurred.

Movement to the side had him shifting his attention—and a moment later Caroline appeared in her doorway, wearing one of the more formal dresses he’d bought her back in Holyhead.

David could control his urges…but good god was she testing him.

A hint of rouge reddened her cheeks as she smoothed a hand down the shimmery green dress before pulling on a pair of long golden gloves that matched the gold feather on her hairband. “Apologies for taking so long.”

Dangerous emotions surged over him, but David managed to recover relatively quickly. And Harry let her get married in rags. The decision infuriated him more than he could say. “If this is the result...” He pulled her coat off the rack and held it open for her. “Then there’s no chance of me complaining about the process.”

The ballroom wasn’t too far a journey from their suite, down a wide staircase that wouldn’t look amiss in any of the great houses. The carpet was soft beneath their feet, a thick plush of red and gold destined to spend its life beneath the dainty heels of only the most wealthy in society.

As they entered the ballroom, a wide domed ceiling opened up above them, the lights beyond it too bright to be natural. The varnished dance floor was teeming with richly dressed guests, the most daring of young ladies wearing feather headbands and scandalously short tasselled dresses. Others, like Caroline, wore a combination of the two, picking and choosing according to their level of comfort.

After fetching them drinks from the bar, David made his way back to their table to find Caroline deep in conversation with a voluptuous young woman wearing a black-and-red beaded headband that matched her scarlet lipstick.

“Do you know,” Caroline was saying, her eyes darting from place to place, “if I didn’t already know it, I’d have never believed that we were in the middle of the sea.”

“Isn’t it fabulous?” the woman remarked, her American accent a stark contrast against Caroline’s voice. “Almost as fabulous as that dress you’re wearing.”

Caroline blushed, clearly pleased at having her fashion choices complimented. “Thank you.”

“I’m assuming it’s your first time aboard? ”

“It is for me.” Caroline nodded, taking the drink he offered her. “But not for David. You travel a couple of times a year, don’t you?”

He smiled, pleased to see that Caroline was making a friend. “I do. My sister lives in Manhattan. What about you?”

“Well, we have a summer cottage in Newport, but my husband Amos likes to travel for the rest of the year. He’s the one over by the band in the dark blue suit.” She gave a vague wave as she sipped on her cocktail. “For our honeymoon, we travelled around the world on the Laconia , which was quite a trek!”

“How long did that take?” Caroline said, awed.

“About six months, in total.” She lit a cigarette in a black-and-red cigarette holder matching her headband. “How long have you two been married?”

David almost choked on his brandy. “Oh, we’re not.”

“Ah.” Della’s tone was a wisp of coy understanding. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Amos and I had a few romantic evenings away before our wedding—just to make sure we’d suit, if you catch my meaning.”

“How very modern of you,” Caroline said faintly.

“Della.” A man in a dark blue suit, who he presumed was Amos, tapped her on the shoulder. “They’re going to play our song next. Come on or we’ll miss it.”

Della gave them a departing wink, stabbing out her cigarette on the table’s ash tray before disappearing into the crowd with her husband’s arm around her curvy figure. “Have a good night!”

When she was gone, he chanced a look at Caroline—only to find her cheeks as pink as he’d ever seen them. She held her hand in front of her mouth, but he could see the faintest hints of a smile on either side.

David held out his hand, his tender gaze soaking up every inch of her reaction. “Dance with me. ”

The Berengaria would reach New York the day after tomorrow. For tonight, however, David allowed himself to pretend, to imagine a world in which she wasn’t his son’s wife.

Right now, they were far from prying eyes or outside obligations or marital shackles.

Even if it was only temporary.

The first few dances were ones he knew, but as the night progressed and the older guests began to leave, the night became rowdier. The tones of the band shifted from simplistic elegance to playful jazz, and David found himself stumbling through steps, with a giggling Caroline to guide him.

“You find this funny, do you?” he teased her, trying to keep up.

Her eyes widened, her feather headband constantly in motion. “David, it would be a challenge for someone to not find this funny.”

Midnight found him escorting Caroline back into their suite, his young charge exuberant and more than a little tipsy. He hadn’t realised how low her tolerance for alcohol actually was; otherwise, he’d have stopped her far sooner than this.

“Sit, Starling.” He pointed at the closest armchair, hanging their coats back up before coming to kneel before her. “I’ll take off your heels.”

He had a fair assessment of her balance right now, and it was no match for the three teeny tiny buckles strapping her shoes to her feet.

Just like his intoxicated brain was no match for the potential eroticism lurking in their positions.

Thinking decent thoughts, David slid one hand around her ankle to hold it steady, attempting to unbuckle clasps designed to be released by small, feminine hands. He wasn’t letting his mind wander to where her skirts ended at her knees, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about what he’d find farth—

Fuck, maybe he was drunk. Sober David would never have these thoughts.

…would he?

Caroline let out a sweet sigh; her aquamarine eyes fixed on his. “You’re very much a gentleman.”

He swallowed. If only she knew the thoughts running through his head right now. Lust was humming through him with such voracity that he was surprised it didn’t burn. “Let me help you up,” he offered, getting to his feet before he could do any damage.

She sent him a blink that might have started life as a wink. “Like a gentleman.”

After he’d shown Caroline to her bedroom, he hurried back across the suite, as though the distance would clear him of his thoughts. Half of him wanted to pour out a glass of something strong enough to steady his nerves, but the other half was certain more alcohol would only add fuel to the fire.

In the end, he decided a lock was the most effective mechanism. David sealed himself inside his bedroom, ripping off his constricting clothes and sliding between the covers.

But try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. What did she sleep in? David had told Madame Sylvestre to give Caroline a full wardrobe, including nightwear. And underwear, now he came to think of it. What kind of underwear had she selected?

He shook himself. He should not be thinking of his son’s wife’s sodding underwear. Nor should his cock be as hard as stone while he did it.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, David couldn’t explain away his attraction to Caroline.

He let out a hushed laugh into the room. In recent years there had been significant debate around the nature versus nurture argument. Well, he could very much provide some evidence for the “nature” side of the debate.

Despite the fact that David hadn’t raised Harry, they clearly had the same fucking taste in women.

Eventually, a resigned groan escaped from him, and he gave up on sleep. He snatched up his dressing gown and shouldered it on. If he wanted to get rid of his erection, there was only one way to do it.

On his way to the bathroom, however, a selection of photographs on the writing desk caught his eye.

He knew exactly where they were from; a photographer had set up shop on the ship, offering to take passengers’ pictures for a small fee. Caroline had buzzed with excitement at the idea, so of course he’d offered to have some taken of the two of them.

David knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Right now, a photograph of Caroline was exactly what he needed.

In the bathroom, he propped the picture on the marble counter, picked up a clean handkerchief from the stack, and threw his dressing gown onto the hook next to the shower.

A hiss of relief left him as he took his cock in hand, feeding the lustful beast inside him. Yes, travelling with Caroline had made his life easier in so many ways, but in this way, it was infinitely harder. He wanted her. He could finally admit that to himself.

Residing in the same suite as her was maddening, knowing when she was changing or bathing. It was an eternal torment and a source of endless internal shame. How could he look at his daughter -in-law in this way?

But then sometimes he’d catch her looking at him like she just might want him too, and it became all the harder. Earlier tonight, he’d wanted to lift her skirts and disappear beneath them until she was moaning his name in ecstasy. He wanted to thrust into her like a rutting beast until they both erupted.

His hold on his dripping cock tightened as he slid his fist up and down, his heated gaze burning a hole into the picture. Fuck shame—right now, he let himself pretend she was his, envisioning her spreading her legs for him, the sounds she’d make as she climaxed, the way she’d say his name in bliss.

Heat began to rise at the base of his shaft, and David only spurred it o—

The bathroom door opened, with a heavy-lidded Caroline taking a step inside before letting out a mortified yelp.

Shit. David scrambled to cover himself, wrenching his dressing gown off the hook so forcefully he heard a tearing noise. He ignored it, tightly clenching his cock to try and stop it erupting like fucking Vesuvius whilst strategically holding his dressing gown in his other hand.

“Just…just tell me when it’s safe to open my eyes,” Caroline squeaked. “I’m sorry. I just need to use the, the thing…”

He managed to complete both tasks successfully before turning round to find Caroline with a hand over her eyes. David left the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment and the air full of his apologies.

It was only when he was back in his own bedroom with his head in his hands and his cock drooping with shame that he remembered something, however.

He’d forgotten to take the photograph with him.