Chapter 6
Below Deck
The boat slowed as the cliffs grew larger.
From a distance they had been only a dark seam between sky and sea. Up close they became immense, rising black and sheer from the water, their faces silvered by moonlight and carved by shadows. The Midnight Mercy moved along their edge with a reverence that made conversation fall away.
Dane dimmed the deck lights.
The sudden darkness drew a small sound from Marissa.
"Just preserving your night vision," he said.
"I wasn't scared."
"Good."
Nathan stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She leaned back into him. For a few seconds he felt steady again. Husband. Anchor. Familiar shore.
Then Dane came to stand beside them at the rail, close enough that Nathan could smell salt, soap, and the faint clean bite of engine oil.
"There," the captain said, pointing toward what looked like an unbroken wall of rock. "Entrance."
Marissa squinted. "I don't see anything."
"Most people don't. That's the point."
Dane guided the boat forward at a crawl. Nathan saw it only when the angle changed: a narrow gap in the cliffs, hidden by a jutting shoulder of stone. Water slid through it black and glassy. The opening seemed impossibly tight.
"You're taking us through that?" Nathan asked.
"Yes."
Marissa's hand found Nathan's wrist.
Dane looked back. "Still yes?"
The question was for both of them, but his gaze rested on Marissa.
She looked at Nathan. He nodded, though his mouth had gone dry.
"Yes," she said.
Dane returned to the helm.
The boat entered the gap.
The cliffs rose on either side, close enough that Nathan could hear water whispering against stone.
The moon disappeared. For several breaths the world became sound, shadow, and the warm pressure of Marissa's body against his chest. Then the passage widened abruptly, and the hidden cove opened around them.
Marissa gasped.
Nathan understood.
The cove was a bowl of moonlight. Black sand curved along a small beach at the base of the cliffs.
Tide pools flashed like mirrors. The water inside was so calm it seemed painted.
Above, the full moon hung perfectly framed between the rock walls, and the stars looked near enough to disturb with a hand.
Dane cut the engine.
Silence poured in.
The anchor dropped with a low metallic rumble, then caught.
"Saint's Mouth," Dane said.
For a while, nobody spoke.
Nathan felt Marissa's breathing under his hands. She was not leaning against him anymore because she needed support. She was leaning because she had chosen to.
"It's unreal," she whispered.
"It gets that way," Dane said.
He busied himself with the anchor line, then checked the deck, the instruments, the water. Nathan sensed the man making space again. That restraint, more than any boldness, made him dangerous.
"I'm going below to get the lanterns," Dane said. "There's a warmer jacket in the salon if either of you wants it."
Marissa turned. "I'll get it."
Nathan said, "I'll come with you."
The companionway was narrow. Below deck, the yacht held a small salon with cream leather benches, a polished table, a compact galley, and a cabin door standing half-open beyond it. Everything smelled faintly of cedar and ocean air.
Marissa found the jacket folded near the stairs but did not pick it up immediately.
Instead she stood in the soft lamp glow, looking at Nathan with an expression he could not place.
"Say it," she said.
"Say what?"
"Whatever is happening behind your eyes."
He leaned against the galley counter. "I don't know how."
"Try."
He looked up toward the deck, where Dane's footsteps moved slowly overhead.
"When he asked if it was still yes," Nathan said, "I wanted you to answer before I did."
Marissa absorbed that.
"You wanted it to be my choice."
"Yes."
"And if my choice leads somewhere you didn't plan?"
The cabin seemed to tilt though the boat was still.
"Then I want us to be honest before it does."
She stepped closer. "Do you want me to flirt with him?"
Nathan closed his eyes briefly.
There it was. Plain as a flare in the dark.
"I don't know what I can handle."
"That's not what I asked."
He opened his eyes.
"Yes," he said.
Marissa's lips parted.
The answer frightened both of them. He could see it. But beneath her fear was heat, the same heat he felt curling up through shame and turning it into something almost sacred.
"Only if you want to," he said quickly.
"I know."
"And only if we keep talking."
"I know."
"And if either of us says stop--"
"Nathan." She placed her hand over his heart. "I know."
From above, Dane called, "Everything all right?"
Marissa looked at Nathan while she answered.
"Yes," she said, voice steady. "Everything is all right."
Nathan believed her.
That was what made him tremble.