Chapter 15
The Dance He Asked For
Dane did not take Marissa's hand immediately.
He looked at Nathan first, as if making sure the words had not been spoken by some reckless stranger wearing Nathan's face. Nathan understood the caution. His own voice had surprised him. The request hung in the air with the kind of clarity that left no room for pretending later.
"Say it again," Dane said.
Nathan's throat tightened. "Dance with my wife. Slowly. Let me watch."
Marissa's eyes remained on him. "Nathan."
"I mean it." He took her hand and kissed her palm. "Not because I don't want you. Because I do. Because I want to see what wanting you looks like when I'm not the only man in the room."
"We're not in a room," she whispered.
He smiled, shaky. "Even better. Nowhere to hide."
Dane set his mug aside. "Marissa?"
She turned toward him. "Yes. I want to dance."
The captain extended his hand.
She took it.
Nathan stepped back to the bench near the stern and sat down before his knees could betray him. He clasped his hands between them and made himself watch without flinching away into abstraction.
Dane led with quiet control. One hand held Marissa's, the other rested at a respectful place on her back, high enough to be careful, intimate enough to make Nathan's breath shorten.
Marissa placed her free hand on Dane's shoulder.
The oversized jacket slipped open with the movement, revealing the blue dress beneath.
They did not speak at first.
The boat did the turning for them. The song moved slowly, brushed drums and a woman's voice low as smoke.
Dane guided Marissa through small steps, adapting to the deck's subtle motion.
She followed more easily than Nathan expected.
Or perhaps he had forgotten that his wife had always known how to move with confidence when someone trusted her body to know the answer.
Jealousy came in waves.
The first was sharp: Dane's hand on her back.
The second was deeper: the way she relaxed into being led.
The third nearly took Nathan under: the smile that touched her mouth when Dane murmured something too quiet for Nathan to hear.
Nathan gripped his own hands and stayed.
Marissa looked at him over Dane's shoulder. Not defiantly. Not apologetically. She looked as if she wanted him present for the whole truth, even the parts that hurt.
He nodded once.
Her smile changed. It became warmer, braver.
Dane turned her gently. The moon caught her face.
For a moment she was framed between the captain's shoulder and the open water, and Nathan saw her as a stranger might see her: beautiful, yes, but more than beautiful.
Desired because she was not trying to disappear.
Desired because her intelligence was in her eyes, her longing in her posture, her years in the way she refused to act younger than she was.
Nathan had been afraid another man's attention would reduce her to an object.
Instead it seemed to return her to dimension.
The song ended, but Dane did not release her until Marissa eased her hand from his shoulder. Again, she chose the ending. Again, he honored it.
She came back to Nathan without being summoned.
That mattered so much he could barely stand.
She stood between his knees and touched his face. "What did you see?"
He could have said temptation. He could have said pain. He could have said my wife in another man's arms, and all of those would have been true.
"You," he said.
Marissa bent and kissed him. The kiss tasted of ginger tea and salt air and the boundary they had just crossed without breaking.
Dane looked away, giving them the privacy of a turned shoulder though they were in the open.
Nathan reached for Marissa's waist and held her close. "I need a minute."
"We can stop."
"I didn't say stop. I said a minute."
She nodded, understanding the difference now.
Nathan stood and walked to the bow alone. The air was colder there. He gripped the rail and looked at the cove until his heartbeat slowed. Behind him, he could hear Marissa and Dane speaking softly. He resisted the urge to catch every word.
The truth was not a possession he could lock in his fist.
When he returned, Marissa was seated at the table, Dane standing across from her with the rope from the knot lesson in his hands.
"What did I miss?" Nathan asked.
Marissa smiled. "The captain was explaining that every knot has a story."
"Naturally."
Dane held up the rope. "This one matters."
Nathan sat beside his wife. "All right. Tell us the story."
Dane placed the rope on the table between them.
"This is a slip knot," he said. "Useful when tension is temporary. Dangerous when someone mistakes it for something permanent."
Marissa looked at Nathan. Nathan looked at the rope.
The night, apparently, had not finished teaching.