Chapter 15
Hannah stared at the contents of her wardrobe, bemoaning her haphazard approach to packing for this trip. She had included a couple of dresses, but they’d been thrown into her suitcase with little thought attached to accessories to accompany them – like shoes, for example.
Could she go to a formal dinner in trainers? Or flip-flops?
Probably not.
Should she shout at herself for her own crappy planning? Or beat herself with birch twigs for her lack of forethought? Ask the captain to lock her in the brig and deal with her later? Possibly with one of the birch twigs…
Hannah caught her breath – shocked at the inference contained in her own thought.
Did her best to stop the creep of heat that threatened to engulf her.
It wasn’t like her to have those kinds of thoughts, especially about someone she barely knew.
Couldn’t remember viewing Ian with that kind of abandon.
They’d first met when she was seventeen, and back then she had been ridiculously na?ve.
After reconnecting a couple of years later, she’d never thought to look further than the tall and handsome guy who was a couple of years older than her, who was fit and athletic and friendly, who pursued her and ultimately – as the years rolled – made her feel safe and wanted.
Until he’d wanted someone else, of course.
Recalibrating, Hannah pulled one of the dresses from the rail and laid it on the bed.
It was too floaty, with layers of voile-like fabric wrapped one on top of the other, but the alternative was one in a bright shade of pink, which Hannah had decided was a good idea in the shop in West Quay, but which was way too short for this dinner.
Would the tan gladiator sandals she’d decided would be ideal for walking on the beach look good with the floaty dress?
Hannah shook her head as she checked her watch. It was something she no longer had time to worry about.
She was still berating her packing decisions as she reached the Vivaldi restaurant. She grinned at the guy on the door, showed him her invitation and was welcomed inside.
Groups of people already chatted in tight formation; waiters glided silently holding trays of glasses.
Everyone looked utterly at home in an environment for which Hannah had no frame of reference.
Hannah took champagne from a passing waiter and sipped as she glanced around.
Perhaps she should slide back out through the door she’d just come through and forget the whole thing.
Then Louis extracted himself from one of the groups and headed for her.
‘Hannah – you’re just in time,’ he said, waving away the offer of a drink from another waiter and drew closer. ‘I’m on the elderflower alcohol-free option. Really boring, but it is what it is. You look fantastic, by the way. Beautiful dress.’
‘Thank you.’ She buried her delight at his comment by taking a bigger mouthful of champagne, stifling a cough as the bubbles crowded the back of her throat. She glanced around the restaurant, the tables decked out with liveried crockery and linens, arrangements of exotic flowers on each table.
‘This place looks fantastic, too.’
‘You wait until we have the Christmas dinners – they really go all out for those. Do you like the champagne? I think it’s a decent vintage – not that I get to taste any of it.’
She sipped at her glass, the buzz going straight to her head. ‘I’m not sure when I last had any champagne.’
In truth, she remembered distinctly. It had been when she and Ian had announced their engagement to her parents. Her father had gone to the deli fridges, found a bottle of Moet they creased closed and yet managed to sparkle, all at the same time.
She took a surreptitious glance at his uniform.
It was incredibly smart, the collar starched to perfection and so pearly white against the sun-kissed tones of his neck, the white jacket stiff and formal, emblazoned with gold buttons and braids and stripes.
It really was impressive. It also struck her that he was too hot for that jacket.
No, that was wrong… She meant he might be too hot in that jacket.
Hannah felt plenty warm enough in her beach-ready dress and he had on loads more layers than she did. That’s what she meant…
She cleared her throat as she tried to focus on something other than her thoughts on what lay underneath the tailored lines of his jacket, or the way they were making her feel.
Did her best to focus on the details, the stitching on the jacket, the Blue Line emblem.
The gold bands circling his wrists. Four, which denoted him as captain.
It was the same number he wore on the shoulders of his shirt.
The shirt that was, apart from the collar, mostly hidden underneath the jacket right now.
If she unbuttoned the jacket, and pushed it apart, she would be able to check…
‘Thanks for coming,’ Louis said, unaware of her internal turmoil. Maybe she needed to have a couple of glasses of alcohol to relax and get herself under control.
‘I’ve asked for you to be on my table, I thought that might be appropriate as there may not be anyone else here you know.’
A matter of days ago Hannah would have taken offence, would have focused on the inference that she was here alone, would have imagined it laced with negativity and pitying thoughts.
But that wound had made a start towards healing, and as she glanced around at the groups of people overflowing with confidence and noted the ease with which some folks seemed able to make small talk with complete strangers, she was grateful for his thoughtfulness.
‘We’re over here,’ he said, extending a hand to the air below her elbow as he guided her to the table in the centre of the room.
He was careful not to touch her arm, presumably a chivalrous, formal dining thing – something Hannah had no experience of beyond watching a bit of Downton Abbey.
But she really wished he’d get it wrong and bump against her skin.
Another swig of champagne gave her something to do, a waiter replenishing her glass as they neared the table and Louis showed her to her seat. Right next to his.
As though a secret code had been passed around the room the rest of the guests also started to take their seats and the meal began.
So much for focusing on his best approach towards Hannah, Louis thought as he glanced at her.
She looked completely gorgeous in that dress, the sharp lines of her haircut and the intensity of her gaze the perfect foil to the soft femininity of the floaty fabric.
Louis wanted to be able to down a flute of champagne just so he could loosen up enough to make her laugh like she had him.
Wasn’t sure he would manage it on his strict no-alcohol mantra.
It wasn’t as though he could suddenly begin to down the booze – especially not on an evening like this in full view of some of the most influential of the ship’s passengers.
The rest of his table consisted of a cousin of the owner of Blue Line Cruising and her husband; a politician whose face Louis recognised, even if he couldn’t name him – accompanied by a much younger woman who it would be inappropriate for Louis to assume was anyone other than his wife.
Also on his table was a regular solo cruiser called Margot who Louis had asked to be seated beside his father in the hope that she would keep him occupied, and a husband-husband combo, one of whom – Paton West – was an actor who had been in a medical drama series on Netflix, which Louis had enjoyed.
But with Hannah seated beside him, there was nothing Louis wanted more than to focus on her and see where the evening might take them both.
It was hard to ignore the direct sight-line he had to another of the tables, on which sat one of his assistant officers of the watch.
After having been rather short with Tim over their first docking in the Azores, Louis had made sure he was one of the members of the crew to get a turn at a formal dinner.
But it seemed as though every time Louis glanced across, he was staring at them.
Tim should be playing his part in entertaining the guests on his table, not checking out what was happening at the captain’s table – or rather, checking out who was at that table.
‘This wine is nice, too,’ Hannah said, holding up her glass and staring at it.
She swivelled to stare at him, her expression softened by the wine she’d already drunk on top of a couple of glasses of champagne.
Her usually intense gaze had taken on a softer edge, a smile quick to her lips.
‘Oh, oops. I forgot you aren’t having any. ’
He grinned, lifting his tumbler of sparkling water and chinking it against hers.
‘I’ll survive,’ he said.
‘Must be difficult, though, at times like these with everyone else having a fun time and you’re basically at work.’
She sipped at her wine, and Louis waited as she swallowed, then licked at the bead of wine clinging to the edge of her glass.
There was no way she could have known what such a simple act would have him thinking, and any chance of answering her question became impossible.
He wasn’t sure he could have formed any actual words, let alone get them out.
‘Seriously though,’ she said, some of the intensity returning as she set down her glass. ‘Do you get time off? Like, when we get to the Caribbean, are you glued to the ship or will you get some time to explore the place?’