finally used her first name, dropping
the veil of propriety and protocol now and taking the matter to a personal
level.
She
could hear it in his voice, the softening of his tone, and see it in his eyes now
as he looked at her. He had the look of a man who would do anything he could to
take the burden from her shoulders, and she had seen it in the eyes of few
other men in her life. Deep down, she wanted to think she saw love there, real
love, not mere concern and dutiful attendance from a subordinate in her employ.
And when she looked at him her heart ached to tell him more, to tell him
everything, and to finally feel that the burden she carried might be shared by
the two of them, up on his broad shoulders where she knew he could carry it easily—everything
she had dragged about in her life for decades, all in his big arms. And they’d
carry it together.
The
two of them…
“I…
I can’t say more, Gordon. You’ll have to trust me on this.” The words stumbled out,
even as she chided herself inwardly for not going further, for not reaching for
what she longed to take hold of in her mind and heart. Gordon MacRae, she
thought in a wink of her soul. My God, I love the man…
MacRae
looked at her, seeing more there than she realized she had shown him. He put his
hands in his jacket pocket, surprised to feel the note he had received from the
Black Line days ago warning of the imminent attack on Princess Royal in
the Gulf. He realized he was still wearing dress whites! One thing had led to
another and he never found time to switch out to his navy blues. Now he stood
there, his mind alert enough and perceptive enough to know that she was hiding
something she dearly wanted to reveal. And the only big mystery in the woman’s
life is right behind that movable bulkhead on the other side of the room, he
thought. Then he spoke his mind.
“It’s
that damn red phone back there, isn’t it?”
She
looked at him, lips tightening.
“Another
call came in, am I right? What is it, Elena? Is it government business? The Prime
Minister chewing on your ear for something? Well, the Royal Navy has been able
to see to the Crown’s business for the last thousand years well enough. What in
God’s name have we got to do with this? It was good of them to lend a hand here
with the Iron Duke, but we’ve no need to repay the favor.”
“It’s
something more,” she said it before she could stop herself. “And it has a long,
long tail, Gordon.”
“Yes,
and you’ve had hold of that tiger since the first day I set foot on this ship. What
is it, Elena? What’s so damn important about that red phone?”
She
lowered her head, eyes glassy, her hand on her brow. The stress of these last days
had been heavy on her, and she needed sleep. Her head suddenly felt as light as
her heart as she imagined herself telling him everything, opening up the doors
and letting him in at long last. Then she did what women have done for
generations when there was simply no other way to cross that last impossible
gulf between a man and woman so obviously drawn into the well of one another,
but forever harried by the curse of forbidden love.
She
fainted.
“Elena!”
MacRae saw her legs go limp and stepped forward quickly as she fell, taking her
in his arms. He lifted her easily, carrying her to the nearby sofa and laying her
gently down. As he did so her eyes fluttered open again, unfocused, and she felt
the heat of the moment, a sheen of perspiration on her forehead.
“You’re
not well,” said MacRae. “Fainted dead away on me. Here, let me get you some water.”
He
was up and over to the wet bar and soon had a glass of cool ice water in hand. He
put one big hand behind her head to help her as she took a long sip. Then she
closed her eyes, flushed with embarrassment, yet somehow feeling she had just
leapt over a great crevasse between them.
“Oh
Gordon,” she said softly. “If you only knew what I know…”
“What?
About this business in the
the veil of propriety and protocol now and taking the matter to a personal
level.
She
could hear it in his voice, the softening of his tone, and see it in his eyes now
as he looked at her. He had the look of a man who would do anything he could to
take the burden from her shoulders, and she had seen it in the eyes of few
other men in her life. Deep down, she wanted to think she saw love there, real
love, not mere concern and dutiful attendance from a subordinate in her employ.
And when she looked at him her heart ached to tell him more, to tell him
everything, and to finally feel that the burden she carried might be shared by
the two of them, up on his broad shoulders where she knew he could carry it easily—everything
she had dragged about in her life for decades, all in his big arms. And they’d
carry it together.
The
two of them…
“I…
I can’t say more, Gordon. You’ll have to trust me on this.” The words stumbled out,
even as she chided herself inwardly for not going further, for not reaching for
what she longed to take hold of in her mind and heart. Gordon MacRae, she
thought in a wink of her soul. My God, I love the man…
MacRae
looked at her, seeing more there than she realized she had shown him. He put his
hands in his jacket pocket, surprised to feel the note he had received from the
Black Line days ago warning of the imminent attack on Princess Royal in
the Gulf. He realized he was still wearing dress whites! One thing had led to
another and he never found time to switch out to his navy blues. Now he stood
there, his mind alert enough and perceptive enough to know that she was hiding
something she dearly wanted to reveal. And the only big mystery in the woman’s
life is right behind that movable bulkhead on the other side of the room, he
thought. Then he spoke his mind.
“It’s
that damn red phone back there, isn’t it?”
She
looked at him, lips tightening.
“Another
call came in, am I right? What is it, Elena? Is it government business? The Prime
Minister chewing on your ear for something? Well, the Royal Navy has been able
to see to the Crown’s business for the last thousand years well enough. What in
God’s name have we got to do with this? It was good of them to lend a hand here
with the Iron Duke, but we’ve no need to repay the favor.”
“It’s
something more,” she said it before she could stop herself. “And it has a long,
long tail, Gordon.”
“Yes,
and you’ve had hold of that tiger since the first day I set foot on this ship. What
is it, Elena? What’s so damn important about that red phone?”
She
lowered her head, eyes glassy, her hand on her brow. The stress of these last days
had been heavy on her, and she needed sleep. Her head suddenly felt as light as
her heart as she imagined herself telling him everything, opening up the doors
and letting him in at long last. Then she did what women have done for
generations when there was simply no other way to cross that last impossible
gulf between a man and woman so obviously drawn into the well of one another,
but forever harried by the curse of forbidden love.
She
fainted.
“Elena!”
MacRae saw her legs go limp and stepped forward quickly as she fell, taking her
in his arms. He lifted her easily, carrying her to the nearby sofa and laying her
gently down. As he did so her eyes fluttered open again, unfocused, and she felt
the heat of the moment, a sheen of perspiration on her forehead.
“You’re
not well,” said MacRae. “Fainted dead away on me. Here, let me get you some water.”
He
was up and over to the wet bar and soon had a glass of cool ice water in hand. He
put one big hand behind her head to help her as she took a long sip. Then she
closed her eyes, flushed with embarrassment, yet somehow feeling she had just
leapt over a great crevasse between them.
“Oh
Gordon,” she said softly. “If you only knew what I know…”
“What?
About this business in the
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