Matilda paused, her hand in the air above the phone. Was she doing the right thing? If Rose wanted her mother and fiancé—Ex-fiancé, she corrected herself silently. If she wanted her mother and her ex-fiancé to know where she was, she would have told them by now. But would she have? Matilda knew she wouldn't dare tell her family where she was if she had just run away with an ostensibly penniless artist. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't want them to at least know I was all right. And what harm could it do? Hadn't he said she was his wife? If they're married, there isn't much to be done about it, she thought, picking up the receiver.
*****
"What do you want to do today?"
Rose stretched, loving the way the muscles in her legs flexed. She arched her back, using her elbows as support. "What do you want to do today?"
Jack lay on his side, one arm tucked under his head. Pushing away the first answer that popped into his head, he said, "I want to draw you."
She smiled. "You've drawn me twice a day for the past week."
"Is that all?"
She shoved him playfully. "There are far more interesting things you could be drawing."
He curled an arm around her waist. "I can't think what that could be." He laced his fingers through hers, lightly sliding his fingertips across her hand. She held her breath; her heart pounded in her chest. Slowly, too slowly she thought, their faces came together. She threw an arm around his neck as his lips brushed hers. "Are you trying to tell me something?" he murmured, breaking into a smile.
"I can't think what that would be," she teased, twisting his shirt in her fingers.
He nipped gently at her neck as she pulled his body onto hers. "I guess I'll have to figure it out somehow," he whispered. His breath blew across her earlobe, making her shiver.
She grabbed the top of his pants. She could feel him, already hard against her thigh, as she fought with the buttons. He slipped her dress off her shoulders. "I don't know why we bothered to get up today."
*****
"I see." Cal tapped his pen against the desk. "Oh, yes. I quite understand. Yes. Thank you." He laid the receiver carefully in its cradle. He leaned back, still tapping the pen. "So, that's where they've been hiding." He expected them to be halfway across the country or even to have left it entirely. But rat bastards like Jack never did what you expected them to. He'd expected him to drown when that damned ship had gone down, but then there he was, Rose in his arms, daring him to do something about it. "He thinks he's won." A low chuckle escaped Cal's throat. "He thinks he's so smart, hiding right under my nose."
He picked up the phone.
***** "Look at this." Rose smiled as Jack slid a large book toward her. "See that?" he asked, pointing at a spot on the page. "I want to be able to do that."
She followed the path he traced with his fingertip. "You already can," she said.
He shook his head. "I can't blend colors like that."
She watched his eyes move; he murmured softly to himself as he studied the painting. "What do you see?" she asked, leaning closer.
He looked up, startled. "I—it's amazing," he said sheepishly. "It's exactly what I want to be doing one day."
"I'm sure you already can," she said confidently. She looped her arm through his. "Have you ever tried?"
"Painting? No. I've only done sketches. Never really had the money to paint, and canvases are kind of hard to travel with." His gaze traveled back to the page.
She almost asked why he hadn't thought of selling paintings, but thought better of it. Surely the thought would have occurred to him. "I'd like to see you paint me," she said.
He nodded. "Okay," he said, not taking his eyes off the page.
She leaned closer; her mouth was almost touching his ear. "I'd like to see you paint me like a French girl."
His head snapped up. "You—you would?"
She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. Her eyes danced mischievously. "If you're up to it, that is."
"I think I can find a way." His voice was barely a whisper. He was a bit surprised by just how soft it had suddenly become. They were in a library, but this was a bit ridiculous. He cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah, I could do that." She kissed his cheek. "What was that for?" he asked with a grin.
She kissed him again, on the lips this time. "Do I need a reason?"
He shook his head slowly. "No."
They spent the next few hours wandering through the library, grabbing books that looked interesting off the shelves and flipping through them. They curled up in a overstuffed chair in a corner at the back of the library and read poems aloud.
Rose sighed happily as she settled her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her hair. "Tired?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"No." She glanced at the book on his lap. "That's a fitting story."
"What? Oh. Yeah, I guess it is." He opened the book. "They have the same initials as us, just reversed."
"Perhaps that means something."
"If it means we're gonna have to kill ourselves, I could do without it."
"That won't happen." She looked deep into his eyes. "I can't imagine ever feeling that way again."
He hugged her tighter. "I'll make sure you don't."
Two Days Later
Cal swore as he stepped off the train. There wasn't a first class entrance to the station; the town was too small for such a thing, or so the conductor claimed. He smoothed his suit, even though it didn't need it. "Is this where we'll find them?" Burns, his replacement for Lovejoy, asked.
"Somewhere in this filthy little town," Cal said, eyeing his fellow travelers with disgust.
"Well, she shouldn't be too hard to spot," Burns said.
Cal grunted in reply. Making conversation with his valet would have to wait; he had more important things to think about. Somewhere in this filthy little town was a filthy little whore who was about to get what was coming to her.
*****
"Should we be doing something else?"
Jack glanced at her. "Like what?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It just seems like we should be. It's so strange to think we can spend the whole afternoon just watching people go by. There isn't a party we have to go to or a dinner we have to worry about getting dressed for." She looked at her hands. "Those don't sound like such horrible things, do they? Not like something I should be complaining about."
He covered her hands with his. "They do if they make you unhappy," he said.
She lifted her head and met his eyes. "It wouldn't be so bad if you were there."
"I don't think they'd like that much. I only almost pass for a gentleman, remember?" He was grinning slightly as he said it, but Rose couldn't tell if it was a real grin or a sarcastic one.
"You are," she said. "You're so much more than any—"
A piercing shriek rang out. They jumped to their feet.
Jack pulled her close. "Stay here," he said, giving her a squeeze.
"You're not going—"
"Rose, just wait." He kissed her forehead. "I'll be right back."
"Jack! No!" But he was already halfway up the hill. She sighed. "Be careful, Jack." The sound of footsteps behind her made her blood run cold. You're overreacting! There's no—Her heart skipped a beat as an all too familiar voice sounded in her ears.
"Hello, Sweetpea."