Jack didn't know how they did it, but somehow they managed to get through the rest of the afternoon. He would have been even more shocked if he'd known they'd also managed to stay one step ahead of Lovejoy the entire time. Not wanting to listen to another one of Cal's tirades, he had gone back out, determined to come back with one if not both of them, or not come back at all. He'd headed straight for third class. It was nearly dinnertime, and he was still there. He'd walked down every corridor, peered through every crack or opening in every door, and described Jack and Rose to just about everyone he saw. No one had seen them.
At least, no one was admitting to having seen them. Lovejoy was sure someone had to have seen them. It was a ship. There were only so many places they could go, and he doubted very much they would have dared to go up to first class. Too many people would have noticed the missing Rose, and Jack--if not clad in his borrowed finery--would have drawn too much attention. No, they were down in steerage. Somewhere.
Lovejoy was right. They were down in steerage. They kept moving, wandering down one corridor after another, up one set of stairs and then down another, spurred on by the knowledge that someone was probably looking for them, and staying in one place would make them that much easier to find. Jack didn't ask anyone to say they hadn't seen them. He trusted his friends not to say anything--though he hoped no-one would bother them. They weren't a part of the situation--and he didn't believe it was right to ask strangers to get involved. They would just avoid Cal--and Lovejoy and whoever else was sent their way--as best they could. It was already almost dinnertime, and the ship was docking in New York in the morning. As far as Jack was concerned, their arrival couldn't come soon enough. He wasn't afraid of Cal--not of fighting him one on one--but he wasn't stupid. He knew what Cal could do to him--to say nothing of what he might do to Rose, and he didn't try to delude himself into thinking morality would triumph over money.
His glance happened to fall on a wall clock. The hands pointed to six PM. "Dinnertime," he said, nudging Rose.
She looked up at the clock. "It is." Where had the time gone? It seemed like only minutes ago they were kissing in the hallway after her impromptu marriage proposal, and now it was time for their foray back into the snake pit. She felt Jack's eyes on her. He was studying her face.
"You still want to do this?" he asked.
"I wouldn't say I want to, but as you pointed out earlier, I really should. There's no way I can talk you into staying behind, is there?"
Jack shook his head. "Afraid not. We have an agreement, you and me."
"We do?"
He feigned shock. "You've forgotten already about what happens when you jump?"
"I didn't forget," she said.
They hurried up to first class, checking around corners and looking over their shoulders the entire way. Fortunately, by the time they made it up there, just about everyone was already in the dining room or congregating around the grand staircase. Rose led Jack to her room, her heart racing faster with each step. Her palms were sweating as she fit the key into the lock and pushed open the door.
The room sitting room was empty. She breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. She stepped into the room, motioning for Jack to follow. He gently closed the door behind them. Rose was already halfway across the room by the time Jack noticed she had moved from his side. He was too busy taking in the splendor around him. Suddenly, the reality of just how wide the chasm between their two worlds was hit him in a whole new way.
Are you really going to let her do this?
What else can I do? I love her.
If you loved her, wouldn't you want what's best for her?
Jack pushed his doubts away. The freedom to be herself was what was best for her. The freedom to make her own decisions and live her life on her own terms was what was best for her. And he was determined to give that to her.
"Jack?" Her voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked over and saw that she was standing across the room, a puzzled look on her face.
"Sorry," he said, moving toward her. "I was just..." He spread his arms out. "Taking it all in."
Rose looked around, suddenly noticing the opulence of her suite for the first time. "It is a lot to take in, isn't it?" Please don't think I can't give it up. She watched his gaze examine everything, finally stopping when his eyes fell on the paintings leaning against the fireplace.
"Monet!" he exclaimed, hurrying over to look at them up close. He dropped to his knees in front of them.
Rose smiled to herself. It was just like in her dream. "Aren't they fascinating?" she asked.
He didn't take his eyes off the painting as he traced his fingers over one of the water lilies--careful not to touch the canvas. "Look at his use of color here. Isn't he great?" he asked.
"It's extraordinary."
Rose wished they could continue on to the next scene, but there wasn't time. In the dream version of this night, she had only been missing since the late afternoon. There hadn't been enough time yet for Cal to send his lackey after them. They'd had almost two hours to themselves before he had shown up. Two glorious hours. They were alone now, but she didn't think they could trust that they would remain that way. It was true, first class dinners lasted an abominably long time, and she was certain that's where her mother was. What would people think if she wasn't? Rose thought sarcastically. She was almost as certain that was where Cal was, too. He was just as concerned with his reputation as Ruth. But he had a lackey. A lackey, who, for all they knew, could show up at any moment. They would have laughed themselves to tears had they known Lovejoy was still down in steerage, running up and down the same corridors over and over, determined not to leave until he found at least a sign of them.
Rose's breath tickled his ear. "We could take them."
He could feel the warmth from her body next to him. No, no, no. He forced himself to focus on her words. "Do you want to?" he asked, turning his head to look at her. Her face was just inches from his. Close enough to kiss…shut up.
"I actually do. If you don't mind..."
His eyes lit up. "Mind? I'd love to keep them. I don't know where we'll keep them, but I don't know where we'll keep ourselves at first, either."
Rose laughed. They didn't even have a place to stay in New York--or any money to pay for one--and here she was worrying about keeping some paintings. "It's silly of me, isn't it? Worrying about something this trivial?"
"I don't think it's silly. These are masterpieces. Why wouldn't you want to keep them?"
"You are the only person who has ever understood the way I feel about art."
"It's a gift, I guess."
They would have gazed into each other's eyes all night if Jack hadn't remembered where they were. "We shouldn't hang around too long," he said. He pulled himself to his feet and offered Rose his hand.
She allowed him to help her up from her knees. "You're right."
He watched as she removed a suitcase from a shelf in her wardrobe and threw it on her bed. Don't think about the bed. Don't even look at the bed. It doesn't matter that it's big enough for both of you or that she doesn't have three roommates. She has a most likely pissed off mother and fiancé who have no doubt sent someone to find her. So, get your mind onto the task at hand.
Rose was busy throwing dresses at the suitcase. She wasn't bothering to fold them or even to make sure they were going in. She was just running her hands along the hangers until she found the ones that didn't scream rich quite as loudly as some of the others and tossing them behind her. Most of them landed on the bed. Hoping to distract himself--and, of course, wanting to be helpful--Jack was folding the dresses and laying them in the suitcase. He didn't notice when Rose bent down and opened a drawer in the wardrobe.
He reached for a pile of white cotton she had just thrown at him. His hands began to shake as he realized it wasn't a dress he was holding, but an undergarment. Rose's undergarment. He told himself it didn't matter and began to fold it anyway. Yeah, it doesn't matter. You're only holding her underwear. But that's the kind of thing you do every day, isn't it?
Shut up.
Why does what I say bother you so much? Is it because it's true?
It's because I can't have her...not the way I want her. Not now. Not yet.
Rose looked over her shoulder as she tossed another undergarment at the suitcase and discovered Jack holding the first one, staring at it intently. Her cheeks burned. First you jump all over him, and now you're throwing your underwear at him?
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, stepping toward him. She held out her hand. "I was so caught up in what I was doing, I didn't realize..." Their eyes met. She blushed even more when she saw the desire burning in his blue eyes. She tried to speak, but nothing would come out. Goosebumps popped out along her arms. She was completely clothed--save for a corset--but she had never felt more naked in her life. "Jack," she whispered, suddenly regaining her voice.
"Rose."
As if pulled by magnets, they moved toward each other. Jack dropped her underwear as his hands slid down her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. Their lips met in a tentative kiss. It didn't stay tentative for long.
Before he knew what he was doing, Jack found himself searching the back of her dress for buttons or hooks or whatever else could be used to close up a dress. Don't! he told himself. This is not--you can't--shut up.
Rose broke the kiss. "Mr. Dawson, are you trying to undress me?" she asked, trying to sound shocked. Please say you are.
For a moment, Jack was afraid she really was shocked, but he could see the smile in her eyes. "Why, yes. That's exactly what I was doing," he said, trying to sound upper class. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all," she whispered, all seriousness.
Things began to move quickly after that. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the bed, flat on his back, and Rose was on top of him. His arms were wrapped around her. Her lips were on his throat and she was unbuttoning his shirt as fast as she could.
He tried to say her name, but it came out as a groan. No, he couldn't lose control of himself. He had to make sure she understood. He tried again, managing to say actual words this time. "Rose, do you realize..." Her mouth was moving down his chest now. Down...down...she stopped when she reached his pants. "Please, Rose," he gasped, knowing that if he let her continue there was no way he'd be able to get what he needed to say said.
"What is it?" she asked, slightly out of breath.
"You have to tell me you understand what we're doing. That you understand what could happen." He looked deep into her eyes. "That you want this."
"I understand everything," she said solemnly. Any fears about being caught were long gone. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered--except what they were doing. What they were about to do. "And I want this."
It seemed to Jack that it took an unbearably long time for them to undress each other, but finally he felt her skin against his. At some point they'd changed positions. Rose smiled up at him, looking slightly amused by the amazed expression in his eyes.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said, pulling him into a kiss.
They were silent as their hands and mouths explored, not speaking again until...
"Rose? Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
A moment later, he whispered frantically, "I'm sorry."
Her nails dug into his back. "Don't be." She lifted her head up and kissed him. "Keep going."