Titanic: A Date With Destiny

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Titanic: A Date With Destiny
Marguerite Kaye

A love against all the odds… For stewardess Jennifer Spencer, working on-board the luxurious Titanic means more than just a ticket to America – it’s her ticket to a better life! So when handsome American tycoon Max Blakely steals a sizzling kiss from her, the temptation to enjoy her Cinderella moment is irresistible!Max’s sweet seduction feels like a dream to Jennifer, but when the unthinkable happens and the nightmare begins, will their love be strong enough to survive?

About the Author

Born and educated in Scotland, MARGUERITE KAYE originally qualified as a lawyer but chose not to practise. Instead, she carved out a career in IT and studied history part-time, gaining a first-class honours and a master’s degree. A few decades after winning a children’s national poetry competition, she decided to pursue her lifelong ambition to write and submitted her first historical romance to Mills & Boon. They accepted it and she’s been writing ever since.

You can contact Marguerite through her website at www.margueritekaye.com.

Titanic: A Date

with Destiny

Marguerite Kaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

AUTHOR NOTE

The sinking of RMS Titanic on her maiden voyage is one of those rare iconic events that resonates with everyone. It’s a tragic story that is also heroic, heartwarming and symbolic, a harbinger of change heralding the end of the glamorous Edwardian age.

The blockbuster film starring Kate and Leo brought the Titanic to a whole new generation and added a vital ingredient to the mystique, romance. So when I was asked to write a story to commemorate the Titanic’s centenary, I was understandably a little daunted. To come up with something that was true to the spirit of the event, that was authentic and at the same time different from THAT film, was going to be a real challenge.

Then the next challenge hit me. I was writing a romance, but somehow I’d have to find a way to give my hero and heroine a happy ever after that didn’t trivialise the tragedy itself, the dreadful combination of events and circumstances which led to the loss of over fifteen hundred lives. As I got deeper into my research, I realised that the ship itself was a floating microcosm of society, carrying as disparate a collection of people as you can imagine, from the old world to the new. I wanted to make sure that my story reflected this. As a result, I tried very hard to portray the Titanic accurately, right down to the food served in the restaurants.

I hope that I’ve written a story that manages to be both romantic and true to the spirit of the ship and her passengers. Whether I’ve succeeded or not in doing them justice – that’s for you to decide.

For Catriona, who gave me the inspiration for this story, and who took the time to précis the film for me. Thank you, and love.

Chapter One

RMS Titanic, Southampton dock, Wednesday, 10 April, 1912

As the tugs began the delicate manoeuvre of easing the stately liner out of her berth, the dockside erupted in a cacophony of sound, the music of the brass band drowned by the cries of the crowd calling ‘Good luck, Titanic.’ Passengers and many of the crew were lining the boat deck. Others leant out over the covered promenade decks, and still more crowded the poop and aft decks, waving and throwing streamers.

Jennifer Spencer edged her way through the first class passengers on A Deck, entering each of the cabins in turn. As one of only eighteen stewardesses on board, she had volunteered to make these final checks, grateful to have something to occupy her time. She was probably the only person on board who didn’t have a friendly face waving her off from the dockside, she reflected sadly. More than two weeks had passed since she had written to her sister, and there had been not a single word from Maud. Quelle surprise!

Swallowing hard on the lump that rose in her throat as she wondered when she would see her infuriating, flighty, thoughtless, irresponsible sister again, Jennifer gave a cursory knock on the door of Stateroom A20 and entered without waiting for a reply. Casting a critical eye over the opulent sitting room, she was moving the bowl of flowers a fraction more towards the centre of the table when the door leading to the bedroom opened, revealing the cabin’s occupant.

He was tall and quite extraordinarily handsome. Mid-thirties, she guessed, with cropped, glossy black hair, melting brown eyes and one of those mouths that looked as if it were always on the verge of a smile. He had obviously been in the process of changing, for his shirt was open and his collar missing, giving her a glimpse of tanned torso.

Which she should not be staring at, even if he did have an edge of glamour that made him seem as if he’d just stepped out of a moving picture. Mortified, Jennifer stammered, ‘P-pardon me, I assumed you’d be up on deck.’

The passenger raised a brow and gave her a half-smile. She was not surprised to notice that his teeth were even and perfectly white, but she was annoyed to discover that his smile did strange things to her breathing.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ he asked. He was standing beside her now. He really was very tall. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d be on board?’

American, she noted abstractedly. Nice voice. Soft but deep. Jennifer shook her head, confused by his words. ‘I think you’ve mistaken me …’

He smelled of expensive soap. Before she could back away, he caught her wrist. ‘What are you doing?’ she spluttered, her voice sounding more breathy than panicky.

‘Don’t be coy with me. When you promised me another kiss if our paths ever crossed again I didn’t think for a moment that they would. But here you are. So kiss me,’ he said, locking his lips on hers.

She was too stunned to move. For a few timeless seconds Jennifer relished the taste of his lips, the shocking proximity of him. She had forgotten how delightful a kiss could be. She had forgotten what it was like, that connection, the thrilling jolt of desire, mirrored in the sharp intake of his breath. She had forgotten how easy it was to get carried away….

Chapter Two

Shaken, Max Blakely broke away from the bewitching girl abruptly. What he had meant to be the lightest of brush-off kisses had transformed into something else entirely. Far from turning the tables on her, he had been well and truly turned on by that kiss. He stared down at the woman in his arms, frowning in puzzlement. ‘What the hell is going on?’

She glared up at him. ‘Let me go!’

She had a very English face. Creamy skin, dark brown hair. Dark eyes, too—wide-spaced, with an extremely forthright gaze. Not a trace of coquetry today. And unlike last night, the colour of her lips and cheeks owed nothing to lipstick or rouge. He’d thought her merely pretty then. In daylight, stripped of artifice, there was experience in her eyes, in the tiny lines at the corners of her mouth. She looked like a woman who took life far too seriously. She looked interesting.

Max released her, taking care to keep himself between her and the door, his mind working furiously. ‘Last night in the pub, why didn’t you mention you’d be on board?’

‘In the pub?’

She was a good actress, but though Max wore the trappings of his success lightly, he was no fool. Too many caps had been set at him, too many traps laid, for him to be anything but suspicious. He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Don’t play dumb. I told you I was sailing to New York on the Titanic. We had a laugh last night, a few drinks, but it was never going to be anything more. You knew that, so why did you follow me?’

‘Follow you?’

She really did look as confused as he felt, but her presence was too much of a coincidence to be believable. Besides, if it was just a coincidence, why hadn’t she said anything about being a passenger herself? And what the hell was she doing here in his stateroom? Max swore under his breath. ‘After I left, someone filled you in on the fact that you’d been keeping company with a tycoon, that’s it, isn’t it?’ She said nothing, but he nodded to himself. It was obvious now. ‘You thought maybe if you tracked me down, maybe if you gave me a bit more than you gave me last night, then perhaps I’d give you something by way of compensation. Well, you got it all wrong.’

‘You—you think I’m some sort of gold digger?’

She had gone quite pale. If he didn’t know better … But he did. Max ignored the tiny flicker of unease. ‘Look, I’m not going to make any trouble so long as you don’t …’

‘No, you look, Mr Whatever-your-name-is. It seems to have escaped your notice, but this is a uniform. I am a stewardess. I signed up to be a stewardess some weeks ago. Until you walked through that door I had never laid eyes on you! What’s more, I’ll be happy if I die never seeing you again. Now please get out of my way, I have work to do.’

Jennifer fled out onto the deck before he could stop her. The crowd helped conceal her as she darted past and headed for the service stairs, ignoring his cry to wait. Throwing open the door of her own cabin, her eyes smarting with tears, her one thought was to find a place where she could be alone.

‘Hello, Jenny. Surprise!’

Sitting on the bed, a rueful smile on her pretty face, was her twin sister. Slowly, like the grinding wheels and cogs of a windmill as the breeze caught its sails, Jennifer realised what had happened.

‘Oh, Maud, what have you done this time?’

Chapter Three

Having ascertained, by the simple means of exchanging hard cash for information, that his runaway stewardess was off duty and not in her cabin, Max combed the ship methodically. He found her on the poop deck, gazing out over the grey, choppy waters and the white wake left by the huge liner as it steamed towards Cherbourg.

She was out of what he realised now had indeed been a uniform, wearing a suit the colour of an aubergine. Sans hat, her hair was escaping in long dark tendrils from the heavy bun at her nape, whipping around her face and clinging to her skin. She looked sad, world-weary even. Last night he’d thought her rather empty-headed, but today she seemed overloaded, as if her troubles were too myriad to cope with. The contrast struck him anew. It was crazy, but he felt as if he were staring at a different woman.

‘Don’t even think about running away,’ he said to her.

‘You!’ Jennifer tried to back away, only to find herself caught by the rail, trapped by the bulk of him in front of her. Though he wasn’t really bulky, just well-built. At least she understood his anger now.

‘I want an explanation.’

Jennifer nodded reluctantly. He deserved that, and seeing him again, she found she wanted to clear up the confusion. ‘The woman in the pub. It was Maud. My twin.’

‘Your twin.’

He sounded sceptical. No, downright disbelieving. Jennifer met his gaze, the anger that should have been directed at Maud bolstering her courage. Attractive he may well be but, she reminded herself, he had made some horrible and unjustified accusations. ‘My twin,’ she repeated curtly. ‘Maud sneaked on board, pretending to be me. It would seem she is intent on joining me in America, despite the fact that I did not invite her. Not that that ever bothers Maud. Another one of her love affairs is over, you see. Another man has disappointed her and destroyed all her dreams. And just because her big sister is emigrating she thinks she can escape picking up the pieces of her own life. Again.’ She sighed. ‘I am not Maud, Mr Blakely. My name is Jennifer. And before you ask, I know your name because my sister told me, not because I consulted my almanac of eligible bachelors.’

His instincts hadn’t been wrong after all, which was quite a relief. It was strange, Max thought, studying her intently, how two people could share the same features, yet look so utterly different. ‘Jennifer …’ he said. ‘So you’re the responsible twin, are you? The one who “picks up the pieces”?’

Was it understanding in his eyes? Yes, and warmth, too. But she would not be drawn in by him. Jennifer shrugged. ‘Luckily for you, Maud has not fallen victim to your charms, Mr Blakely. You’re not her type, apparently.’

He grinned. ‘Nor is she mine.’

‘So why the kiss?’

Max ran his fingers through his hair, obviously a habit. Damp with spray, it stood up in endearing spikes. ‘I realise it was dumb of me,’ he said. ‘I was so taken aback, I thought you—Maud was playing games and I decided to call her bluff. But then you kissed me, and I didn’t know what to think. That was quite a kiss.’

He touched her cheek, and she remembered the kiss, just as he was obviously also remembering it. It really had been quite a kiss.

His thumb ran along the sensitive line of her jaw, and he leaned in….

Chapter Four

Jennifer jerked herself free from Max’s caress. ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared up our misunderstanding. I expect you want to go back to first class.’

‘I like the company here,’ he replied. ‘Tell me, what made you sign up for service on the Titanic?’

‘I’m working my passage to America. I need to make a fresh start away from … from everything. I’m planning to set up my own business.’

She waited for Max Blakely—who, according to Maud, was one of America’s most successful businessmen—to sneer. He didn’t. ‘What kind of business?’ he asked.

‘Mail order. Luxuries imported from England. Soaps, perfumes, lace, tea sets, linens. The kinds of things people will buy so they can say I believe that Lady Lansbury uses the same one,’ Jennifer said in a fair imitation of her most recent employer.

‘And how do you know what Lady Lansbury uses?’

‘I’ve spent the last five years in service. Believe me, I know everything about aristocratic households.’

‘Tell me more. Seriously, please.’

She hesitated, but he drew her out with questions, his interest piqued by both her idea and the mind that had formed it. Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she talked, and he recognised that sparkle, that steely determination.

‘That’s a good business proposition,’ he said, after she’d explained her idea fully, ‘but it will need funds. Do you have them?’

‘I’m planning to start small. My husband left me some money, and since he died I’ve been putting a little aside from my wages.’

Here was the reason for the sadness in those big eyes, Max realised. He didn’t like that she’d been married, though why that should be the case he had no idea—he couldn’t possibly envy a dead man. ‘How long has it been since you lost him?’

‘Five years. But he had been an invalid for five before that. He was wounded in Africa, fighting the Boers.’

‘You’re what—twenty-eight or nine? You must have married very young.’

‘I’m thirty, actually. I was eighteen when we married. We were young, but Peter knew he would most likely be posted abroad and we were in love. You understand.’

‘Not really.’ Max had never even stopped to smell the roses, never mind consider settling down. ‘You can’t have had much of a life, caring for an invalid.’

‘It certainly wasn’t much of a life for Peter.’

‘But if he left you well provided for, why wait five years to do something with it?’

‘I lost my husband, Mr Blakely. We may not have had the kind of marriage we’d hoped for, but we were together for seven years. When he died, though, I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted.’

‘But you do now?’

‘I know I’m finally ready to find out.’

‘You’re an extraordinary woman, Jennifer Spencer. And a woman, if I may say so, after my own heart. What you’re doing, it’s bold on the verge of madness, you do realise that?’

‘Of course I do, and frankly I’m terrified.’

‘But determined all the same.’ That he understood.

Max gazed out over the grey sea. She deserved help, a woman like Jennifer, and he owed her, after those things he’d said. This journey across the Atlantic, he had been thinking of it as dead time. But in the company of this extraordinary woman—someone who really did deserve a break—the days would fly by.

That settled it.

Chapter Five

‘Listen, I’ve a proposition for you. A business proposition,’ Max said to Jennifer. ‘I think you’ve got a brilliant idea for a business, but you need help to make it fly. I wouldn’t interfere with you running it, but I could get you some contacts, point you in the right directions.’