My Clarity

Chapter six

As Jack led Rose past the shuffleboard court, with her hand at the soft feel of his outer jacket, she paused momentarily to take the air on the Promenade. The deck was full of finely dressed men and women, all taking the mid-morning air alongside them, now that breakfast was through.

''So, is he a good man?'' Jack asked her, out of nowhere. ''He must be for you to be marrying him.''

Contemplating her answer, Rose decided on, ''You will see for yourself tonight at dinner.'' She wished to ask what they knew of each other prior to meeting last night, but thought better of it, already knowing her fiancé's low opinion of Mr. Dawson and seemingly the opinion was also reciprocated.

Rose looked at him, surprised to find him staring at her so raptly in the open space. His head was tilted back, and then forward. Rose took stock of the deck's other occupants and the nearest individual was a few feet away.

''You do not wear a hat outdoors,'' Rose muttered, ''I have yet to find another gentleman who refuses to properly attire himself to walk.''

The toe of his boot kicked against the wood of the deck, and then he laughed. It was the first time she had heard the majestic sound but it made her own toe curls within her slippers. It was so-masculine and genuine. ''Miss. DeWitt Bukater, I have met you twice outdoors and neither time you were wearing a hat when I do believe it is customary for a lady to do, so.''

Rose froze. Her lungs seized. Jack raised his left eyebrow and she suddenly felt breathless. Powerless. Stuck between that silly temper of hers which threatened to flare and cause a scene in retaliation or simply offer a smart remark only none came to mind.

''What of you?'' Rose started, determined to be less maudlin - or affected by the smaller issues such as the sound of a man's laugh. ''You are unwed?''

''Yes.''

''Never betrothed.''

''Never a desire to.''

That caused Rose to stop to blink at him. How dangerously handsome he was. The fine cut and quality of his black coat and the beautiful silver-threaded embroidery in his white waistcoat enticed the eye to linger and admire. His black breeches hugged powerful horseman's thighs, a sight that made her feel things she oughtn't. But that was merely the packaging. It was the man inside the trappings who so appealed to her. The magnetism he exuded. The sense that at any moment something extraordinary would happen. She looked away, seeking the clock to distract herself.

"You're hardly a gentleman." She startled herself by feeling . . . pleased by that.

"You wreak havoc on a man's ego," he said with a slight smile to soften the sting. The tiny warmth in her chest blossomed. "You're flushed." His voice lowered, examining her face beneath the beautiful warmth of the sun. "I wanted a few moments of your time before I'm restrained by decorum this morning--"

"You will be restrained by me, young man." Rose turned as Regina, Lady Collingsworth, entered their reverie like a whirlwind. She was a guinea-blond matron with piercing blue eyes and cherry-red cheeks. A sweet and pleasant woman for the most part, she was capable of a great force of will, and she took in Jack's appearance with a steely glance.

Wagging a closed fan at him, she said, "You are a pretty fellow, Mr. Dawson. Accustomed to testing your boundaries and finding little resistance, I bet. But I will not tolerate such nonsense around little Rose here, she is a fine woman.''

''I wouldn't think of it, Lady Collingsworth.'' Jack replied, with a slight smugness. ''In fact, I find myself being the one, shall we say, falsely accused of many things just over a mere twenty-four hours.''