“Simply put, to grab MacFarlane by the Old Testament and squeeze very, very hard.”
CHAPTER 76
Caedmon took a deep breath of the invigorating sea air. Bracing his hands on the deck railing, he stared at the rolling blue Mediterranean waves that danced in the lemony light of early morn. It was the same sea that Odysseus once sailed en route to battle the Trojans.
Standing beside him, her cheeks tinted red from the breeze, Edie also deeply inhaled. “Other than a Potomac River dinner cruise, this is the first time I’ve ever been on a big boat. I think I like being on the open sea.” A mischievous smile playing about her lips, she winked at him. “Could be because I was a lady pirate in a past life; what do you think?”
“I think I’d rather be in an airplane roaring high above the sea,” he grumbled. “Too many of these blasted ferry boats have sunk in recent years. Not to mention that traveling by ferry is a damn slow way to get from point A to point B.” Point A being Naples and point B their final destination: Malta.
“Yeah, but given that it’s the dead of winter, flights into Malta are few and far between. This will actually get us to our destination six hours sooner than if we’d waited for the next available flight. Which you would know if you’d ever watched The Amazing Race. So stop griping.”
“I have been doing quite a bit of that, haven’t I?”
“Understandable. You’re under a lot of stress.”
Truly an understatement. Already, the old paranoia had set in. The niggling fear that an unseen enemy would lurch from the shadows. Danger and treachery but a heartbeat away. If allowed to run rampant, fear could quickly become a man’s worst enemy. More dangerous than the brute with a gun.
Because of his intelligence training, he knew the drill—always use cash, refrain from using one’s real name, and never, ever sleep in the same bed two nights in a row. Simple enough if not for having Edie in tow. With her Pre-Raphaelite beauty, she garnered attention wherever she went.
Short of knocking me unconscious, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.
An ultimatum. One he didn’t much care to ponder.
“You’ve got two very big creases in the middle of your brow. Care to share your worries?”
“I was thinking about the Ark and the poor blokes at Bethshemesh,” he lied, not about to confess his true thoughts.
“And you’re concerned that when we commandeer the Ark from MacFarlane, it may gobble us whole.”
“Mock me if you will, but the Ark was once used as a supercharged weapon of mass destruction,” he informed her, still hoping she would have a change of heart and return to the mainland.
“Eons ago. Which means there’s nobody around who knows how to activate the ancient electromagnetic technology that once powered the Ark. To operate a piece of machinery, you need an instruction manual. And that manual, whether it was written down or passed verbally from father to son, has long since vanished. In other words, the Ark has lost its oom-pa-pa. So no need to worry about it exploding in our faces or anything like that.”
“That’s not the danger I fear. As a tool of propaganda, the Ark could be used to convince millions of God-fearing people that the so-called End Times are truly upon us.”
Her eyes focused on the sprightly waves in the distance, Edie plaintively sighed. “Yeah, that has me worried, as well,” she conceded. “Though God may not be fooled by MacFarlane’s false piety, a whole lot of good, well-intentioned people will eat up his prophetic ramblings. But enough said on that topic, huh?”
Pronouncement made, Edie turned away from the water. Leaning against the railing, her arms folded across her chest, she stared at him. Quite unabashedly. Although they shared the vessel with countless passengers, there was something inherently intimate about the wind, the water, the warmth that radiated between their two bodies, all of it countermanding the cool satin chill of the winter’s day.
Caedmon sidled closer.
After Jules died, he’d had a few casual relationships, unwilling to take another chance. Which is why it made no sense, with the Ark hanging over his head like the blasted sword of Damocles, that he would now want the very thing he’d studiously avoided.
Bloody hell. He was daft to think they could make a go of it. They didn’t even live on the same continent.
In truth, he didn’t know how he felt about Edie Miller. He’d not had time to analyze his feelings. He only knew it was akin to coming out of a tube station and suddenly finding himself in a strange and unfamiliar location.
“Christ! I need a blasted map,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.” He waved away the thought. “A bit of nonsense.”
And it was nonsensical. He was forty. A man of middling years. He’d long since put such emotions behind him, a cheery forever after being the hope of one’s youth. Not one’s maturity. And yet . . .
Edie slid her hand behind his head, pulling him close. “Wanna go back to our room?” she asked, rising up on tiptoe, giving him no time to reply.
It took but a second for the unexpected kiss to turn decidedly passionate.
“I think you know the answer to that,” he murmured against her lips.
Taking her by the arm, he strode down the gangway; Edie had to jog to keep up with his hurried pace. It took only a few moments for them to reach their room, his hand shaking as he inserted the key into the lock. He wasted no time dragging her inside, slamming the door shut behind them.
CHAPTER 77
It was a moment of quiet intimacy. Of murmured endearments. Life slowed down to its simplest, most lovely, facet.
In the midst of the quietude, Edie felt a spark. She snuggled closer to Caedmon, burrowing her head into the crook of his bare shoulder. This was not the first time she’d felt the spark, and she wondered if anything would come of it.
Could anything come of it?
On paper, she gave their relationship the shelf life of a carton of milk. If that. They were simply two sexually healthy people caught up in the excitement of the moment. Although, glancing at the small clock mounted to the wall, she could see that the excitement had lasted quite a few hours.
“You do know that this . . . this attraction is nothing more than a primitive urge,” she said, propping her head on his chest.
“Perhaps it must be primal, stripped of all civility, in order for us to put aside our preconceived notions of what should and shouldn’t be.”
Hmm . . . it sounded as though he’d given their relationship more than a passing thought.
“And maybe Freud was right about there being no such thing as pure unadulterated love. Maybe there’s sexual need and nothing else,” she countered, testing him.
“I suspect that Freud was an impotent bugger who wouldn’t have known love if it had slapped him in his bearded face. Let’s not analyze it. Let’s simply accept it, whatever it is, as a beginning. Tentative and tenuous, perhaps, but a beginning nonetheless.”
She smiled; Caedmon had passed the test with flying colors.
“Agreed. But if you think I’m one of those women who’d settle for a man just because he puts down the toilet seat, think again.”
“Point taken. Although I hope you’ll reward me with several bonus points for being so considerate.”
“Change of subject,” she announced. “I’m curious as to what would have happened if you had stayed at Oxford and received your doctorate?”