Holding on to each other, while they could.
Quietly, she lay with him. His back propped by the pillows, Thom stared out the porthole, and she knew he was going over it all in his head again.
“When they sound the alarm, all the crew will come up,” he said.
“Yes.” She slid her hand over his chest. “But we have to make sure they sound it. Or someone might come up with a lantern.”
He nodded. “I’m just thinking about you, Georgie. There’s ten mercenaries, and I can handle them if they come at me. You’ve just got to make sure you’re behind me or out of sight.”
“All right.” She wouldn’t argue. If Thom knew she was safe, he would be safer, too. “What about Southampton?”
“That depends on him. I’d like to kill him for every threat he made toward you. But I won’t go out of my way to do it. My only concern is getting you off this ship.” He stroked his fingers down her arm. “When we go out, you’ll have to hold on to the rail while I take care of those on deck. Can you do that?”
Hanging on to the outside of the ship. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“You are.” Shifting her against him, he tipped her chin up and looked down at her with narrowed eyes. “You are, Georgie. And I didn’t think of it much until now. Growing up, everyone was strong, man or woman. But out here, everyone’s almost always weaker. Not you, though. You’re infected?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After you left the last time. You always seemed so afraid of hurting me. It seemed practical to make certain that hurting me wouldn’t be so easy.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. Hurting is still easy. Just the healing is faster.” Gently, he smoothed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Most people are afraid that the tower will go up again—or that they’ll be zombies. You weren’t?”
“I was more afraid that you wouldn’t return to my bed again.” Her eyes filled suddenly, and she blinked at the tears, willing them away. “And I think it saved me when the lump fever came.”
Because she hadn’t caught it, though both her parents had.
“I’m sorry, Georgie.” His voice thickened. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I had been.”
She wished he had been, too. But she shook her head.
“If you hadn’t gone, Thom, I’d never have infected myself. I probably wouldn’t be alive now.” And as much as she’d missed him, Georgiana liked the woman his absence had let her become. “All that matters is that you’re here now.”
“I am.” His arms tightened around her. “I am.”
“But only until tonight.” She grinned up at him. “You’d better not be here after that.”
They waited until after midnight—when, hopefully, whoever stood watch on deck would be half-asleep and huddled down against the cold.
Carrying the blankets and her satchel, Georgiana watched Thom pinch the head of the steel bolt that fastened the thick window to the porthole frame. He twisted and pulled.
A metallic squeal rang through the cabin.
Thom froze. Heart pounding, Georgiana stared at the cabin door, waiting for the guard to burst through and see them attempting to escape.
No one. She looked back at Thom. “Try again?”
He shook his head. “We’ll need to make some other noise to cover this.”
“What noise wouldn’t bring them in?”
“No one came in when we were making noise last night.”
“Thom!” Her blush warmed her cheeks.
He grinned.
Unable to stop herself, she laughed and looked to the bed. It would be the sort of sound that might draw attention, but wouldn’t be unexpected in the cabin of a married couple. “Shall I jump on it?”
Thom shook his head again and led her to the door. Softly, he said, “That won’t be loud enough. Do it here, instead.”
Where? “I don’t understand.”
“You bang up against the door, like I’m having you against it.”
She met his quiet explanation with a look of sheer disbelief.
Without a word, Thom wrapped his hands around her waist and hefted her up. With her thighs around his hips, he pushed her back against the wooden door and gently rocked between her legs.
Oh. Her fingers curled into her palms. This was actually . . . quite . . . wonderful. Despite the urgency of their situation, despite knowing a guard stood in the passageway just beyond the door, heat began to coil inside her, winding tighter with every slow thrust.
She was almost sorry that they needed to escape.
He set her down again, then pushed at her hips, her backside bumping against the wood. “Like that, Georgie, but harder,” he murmured. “You make some loud noise, and I’ll get those bolts out.”
She nodded. “I can do that.”
“Then start yelling.”
Yelling? Georgiana thought she just had to bang against it. “What do I say?”
“Like this,” he said softly, then raised his voice. “Going to spread you wide and fill you up, Georgie!”—his elbow thumped against the door and he gave a heavy grunt—“Going to shag your hot pussy deep and hard!”
“Thom!” she cried—scandalized and muffling her wild laughter behind her hands.
“You’ll soon be screaming my name.” He thumped and grunted again. “Lift your beautiful tits to my mouth now.” Thump. “I’m going to suck on your sweet nipples until you come all over my cock!”
“Thom!” With her face ablaze, Georgiana bumped her backside against the door. “Oh, Thom!”
Grinning, Thom lowered his head, his lips against her ear. “My mouth is full, so I have reason to be quiet. Now you start shouting all those things you said last night.”
He left her bumping at the door, trying to recall exactly what she’d said. Every moment had been seared into her brain, but she’d barely given a thought to most of what had been tumbling out of her mouth.
“Oh, Thom!” Bump. “Thom!” Bump. “Oh, yes, Thom!”
At the porthole, another bolt squealed. Georgiana threw her hips back harder, faster, trying to cover the sound.
“You’re so deep, Thom. Oh! Oh! Don’t slow down. Oh! Harder, now. Thom! I need more! More!”
His back to her, Thom seemed to hunch over. His shoulders were shaking so hard that when he reached for another bolt, his juddering fingers missed it—twice.
Laughing.
Oh, Georgiana always loved to see him do that. Enjoying herself now, she slammed harder and harder. “Thom! Oh! Faster! Don’t stop! I feel it coming!”
And she was running out of things to shout. Remembering last night was no help. Mostly she had just moaned and cried his name.
Desperately, she called up her memories of touching his body afterward, exploring every ridge of muscle—“You’re so hard, Thom!”—running her hands up his thick shaft—“And so big. So long and strong and powerful!”—circling her fingertips around the flared crown—“They should call you the King of the North Sea. Oh, Thom, make me your queen! Oh, oh, Thoooommmmm!”
By the time her wail faded, the glass was out of the porthole frame and her husband had collapsed into the settee with his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face and choking on his laughter. His muffled snorts likely fit quite well into their impromptu bit of theater.
Her face flushed from the exercise, Georgiana joined him. “I must say, Thom—that was quite invigorating.”
Still laughing, he pushed to his feet. Catching her around the waist, he kissed her hard and far too briefly. “I love you, Georgie. Now are you ready?”
No. She wanted to stay here and bask in those words. She’d known he did. Love had never been in question between them—only whether it was enough to overcome all the other hurts.