Back on land and his heart heavy, Jack chose to sleep; not normal for a sailor first back to civilization. He slept an afternoon away and only the boisterous bellow of his empty stomach could pull him from the sheets. Showered and dressed, he felt no better. On his mind, many, many things … the 1,150 souls lost in the sinking of the HMS Victory … the further discovery of yet another chest filled with gold coin … and the length of time since he’d spoken to his wife.

He’d been so busy and preoccupied on board the Explorer, he more than once forgot to return her call. He and Natalie had a code, a simple ditty designed to clue him if she had trouble. She did not speak the words “beat to quarters” nor leave it as a message on cell phone or ship-to-shore calls, so his mind and heart were not strained with worry. Only loneliness.

Over the next few days, he assisted at the museum until the Explorer would sail again. But Jack was not himself. Phoebe Aldridge spoke often to him but it was as though she were not there. Usually, in Jack’s loneliness and sadness, the scent or sight of a sweet, kind woman was all he required to regain his pleasant nature. He wished Stephen was with him, he wished he was home with Chelsea and Eddie, he wished he could hold Natalie … but laying heavily over it all, he wished he did not so deeply mourn the lost men of the HMS Victory.

He dined alone then sat in a quiet pub, rubbing his eyes and wishing he could break his melancholy.

“You need this,” came a gentle voice as he blinked. A glass of deep rosy Port was slid to his fingertips. He looked up into the surprising blue eyes of Miss Phoebe. “Please, my treat. It’ll make you feel better.”

He nodded and forced a grin, raising the glass in thanks before sipping the warmth and sweet depth into his mouth. “I do thankee.”

“You’re too sad, Jack,” she sipped her own wine, a pale, anemic wine Jack would never even venture to taste. He and Maximus had the same robust taste in the bounty of the grape, but even the Roman knew to adjust his product to the customer who will most purchase it. Few contemporary wines sparked Jack’s pallet. Phoebe had chosen the only one. Port.

“I am … sad. I am lonely. Many died on that ship, Miss Phoebe.”

Her eyes showed great sympathy and her small hand gently patted his. “I know. Something about identifying that skull makes it real.”

“It was always real,” he said and sighed, his fingers playing tenderly with hers, intertwining, the pad of his thumb rolling a circle on her palm. She trembled. Her eyelids drooped in ecstasy and for the first time in many days, Jack Aubrey began to feel alive.

***

East’s had gripped Natalie’s hand firmly, but he didn’t need to. She was walking with him, climbing the stairs, walking directly into a bedroom. Blessedly he’d chosen a guest bedroom, one neither he nor she and Jack used. It was either genius on his part or desperation. It was the first room at the top of the stairs.

Closing the door silently, he swung her until she leaned back against the wood. Polished mahogany glowed in the sunlight streaking through the open window. Her dark hair fell loose around her face and her brilliant green eyes locked onto his. Natalie knew a thousand things. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but she knew she needed it. She knew she should feel guilty, but she felt special, beautiful … desired. She knew they had little time, but she could no sooner rush this than rush the sweep of a clock’s hands. She also knew another thing. One word, one syllable, one utterance and the spell would be broken. It would all end, stop and vanish into a puff of remorse and shame.

East’s hands were like magic. They moved without her knowledge. Already her cotton sundress was a pale blue heap on the floor and so were his clothes. Kissing her madly, he inched back and she followed, a starving puppy chasing food, a good little girl lured by the delight of candy and sweetness.

At the mattress she knew she had one last chance to stop it from happening. Her arms were wrapped tight around his neck and her heart was racing with the promise of touch and adoration. Natalie didn’t take that last chance to stop the racing train.

***

At his hotel room, the bedclothes were still twisted from his restless sleep, but Jack thought nothing of it. A willing woman was in his arms and the promise of something comforting and welcome was close at hand. He was a captain with the prize in his grasp.

Phoebe dressed as most women of this wretched time did, but his hands had long ago found skill with the strange clothing. Her blouse sacrificed a few buttons but it was off. The bra suffered a tear but it too was removed. She worked her own slacks and slid them from rounded hips as Jack stripped like a man about to dive overboard.

Finally he pressed her length of flesh against his. The odd difference alerted him to the newness of the coming experience. A newness he would appreciate, but actually not enjoy. He craved the familiarity of his own woman’s flesh against his, the comfort of Natalie’s touch and voice. In fact, when Phoebe opened her mouth to speak he pressed a finger against her lips and shook his head. Her word would not improve the event. The actions he would take would come from his belly, from the guts of a needy man far, far from home.

He drew her to the bed and sat, facing breasts of a different shape and size than he wanted, but ah, they were breasts and as such required suckling. The distraction of such tender pulls fulfilled his own requirements to launch his full attack.

***

She buried her face into his neck. East smelled different. He smelled of hay and horses, not the distant sea and salt. His hands were less tender, they were calloused and harsh but oh the way he used them. His goal was to bring her to climax but Natalie could not reach the stars. She came close once, twice, three times but finally, noting his look of desperation, she cried out in the performance of a lifetime.

Never once since entering this world had she had to fake it. Fear rippled through her but still, she did not leap from the bed or stop what had begun.

***

Jack shifted Phoebe like he would a sword or violin, something to be handled, mastered, used. She was putty in his hands, sighing, moaning, shrieking at his gentlest touch. Less than a few moments into it and he felt no further need to delay. He climbed over her spread thighs and began his entry, determined to remain a gentleman and be kind. This woman did not have a path ready for his charge.

Inching slowly, his blood heated with demand. Finally he could take no more. “Hold onto me, woman,” he gasped as he drove the final inches hard and deep. He stilled, waited for her to catch her breath then thrust his hips in quick, sharp, regular pounds. The cannon was primed, all that was needed was for the flint to be lit.

***

East gentled her like a skittish horse. She rolled to her side and awaited his next move. With a sudden act that surprised her, he pushed her to her belly and lifted her hips. He entered her like a lion charging in for the kill. She wanted to cry for him to stop, but didn’t. She wanted to scramble free, slap his face, insist that she deserved to be treated kinder, but could not. After all … did she deserve better?

What had begun with a poured glass of lemonade, ended with a struggle and a grunt. When he finished with her he returned to the kind man she knew. Cradled in his arms she pondered what words she should use now.

***

The spark came with an image deep in Jack’s mind. Natalie, stepping from the shower, glowing and dripping wet, her hair loose tangles around her lovely face and down her back; the way her hips moved, the sway of rounded breasts he knew, the scent of her desire. Jack came with abandon inside a woman … a vessel he used for his love of Natalie.

When it was finished he left the bed to bathe, hoping Phoebe would understand to leave. It was done and not worth another thought. His thoughts now were for his family, and the need he had to return to them … soon.

***

“Didn’t hurt ya, did I love?” East asked between his pants.

Natalie propped head on hand and watched him. He lay, glazed with sweat and naked beside her. He didn’t disgust her … and she didn’t disgust her either. In many ways, she had needed this. But …

“I don’t want to ever do this again, East.” She spoke softly, her fingertip tenderly sliding along his bicep and her eyes gentle. She didn’t intend to hurt him. After all, he had given her what she needed.

Slowly he rose and glared down. “Why? You bloody rejecting me like the rest of this family?”

Natalie was shocked. She reached for her sundress and quickly pulled it over her nakedness. “Did you just hear yourself? First of all, use your head, East. I’m a married woman. Yes, I did this but that doesn’t mean I want to do it again. I won’t beat myself up over it, but I see no point in repeating a mistake.”

“Let me take you away from this. You can’t be happy, Natalie.”

Recalling his movie, Nat finally blinked and for the first time realized she’d opened a nasty can of worms. This wasn’t a man who gave up easily. “East … listen. I AM happy. I love this farm, I love my husband and I love my daughter and Eddie. I love this family.”

“Just not me, right?” He stood and swept a hand to snap up his jeans. On they went but he somehow continued pacing without missing a beat. His eyes never left Nat’s either.

“You are so worth loving, East … and you’re dead wrong. This family cares a lot about you. You just never seemed to care about us.”

“Yeah, I can see that. John couldn’t be bothered callin’ me to help with McAffrey. He had the ones he wanted if a disaster came.” He reached for the doorknob but Natalie beat him to it. She blocked his path and glared in a way only a mother can. East Driscoll winced.

“Listen to me. You have no damn idea how things are here. When John called me, he meant the call to be for us all. If I could have reached Jack, he’d have been notified too. I told you about it … you’re the one who refused to help!”

East stomped away and glared out the window.

“John deals with crap constantly, East,” she continued, determined to get through to him. “In the last six months he’s been sucked into the Portal, then made responsible for telling us all how to cope with the damn Portals. He’s helps with family disasters … Catherine’s death, Terry’s injury, Antony’s emotional breakdown … hell, he saved me when I tried to off myself. John takes care of us all! What on earth do you want from him?”

“To be fucking recognized.”

She ran a hand over his back. “He recognizes you. We all recognize you. It takes two to tango. Whatever you want from all of us, you might try giving a little too.”

“What if I want you?” He turned, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“Too late. You can’t have me. And East. No one is ever to know about this. I’m not sorry it happened; I just don’t see any reason to repeat it or speak of it. Can you do that for me?”

“I dunno.”

Natalie’s cell phone rang and they both jumped. Her heart pounding, she checked the readout and a huge smile spread across her face. “Jack!” she squealed as she answered the phone.

East watched for a few moments. She sat on the bed and sighed. “How soon? I can’t wait to see you. I miss you so much, Jack.”