Adrian cursed his involuntary reaction to Olivia's leg caressing his erection. He'd meant to allow her to extract herself from his arms without ever letting on that he was awake. Had been awake for a while, selfishly enjoying her closeness, and hadn't wanted to wake her. He knew she'd be mortified to find herself wrapped around him. But his body had other plans...

This was all turning out quite badly.

Olivia lay frozen beside him, apparently no longer daring to move, her thigh still resting over his groin while she must be trying to ascertain if he was awake. He kept his eyes closed and tried to will his traitorous body into submission—with little success. Olivia remained still, her breath whispering across his skin. He could feel her gaze on his face, and sensed the moment something shifted in the air between them.

Slowly, hesitantly, her hand moved to rest on his chest, right above his pounding heart. Keeping his breathing steady and maintaining the illusion of sleep was getting harder and harder as every nerve in his body came alive at her touch.

Her fingers traced the contours of his muscles, mapping the planes and angles of his torso with feather-light caresses. It was exquisite torture, her innocent exploration igniting a fire in his veins. He wanted to catch her hand, to press it more firmly against his skin, to feel her touch everywhere.

He held himself still, barely daring to breathe as her hand drifted higher, skimming over his collarbone and up the column of his throat. She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering at his temple.

"What are you doing to me?" she whispered, so softly he almost thought he'd imagined it.

The longing and confusion in her voice nearly undid him. He ached to respond, to pull her down and claim her lips in a searing kiss, to pour all his pent-up desire and affection into her. To show her with his hands, his mouth, just how desperately he wanted her.

But he couldn't. He shouldn't. Her heart belonged to another, to the man she'd risked everything to pursue. Dash. The name was like a bucket of cold water, dousing the flames of his desire.

What kind of man would he be, to take advantage of her in a moment of vulnerability? To let his own selfish wants override her choices? She wanted Dash. Even if she might be momentarily distracted by her attraction to Adrian; the man she had chosen—the one she wanted—was Dash.

So he lay there, every muscle tense, as Olivia continued her gentle exploration. And when she finally pulled away, rolling to the other side of the bed, he felt the loss of her touch like a physical ache. While she curled onto her side with her back to him, Adrian stared up at the shadowed beams of the ceiling. Sleep was a distant prospect, his body still thrumming with the need to take her in his arms.

This was dangerous. This attraction between them, the growing intimacy of their interactions. He was treading a precarious line, balancing on the edge of a precipice he feared he might tumble over at any moment. Olivia was only there, sharing his bed, by necessity and circumstance. She loved another man. Something he'd do well to remember.

He feared this was no longer a game for him. Somewhere along the way, between the banter and the challenges, he'd begun to care for this stubborn, amazing woman. Yes, he desired her, but it was so much more than that.

And that terrified him. He'd been down this road before. The memory of Catherine's betrayal still stung, a dull ache he could never quite escape. After she left him for another man, he'd sworn never to leave himself vulnerable like that again, never let a woman hold such power over him.

He glanced over at Olivia's sleeping form on the other side of the bed, so close—yet so far away. This was the first time he'd ever worried he might break that vow to himself. She'd barrelled into his life with all her mystery and intrigue, her stubborn spirit and her streak of mischief, and he couldn't look away. Couldn't escape the pull towards her. Every day, every moment spent in her company, only drew him deeper under her spell. He was drowning in her, in the sparkle of her grey eyes and the melody of her laughter.

Bloody hell.

Sleep claimed him eventually, but it was restless and haunted by dreams of things that could never come to be. Morning arrived far too soon, the first rays of sunlight filtering through the porthole and stirring him from his slumber. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, unsure if he was awake or still dreaming.

The warm body pressed against him implied a dream. Olivia. In his arms again, her hand resting above his heart like it had done last night.

He turned his head, his heart in his throat, and his gaze met hers. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension so thick one could have cut it with a knife.

Then, as if simultaneously realising their position, they both scrambled to disentangle themselves, mumbling apologies and averting their gazes. It was awkward and fumbling, their limbs tangling in the sheets as they tried to put some distance between their bodies.

Finally separated, they sat on opposite ends of the bed. Adrian ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure, and fighting the urge to pull her back into bed and covering her body with his own.

"Well," he said, his voice rough with sleep and suppressed desire. "I trust you slept well, Miss Newton?"

She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yes, thank you. And you, Captain?"

He nearly groaned. "Well enough."

It was a lie, but one he hoped she wouldn't see through. He couldn't admit to his far too vivid dreams, or to having been awake when she explored him last night.

"I suppose we should...start the day."

They moved around each other carefully, and he was aware of every brush of skin, every accidental touch as they went about their morning routines. It was strange, this new intimacy between them. As if now that she no longer needed to disguise that she was a woman, some of the barriers had been stripped away, leaving them both raw and exposed.

As the days passed, they fell into a new pattern. Each night, they retired to bed, lying stiffly beside each other with a careful distance between them. But inevitably, in the depths of sleep, they would find their way to each other, waking up in a tangle of limbs and shared warmth.

They never spoke of it in the light of day, never acknowledged the way their bodies seemed to gravitate towards one another in the dark. But Adrian feared he was coming to care more and more for her with each passing night.

It was a sweet sort of torment to hold her so close and yet know she could never be his. To feel the softness of her skin, the gentle curve of her waist, and have to force himself to pull away, to pretend it meant nothing.

But sometimes, in the quiet moments in the stillness of the night, he let himself imagine. Let himself dream of a world where she might choose him. Where he might have the right to claim her as his own. It was a fantasy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Sitting in his chair one night, swirling a glass of brandy as he stared into the amber depths, he cursed himself for being such a bloody fool.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his reverie. "Come in," he called, setting his glass aside.

Olivia stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the cool evening air. "I'm done with my chores, Captain," she said, a small smile playing about her lips. "I was wondering if you might be up for a game of chess?"

His heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of her. Once inside his cabin, she'd pulled her cap off, and her dark hair was tousled from being stuffed underneath it all day, still pinned up on the top of her head, and her eyes were bright like the stars in the inky sky above them.

"Of course." He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "I'm always up for a challenge."

He missed their old challenges, but there was no way in hell he would try one of those now. Not when he couldn't trust himself to stop before it got too far.

"I hope you're prepared to lose," Olivia teased as she set up the board. Her hands were slender and graceful as she confidently arranged the pieces.

He chuckled. "Never. I don't lose, Miss Newton."

They fell into the familiar rhythm of the game, the soft click of the pieces on the board punctuating their companionable silence. But as the minutes ticked by, Adrian found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.

His eyes kept straying to Olivia. To the furrow of concentration between her brows and the way she worried her bottom lip as she contemplated her next move. Every detail was endlessly fascinating to him, a puzzle he longed to solve.

"You're good at this," he remarked. "You may win yet."

She glanced up at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, I intend to. You may have won every game so far, but I am determined to win at least once."

Leaning back in his chair, he tried to focus on the pieces on the board in front of him. "And what other hidden talents might you be harbouring, Miss Newton?"

She laughed softly; the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. "I don't hide my talents, Captain."

Their eyes met, and Adrian's skin prickled with awareness. It would be so easy to lean across the table, to close the distance between them and...

No. He couldn't think like that. Clearing his throat, he forced his attention back to the game. "It's your move."

She studied the board, her fingers hovering over a pawn.

"We're getting close now," he said, almost kicking himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut. "To America. To...Dash. How are you feeling now that we're so near?"

Her gaze flew to his, and he couldn't quite read the look in her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "Nervous. Excited. Terrified. I've dreamed of this moment for so long, but now that it's almost here...I don't know. What if it's not what I hope it will be?"

The vulnerability in her voice made his heart ache. He'd like to offer her comfort and reassurance, but he didn't trust Dash not to break her heart. The man was a rake through and through, and if he had not made a move to court Olivia in the years they had known each other, he seemed unlikely to do so.

"It's natural to be nervous," he said instead, choosing his words with care. "You've taken an enormous risk, coming all this way. But you're an extraordinary woman. Any man would be lucky to have your affection. Dash included."

"Do you really think so?"

"I know so."

Her lips parted on a soft intake of breath, her cheeks flushing pink. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed something in her expression, a flicker of longing, of heat. But it was gone so quickly, he couldn't be sure he hadn't imagined it.

"Thank you." Her gaze dropped back to the chessboard.

Silence descended between them, heavy with everything left unsaid. Olivia moved a piece, the soft click of wood on wood sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet.

"Checkmate," she said softly, a note of surprise in her voice.

He blinked before staring down at the board, startled. She was right. Somehow, while he'd been distracted by their conversation—by her—she'd managed to manoeuvre him into a position with no escape. With a rueful chuckle, he tipped his king, conceding defeat.

"Well played, Miss Newton. You're a formidable opponent."

She smiled. "Never underestimate your opponent. I did tell you I play to win."

"Indeed." It was his turn to avert his gaze. Because he knew he'd lost far more than a game of chess.

~~~~~~