The phone in Amelia’s hotel room pealed through the silence, startling her from her sleep.
She looked around, disoriented, fumbling for the receiver on her bedside table. ‘Hello?’
‘Miss Wakefield? This is reception. We have a Mr Murphy here asking to see you. If you’d like to make your way to the side room by the edge of the reception desk as soon as possible. Thank you.’
The line went dead.
Amelia flicked on the lights and picked up her watch. Ten past eleven. She’d thought Samuel was working today and would go straight to bed. Every night he’d returned from Grand Central station completely exhausted.
She quickly threw back the covers and dressed before hurrying from her room. Something must have happened. Sickness unfurled inside her as she bounced from one foot to the other waiting for the lift. At last it arrived, and she travelled the four flights to reception.
A few people milled around, while others nursed late-night drinks in the bar and in the comfortable armchairs by the hotel’s front windows. Amelia strode to the reception desk, approached a side door and knocked.
‘Come in.’
She entered the room and stopped.
Samuel was being tended by two members of hotel staff, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and younger woman with a pretty face and the most wonderful dark hair. Both frowned as they dabbed and wiped at Samuel’s face, his skin cut and bruised, dried blood zigzagging down one cheek, his hair matted and dirty. Care for him dried Amelia’s throat.
‘Samuel? My God, what happened?’
‘Amelia…’ He tried to smile and then winced, the crack on his bottom lip seeping fresh blood. ‘I had some fun and games with a few men from the station.’
‘What?’ She walked closer and slid onto the vacant seat beside him. ‘They beat you?’
‘Yeah. They got me pretty bad, but I’ll survive. We’ll always survive, right?’
She looked into his optimistic eyes, filled with such determination. Despite his swollen and bruised face, he still looked so very handsome.
The man tending him straightened. ‘I think that’s the best we can do for you, sir. Are you sure I can’t call a doctor to check you over?’
‘No, thank you.’ Samuel reached for his jacket and shrugged it on, grimacing as he pushed his arms into the sleeves. ‘I wouldn’t mind sitting here awhile longer though, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. Miss Halliday?’
The pretty young woman who’d been assisting in Samuel’s ministrations stood from where she’d been hunched in front of him and stepped back, her gaze glazed with adoration as she took a final sweep of Samuel before heading for the door.
Amelia glared after her, a horrible spike of jealousy jabbing at her chest. Couldn’t she see how injured Samuel was? Fancy lusting after him when he was in such a state.
‘She’s nowhere near as pretty as you, you know.’
She started and turned to find Samuel watching her, amusement in his soft gaze and a smile curving his lips.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, even as heat warmed her cheeks ‘How did this happen? Were you attacked at the station? Didn’t anyone help you?’
‘I was walking back to the hotel and three blokes jumped me. Seems they have a problem with anyone other than Americans working the railroad. That was the gist of it, anyway.’
‘But that’s ridiculous. The building will take years. Can’t they see that there is more than enough work for a thousand men?’
‘No, all they see is a foreigner taking a job from an American. Apparently, they haven’t been impressed with me talking about the Titanic either.’ He closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair.
‘Why? What did they say?’
‘Nothing that I now suspect won’t be echoed by a million others once the true nature of the sinking becomes public knowledge.’
Bitterness coated his words and Amelia gently touched his hand. ‘What do you mean? What did they say to you?’
He opened his eyes. ‘They made it pretty clear that they weren’t sure I was telling the truth about surviving and, if I did, they hated me even more for being a man who escaped.’
Amelia crossed her arms, anger making her tremble. ‘Surely, they understand that women and children could not have rowed those boats miles across the ocean to the Carpathia? Not everyone will feel that way about the male survivors. They can’t possibly judge anything when they weren’t there amid the chaos and terror. People will understand that experienced seamen were ordered to see passengers to safety however they could.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. What I am sure of, though, is that there will be an investigation of mammoth proportions both here and in England. Everything about the disaster should and will be investigated. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people will have died, others suffering from hypothermia and God only knows what…’ His angry gaze bored into hers. ‘And any men among the survivors, including me, will undoubtedly be targeted by the investigators and the press alike. If the fury of the men who attacked me is anything to go by, our return to England is not going to be full of fanfare and thanks to God. Instead, we’ll be stepping into a barrage of scrutiny, investigation and judgement.’
Fear that he was right, that Samuel would subjected to the pressure of public opinion both in New York and England, caused sickness to form deep in Amelia’s stomach. She leaned close to him and cupped his jaw. ‘I will stand by you and all that you did for me and hundreds of others before we left the ship and afterwards.’ She pressed a gentle kiss to his injured mouth. ‘I won’t leave you to deal with this alone, Samuel. I…’ She swallowed. The depth of her growing feelings for him were absolutely terrifying. ‘I care about you too much.’
He stared deep into her eyes, his jaw tight and his gaze intense before he reached for her and abruptly covered her mouth with his. The enormity of what they’d survived, what they still had to face, and the uncertainty of their future seemed to amalgamate, and Amelia pulled him closer.
Deeper they kissed, his tongue finding hers as Amelia kissed him with all that was in her heart, her body heating with a desire like she’d never known.
Slowly, they parted, their breaths harried.
He brushed a curl from her temple. ‘I’m falling for you, Amelia.’
Words battled on her tongue as her heart burned with love for this extraordinary man. A man who was a hero but could be branded a coward. She ran her hand over his cheek, stared at his beautiful mouth.
‘I think I’ve already fallen for you,’ she whispered. ‘And I’m not so sure that will be good for either of us.’
He softly smiled, pulled her close and, once again, Amelia surrendered to Samuel’s care. To love and hope. They would be leaving New York on the Adriatic in two days… She prayed the world showed them and every other survivor compassion, because God knew, they would carry the guilt of their every breath for the rest of their lives.