her mouth with his, then perhaps he would believe her fear of him was more than a nervous reaction.
Christophe had never been a big believer in love or fate. Sinking into a maelstrom and appearing on a ship a few hundred years later made it difficult to disbelieve in the possibility of either. His attraction to Serena was different, stronger, than any he'd felt toward other women. He'd scarcely given her friend a second glance, and she'd been behaving scandalously. A man with only one objective would have chosen the friend. While Christophe wouldn't oppose a tumble in the sheets with Serena, that wasn't the primary reason he'd followed her back to her room.
There had been something about her that soothed his turmoil when nothing made sense. She'd anchored him when confusion had overwhelmed him among the crowd of strange people that appeared all around him when he should have been gulping in seawater and suddenly wasn't.
Was he tethered to her now?
With or without Serena's assistance, he would find his way in this strange new world, but he really hoped it could be with her. Adaptation didn't have to be painful; it could be quite pleasurable along the way.
"Why are we here, Christophe?" Serena hadn't even picked up her utensils. A salad sprinkled with cooked chicken sat before her, untouched. She'd barely even looked at the glass of water she'd ordered. Fickle female. Perhaps she was skittish about eating in front of other people. He'd known others who suffered the same affliction. Give him time and she would feel at ease to be herself, to eat how she wished, and take from him all she desired.
He smiled. How did he explain things to her? We are fated? You pulled me through time? Instead, he said, "Do you believe in destiny?"
She paused in folding a napkin across her lap—an action far too distracting given the clothing she wore that covered her most intimate places yet left nothing to the imagination—and blinked. "Destiny? Are you here to Yoda me or something? That's pretty lame as far as pick-up lines go."
"Yoda?" Christophe frowned. He had no notion how one Yoda-ed and wasn't sure he was doing it. How long would it take to learn the strange phrases Serena and people of this time used? "I don't understand that phrase, love. The two of us are from very different worlds. You're going to have to explain things to me."
Serena snorted and sipped at her water. "I thought all men grew up on Star Wars and G.I. Joe ? Is it different in England? Should I have referenced Doctor Who instead?"
Why would the stars war with one another? He assumed it had something to do with childhood by her words, and he smiled at the thought of his own. "My governess never allowed for much play time. We learned arithmetic, writing, and history. Astronomy, regretfully, was not part of our lessons."
She gave him a peculiar look. "Um, right... Governess?"
Did they not have them where she was from? "She cared for me and acted as an instructor while my parents hosted society gatherings and kept the accounts in order. She traveled with us when my father took a governor position in one of the colonies since she was employed to care for my younger sister."
"Colonies? You mean back in the States?" Her forehead furrowed as she considered his words. Mrs. Baker had explained some history to him, but he hadn't quite come to terms with most of the changes.
"The States," he agreed, frowning. If the buildings were as large and advanced as the ship they'd sailed on, then he supposed they were much more than colonies at that point. "Is that where you hail from?"
"Where I h—yes, I'm an American. Can't you tell by my accent? I mean, I don't think I have one, but I suppose I do to someone not from there..." She snapped her mouth shut, a rosy blush flared across her pale neck and cheeks. She cleared her throat and added, "So you were home-schooled by your nanny?"
Setting his fork down, Christophe regretted that she'd changed the subject back to him. He'd
Christophe had never been a big believer in love or fate. Sinking into a maelstrom and appearing on a ship a few hundred years later made it difficult to disbelieve in the possibility of either. His attraction to Serena was different, stronger, than any he'd felt toward other women. He'd scarcely given her friend a second glance, and she'd been behaving scandalously. A man with only one objective would have chosen the friend. While Christophe wouldn't oppose a tumble in the sheets with Serena, that wasn't the primary reason he'd followed her back to her room.
There had been something about her that soothed his turmoil when nothing made sense. She'd anchored him when confusion had overwhelmed him among the crowd of strange people that appeared all around him when he should have been gulping in seawater and suddenly wasn't.
Was he tethered to her now?
With or without Serena's assistance, he would find his way in this strange new world, but he really hoped it could be with her. Adaptation didn't have to be painful; it could be quite pleasurable along the way.
"Why are we here, Christophe?" Serena hadn't even picked up her utensils. A salad sprinkled with cooked chicken sat before her, untouched. She'd barely even looked at the glass of water she'd ordered. Fickle female. Perhaps she was skittish about eating in front of other people. He'd known others who suffered the same affliction. Give him time and she would feel at ease to be herself, to eat how she wished, and take from him all she desired.
He smiled. How did he explain things to her? We are fated? You pulled me through time? Instead, he said, "Do you believe in destiny?"
She paused in folding a napkin across her lap—an action far too distracting given the clothing she wore that covered her most intimate places yet left nothing to the imagination—and blinked. "Destiny? Are you here to Yoda me or something? That's pretty lame as far as pick-up lines go."
"Yoda?" Christophe frowned. He had no notion how one Yoda-ed and wasn't sure he was doing it. How long would it take to learn the strange phrases Serena and people of this time used? "I don't understand that phrase, love. The two of us are from very different worlds. You're going to have to explain things to me."
Serena snorted and sipped at her water. "I thought all men grew up on Star Wars and G.I. Joe ? Is it different in England? Should I have referenced Doctor Who instead?"
Why would the stars war with one another? He assumed it had something to do with childhood by her words, and he smiled at the thought of his own. "My governess never allowed for much play time. We learned arithmetic, writing, and history. Astronomy, regretfully, was not part of our lessons."
She gave him a peculiar look. "Um, right... Governess?"
Did they not have them where she was from? "She cared for me and acted as an instructor while my parents hosted society gatherings and kept the accounts in order. She traveled with us when my father took a governor position in one of the colonies since she was employed to care for my younger sister."
"Colonies? You mean back in the States?" Her forehead furrowed as she considered his words. Mrs. Baker had explained some history to him, but he hadn't quite come to terms with most of the changes.
"The States," he agreed, frowning. If the buildings were as large and advanced as the ship they'd sailed on, then he supposed they were much more than colonies at that point. "Is that where you hail from?"
"Where I h—yes, I'm an American. Can't you tell by my accent? I mean, I don't think I have one, but I suppose I do to someone not from there..." She snapped her mouth shut, a rosy blush flared across her pale neck and cheeks. She cleared her throat and added, "So you were home-schooled by your nanny?"
Setting his fork down, Christophe regretted that she'd changed the subject back to him. He'd
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