Serena McGuire hated boats; that was all there was to it. The rolling beneath her feet, the closed confinement. Even the sea air bothered her, although it never had before. Of course, she had been on a beach then. But the combination now had her stomach rolling along with the waves of the ocean.
Her best friend, Isabel Trecher, instructed her that if she would actually spend some time on the deck, instead of in their cabin (which happened to be on the lowest deck, complete with two beds, one dresser, and no window), she would feel much better. Probably, Serena mused, because she would be as liquored up as Isabel is.
She felt slightly better while imagining an intoxicated Isabel charming the staff of the Carnival cruise ship. But then she felt the ship pitched ever so slightly, and her stomach rolled uncomfortably in the opposite direction.
With an unsteady hand, she grabbed the glass of water sitting beside her, and took a long drink. Then she took a long look around the cramped room, realized how ridiculous she was being, and decided right then to go up to the Lido deck and lounge in the spa. Maybe she'd get one of those margaritas in a large plastic glass, with a little pink umbrella.
Regardless, she was getting out of that room.
Quickly, before she could change her mind, she pulled on her new bathing suit, a little yellow bikini she had bought just for this trip. She wrapped a shift around her, and swept out the cabin door with her towel bag, and ran right into someone.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, looking up, and up and up. The man she had run into was so tall, standing above her slight 5'4" frame by more than a foot. "Oh, my..."
"Well now, lass, where might you be off to at such a pace?"
Serena just stared up at the man, blinked once as if to assure herself that she wasn't imagining things. He was Scottish. The pure velvet of his accent, combined with the deep, melodious timbre sent her nerves into utter chaos. "I, uh, well..." she closed her eyes for a moment, and pushed a breath out, stealing herself to look at the guy and speak as if an intelligent person. When she open her eyes, her mind went completely blank again, "Oh, my Holy God."
"I'm sorry?"
He is so gorgeous! she thought to herself. All that untidy black hair, and his green eyes. She couldn't stop staring. The man was some major sex-on-a-stick.
He was guardedly watching her, as if she were completely insane. Perhaps she was.
Serena rolled her eyes at herself, "Christ," she said, pushing her dark bangs away from her face in a gesture of nervousness, "I'm sorry; I'm a complete dunder-head."
"A what," he asked politely, the rumble of his voice more amused now than concerned, "I'm afraid I doona quite got the knack of American colloquiums just yet."
Sighing, Serena decided that she was a first class loser, "A dunder-head, is a person who is a complete dork that can't seem to keep a hold of her brain for more than a minute at a time. I," she pointed at herself, "am the dork, and you," she pointed at him, "are the reason I lost my brain."
"Did I now," he said, obviously delighted, "well, that's encouraging."
Serena stared at him for a moment, then said, "You've got to be kidding me."
"On the contrary, my dear, men thoroughly enjoy flustering a beautiful woman such that she becomes speechless," his unbelievably green eyes twinkled at her, seeming to mock her, "It's quite the compliment."
She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. His smile grew as he watched her confusion race across her face. "Oh, wow," she finally managed.
"Amazing, that was exactly what I thought when you ran into me," he took up her hand, gave it a light kiss, and then tucked into his own, "Now then, where were you running off to at such a speed?"
"I, uh," he had begun walking down the ships corridor, her hand firmly captured in his, "was thinking about visiting the spa on the Lido deck."
He gave her a once over, his gaze heating a little as he saw what was beneath the white gossamer shift. The tiny bits of bright yellow cloth that was her bathing suit just barely covered her curved body; "I doona think that a wise idea. The spa on the top deck is always full of rowdy youths, drinking and splashing around. Might I suggest the spa on the Veranda deck? It's closer to the back of the ship, so you'll have an extraordinary view, and is usually much quieter."
"I didn't know there was a spa on that deck."
"It's hidden quite effectively. Come with me lass, I'll show you where it is."
Suddenly, she realized they were in the elevator, and it was already half way to the Veranda deck. She couldn't believe how crazy she was, just wandering off with some strange man (even if he was the sexiest man she had ever set eyes on before), without even knowing his name.
"Is there something amiss?" he asked politely.
"No, well, uh," she wondered if she'd ever be able to speak to him without tripping over her tongue, "it's just that you're being so nice to me..."
"The crime of the century, I'm sure," he added.
"...Even though I must seem to be insane to you..."
"It crossed my mind at first, I must admit."
"... But I don't know you, or even know your name. You're just so gorgeous, and I just can't figure out why you're being so nice to me," Oh my god, did I just say that out loud?! "Christ, I can't even speak without making myself look like a fool. I think I'm just going to go back to my room, and throw myself a pity party for the rest of the cruise."
"A pity party? Now that won't do," he said with a shake of his head. He caught her arm before she could get away from him, "I think you would be better off in the spa."
The elevator door opened, and sunlight blinded Serena for a moment. She felt herself being pulled from the elevator by the strange man, and reluctantly followed.
"What are you a doctor or something?" she asked a little peeved.
"Actually, yes I am, and I advise several relaxing hours in the spa, preferably," he smiled a delightfully boyish grin, "not alone. Since there doona appear to be anyone onboard the ship capable of being relaxing company for a respectable lass, such as yourself, I shall gladly sacrifice myself for your benefit."
"Well," she mused, perfectly charmed by him. They were now stopped, facing each other beside the railing of the ship, the ocean beneath them reaching for the sun. Both her hands were held in his, as she gazed up into his emerald green eyes, completely entranced. Her voice came out in a whisper, "one shouldn't argue with the doctor, I suppose."
"No, lass, I doona suppose you should." He looked as if he were about to kiss her, and Serena's lips parted instinctively in anticipation. Instead, he raised her hand and feathered a kiss on the back of it, flashed her that boyish smile again, and said, "By the by, Gwydion O'Conolly at your service."
"Serena. I'm Serena McGuire."
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Maybe she was a tad insane, but then again, all Americans were to Gwydion. Nevertheless, Serena McGuire just happened to be the most delightfully sexy, insane person he had ever met. Her complete inability to string a sentence together without bumbling it was positively enchanting. The fact that he was the reason she continued to bumble her sentences didn't hurt much either. She was sweet, almost innocent to his jaded eyes.
She looked just like what he always thought a pixy would look like. Her face was small and heart shaped, her skin a smooth ivory complexion. Her petite nose, which was turned up slightly at the tip, had a dash of freckles that she had attempted to cover with powder. Her hair was a violent explosion of red curls that made her face seem smaller than it really was. Ocean blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight, showing the confusion and desire which had tripped up that lovely pink tongue.
Gwydion wanted her. From the moment she ran into him he had desperately wanted her. He would do anything to have her. Have her, and then keep her, forever.
She just didn't know it yet.
"So, Serena McGuire, why is your husband not accompanying you," he asked.
Serena sighed, letting the soft brogue of his question carry her away to green hills, and wattle and daub houses; "Hmm? Oh, I'm not married."
"You're here alone?"
When she smiled, his heart clenched, "No, not alone. My girlfriend is probably off somewhere coercing a free drink from some unsuspecting bartender."
