Mary felt heat creep up her neck. The room that had seemed spacious when it was just her suddenly felt much smaller, with his solid presence filling it. “The bed is big enough for both of us if you don’t mind sharing. Or I can sleep on the sofa?—”
“No.” He cut her off firmly. “You’re not sleeping on the sofa. We’ll figure out the sleeping arrangements, but that’s not what’s going to happen.”
“Okay.” She took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “So. Fiancé.”
“Fiancé,” he repeated, and something flickered across his face too quick for her to read.
She sighed. “I’m sorry about the cover story. It just popped out. It seemed to give legitimacy to you hurrying to my side.”
“It was good thinking on your part. Gives me a reason to be close to you, to stay alert to threats, without making Colin suspicious.”
“That was the idea.” Mary moved to the balcony door, looking out at the harbor lights reflecting on dark water. “Though I probably should have discussed it with you first rather than just announcing it to everyone.”
“I’m not complaining.” Bert’s voice was closer than she expected, and she turned to find him standing right beside her chair. “The role comes... naturally.”
Their eyes met, and Mary’s breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. This wasn’t acting. Whatever was happening between them right now, in the privacy of her stateroom, had nothing to do with cover stories and everything to do with months of unspoken feelings finally bubbling to the surface.
“Bert—” she started, not sure what she was going to say.
“We should focus on Colin.” He stepped back to give her space even though everything in his expression said he wanted to do the opposite. “Tell me everything you’ve observed. Every detail, no matter how small.”
Mary let out a long breath, grateful for the return to professional territory even as part of her ached at the interrupted moment. She walked Bert through Diane’s confusion about finances, Colin’s control over her medications and room key, George’s convenient food poisoning, and the isolation tactics she’d witnessed.
Bert listened intently, asking sharp questions that showed he understood the gravity of what she was describing. When she finished, he pulled out his phone and showed her the information Sadie had compiled on Colin’s history with the changes to Diane’s accounts.
“Logan’s coordinating with Canadian authorities,” Bert said. “But these things take time. In the meantime, we watch, document, and keep both you and Diane safe.”
“And how do we do that without alerting Colin that we’re onto him?”
“By being exactly what we told everyone we are.” Bert’s expression was serious, but his eyes held warmth. “An engaged couple enjoying a cruise. We document everything we observe, and let Logan know what we witness.”
“And at night?” Mary asked, then immediately regretted the question when she saw heat flash through Bert’s eyes.
“At night, I can sleep on the floor or on the sofa,” he said. “You get the bed. And we figure out how to navigate sharing a very small space without making things weird between us.”
“It’s already weird between us,” Mary said softly. “Has been for months.”
Bert’s gaze sharpened. “Mary?—”
A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was about to say. They both tensed, falling back into professional mode. Bert moved to answer while Mary positioned her wheelchair where she could see but not be immediately visible from the hallway.
It was a crew member with fresh towels and a bottle of champagne. “Compliments of the ship,” the young man said with a smile. “For the newly reunited couple. Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you,” Bert said, accepting both with a nod. He closed the door and set the items on the desk, then turned to Mary with an expression that was equal parts amused and frustrated.
“I think we’ve committed to this cover story pretty thoroughly,” he said with a grin.
“I think you’re right.” Mary chuckled, looking at the champagne. “Bert, I’m sorry if this is awkward.”
“Don’t apologize.” He moved closer, kneeling again so they were eye level. “Mary, being here with you, playing this role… It’s not awkward. Or maybe it is, but not for the reasons you think.”
“What do you mean?”
His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made her eyes sting. “I mean that pretending to be your fiancé is probably the easiest role I’ve ever played. Because it doesn’t feel like pretending at all.”
Mary’s heart stuttered.
“We should get some rest,” he said, pulling back before she could form a coherent response. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow, we need to be alert. I’ll take the sofa?—”