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“Just the one cabin?”
I shrugged. “Our journey is long and we must be economical” — a practiced response. This was, of course, not our first trip around the world.
The captain took his leave, and I set down our luggage and closed the cabin door. “Would you care for some tea, Monsieur?”
Long, elegant fingers brushed against mine, and I wondered again at how fiercely those cold eyes could burn.
“You forget yourself, Passepartout,” he murmured.
I squeezed his hand. “My apologies. Phileas.”
The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Perhaps a pot of oolong. For two?”