“What would you like to do today?” he asked as he glanced over the menus and the brochures, showing them all the sports and diversions that were offered on the enormous ship. “Want to swim in the pool before lunch? Or have a game of shuffleboard? We can go to the cinema right after tea. Let’s see, they’ve got Marcel Pagnol’s The Baker’s Wife playing, if you haven’t seen it.” In truth, she had, and she had loved Pagnol’s Harvest the year before, but she didn’t care. It was so much fan doing things with him, and she moved closer to look at the brochure with him. She was amazed at how much the French Line offered their passengers, and as she read, she felt him touch her neck, and then his hand slid slowly to her breast, and then suddenly he was kissing her, and the next tiling she knew they were on the bed, and all other forms of diversion were forgotten. It was lunchtime by the time they came to their senses again, and she laughed huskily as she munched on a piece of the cinnamon toast that still sat on a plate near the bed.
“I guess we’re not going to be doing much in the way of sports this trip, eh?”
“I’m not entirely sure we’re ever going to get out of the cabin.” And as though to prove that to him, she teased him again and he took her up on it rather more quickly than she had expected.
They made it all the way to the bathtub after that, and made love again there, and by the time they ventured out again, it was late afternoon, and they were both looking a little embarrassed at the hours they’d kept.
“We’re going to get a hell of a reputation on this ship,” William whispered to her. “It’s a good thing we’ve come over on the French Line.”
“Do you suppose they know?” Sarah looked a little nervous. “After all, it is our honeymoon …”
“Oh God, that’s right. How could I forget. You know, I think I forgot my wallet on the desk. Do you mind if we go back for it?”
“Not at all,” she agreed amenably, but unable to imagine why he needed it here. But he was quite insistent. So she went back to the stateroom with him, and followed him inside. He shut the door as she walked in, and as soon as the door was closed behind them, he grabbed her.
“William!” she squealed, as he laughed, and she began to giggle. “You’re a sex fiend!”
“I’m not … I assure you, normally I’m quite respectable. It’s all your fault!” he said as he devoured her neck and her arms and her breasts and her thighs and even more appealing places.
“My fault? What have I done?” But she was loving every minute of it, as they collapsed to the floor of the sitting room and he began to make love to her again.
“You’re far, far too appealing,” he said as he closed his eyes and entered her while they still had half their clothes on, and lay on the stateroom floor.
“So are you,” she muttered, and then gave a small cry, and it was a long time before they got up again and made it all the way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.
They didn’t even bother to go to dinner that night, and when their room steward called them on the phone, offering dinner in their rooms, William declined, announcing mournfully that they were both seasick. He offered crackers and soup instead, but William insisted that they were both sleeping, and after he hung up, the little Frenchman grinned at the maid.
“Mal de mer?” she asked knowingly, wondering if they were seasick, but the little steward winked. He had gotten a good look at them, and knew better.
“Mon oeil. Lune de miel” Honeymoon, he explained, and she laughed as he pinched her bottom.
William and Sarah emerged onto the deck the next morning looking healthy and rested, and William seemed unable to stop smiling at her. Sarah laughed at him as they walked around the deck and settled into two deck chairs.
“You know, people really will know what we’ve been up to if you don’t stop grinning.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve never been so happy in my life. When can we go back to the cabin? I swear, it’s becoming an addiction.”
“I’m going to call the captain if you lay a hand on me again. I’m not going to be able to walk by the time we get to Paris.”
“I’ll carry you.” He grinned as he leaned over and kissed her again. But she didn’t look the least bit dismayed by what had happened. She was loving it, too, and loving him. But that day they made an effort to discover the ship, and managed to stay out of bed until teatime. Then they allowed themselves a brief reward, and forced themselves to get their clothes on again in time for dinner.
Sarah loved going to the dining room on the Normandie. It was a fairyland of elegance, with ceilings three decks high, and the room itself was slightly longer than the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, and no less impressive. The ceiling was gilt, and on the walls there were columns of soft lighting twenty feet high. They descended an endless, blue-carpeted staircase when they arrived, and William was wearing white tie, as were all the other men.
“Does the fact that we’re eating in the dining room tonight,” she whispered to him, “mean that the honeymoon is over?”
“I was a little bit afraid of that myself,” he confided to her as he devoured his soufflé. “I think we ought to go back to the room as soon as we finish.” She giggled at him, and they managed to stop in the Grand Salon above the dining room and dance for a while, before they took a last walk on the deck and kissed beneath the stars. Then at last they went back to their stateroom. It was the perfect honeymoon, and they had a wonderful time, swimming and walking and dancing and eating, and making love. It was like being suspended between two worlds, their old one and their new one. They tried to stay away from everyone, although most people in first class were aware of who they were, and more than once she heard people whisper as they walked by, “The Duke and Duchess of Whitfield .” “Windsor?” one dowager asked. “She’s much younger than I thought … and better looking …” Sarah had been unable to repress a smile, and William had subtly pinched her and called her Wallis after that.
“Don’t ever call me that, or I shall start calling you David!”
Sarah hadn’t met them yet, but William had told her they would probably have to pay a visit to them in Paris “You might like her better than you expect. She’s not my cup of tea, but she’s really very charming. And he’s happier than he used to be, claims he can sleep now. I suppose I know why.” William grinned. He was sleeping remarkably well himself, in between orgies with his bride.
They dined at the captain’s table on the last night, and attended the Gala. They’d actually gone to the Fancy Dress Ball the night before, dressed as a maharaja and maharani, in costumes loaned to them by the purser, and jewels Sarah had brought along herself. The roles suited them well. William looked very handsome and Sarah looked extremely exotic. But her expertise with her makeup and naked belly had only won her an early return to their stateroom. The stewards were making bets now as to how long they could stay out of bed. And so far, four hours seemed to have been their limit.
“Maybe we should just stay on the ship,” Sarah suggested as she lay in bed, on their last night, dozing sporadically after they’d made love after the captain’s dinner. “I’m not at all sure I want to go to Paris at all.” William had reserved an apartment for them at the Ritz, and they were going to stay there for a month, while taking driving tours around the châteaux outside Paris. They wanted to go to Bordeaux, and the Loire, and Tours … and the Faubourg-St Honoré, she had said with a grin … to Chanel and Dior and Mainbocher … and Balenciaga.