Crossings by Danielle Steel Page B

you are. There are almost a thousand important, influential people on this ship, and if you don't watch your ass, my dear, every one of them is going to know just what you are.” His anger was full-blown now. He could do nothing to stop it and no longer cared to.
    “And what's that?” She was almost laughing at him now, totally oblivious of his concern. And he had been about to answer her with two simple words: “A whore,” but the captain was at their sides again in the magnificent room, and Hillary turned to him with a charming smile. “Will there be dancing tonight?”
    “Of course, my dear.” The captain, like the other officers aboard the ship, had seen droves of Hillarys over the years, some older than she, some not. Lovely, spoiled, bored with their lives ashore, tired of marriages and husbands who had faded from their lives long years before, but they had seen few quite as beautiful as this. She stood beside their table in the Grand Salon now, and even in the splendor of the room, she was aware of every pair of male eyes on her. There were glowing crystal fountains filled with light, windows twenty-two feet high, and murals etched in glass, covered with ships, and an orchestra had already begun to play, but Hillary was the finest attraction of all. She had wilted not one bit from the feast in the dining room. If anything, she seemed more effervescent than the endless flow of French champagne. “In fact”—the captain smiled at Nick—“may I have your permission, sir, to ask Madame for the first dance?”
    “Of course.” Nick smiled pleasantly his assent and watched them as they walked away. The orchestra was playing a low French waltz, and Hillary's body moved with extraordinary grace as the captain guided her expertly around the floor, and other couples joined them, among them Armand and Liane.
    “Well, my love, have you fallen head over heels for the siren from New York?” Liane smiled at him as they danced.
    “I have not. I am far more impressed by the beauty from the West Coast. Do you suppose I have a chance with her?” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, keeping his eyes on hers. “Are you having fun, chérie?”
    “I am.” She smiled happily as she looked around the room. She was never happier than when she was in Armand's arms. “She's quite something, though, isn't she?” She was still intrigued with Hillary, and Armand looked over his wife's head with a peaceful glance.
    “The Normandie? Ah, yes, she is.”
    “Now, stop it.” Liane laughed. “I know you hate to gossip, but I can't resist. You know exactly who I mean. I mean the Burnham woman. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
    “Indeed.” He nodded, a smiling sage. “Beauty and the Beast are rolled into one. I don't envy him. But I think he knows exactly what he's got on his hands. He watches her every move.”
    “And she knows it, and she doesn't give a damn.”
    “I wouldn't say that.” Armand shook his head. “I think she does it to annoy him. One could murder a woman like that.”
    “Maybe he's madly in love with her.” Liane enjoyed the thought of a passionate romance.
    “I think not. If one looks deep into his eyes, he's not a happy man. Do you know who he is, Liane?”
    “More or less. I've heard his name. He's in steel, isn't he?”
    Armand laughed. “He isn't ‘in’ steel. He is steel. A few years ago he was the youngest, most important industrialist in the States. His father died when he was quite young, and left him not only a fortune that almost defies the imagination, but an empire to run as well. He has proven himself admirably. I believe he's crossing over now because he has some very important steel contracts with France. And today, he is truly the master of his industry.”
    “At least he's on our side.”
    “Not all the time.” Liane's eyes raised to Armand's. “He has contracts with the Germans too. And that, my love, is how an empire is run. Without a heart at