Last night, he had talked the purser into finding him a room, and it actually connected to Rose's through a door between them.
However, he would not go to her right now or bother her. She had been right when she told him in the hall last evening that she was tired.
He had seen the exhaustion in her heavily lidded honey-colored eyes.
Christopher settled himself into the cozy armchair in his cabin, sipping on a tumbler of scotch.
His gaze fixed upon the window. The soft golden glow of dawn bathed the room, casting a gentle warmth upon his face. Outside, the mighty ocean roared, creating foamy white caps on its turbulent surface.
The brisk March winds drove a fine mist of spray on the ship's deck with each wave that crashed against its weather hull.
Lost in his thoughts, he remained captivated by the breathtaking view. The salty scent of the sea was soothing as he surrendered himself to the beauty of the quiet moment.
