His lips were brushing hers in gentle rhythm, his eyes were searching hers eagerly, and his hands were moving tenderly around her waist, arms and face. This was what she desired most since she had met him.

Her eyes opened. Rose Dewitt Bukater awakened in her bed; the rushing of waves outside the open window revealed that it was indeed Titanic's second day out, second day traveling from Southampton to New York.

Rose sat up groggily and looked at the clock on the bed stand; it was polished cherry-wood with the beautiful instrument sitting atop next to a vase of yellow iris and purple lilacs. It was 8:30am. Rose lay back down in bed, smiling to herself she thought of Thomas Andrews; Titanic's designer and master carpenter.

It was his lips that she yearned for and his touch that made her heart flutter. Moments later Trudy; a ship maid, entered the room. "Good morning, miss. Sleep well, did we?"

Rose smiled to herself as she thought of the dream that had entered her mind. "Yes, I slept well." Rose got out of bed and put on her robe and slippers. "Caledon Hockley wishes to dine with you this morning miss."

Rose sighed; Cal Hockley was Rose's fiancé and a nuisance, well-dressed bastard to say the least. Rose wrapped her curly red hair in a braid-like fashion and surveyed herself in a mirror. Her bluish-green eyes traced her figure. She went out to the private promenade deck while Trudy made her bed.

"Sweet pea, did you sleep well?" Cal said as he took a sip of coffee.

"Yes, darling, I did." She smiled a little.

As she took her coffee she remembered her first meeting Thomas after boarding the ship;

Rose walked through the Café, Cal locked her arm in his. She surveyed the faces of the first class masters and mistresses of the universe. Her attention was drawn to a handsome gentleman whom she did not recognize from the endless parties and cotillions she had attended over the years.

His gentle expression captivated her and she noticed him draw out a black booklet from his breast coat pocket. He felt around the pockets of his jacket for a pen and Rose watched him curiously as he drew a pen from his lower coat pocket. He wrote something down in the notebook in front of him.

This would not have seemed so peculiar but he was dining with two very important men; Captain Smith and Bruce Ismay; owner of Titanic. He looked up and gave her a little nod. Rose smiled and returned the greeting and followed Cal to another table.

That very afternoon she had nearly ran into the man on her way to the public first class boat decks. "Oh I beg your pardon!" Rose said hastily as she realized the man she had so clumsily bumped into was the man at the table.

"No matter, miss. Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you."

He tipped his hat to her and smiled warmly. "Thomas Andrews, miss."

"Rose Dewitt Bukater."

"Beautiful name Rose, call me Thomas."

"Thomas, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"Rose, Rose!" Cal said rather sternly. Rose snapped out of her thoughts. "You mustn't daydream so, you can do that at night. "He chuckled as he lit a cigarette. "Even that isn't practical."

"I suppose that's rather easy for someone to say when their dreams are fulfilled every day of their lives, Darling."

Cal looked at her dully.

To think that Rose had to marry this conceited man. It certainly wasn't her choice.