Destiny's Daughter (3 page)

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The morning passed slowly, and Annalisa paced the cabin, reluctant to open the door and face the knowing looks from strangers. On the other side of that door lay golden sunshine and the freedom to walk the decks of the riverboat, to enjoy the sounds of muted conversations and joyous laughter. But in order to partake of it, she would have to face the jeers and whispered comments.

In the end, it was her stomach that forced her out of the cabin. The only meal she had eaten yesterday was a cold supper. The aroma of coffee and bread warm from the oven nearly drove her wild at breakfast time. By noon, she could stand it no longer. Whatever was waiting for her beyond this door would have to be faced. She was starving.

On the dining deck she stared around in consternation. Every table was filled. Waiters bustled about, carrying trays laden with food and drink. Everyone aboard the
City of Memphis
must have decided to lunch at the same time.

"I am sorry, miss," the uniformed porter murmured. "You will have to join a party at one of the tables."

"That’s fine." She hoped it would be someone who hadn’t heard of her foolish display of the previous night, and not someone who had witnessed it.

Her heart fell as she realized where she was being led. At the table in front of her sat five people. One of them was the man from the poker game. She nearly groaned aloud in anguish.

"May the lady join you?" the porter asked.

"Of course." An elderly gentleman spoke for the group. As he slowly lumbered to his feet, the other two men stood as well.

The man who had winked at her held her chair. Feeling her throat go dry, Annalisa sat quickly, noticing the curious gaze of the others.

"I am William Stedman," the older man said, taking her hand. "And this is my wife, Martha."

Annalisa accepted his hand and smiled at the older woman.

"Our daughter, Melissa," Mrs. Stedman said stiffly.

Melissa smiled, but only with her lips. Her eyes, like her mother’s, Annalisa noted, were wary.

"This is her intended, Henry Watkins."

Annalisa nodded to the blond young man who seemed eager to make her acquaintance.

"And my name is Chase Masters," the gambler said, before seating himself beside her. "What is yours?"

"Annalisa Montgomery."

Annalisa. The name whispered over his senses just as her sultry voice did.

"You’re traveling alone, Miss Montgomery?" Mrs. Stedman’s tone spoke her disapproval.

"I’ve finished school and am on my way home to my family."

"Ah." The older woman seemed impressed that this young lady was educated. "What school did you attend?"

"The Convent of the Holy Trinity, in Natchez."

The older woman’s eyebrows went up another notch. A proper, convent-bred lady. "How nice. Where is your family?"

Annalisa felt the man beside her watching her closely. She inhaled the faint scent of tobacco and thought again how pleasant it was after the sterile, antiseptic smells of the convent. "New Orleans."

"Montgomery." The woman turned to her husband. "Do we know a Montgomery family in New Orleans, William?"

He shrugged. "Charles Montgomery, president of the bank."

"Of course." The woman beamed. "So that’s your father."

"No." Annalisa bit her lip. Why wouldn’t they let it alone? "My father is dead." At least, that’s what the sisters had told her. But they had always seemed evasive about the subject.

"I see." Mrs. Stedman did some calculations. The convent was a very exclusive boarding school. A widowed mother would have to be very wealthy to afford such a luxury.

"What will you do with your life, now that you’ve finished your education? Has your family made a suitable match?"

Chase turned his head to watch her as she spoke.

"I plan to enter the convent," she said simply.

Annalisa felt Chase stiffen beside her. With a barely perceptible movement, she turned to meet his appraising look. His hand holding the fork paused in midair.

A hint of a smile curled his lips. "You intend to become a nun?"

His eyes were too dark and knowing, his manner too intense. For one brief moment she felt herself caught and held fast by a simple look. Glancing down at her hands folded primly in her lap, she strove to break the spell of this man.

She was relieved when a waiter approached to take her order. When he walked away, she allowed the conversation at the table to flow around her. Perhaps, if she was very quiet, this man, this Chase Masters, would ignore her, and her heart could resume its normal rhythm.

"What did you think of it, Miss Montgomery?"

Annalisa’s head came up sharply. Lost in her own thoughts, she had completely missed the point of the conversation going on around her. She could feel the man beside her watching her with new interest.

"I’m sorry. About what?"

"The newspaper," Mrs. Stedman said with a sigh.

"I’m afraid I didn’t see it."

"A member of the crew told me that each passenger gets a daily newspaper every morning. It’s printed right here on board the
City of Memphis
. You should have received one with your breakfast plate. On it is listed the bill of fare and what has transpired in the past twenty-four hours."

Annalisa’s heart sank. Would the newspaper have carried an account of her embarrassing accident?

"I’m afraid I didn’t get breakfast," she said softly. Why had no one bothered to tell her she could have her meals sent to her cabin? Right now she could be enjoying her lunch in the privacy of her own room, without these awkward questions.

"What do you do, Mr. Masters?" Melissa Stedman was staring at Chase with wide-eyed fascination.

"A little of everything," he said evasively. "I arrange for shipments of goods to be brought through various ports. I’m also engaged in finance."

"You’re a banker?" her mother asked.

"Of sorts. I get together groups of businessmen who want to invest their money."

"Have you been on the
City of Memphis
before?" Melissa Stedman asked.

"Several times. Each time proves more—beneficial," he said with a smile. His gaze caught Annalisa’s, and again she felt the strange pull of his charm.

"You’re a Northerner." Mrs. Stedman spoke the word as if it tasted foul in her mouth.

Chase gave her his most charming smile. "My mother was a Yankee. From proper Boston." He watched the way her lips thinned. "My father was from New Orleans. That’s where I spent most of my youth."

"I knew you were a Southern gentleman," Melissa purred.

Henry Watkins, stung by Melissa’s open interest in another man, seemed eager to finish his meal and take leave of his company. As soon as they enjoyed their coffee and desserts, he urged the Stedmans to depart.

Alone at the table with this strange, compelling man, Annalisa sipped her coffee and avoided Chase’s gaze as he quietly studied her.

"This—desire of yours, to be a nun. Is this something you’ve always wanted?"

Annalisa ran a finger along the delicate lace of the table cover. "No. It’s something I decided when my studies were completed. Mother Superior said I had to decide what to do with the rest of my life."

"I see." He was smiling wider now. "And did Mother Superior suggest that the convent would shelter you from the cruel world beyond its gates?"

She heard the edge of sarcasm in his tone and forced herself to look up. Seeing his gaze center on her mouth, she quickly looked away. "She may have mentioned that. But the decision was mine."

"Does your family approve?"

She could feel the heat stain her cheeks. His questions were impertinent. He had no right. "Mother Superior said any mother would be proud to give a daughter to God’s work."

"And what work is that? Teaching the ignorant? Washing the unwashed?" His gaze swept the mass of curls. "Hiding yourself under a veil?"

"Among other things." She was beginning to resent his baiting tone. "If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Masters."

"Forgive me, Miss Montgomery. My teasing has upset you."

"Not at all. But I do wish to leave."

As she began to stand, he put his hand beneath her elbow to assist her. Instantly her head came up. Her eyes widened as they looked into his. She had never before had a man touch her. The shock was instantaneous.

Chase felt her slight tremor at this casual contact and wondered about it. Attempting to put her at ease, he said, "Have you ever been aboard a steamship before, Miss Montgomery?"

Gripping her hands together tightly, she swallowed and lectured herself on her foolishness. The man was only being gallant.

"No. This is my first trip."

"Then allow me to point out a few items of interest," he said, walking along beside her.

As they left the elegant salon and approached the rail, he turned and pointed. "Have you been up to the third deck?"

She breathed deeply of the fresh breeze and shook her head.

"Then you must go. There are staterooms, of course, as there are on this deck. But there is also a ballroom, a billiard room," he gave her a knowing smile, "where ladies are not permitted, and even a second dining salon, nearly as elegant as the one on this deck."

As he spoke, he pulled a cigar from his breast pocket and held a match to the tip. As he puffed, Annalisa found herself inhaling the sharp bite of tobacco.

"Atop the third deck," he went on, "are quarters for the boat’s officers. It’s called ‘the Texas.’"

Annalisa arched an eyebrow. "Why the Texas?"

"Because it was added as an afterthought, much as Texas was added to the Union."

Annalisa laughed, and Chase smiled his pleasure. She had a wonderful, rich laugh.

"The pilothouse perches above the Texas."

She shielded her eyes from the sun and stared high above them. "It certainly gives the pilot a good view of the river from any direction."

"Umm." He watched the stream of smoke from his cigar until it drifted away, then added, "It also allows him to be buffeted by tremendous winds. I wouldn’t relish his job in a storm."

While he lazily smoked his cigar, Annalisa’s glance sidled toward the upper decks. Her eyes narrowed slightly as a tall shadow moved away from the railing above. The hair at her nape prickled. Someone had been watching her. Intently. She felt the chill even in the heat of the sun. Shivering, she glanced once more toward the upper deck. A shadow slanted, then withdrew. Someone—a man, from the shape of the angular shadow, had been watching her. But why? The feeling was unsettling.

"Would you care to stroll along the deck, Miss Montgomery?"

Chase offered his arm, and Annalisa had no choice but to accept it. Placing her hand lightly on his sleeve, she took a hesitant step. Without even seeming to be aware of it, Chase covered her hand with his and led her through the crowds to the stern. He glanced around until he found a section that was completely private.

"Would you like me to find a place sheltered from the sun?" he asked.

"Oh no. Please. I love the feel of the sun on my skin."

Yes, she would love the sunshine. Like the sun, she seemed to glow with some inner radiance. He pressed his hand over hers and stared down at her. God, but she was beautiful. And she seemed to be completely unaware of it. That made her all the more intriguing.

He searched his mind for casual topics that would overcome her reticence. "You should see the huge furnaces below decks. They’re fed a continuous meal of bituminous Pittsburgh coal to keep this boat moving."

"You seem to know a great deal about steamships, Mr. Masters."

He settled her comfortably in a chair near the rail and pulled a second one close beside her. "Why don’t we forego the formalities, Miss Montgomery. My name is Chase."

"All right—Chase." She watched as he crossed his leg and drew deeply on the cigar.

The strength in his thigh seemed to fascinate her. With an effort she pulled her gaze back to his face.

"I guess I’ve traveled the length of the Mississippi aboard riverboats. I enjoy them. Enjoy the passengers too." He turned to study her. "I like learning all about them. For instance, I find you enchanting."

"Me?" Her eyes widened. "But I’m so—ordinary." In confusion, she stood and walked to the rail.

Chase followed her. "Are you? Ordinary?" He nearly laughed aloud. Her hair, that wild mane of dark curls, was unlike any woman’s hair he’d ever seen. Thick gypsy tangles that begged to be touched. Her eyes were as tawny as the golden sun reflecting off the waters of the Mississippi. As clear and intense as those of a stalking cat.

The wind whipped her hair, prying loose little tendrils. Without thinking, Chase reached out and caught a strand. It was as soft as he had imagined it would be. As he lifted it and allowed it to sift through his fingers, his eyes narrowed. Staring down at her he murmured, "Just who and what are you, Annalisa Montgomery?"

A flame raced along her spine, heating her skin, making her blood run hot. She felt a strange contraction deep inside. She swallowed and stared at the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes.