Moonwitch (21 page)

Captain Shreve himself conducted them through the vessel. An energetic man of medium build, Shreve was perhaps five or ten years older than Kyle, and he gave the impression that he loved his avocation as much as Kyle loved the sea. Shreve seemed flattered by Kyle’s interest and answered all of his questions without reservation, explaining at length about the steamboat’s unique design.

Uninterested in the technical details of machinery, Selena let the captains’ words wash over her and instead watched her husband. A faint smile curved her lips at Kyle’s reaction to the steamboat. He was like a small boy with a new toy. He spent a long time poking his nose into every nook and corner, his face lighting up in an endearingly boyish way whenever he discovered something unusual. Not for the first time, Selena experienced a twinge of sorrow that he had had to give up his ship.

It was only when Kyle mentioned that his parents had been killed in the
Merilinda
’s accident the previous year that Selena began to pay attention once more. Kyle hadn’t told her precisely how his parents had died, but the information that he had lost them to a steamboat explosion only heightened her concern about the safety of such vessels and made her wonder how he could be so casual about it. She didn’t understand him—but then he really was a stranger to her.

She studied Kyle intently as they climbed the stairs to the high-perched wheelhouse, realizing how little she knew about him. The captain talked about the financial rewards the business had brought him. In one good season, the captain claimed, an owner could return his entire investment and then some. Selena was surprised when Kyle’s thoughtful gaze sought her out absently, surprised, too, by the wistfulness in his expression as their eyes met across the short width of the wheelhouse.

When Kyle finished peppering the captain with questions about steamboats and river navigation, he escorted Selena back to her cabin.

“Why did you ask the captain how much a vessel like this would cost?” she asked as they descended the stairway to the passenger deck.

“Because Natchez could use a regular steamboat service to New Orleans. Someone ought to establish one.”

“Are you thinking of doing it yourself?”

Kyle’s eyebrows drew together for a moment. Then he shook his head, as if he had been dreaming of an impossibility. “No, not seriously. You heard what Shreve said. To build a stern-wheel boat, it takes around fifty thousand dollars in capital, plus ten thousand a year in running expenses.”

Yet she could tell that the thought of operating his own steamboat appealed to him. And she didn’t believe it was the money that was keeping him from pursuing the opportunity. If rumor was correct, Kyle was wealthy in his own right, notwithstanding the proceeds from the Markham plantation, which would allow him to buy five steamboats if he chose to. So it must be the responsibilities he faced in Natchez that were preventing him from even considering such a step.

But Kyle appeared to dismiss the subject as they arrived at the door to her cabin. “Supper will be served at seven bells…that is, half past seven. I’ll return to collect you then.” He started to turn away, then glanced down at her. “Do you need any help changing your gown?”

She was immediately conscious of the subtle change in his voice. The tone seemed to ripple over her skin. Selena looked at him sharply. “Thank you, no. I’m not…wearing a corset.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, measuring, lingering. A slow smile curved his lips, as if he could see very clearly what lay beneath the high-necked bodice of her gown. “I know you aren’t.” The words were an intimate murmur, his gaze a probing visual caress.

At his scorching look, warmth flared in the pit of Selena’s stomach. Kyle’s eyes smoldered with the same heat she remembered from that stormy night of passion, arousing sensations and images that made her recall other things about that night… How his mouth had closed hotly over her nipples. How the hard expanse of his chest had rasped sensually against her breasts as he moved inside her. How the weight of his sleek, muscular body had felt between her thighs....

Selena stiffened. It was wholly unnerving the way memories of lying beneath this magnificent man haunted her. Particularly when it was all too likely that he had only recently left the arms of his mistress.

Pressing her lips together in determination, Selena murmured a cool “Good day” and let herself into her cabin. She
would not
allow his scorching looks and suggestive remarks to affect her.

In the narrow corridor, Kyle stood staring after her, wondering how he was going to manage being confined in close quarters for several days with Selena. It had taken the severest restraint just now to resist the temptation of her tantalizing mouth, to overcome the yearning to take her in his arms.

Clamping his teeth together, Kyle dragged his gaze away from her door. He was quite glad he had taken separate sleeping accommodations. There was no way in hell he could share a cabin with Selena and still maintain his distance. The trouble was, even distance didn’t help. She bedeviled his dreams, bedeviled his waking hours, bedeviled his thoughts....

In frustration, Kyle plowed his fingers through his hair. What he needed was a good stiff brandy and the width of the Atlantic Ocean between them. Though he had the sinking feeling that even that wouldn’t be enough to make him immune to the elusive charms of the frosty, straitlaced lady who was now his wife.

They dined in the common room with the other passengers on board the
Washington,
in a social atmosphere that resembled one of the finer hotels in New Orleans. Kyle found the encounter as difficult as he had anticipated. He was unused to jealousy, and he didn’t handle it all well, but the frequent glances his beautiful young wife was receiving from the dozen or so other gentlemen gave him the urge to put his fists to good use.

Yet he could see what attracted their notice. Selena was dressed in an evening gown of blue crepe that fairly shouted taste and good breeding, but the paisley shawl draped demurely across her slender shoulders did little the hide the elegant line of her white neck or the ripe swell of her breasts.

Gazing across the table at Selena, Kyle was struck afresh by her loveliness. It was easy to forget he hadn’t wanted to marry her. What was difficult was controlling his physical reaction to her nearness. An exercise in fortitude, he thought grimly. His body was achingly aware of her, even though she occasionally favored him with a distancing glance from those cool blue eyes of hers.

Selena couldn’t be said to be enjoying the meal, either. The fare offered a wide variety of meats but few vegetables and none of the luscious fruits she was accustomed to on her island. And she was experiencing a similar physical reaction to the one Kyle was experiencing. A dark blue coat and closefitting buff trousers hugged the contours of his muscled torso and long, well-defined legs, making her fully aware of his overwhelming masculinity.

But Kyle’s unsociable behavior affected her more than his rugged appeal. He seemed determined to ignore her. The few moments of friendly intimacy they had shared earlier that afternoon might never have happened.

The thought lighted a spark of anger in her. Even if Kyle didn’t want her for his wife, he at least owed her the common courtesy of civil conversation at the dining table. When she had endured as much of his silence as she could stand, she decided, perversely, to make him talk.

“If you have such a low opinion of steamboats, how do you know so much about them?” she inquired. As polite conversation, it lacked something, but at least she had chosen a subject that she thought would interest Kyle.

He looked up briefly from his rice pudding. “I don’t have a low opinion of steamboats. Merely the same prejudice against river craft any self-respecting seaman would hold.”

“Oh, I see,” she said archly, and when he resumed eating, asked, “Aren’t you worried the
Washington
might explode?”

His mouth tightened in a thin line. “Explosions aren’t a frequent occurrence, Selena. They get the greatest attention from the newspapermen, but there’s more danger to a steamboat from snags and fires. And even those are rare,” he lied, not wanting to alarm her further.

“I don’t understand how you can be so unconcerned when your parents were killed in an explosion.” Kyle looked up sharply, and Selena was sorry to have mentioned it. Kyle’s frown showed he didn’t like being reminded of the tragedy.

“A careful pilot can prevent most accidents,” he answered with obvious forced politeness.

Selena’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry about your parents. How did it happen?”

Kyle sighed. “It was never determined. Negligence or sheer stupidity, perhaps. It’s possible the engineer weighted the boiler’s safety valve but more likely the strikers simply let pressure build to a dangerous level. The
Merilinda
was pulling away from the levee when the boiler went. The ship sank within minutes, with only a few survivors.”

“Was it recent?”

“Last fall.”

“I suppose your sisters were devastated.”

“They certainly weren’t happy about it.”

There was another silence while Kyle took another bite.

“Are you fond of rice pudding?” Selena said finally.

“Not particularly.”

“Is there some dessert you prefer, then?”

Kyle held his spoon aloft as his gaze narrowed on her. “I like apple tarts. Look, why all the questions?”

Selena pressed her lips together in irritation. “I was only attempting to learn more about you.”

“I’d rather you spared me the wifely concern.”

His sarcastic reply nettled her. What did he have to be angry about? He was the one who had decided to continue their marriage. But it was apparently pointless to attempt a discussion when he was so obviously in a foul mood.

She set down her spoon, and Kyle immediately threw down his napkin. “If you’re finished with dinner, I’ll escort you to your cabin.”

“I don’t wish to retire just yet,” Selena answered stiffly.

“No?” His gaze raked her. “What
do
you wish to do?”

The suggestion in his tone brought an angry heat to Selena’s cheeks. “Have you forgotten there is an entertainment planned for the passengers this evening?”

“You actually
want
to attend an oratory on the evils of alcoholic spirits?”

“It should prove edifying.”

“And boring as the devil,” he said dryly. “Besides, it won’t begin for another hour.”

“I’m aware of that. In the meantime, I intend to walk on the gallery.”

Kyle clamped his mouth shut, biting back a sharp reply. A solitary evening stroll with Selena was precisely what he
didn’t
wish for. It was bad enough having to be near her in daytime or when there were scores of other people present. But at night, even when the moon was missing, Selena was in her natural element. He would find it a living torment. But he couldn’t refuse her without sounding like the veriest ogre.

“Very well.” Pushing back his chair, he rose abruptly.

“I don’t require your escort,” Selena informed him as he came around the table to her side.

Kyle shot a glance around the half-occupied common room. “I’m not about to let you walk alone out there. It would be an invitation for trouble.” He offered her his arm. “Let’s go.”

She took his arm with the greatest reluctance, sensing still that air of repressed anger about him.

It didn’t leave him when they stepped out onto the gallery; Kyle dropped her arm as soon as possible, almost as if he were afraid to touch her.

He was. His senses were crying out for relief. And merely not touching her didn’t supply it. The velvet-black evening was alive with the sounds of the churning paddle wheel, but it was the soft whisper of Selena’s sigh that caught his ears; the earthy night smells of the river were primitive and powerful, and so was the odor of burning wood from the steamboat’s furnaces, but it was Selena’s fragrance that filled his nostrils.

In an act of self-preservation, Kyle went to stand at the rail. Below, the reflection from a boat lantern faintly illuminated the dark water.

To his dismay Selena followed him, coming to stand only a few feet away. Kyle tensed and swore silently.

Trying to distract his thoughts, he stared down at the powerful river that could sweep fallen trees along like wood chips. Yet he was totally aware of the quiet elegance of the woman beside him, the pale luster of her hair. It was like being seduced by moonlight, having to endure her nearness.

Reaching out, he gripped the railing. Hard. But it didn’t help to drive away images of how she’d looked naked in his bed. Or the sensation of having Selena’s pale, slender body wrapped around him.

Kyle’s grip tightened as he recalled fragments of memories from that wild night. Her courage in defying the storm. Her utterly lovely, compelling nudity. The fascinating contradiction of primness and passion. How he had molded her to match his desire. He’d wanted to give to her, to take from her....

“Fiend seize it!”

This time he swore out loud as he struggled to tame his body’s fierce, frustrating urges.

Startled, Selena glanced up at him. She was quite aware of the half-savage vibrations emanating from the powerful man beside her, though she wasn’t sure of the reason for them.

Summoning a false calmness, she tried to soothe the tense undercurrents radiating between them by asking how long the journey to Natchez would take.

Kyle took a deep, shuddering breath. “With a moderate head of steam,” he said at last, getting hold of himself, “and barring any unforeseen circumstances, four days. It’s nearly three hundred miles, and the
Washington
will be doing its own wooding.”

“Wooding?”

“Cutting and gathering fuel. And I expect we’ll be stopping frequently for passengers and to unload freight.”

Selena fell silent then, gazing down at the wide Mississippi. But the tension between them only seemed to grow. What was he thinking about? she wondered. His beautiful, red-haired mistress? And then another thought struck her. Was it possible that her own coldness had driven him into Veronique’s arms?