The Bride of the Delta Queen (The Americana Series Book 18)

by Janet Dailey

  Selena was indignant. "It was never my intention!"

  "As if you would admit that it was," he jeered.

  "You disgust me!" Her voice trembled with the violence of her emotions. With a surge of strength, she pushed him away. "Get out of my cabin!"

  As she sat up, Chance rolled over onto his back, folding his hands beneath his head. "But, there is still the matter of where I'm going to spend the night, isn't there?" he asked, looking very much at home.

  "Well, you certainly aren't going to stay here!" she snapped.

  His gaze slid over the single bed and Selena already cramped against the wall. "No, it would be too crowded with both of us, but luckily you have a spare bed that's empty."

  "I'd sooner have a snake in my room than you!" Selena hissed, discovering she was treacherously close to tears. "So you can just get out and see if the Barkley name can work any wonders with the captain."

  Laughter again rolled from his throat as he swung himself to his feet with an ease unexpected in a man of his size. His hand was in front of him, holding a key.

  "What's that?" Selena eyed it warily, almost afraid that he had somehow managed to obtain her cabin key from her purse.

  "The key to my cabin," he informed her. "You see—" he was confident now; it was written in every line of his stance "—when I found you sitting with Julia, I arranged for a passage on this cruise so I could keep an eye on you."

  "Does Julia know?"

  "Not yet. I wanted to find out what your game was first," he answered.

  Resentment seethed in Selena. "Julia told me what an important and busy man you are. I suppose I should feel flattered that you canceled everything and came on this cruise because of me," She stiffened as another thought occurred to her. "Or is it entirely because of me?" At his silence, she pursued it. "You want to stop this thing with Leslie, don't you?"

  "That's a personal, family matter and none of your business," Chance stated coldly.

  "Then I'm right," Selena concluded. "How can you be so heartless? Julia is old enough to make her own decisions. Your family has no right to stand in the way of something that will bring her happiness."

  "I have no intention of discussing it with you. And I suggest that you stay out of it." There was a deadly calm about him.

  "Is that right?" Although intimidated, Selena still defied him.

  "Yes." His gaze glittered over her, implying amusement at her challenge. "Put some clothes on. Unless you intend to go to dinner like that?"

  "I'll get dressed—" she paused pointedly, her lips tightening "—when you leave."

  "You're only going to be putting clothes over what I've already seen." His eyes were crinkled, laughing at her again. "Is this what you're planning to wear?" Turning, he nodded to the pink-flowered dress laid out on the other bed.

  "It is," Selena acknowledged stiffly.

  "Very pretty." Chance picked it up, fingering the synthetic material. "Although it isn't nearly as sexy as the red one." He tossed it to her. "Put it on."

  Glaring at him, Selena had the distinct impression that if she refused, he was quite capable of taking a hand in it himself. This was one time, she decided, when discretion was the better part of valor. Clutching her robe tightly shut and holding the dress in front of her for added protection, she slid from the bed and retreated behind the closed door of the bathroom.

  When she emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, fully clothed and with fresh makeup, Chance was standing at the window. He turned, running a practiced eye over her.

  "It took you long enough," he observed, but without complaining.

  "I had trouble with the zipper," Selena admitted, smoothing the obi sash at the waistline.

  The dress was superbly and simply styled, from its slender band neck with its demure front sash to the artful seaming curving the material over her torso and sweeping to a full skirt. The delicately flowered print was in the softest pinks imaginable, flattering the copper tint of her hair.

  "I could have given you a hand with the zipper," Chance stated, watching as she slipped her sheer stockinged feet into her shoes.

  "It occurred to me, and I rejected the thought just as quickly," she retorted.

  "Shall we go?" Her purse was in the hand he extended to her.

  Holding her tongue was an effort since the urge was strong to tell him where she thought he should go, but wisdom and temperance prevailed. Taking her purse, she walked to the door. As she reached to unlock it, his hand was there to turn the key and push the door open, his arm brushing her shoulder.

  Selena stepped quickly over the raised threshold onto the outer deck. Anxious to escape the confining intimacy of the cabin, she nearly walked into the path of two other couples heading for the stairs. Chance's hands were there, curving into the short sleeves covering her upper arms and pulling her back, and she tensed under his hold.

  One of the men glanced from her to Chance to the cabin door swinging closed. He couldn't possibly know that she and Chance weren't married, but she felt the growing pink of embarrassment warming her cheeks. The boat was not so large that at some point the man would discover they weren't.

  As the two couples descended the stairs, Chance released her to move from behind Selena to her side. She averted her head, but not quickly enough to escape his observant gaze. She tried to hurry to the stairs, but his hand gripped her elbow to forestall her rush.

  "Are you blushing?" he questioned, tipping his head down for a closer inspection.

  "Yes," she muttered the admission under her breath.

  "Why?" Chance sounded amused.

  "Because I don't like the idea of those people seeing you come out of my cabin," she retorted. "They might get the wrong idea."

  "Just as long as they believe that you're with me, I don't particularly care what other ideas they get," Chance stated.

  "Well, I'm not with you!" Selena flashed.

  "For the duration of this cruise, everyone is going to think you are," he informed her. "Because I'm going to keep you in my sight every waking minute."

  "Is that right?" Her chin lifted in the beginnings of defiance.

  His mouth curved into a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes as she knew it could if it was genuine. "I suggest that you be glad I said every waking minute."

  "If that's supposed to be a threat, I'm not frightened," she countered.

  "Suit yourself," Chance shrugged, and released her elbow. "But you'd do well to remember all that I've said."

  Selena turned up her nose at his advice and walked to the stairs, well aware that he was following her. And she was also aware that there was very little she could do about it, short of pushing him overboard, and she didn't have the strength for that.

  Not until she had reached the cabin deck did Selena realized that she had no idea where the meals were served. She glanced around, hoping to see fellow passengers on their way to dinner so that she might follow them. There wasn't a soul in sight.

  It grated to have to turn to Chance. "Do you know where the Orleans Room is located?" she requested stiffly.

  Slashing grooves were etched from nose to mouth on each side of his tanned face. They deepened now as his mouth tightened to conceal a smile. He knew how it irritated Selena to ask his assistance and was complacently amused.

  "I believe I do, yes," he drawled, and guided her to the area where the forward cabin lounge was located.

  As Selena entered the lounge ahead of Chance, Julia saw her. "I was wondering where you were, Selena," she exclaimed. "I was about to go down without you." Then she saw the man following Selena. "Chance! What are you doing here?" Julia greeted him with surprise and delight, with none of the trepidation she had voiced at his appearance before the boat left the dock.

  "I decided to come on the cruise with you," was his brief reply. He nodded to Selena adding, "I found…Selena." He paused deliberately before using her given name while his gaze flicked to her red hair, reminding Selena of his nickname for her. "She was wandering
about lost and I volunteered to show her where the dining room was."

  "Oh, dear," Julia exclaimed in dismay. "I didn't tell you where it was located, did I?"

  "It's all right," Selena assured her.

  "Thank you, Chance, for directing her here," Julia smiled at her nephew, then sighed happily. "I'm so glad you've come, Chance." She clasped one of his hands warmly between her own. "I so wanted a member of my family at the wedding and now you're here."

  "Yes, I'm here," Chance agreed blandly.

  But Selena noticed the way his jaw had hardened when Julia had referred to her marriage to Leslie. She knew intuitively that if Chance had his way, the marriage would never take place. Obviously he was going to do everything in his power to stop it. Selena resented, on Julia's behalf, this desire to dominate.

  Chapter Five

  "SHALL WE GO DOWN to dinner?" Chance suggested, distracting the conversation from Julia's elopement.

  Behind the grand staircase was a stairwell leading below. The identifying words Orleans Room were in open view. At the base of the stairs, double doors of cream white stood open in welcome, the head waiter standing just inside, resplendent and distinguished in an excellently cut black suit, and smiling a greeting as the trio descended the stairs.

  "You and your companion have table 40 as usual, Miss Julia," the man announced with grave courtesy, before turning to Chance. "And your table, sir?"

  From his suit pocket, Chance withdrew a round, numbered disc indicating table 83. He handed it to the maîtred'.

  Selena darted Chance a look through sweeping lashes. He caught and read the message written in her eyes, triumphant relief that she wouldn't have to suffer his presence at the dinner table.

  "Your table is on the starboard side sir," the head waiter explained. "Your waiter will show you."

  "This is my nephew, André," Julia spoke up. "Chance Barkley."

  "Mr. Barkley," the man bowed slightly as he shook Chance's hand. "It's a pleasure to have you aboard." Then, to all three of them, he said, "Enjoy the buffet."

  The tables of food ran the length of the room down its center, splitting the dining area in half. Most of the passengers had already helped themselves and were seated at their assigned tables. Filing behind Julia, Selena noted the spaciousness of the room. There was no suggestion of crowding, and the leisurely atmosphere invited her to take her time over the varied selection of salads, vegetables and entrées.

  Their waiter was at the end of the buffet to carry their plates to the table for four. An elderly couple were already occupying two of the chairs, and there was a friendly round of introductions as Selena and Julia joined them.

  Selena couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed such an unhurried meal. Against the middle of the far wall was a bandstand, complete with a grand piano. A man sat at the keyboard, softly playing a medley of show tunes. Her gaze wandered to the opposite side of the room and glimpsed the satin blackness of the back of Chance's head, but he was too far away to disturb her serenity.

  Their waiter, another college-aged boy, appeared unobtrusively at the table, refilling Selena's coffee cup and whisking away her dessert plate. Selena relaxed in her chair to listen to the dreamily soothing piano music.

  The arrival of night had darkened the windows. Water shimmered occasionally beyond the panes where the lights from the steamboat touched the river's surface.

  Yet the sun-yellow walls of the dining room kept the mood mellow, enhanced by the glow of Tiffany lamps located on the walls between each of the green shuttered windows. The individual lights resembled a trio of palm fronds, their stalks secured with a gold bow, while crystal pendants were suspended from the tip of each golden spiked leaflet.

  The hoarse whistle of the steamboat blasted a single, long wail. In the distance came a long, answering toot, low and deep, reverberating into the interior of the boat. Curious, Selena waited expectantly for something to happen. Julia noticed her expression and smiled.

  "Our captain just signaled to another vessel coming down river that we would pass on the port side," she explained. "The other vessel, probably a towboat with barges, returned the signal. Two whistles would mean the starboard side."

  "I see," Selena said, nodding her understanding.

  "It's written on the walls by the door," Julia pointed.

  Selena turned slightly in her chair. On the wall to the left of the double

  doors was written "One whistle port." On the right it read, "Two whistles starb'rd." The sign also signified which side was which.

  "The vessel will be going by shortly," Julia added. "Would you like to go up for a better view?"

  "If you're ready?" Selena agreed with qualification. The other couple at their table had already left.

  "I am," the older woman acknowledged, folding her linen napkin and placing it on the table near her coffee cup.

  It was cool outside and Selena chose to watch the massed barges and pushing towboat go past from the shelter of the forward cabin lounge. She had seen similar barges and towboats from the New Orleans dock, but it was a much more impressive sight from the interior of the moving steamboat as the two vessels met and glided slowly and silently past one another.

  When the towboat was gone, there was only shadowing darkness outside the window. Selena turned away and found Chance standing behind her, smoke curling from the slender cigar between his fingers.

  "You'll get used to it." His perceptive eyes had noticed the bemused look that hadn't completely left her face and recognized its cause. "In a few days, you won't even glance out the window when the pilot blows the whistle."

  Selena didn't respond to his cynical observation, but she hoped he was wrong. Instead she remarked, "I hope you enjoyed your meal."

  "I did. Did you?"

  Selena managed only a nod before Julia broke in to ask, "Chance, do you recall what time the show in the Orleans Room is this evening?"

  "Nine-fifteen, I believe," he answered.

  "You are going, aren't you?" Julia directed the question to her nephew.

  "I thought I would, yes,"

  "It should be very good," Julia remarked idly. "They have some excellent entertainers aboard. I know you'll enjoy it, Selena."

  "Oh, but I'm not going." She had made up her mind the instant that she heard that Chance Barkley was.

  "But it's your first night," Julia protested, while Chance smiled knowingly.

  "Yes, I know, but it's been a full day and I want to write to my parents. I haven't let them know yet about my change of plans." Selena felt her excuse was excellent, even if Chance did guess why she was making it. "There'll be other nights and other shows."

  "I suppose so," Julia conceded gracefully.

  "Excuse me. I noticed the gift shop was opened and I'd like to pick up a few postcards." She was already moving away, making her escape while she could. "I'll see you in the morning, Julia. Good night."

  There was an interesting assortment of souvenirs displayed on the gift-shop counter, but Selena didn't take the time to look at them. She purchased a few cards to send to friends at home and left.

  An hour later, the letter to her parents was written—to fulfill the excuse she had made—as well as one to her girl friend Robin. Selena glanced at the turned-down covers of the bed, courtesy of a dinner-time visit by the maid, and knew she wasn't ready yet to sleep.

  She hesitated, then took a white crocheted shawl from the chest of drawers and the cabin key from her handbag. Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, she stepped out of the door onto the outer deck. At first, she was struck by the silence of the night, broken only by the rush of water cascading from the paddle wheel and the muffled throb of the engines.

  Moving to the railings, she leaned against the teakwood handrail and stared at the glow of light from New Orleans. Rising above it was a big, full moon, looking like a fat Georgia peach. Selena corrected the thought, deciding it was more salmon-colored, but breathtaking just the same.

  "It's beautiful," she mu
rmured aloud.

  "Yes, it is."

  Selena turned with a start as Chance separated himself from the shadows and moved to the railing. "Why don't you quit spying on me?" she demanded and pivoted back to stare at the river.

  Chance ignored her question, seeming to indicate that he didn't believe it warranted an answer, and remarked, "You didn't mention that you were going to take a romantic stroll around the deck."

  "I just wanted some fresh air before I turned in," she replied, and immediately wished she hadn't offered an explanation. It was none of his business. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were going to the show." Her sideways glance found him negligently leaning a hip against the railing to face her profile.

  "I wanted some fresh air." He used her excuse deliberately, Selena thought, to mock her somehow.

  "Go and find it somewhere else," she retorted, her nerves stretching thin like a piano wire.

  "Have any suggestions?" Chance sounded amused.

  Selena felt an unreasoning irritation, a desire to lash out, to claw. "Why don't you try the bottom of the river?"

  Silence followed. In the stillness she had an inexplicable urge to retract her words, to make peace whatever the cost.

  When Chance did speak, it was in a voice that reminded her of velvet. "Do you really want to be on deck alone—under that moon?" Her gaze slid to the full moon, bathing her with the serenity of its light and catching her in its romantic spell. "It seems to say, 'for lovers only', doesn't it?" His voice sounded dangerously close.

  When Selena turned, she turned into him. Her hands, clutching the crossed ends of the shawl, brushed against his jacket. The moonlight was masking his compelling features in glistening bronze, but his eyes, black midnight pools, fathomless and shimmering, were focused on her lips. Everything seemed to come to a standstill, her heart, her breath, her thoughts.

  His hands settled lightly on her shoulders as his head bent lower. She knew what he was going to do, but Chance had kissed her so many times before, it seemed natural. At the warm touch of his mouth she responded, hesitantly at first, then with increasing ease. She let his shaping hands mold her to him, his oak-strong solidness something she could lean on.