It had bothered him that she hadn’t found pleasure in his lovemaking, but perhaps Miss Markham’s inexperience explained her coldness. If he had known— But he should have known. Now he had more to worry about than getting shackled in marriage; he could wind up with a noose around his neck. If Warner didn’t shoot him first.
Kyle took another gulp of brandy as he studied Miss Markham. She wasn’t a fool; her eyes were bright with an unexpected intelligence he had recognized from the first. And she didn’t look the type to try to make her betrothed jealous by dallying with another man. But then, he was unable to comprehend why she would even want to marry a man like Avery Warner. Warner was a self-righteous prig with an inflated opinion of his own importance. But perhaps Miss Markham was attracted by his wealth or his power as a member of the assembly council. Perhaps they had merely had a lover’s spat, and she had found solace in another man’s arms. It would serve Warner right to be cuckolded, Kyle reflected nastily, if the man had upset her enough to drive her away.
Realizing that his thoughts were futile, Kyle shrugged. The damage couldn’t be undone. And as Miss Markham had so subtly pointed out, it wasn’t his business. He didn’t know if he could believe her promise of secrecy, but he wouldn’t get any answers by browbeating her. One thing he did know, though: she couldn’t stay here all night.
“I should take you home,” he observed tersely.
“I can find my own way, Captain.”
“Devil take it, I said I would escort you home!” He set his glass down on the table with more force than necessary, and as he relieved Selena of hers, gave her a critical appraisal. “Weren’t you wearing a wrapper or something?”
Seeing the hard set of his jaw, Selena nodded, deciding it wiser not to argue.
“Come on, then,” he ordered, taking her arm. “There’ll be the devil to pay if you’re seen here like this.”
He found her wrapper lying in the sand where he had tossed it and her horse a short distance away, grazing on a patch of scrub grass. After helping Selena don the robe, Kyle lifted her onto the mare’s back and vaulted up behind her. “Which way?” he said gruffly, not liking the necessity of such close proximity. He was having enough difficulty forgetting their moonlight coupling on the beach without being reminded by the warmth of her slender body or the pale hair that was drying in fine wisps and floating back to caress his bare chest.
Selena, too, was finding the closeness discomfiting. After giving directions to the Markham plantation, she lapsed into silence. She was riding sideways as modesty dictated, but in spite of her efforts to stay well forward, her left hip was pressed against parts of male anatomy whose existence she would rather not acknowledge. At least her rigid training stood her in good stead, allowing her to maintain an appearance of cool composure. In truth, she was struggling with shame and mortification, for now that she had time for calm reflection, she greatly regretted her rash behavior. Throwing away her innocence because of a childish desire for vengeance hadn’t solved her problem with Avery. She would still have to deal with that when she returned home.
“Is this the place?” Kyle asked after a time, interrupting her thoughts.
Seeing the plantation house gleaming in the moonlight, Selena nodded. “Perhaps you shouldn’t come any closer,” she said, thinking of Avery. “You might be seen.”
“Very well. Where are the stables? I’ll put your horse away.”
Selena thought about protesting, but the hard edge to his tone warned her he wouldn’t brook a refusal. “Along this path,” she replied quietly, “beyond a stand of mango trees. The second stall on the right.”
Kyle halted the mare, then hesitated a moment, as if trying to decide what to say. Putting a finger under her chin, he turned Selena’s face to his. “Look, Miss Markham, I’m sorry about what happened tonight. If I had known—”
“Please, Captain, I don’t blame you in the least.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
She gave him a faint smile. “Most definitely. You were quite… considerate.”
She started to dismount then, but Kyle forestalled her with a light grasp on her arm. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked softly, searching her face.
“Yes,” Selena murmured, uncomfortable with his scrutiny and with the gentle concern she saw in his hazel eyes. She slid from the mare’s back and hurried across the lawn, knowing he was still watching her.
But when she had mounted the steps to the gallery and entered her bedroom, she froze.
In the faint light, she could see Edith Markham sitting in a damask wing chair, waiting, her dark eyes gleaming with malice.
Chapter Three
“I mean to have him,” Edith said at once before Selena even had a chance to react.
“H-him?” Selena stammered, thinking of the rugged sea captain she had just left.
“Avery, of course. I intend to be his wife.”
Selena lighted the lamp on her dressing table as she tried to collect her scattered wits. Why her hands should be shaking, she wasn’t sure, but she clasped them together as she turned to face her stepmother. Edith had changed from her dinner gown and was dressed in a lime-green peignoir that clashed with the soft corals of the bedroom.
“Don’t play innocent with me, my girl,” Edith demanded when Selena stood there silently. “You came snooping and saw us together, didn’t you?”
“I thought you were hurt… since you screamed…”
“I’ve been seeing Avery since Thomas died. Usually we meet at Five Islands plantation, but since it was occupied tonight by that Yankee captain, Avery came here.”
“Please,” Selena said hoarsely, “I don’t want to hear about it.”
Edith surveyed Selena’s pale face, taking in her unbound hair and disheveled nightdress. “I was never unfaithful to your father, if that is what concerns you.”
It was some consolation, at least, Selena thought, feeling a little sick. Realizing she had better sit down, she crossed the room and sank down onto the edge of the bed.
“Avery only wants to marry you for the plantation, you know,” her stepmother continued. “You were always such an ungainly child. He never would have noticed you if not for your inheritance.”
The accusation stung Selena, particularly since she suspected it was true. “Perhaps so,” she replied with scarcely bridled anger, “but I didn’t expect him to betray me in my own home!”
“Oh, come now, Selena, you can’t be that naive. Avery is a man, with a man’s needs. An overnice chit doesn’t interest him. I must say, he couldn’t keep his hands off me once I made it known I wouldn’t spurn his advances.”
The years of schooling her features into a polite mask around her stepmother were forgotten; the disgust Selena was feeling showed clearly on her face. When she didn’t speak, though, Edith leaned forward in her chair, her sultry eyes narrowing. “I intend to be Mrs. Avery Warner before the year is out. And I won’t let you stand in my way.”
While Edith was obviously willing to fight, Selena felt the prize in question wasn’t worth the battle. She wanted no part of Avery. Edith was welcome to him.
“You may rest assured,” Selena returned with icy dignity, pleased to find that her voice remained almost steady, “that I won’t fight you for him.”
Relaxing back in her chair, Edith permitted herself a faint smile. “I am glad we understand each other, my dear. I shouldn’t like to see you hurt.”
“How very kind you are.”
Edith’s smile faded abruptly as she rose to her feet. “Don’t push me, you wretched girl, or you’ll find yourself without a home in short order. Much good your plantation will do you then!” In a swirl of lime-green chenille, she marched from the room, apparently not caring that the rafters shook as she slammed the door forcefully behind her.
When she had gone, Selena finally allowed her defenses to crumble; her shoulders slumped and she buried her face in her hands.
The next morning when Selena le
ft the house, dressed in a lavender gown of jaconet muslin and a leghorn hat with matching ribbons, there was no sign that she had spent a sleepless night trying to come to a decision about her future course of action or that she was still trying to bolster the courage to carry out the wild plan she had conceived. But her delicate jaw was set with determination. Her stepmother had provoked more than her anger; Edith had aroused a long-dormant instinct for self-preservation.
When Selena reached the stables, her white mare was waiting as she had ordered. She mounted with the help of a groom, then rode out of the yard along the same road as the previous night, though at a much slower pace.
The island was gilded with sunlight and bustling with activity. The final cane stands were being harvested, and she passed dark-skinned field hands wielding machetes or driving heavily burdened mules toward the sugar works. Beyond, in the distance, Selena could see one of the two mills of the plantation—a truncated cone of stone whose great grinding wheels were driven by oxen rather than wind, as was the other.
The road split before she came to Five Islands Bay. Selena chose the fork that led directly to the sea, preferring to ride along the shore while she rehearsed the speech she had formulated during the sleepless hours of the past night. She found the cove quiet but for the gentle murmur of the surf. She might have paused to admire the dazzling vista of pale gold sand and clear, light green waves if she hadn’t caught sight of Captain Ramsey farther up the beach.
He was standing calf-deep in water, looking quite at ease as he cast out a fishing line. He wore the same cutoff canvas trousers he had been wearing the previous night, and his sleek, sun-bronzed body was breathtaking against the backdrop of blue sky and turquoise sea. Poseidon surveying his realm, Selena thought, checking her horse abruptly as shameful memories came rushing back to haunt her.
To say that she was aghast at her recent behavior was an understatement. It seemed impossible to her now that she not only had allowed Kyle Ramsey to make love to her but had practically demanded that he do so. She had thrown away her virtue on a total stranger, and what was more, she hadn’t even enjoyed it—at least not after those first few moments of breathless passion. Indeed, she had found the experience awkward and somewhat painful. Yet she was prepared to repeat that experience… under certain conditions. First, however, she would have to get the captain to agree to her proposal.
Forcing herself to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, Selena urged her horse forward. When she halted a few yards from Kyle, she could see he wasn’t overjoyed by her presence; he had half turned to watch her progress and was observing her with an extremely wary look in his hazel eyes.
“Miss Markham,” he said, making the words more a question than a greeting.
Unexpectedly, Selena found herself the victim of an absurd attack of shyness. Up close, in broad daylight, his ruggedness seemed more pronounced, and the broad expanse of naked sinews reminded her rather forcefully of how his powerful body had felt pressed against hers.
She dropped her gaze, noticing as she did so the peels of several finger-size bananas and the skin of a large yellow mango lying in the sand. He must have carried his breakfast with him. She fixed her gaze on the fruit remnants as she tried to summon some semblance of her characteristic composure.
“Captain…I…You won’t catch much this far in from the reef,” she finished lamely, losing her nerve.
He studied her for an uncomfortable moment longer before he spoke. “I plan to take a ketch out later. But I don’t expect you rode all the way here to advise me about the sport.”
“No, I… I came to ask you a question.” She hesitated.
“Yes?” Kyle prompted.
“I should like to know… if you would marry me.”
“Good God.” The words were exhaled slowly, but otherwise, he simply stared at her.
Somewhat heartened that she hadn’t been refused outright, Selena went on. “Before you give me your answer, perhaps I should mention that my father left me a substantial inheritance. The Markham plantation has a thousand acres of prime soil, a modest size, perhaps, but highly productive. It’s rare that we don’t yield at least 350 hogsheads of sugar and 200 puncheons of rum in a year. My stepmother owns the house, however, so we would have to build one of our own—”
“Hold it, Miss Markham,” Kyle interrupted, quickly raising a hand. “Just…hold it. Perhaps you’ll forgive me if under the circumstances I don’t know the appropriate response… I expect I’m supposed to say that I’m honored but must respectfully decline your offer.”
Selena raised her gaze then, her blue eyes searching his face. “The plantation is worth fifty thousand pounds sterling, Captain.”
Kyle shook his head. It always took him aback, the way British aristocrats saw marriage as such a cold-blooded business arrangement. “You want me to marry you for your money, is that it?”
Seeing how one heavy eyebrow had shot up in surprise, she flushed. “No…I merely thought a large dowry would make marriage to me more palatable.”
“I already have one plantation too many, Miss Markham. I don’t want the responsibility for another.”
This was news to Selena, but she plunged bravely ahead. “You needn’t worry about the responsibility. I’m capable of seeing to it on my own. I’ve done so adequately for the past two years, with the help of an excellent factor.”
Kyle shook his head again dazedly. He should have rounded up his crew at first light and sailed with the tide, as his instincts had warned him. “I’m too old for you,” he countered somewhat desperately, momentarily forgetting that her betrothed was a great deal older. “I must have a dozen years on you.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
“I have twenty-four years to my credit, Captain. So there are only nine separating us.”
He took a deep breath, praying he would wake up and discover this was part of some strange dream. “Why are you so intent on marrying me? I thought you already were betrothed.”
Uncomfortable with both the question and the penetrating look in his hazel eyes, Selena averted her gaze, fixing it on a row of towering palms farther down the beach. In spite of her prior intimacy with Captain Ramsey, he was still a stranger, and she found it difficult to discuss her present circumstances with him. How could she tell him about Avery’s betrayal, about her humiliation?
Yet it would soon be common knowledge. Once she had called off the wedding, Edith would lose no time in becoming Avery’s wife. And, Selena reflected, if the islanders already pitied her because she had lost one intended husband, how much more sympathetic kindness would she have to bear if they thought Avery had jilted her?
On the other hand, she could ignore Edith’s threats and perhaps weather the scandal that would arise when she was forced from her home. But she had too much pride to marry Avery now. No, she would be reduced to begging before she’d become his wife.
She would have to deal with the consequences, though. Her life on the island would be intolerable—unless she already had a husband. She had thought Kyle Ramsey might be persuaded with the promise of a rich dowry, but she could see now that if he already had his own plantation, he wouldn’t be so eager to gain hers. Yet she had little else to offer. There was no reason to believe she would appeal physically to a man of the captain’s stamp. Edith had emphasized often enough that men desired a more buxom beauty and a more passionate nature than Selena seemed to possess. And Avery’s tastes certainly underlined that.
Shifting her glance from the feathered palms, Selena gazed out over the pale green water of the cove. “I don’t intend to marry Avery,” she said quietly. “Recently I’ve discovered that… we wouldn’t suit.”
Kyle muttered something under his breath. After wading from the waves, he shoved the end of his fishing pole into the white coral sand before addressing her again. “Miss Markham…Selena, I doubt that you and I would suit any better. And as crude as this may sound, I’m afraid you have only one thing a ma
n like me would be interested in—and it’s a lot safer for me to find it at a tavern.”
“I suppose…you spend a good deal of time in taverns, drinking and… wenching?”
He gave her a sharp glance. “No more than any other man,” he retorted, not liking her to paint his character any blacker than he deserved. “I sometimes drink when I put in to port after a long voyage—though yesterday was something of a unique occasion. But the fact remains, I wouldn’t make you a good husband.”
“I could give you children.”
Kyle sucked in another breath, his heavy brows rising in disbelief as he stared at her. “You do have a way of knocking a man between the eyes, don’t you?”
It was early yet, and the morning was still relatively cool, but Selena felt heat flood her cheeks.
Kyle put his hands on his lean hips and regarded her with a frown. “Children, Miss Markham, are encumbrances in my line of work. Besides, I already have a family to care for.”
“You’re married?” she gasped, her startled gaze searching his face.
“No, thank God. But I have a gaggle of younger sisters who require my attention. The eldest has been looking after the rest since our parents died last year, but Bea is married with a baby on the way. She has her own family to think of. I’ve agreed to take responsibility for the girls. In fact, I’m bound for Natchez when I leave here. It might be years before I could return. I doubt that you would want an absentee husband.”
“No,” she said in a small voice. “But I could go with you.”
Kyle gritted his teeth, trying not to feel as if he were kicking a lost puppy. Devil take it, how had he ever gotten himself into this situation? She looked as lovely now as she had in the moonlight, and there was no question that he had enjoyed her body. But that was a far cry from wanting to marry her. He had no wish to sacrifice his freedom, and he already had one obligation along that line. Someday he would have to leg-shackle himself in order to claim his son.
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