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?
An ache lodged in her chest. Perhaps it was her fault. Kyle had called her cold and unresponsive. But how else could she have behaved toward him? She had been raised a lady, taught to exhibit restraint and proper decorum, even in the most trying of circumstances. And her upbringing made it impossible to be other than cool and polite when she was upset. Indeed, she had cultivated such a talent as self-protection against her waspish stepmother. But Kyle would never understand that.
Bleakly, Selena glanced up at him again. He seemed so distant. She longed to recapture the intimacy that had been between them the night of the storm. She wished they could share their thoughts and aspirations and truly talk together, instead of relying on the politely constrained words that
usually passed for conversation between them. If only he would show her even the kind of teasing humor he had shown his crew.
Selena bit her lip as she gazed at Kyle. She truly was in love with him. Why else would she be experiencing this painful yearning that was equal parts giving and fear and want? She was finding it harder and harder to retreat into cool reserve when she was near him, especially when memories of his caresses, hot and wild and sweet, kept swirling around in her mind.
She was still reflecting on the tenderness of Kyle’s lovemaking when a clanging bell made her jump. Kyle reached out to steady her, and Selena tensed at his touch.
Abruptly, he released her arm. “Why do you flinch, Moonwitch? I seem to recall a night not so long ago you welcomed my touch.”
So he did remember that night, she thought. He had seemed to be able to dismiss it entirely. She couldn’t, though. When he touched her as he had just now, it made her recall aspects of that night in vivid detail: his warm, hard mouth and the feel of his hands, the rhythm of his sleek, heavy body as he moved against her.
Discomfited, Selena moved a step away, chastising herself for allowing her thoughts to suggest what her body wanted to experience again. “Everything about that night was a mistake,” she said stiffly.
“Oh, come now, you enjoyed it.”
She slanted a glance up at him. “How can you be so sure?”
Kyle rested a hip against the rail and crossed his arms over his muscular chest. Leaning against the column at his back, he surveyed her dispassionately. “I know when a woman is feigning passion and when she’s not. And you—” his glance traveled down her body, assessing her with a detachment that was almost an insult “—my dear wife, most definitely were not.”
Selena looked away. If he knew that, why had he called her cold? She suddenly felt a wild urge to prove she wasn’t as unresponsive as he said. But she fiercely clamped it down.
“I could make you want me.”
The sudden, quiet emotion in his voice startled her. It was a challenge, softly said, and his words possessed a husky resonance that quivered down her spine. Selena found herself clenching her hands to keep herself from trembling.
“I think I will return to my cabin, after all,” she managed tightly, her back going rigid at the resulting sardonic smile that curved Kyle’s lips.
She took his arm only because courtesy dictated it, trying to ignore the solid play of muscle under her fingers as he escorted her through the common room to the door that led to the private cabins. The corridor was lighted by a single wall sconce and was fortunately too narrow to accommodate two people. Selena was able to release Kyle’s arm as soon as they entered.
“Would you like me to come in?” he asked when they reached her cabin door.
Her back still rigid, Selena glanced up at Kyle. In the lamplight, the amber gleam in his eyes was like rich brandy.
“I don’t have need of your services,” she replied with flawless enunciation. “I can see to my own clothing.”
“That wasn’t,” Kyle murmured, moving closer, “the only service I had in mind.” Placing a hand against the bulwark, he effectively barred her from entering her cabin.
He towered over her, his overpowering physical presence so close that Selena felt dizzy. “I can manage without you,” she said breathlessly.
Kyle didn’t seem to hear. He leaned into her, pressing his body lightly against hers, making her feel his arousal. The hardness and detail of him made Selena’s cheeks go crimson.
“Why are you so flushed, Moonwitch?” Casually, he raised a hand to her face. “Your cheeks are hot. Is your body hot, as well?”
Selena gritted her teeth. “How could it be? You said I was cold.”
“Not always.” His large hand cradled her throat, then glided downward to the ruched neckline of her gown. Curving his fingers over the edge, he slipped them inside her bodice, against her skin, against the warm swell of her breasts. “Not when I do this,” he observed in a husky whisper, finding a taut nipple and stroking it with the backs of his knuckles.
Selena caught her breath on a gasp.
“Do you like it when I caress your breasts?”
She closed her eyes in dismay, deploring the stiffness of her nipples beneath his questing fingers.
“Are you shocked, Moonwitch? You shock so easily.” Each low, sensuous word stroked her. “Your breasts are beautiful. So full on the underside…tilted up at the peaks.”
He dragged his knuckles sensuously across the rigid crests, then paused, closing his fingers around a tight bud. It sent an unexpected tremor of pure desire racing through her. “Kyle!” The word was a gasp and a plea as she clutched desperately at his corded forearm. “Someone might come.”
“If they do, they’ll see me saying good night to my wife. That’s what you are, aren’t you? My wife?” He bent his head, nuzzling her open lips. “A man has certain rights with his wife.”
“No,” Selena breathed, trying to avert her face as she realized where his thoughts were leading.
His hand left the bulwark to grasp her chin gently while his lips continued their sensual assault. “I warned you before we were married, you would have to be available to me whenever and wherever I chose.”
Selena quivered. He had threatened to take her anytime, anywhere, and she was half-afraid he would make good his threat right there in the corridor. But she couldn’t find the will to push him away. His fingers were still wickedly arousing her breasts, while his hard mouth was drugging her senses.
“I could assert my husbandly rights.” The husky murmur caressed her lips before he drew her lush bottom lip into his mouth, his tongue outlining its softness.
When she gave a quiet moan of protest, Kyle drew back briefly to stare down at her. His face was taut, his eyes smoldering with a desire so intent it scorched her.
His hand moved across her cheek to nestle in the soft, silken hair just below her ear. But as he bent his head to kiss her, he lost the careful control he had been forcing on himself. The tender persuasiveness vanished, replaced by burning demand. His fingers twined in her hair; his thighs and chest crowded her against the bulwark. Selena could hardly breathe through the heady rush of sensations that assaulted her. Her mouth opened to him, welcoming the fierce, probing thrust of his tongue.
Kyle felt her response. With a low, tearing groan, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, his mouth fastening on hers with a hunger that seemed to want to devour her, mastering her, robbing her of breath.
Selena moaned in earnest this time as he plundered her mouth. He was searing her with his heat. She was filled with the scent of him, the taste of him, her head swimming, her knees weak.
Her body was sagging bonelessly against his when he finally dragged his lips away and drew a shuddering breath. “I should be getting something out of this marriage.”
The muttered words were ragged, shaken, and it took her a moment to digest their import. Then she stiffened in pain. The sound of her own gasping breath was loud in the sudden stillness as Selena stared up at Kyle, regarding him numbly. Was her willing body all he wanted from their marriage? Was lust all he felt for her?
A cold shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the night of the storm, when she had given herself to him without reservation. But what had been such a soul-wrenching, wonderful experience for her had meant nothing to Kyle beyond the gratification of his physical desires. And when they had arrived in New Orleans, he had gone straight into the arms of his mistress.
She wouldn’t be such a fool again.
Defiantly, she clenched her fists, her breasts gently heaving as she stared up at him. “Yes,” she acknowledged hoarsely. “You could assert your rights. And as my husband, you could command my obedience.” She hoped her disdainful tone and rigid body made it clear she wouldn’t submit to him willingly.
Kyle drew a sharp breath. His gaze narrowed, meeting Selena’s in a deadlock of passion. “Command?” Skepticism flickered in his eyes. Then his v
oice gentled. “Would it be such an onerous duty, then?”
Selena could tell by the husky charm in his voice that he had reverted to his earlier strategy; he meant to batter her defenses with another assault of tenderness.
She tensed in alarm, not sure she could withstand another such offensive. When Kyle lowered his lips to her swollen mouth, she gave a gasp of protest and strained away from him, pressing her back against the bulwark.
“Are you denying that you enjoy my lovemaking, Moonwitch?”
His lips found the vulnerable underside of her jaw, moving down the line of her throat, pressing a kiss tenderly against the pulse that was hammering there.
“Kyle…” A whimper escaped her even as she edged closer to her door in a desperate attempt to escape.
“Can you forget the way my mouth moved over your body? The way I moved inside you? The way I filled you?”
“Please…” Wildly, she fumbled for the latch at her back.
“Would you like me to fill you again, my beautiful Selena?”
The door swung open.
Half stumbling, Selena twisted from his grasp and fled into the safety of her cabin, frantically slamming the door shut behind her, leaving Kyle alone to deal with the painful state of arousal he himself had created.
* * *
They spoke little to each other during the remainder of the journey and certainly never regained the friendly intimacy of that first afternoon. Selena spent a good deal of time watching the boils and whirlpools of the Mississippi, pondering what she should do about her marriage.
A heaviness centered in her chest whenever she considered her future with Kyle. She had driven him into the arms of his mistress, she was sure, and the thought filled her with pain.
But her own unfulfilled yearning for Kyle was somehow worse. She had discovered what it was like to be pleasured by a man, by a considerate and tender lover, and her discovery had marked her physically: a hot, restless longing that she couldn’t control; a quickening between her thighs whenever he was near; the tightening of her nipples when Kyle merely looked at her. All these were manifestations of her shameful condition. She wanted to touch Kyle at every turn, to run her fingers through his thick chestnut hair and over his body, to have Kyle possess her the way he had the night of the storm. She had once hoped that he would grow to love her, but sometimes she found herself amending that to a wish that he would simply make love to her again.
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