“Yes, any slave who wished to do so could work out his emancipation. But we did it more slowly. Service was more like a term of indenture. Each person was credited with a regular wage, depending on his contribution, and when he had earned a sum equal to his purchase price, he was given his freedom.”
“Could we do it here?”
“Of course.”
Kyle grinned. “So when do we start?”
We. There was that word again. Kyle’s growing acceptance of the responsibilities of the plantation gratified her, but the shared endeavor of meeting those responsibilities together made her heart swell.
After that, their discussions centered on establishing a fair wage system and formulating replies for the time when the neighboring slave owners protested, as according to Bea, they were sure to do.
Kyle was quick to grasp the intricacies of the accounting procedures, which surprised Selena a little, until she remembered he had commanded his own ships for most of his adult life. She was quite surprised, however, at how quickly he was learning the business of planting. Without a factor to oversee the operation, he was having to spend most of his time in the fields, but it had the advantage of giving him firsthand knowledge of the operation.
And in spite of his avowed dislike for farming, Kyle seemed bent on succeeding. Often he stayed out in the fields during the dinner hour, and always he was the last to return in the evening. Concerned that he was driving himself too hard, Selena made sure someone carried him a nourishing meal at midday and that a bath was waiting for him when he came home hot and tired.
One of these latter occasions—the first after their passionate night of lovemaking in Natchez-Under—marked a definite change in their relationship. Kyle called her into his dressing room on the excuse that he needed someone to scrub his back, then shocked her by pulling her fully dressed into the large tub with him. Selena flushed furiously, but after his tender and totally thorough assault on her lips and breasts, she was clinging to him with breathless passion. She scarcely noticed the discomfort of squeezing herself into the tub as she straddled Kyle’s powerful body or her wanton moans of pleasure as he surged upward into her delicate warmth.
After that, Kyle made use of every opportunity to involve her in other scandalous situations—which Selena protested only halfheartedly. It was as if he were determined to break down her inhibitions, to make her respond to him without shyness or reserve.
He took her again when he had just stepped out of his bath, this time on the floor, soaking the carpet. He made love to her in the kitchen pantry, a dozen servants within the sound of their voices. He lured her into the deserted summerhouse and took her standing up, her back pressed against the intricately carved paneling. Even on horseback, he found an opportunity to arouse her. Selena never suspected his purpose when Kyle invited her to go riding and then drew her up before him on his horse. But as they rode deeper into the woods, his hand found its way beneath her skirts and worked its magic, bringing her to a climax so shattering that the roan gelding nearly bolted.
But he never came to her bed. The primary reason, she knew, was that he was still spending his nights at Heaven’s Gate, yet Selena sensed he was also holding back part of himself from her. They were lovers, but not husband and wife. Not in the fullest sense. She wondered if he was engaged in a silent rebellion, as if by avoiding her bed, he could avoid admitting the finality of their marriage. But she wouldn’t allow herself to despair just yet. The intimacy between them had deepened into something resembling friendship, and it wasn’t inconceivable that she might someday win Kyle’s heart.
It would help, however, if she could spend more time with him. One day shortly before the ball, she decided to aid her cause by taking Kyle his dinner herself. That morning he had expressed the intention of clearing a huge stump that littered one of the fields and had taken the gigantic Saul with him. When Saul returned at noon alone, Selena discovered Kyle’s direction and rode out to meet him.
She was glad for the protection of her wide-brimmed straw hat. The hot June sun was bearing down on the ripening cotton plants and filling the air with the heavy smell of baking soil. She came upon a sweating group of field hands about to begin their own dinner, led by Rufus, the head driver. Rufus lifted his shapeless hat in greeting and grinned when Selena asked where Master Ramsey was working, pointing toward a distant clump of oaks.
She found him wielding an ax, and her heart leaped at the sight. Kyle had stripped off his shirt, and the hot sun glistened on his naked shoulders and the flexing muscles of his back. Selena pulled her mare to a halt, feeling a deep, secret pleasure in watching him. He was a highly physical man, earthy and sensual, and as vital as the land he had engaged in combat.
Her horse nickered then, making Kyle glance over his shoulder. For a moment his eyes locked with hers, and then his mouth curved in a slow smile, as if he knew she’d been admiring his body.
“I’ve brought your dinner,” Selena said, flustered.
With an easy swing, Kyle sank the ax into the stump and came forward to meet her. “You look good enough to eat yourself.” The heat smoldering in his gaze as he surveyed her gown of cherry-colored muslin emphasized his appreciation, but he didn’t reach up for her as she expected. “Can you dismount on your own?” he asked, wiping his palms on his breeches. “I’m too dirty to touch you.”
He wasn’t, to her mind, but in the interest of modesty, she let his comment pass. She hadn’t yet lost enough of her reserve to tell him that his half-savage state gave him an air of raw strength or that she found the musky male scent of his body more arousing than even the sight of him, since she associated it with their lovemaking.
When she had slipped down, Kyle took the reins from her and led the mare to a nearby oak. While he retrieved the flask of lemonade and bundle of food she had brought, Selena settled herself in the shade and removed her hat.
She caught the flicker of pleasure in Kyle’s eyes as he joined her. Since that morning in Natchez-Under when Kyle had claimed that he preferred her hair loose, she had worn it down in the daytime. Now it was dressed simply, pulled back from her face with combs.
He surveyed her with appreciation, then unwrapped the linen napkin and applied himself to his meal. They chatted amiably while he ate, and when he was done, Kyle put his hands behind his head and lay back on the grass with a contented sigh. “Those apple tarts were the best I’ve ever tasted. I can’t believe they came from Montrose’s kitchens. Not even Martha can cook like that.”
“It was my mother’s recipe. I showed Martha how to make them.”
“Your talents are limitless, Moonwitch.” Glancing up at her, Kyle flashed her a slow grin. “I didn’t realize what a bargain I was getting when I married you.”
It was said in a teasing voice, but it made Selena’s heart ache. She wanted to do more for him than bring him apple tarts. “Kyle,” she said gravely, “do you remember when we talked about Natchez needing a regular steamboat service?”
“Um-hmm.”
“If you were to establish one, how would you go about it?”
“Hypothetically? If I had the necessary capital, I’d commission a shipwright to build a couple of steamboats after Shreve’s design. Then I’d get the legislature to grant a charter and hire a commission agent to handle the business of arranging cargos.”
From his ready answer, she knew he had already given it some thought. “How much capital would it take?” she asked.
Kyle frowned up at the oak branches above his head. “I’d guess about a hundred thousand dollars. But I don’t have that kind of money on hand.”
“What about my dowry?”
“The money from the sale of your plantation? I couldn’t use that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d feel like a blasted fortune hunter, that’s why.” He shook his head. “No, if I wanted to start my own steamboat service, I’d sell one of my ships and try to come up with the rest from private investors.”
“Wh
y, if your ships are making a profit? And wouldn’t private investors demand a say in how the service was run? It would be better if you were solely in control.”
“You have a point.”
“Then why don’t you use my dowry? It’s rightfully yours, anyway. You could treat me as an investor, if your conscience won’t let you act otherwise.”
Kyle’s eyes widened in mild shock as he turned his head to stare at her. “You’re really serious.”
“Yes. It would suit you far better than being a planter, wouldn’t it?”
“Of course it would.”
“So why don’t you do it?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “Because, I’m needed here.”
“It would be necessary to hire a factor, of course, but Rufus is capable of seeing to the harvest, and I can handle the accounting.”
He stared at her a long moment before he slowly began to chuckle. “You’ve been waiting a long time to propose this, haven’t you, Moonwitch?”
The color in her cheeks deepened, but her blush only confirmed Kyle’s suspicion. Shaking his head in amazement, he reached out to take her hand and carry it to his lips. “Do you know the surprising thing? A month ago I would have jumped at the chance to become involved in such a venture, but now… No, Moonwitch. I greatly appreciate your offer, and I may take you up on it someday, but not now.”
“Why not?” Selena queried, disconcerted by the gentle touch of his lips, by the bemusement and affection in his hazel eyes.
“Because I’m just now beginning to make progress with the plantation. With your help, I’ve remedied some of the damage Whitfield caused—and even made the operation better than it was under my father’s rule. There’s a kind of pride in that…” Kyle shifted his glance, gazing thoughtfully up at the sky again. He hadn’t released her hand, and the pressure of his fingers was friendly and warm.
“It isn’t as onerous as I expected,” Kyle said seriously. “Running a plantation isn’t so very different from commanding my ship or dealing with my crew. You’ve made me see that…” He laughed softly then and slanted a glance up at her. “Next you’ll be turning me into a farmer. Imagine, me a farmer.” His eyes danced with rare delight as his gaze locked with hers. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
Yes, Selena thought silently. I can’t make you love me. And I wish with all my heart that I could.
Chapter Fifteen
Friendship, not love. That was all Kyle seemed to be willing to offer her—although there were times during the following week when Selena felt an occasional glimmer of hope that she might be wrong. Frequently Kyle treated her with the same affection he showed his sisters and looked at her with the same tender light in his eyes.
She wished it was love. If only she could truly be Kyle’s wife, if only she could win a place in his heart, she thought she would be totally content. Still, her life was good. There were moments of quiet happiness and shared laughter, days filled with work and play, with neighbors and family concerns…the squabbles that Kyle had taken for granted but that Selena was learning to cherish.
And she was needed. The girls needed her, and so did Kyle, even if he had refused her dowry, even if he was beginning to stand on his own where the plantation was concerned. His ability to apply the skills and knowledge he had learned at sea to the operation contributed greatly to his success, and his growing expertise with the plantation meant he didn’t have to depend on Selena so heavily or seek her advice quite so often.
Yet her new family did need her, Selena was convinced—if only to intervene in their disputes. That conviction was confirmed when one of their squabbles broke out the day before the ball, when the ladies of the Female Charitable Society came to call. Lydia had argued that Zoe and Felicity shouldn’t be allowed downstairs, but Bea allowed the younger girls to appear briefly to meet the six ladies of the society and the Presbyterian minister, Thomas Henderson.
Bea had invited them all for tea with the intention of introducing Selena and involving both her and Kyle more deeply in community affairs. Unfortunately for Kyle, the ladies brought with them the same traveling Methodist preacher who had been trying to close down Heaven’s Gate—a starkly dressed gentleman named Denby. Not only was Kyle required to receive the man, but he was forced to listen politely when Denby managed to corner him. By the time the tea tray was brought in, Kyle’s expression was one of boredom, exasperation and desperation.
Intent on rescuing her husband, Selena joined the two men in time to hear the Reverend Denby make a solemn pronouncement.
“I am pleased to say that Mr. Gideon Whitfield has chosen to take up the cloth. He will accompany me when I leave this good city, to assist me in teaching the word of God.”
Bea, who was close enough to overhear the conversation, gave Selena a skeptical look that clearly said, “God begins in the heart, so what is Whitfield doing spreading His word?”
Selena thoroughly agreed but wouldn’t say so in front of the reverend. Just as she was about to murmur a noncommittal reply, however, Denby raised a pinch of snuff to his nostrils and lapsed into a sneezing fit so violent that it threatened to shake the house down. Immediately the chatter ceased while the curious guests turned to stare.
Selena was worried for the poor gentleman. Not only were his eyes streaming with tears, but he couldn’t catch his breath. Indeed, he couldn’t even stand without Kyle’s support. When eventually Denby’s sneezing slowed, Kyle retrieved the snuffbox from the floor, where it had fallen. His gaze narrowing, he dipped a finger into the box and gingerly tasted the remaining contents.
“What in blazes!” Kyle swore. “This is pepper!” His murderous gaze swung to the door. “Felicity,” he added in that same awful tone. “I’ll flay her alive.”
In four strides he was across the room and out in the hall. Selena quickly followed. She was able to deduce enough about what had happened to make her fear for Felicity’s skin, if not her life.
The young girl was crouching at the head of the stairs, peering between the rails of the banister. She gave a yelp when she saw her furious brother coming after her. Leaping to her feet, she made a dash for the safety of her bedchamber.
Kyle was faster. He took the stairs two at a time and caught Felicity by the scruff of her gown’s neckline as she reached the door. “Oh, no you don’t, you little wretch.”
“Kyle, don’t hurt her,” Selena pleaded breathlessly as she climbed the last steps.
“Hurt her! I’m going to string her up by her thumbs. Denby could have choked to death.”
“I’m sure Felicity didn’t mean to put him in danger.”
“Confound it, Selena! What she did was more than a harmless prank.”
Selena glanced down at the hall below, noticing the attention they were attracting; two of the ladies had left the parlor and were staring up at them. “Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere.”
Kyle looked as if he might like to give vent to an oath, but he clamped his jaw shut. Marching Felicity into her room, he shut the door after Selena, then folded his arms across his chest and glared at his sister. “All right, you shameless little hellion. How do you explain yourself?”
Felicity gave him a frightened glance. “I just wanted to have some fun.”
If anything, Kyle’s expression became more savage.
“Kyle,” Selena said gently, forestalling his explosion.
“Very well. I’m still waiting, Felicity, for you to give me one good reason why you would serve such a trick to a guest.”
“Because Reverend Denby is a prig. He patted me on the head and told me I was a pretty creature.”
There was a pronounced silence while Kyle considered her answer. Both Felicity and Selena watched him anxiously. His lips were still pressed in a tight line, but a muscle flexed in his jaw, as if he were trying to bite back humor. “You might be right, pumpkin,” he said finally in a dry tone, “but not even a prig deserves a noseful of pepper.”
“I won’t do it again, I promise.
”
“I trust not. Or you’ll find yourself with a dose of your own medicine.”
“I think, Felicity,” Selena observed to change the subject, “that you owe Reverend Denby an apology.”
Felicity nodded eagerly.
“And,” Kyle added, “I want your promise that you won’t play any more tricks.”
Felicity gulped. “I won’t, but…” She gave Selena a desperate look. “What if I already have?”
Selena experienced a sinking feeling. “Felicity, what did you do?”
“I… left Horatio’s cage open.”
Kyle raised his eyes to the ceiling as if praying for patience, while Selena bit her lip. “I’d better check on him,” she said worriedly.
Leaving Kyle to deal with his sister, Selena hastened downstairs. She didn’t need to search for the parrot, however, for she could hear his raucous squawks coming from the parlor. It would have been dreadful enough if he had strictly been issuing his usual invitation, but her worst fears were realized when she caught what he was saying. Mortified, Selena hurried into the room, where she found Horatio perched near the ceiling on the punkah fan, overlooking the crumpets and cucumber sandwiches. He was flapping his feathers as he entertained the guests, his lively curses drawing titters and shocked gasps from the company.
Cheeks aflame, Selena scooped up a handful of blueberries from a dish and offered it to the bird.
“Blast it! Awk. Blast it!” Horatio replied, but after a moment, he fluttered down to perch on her arm and devour his feast.
Managing a polite disclaimer, Selena turned to make her escape with the parrot and found Kyle watching her from the doorway. He looked at her with laughter in his eyes but responded to her unspoken plea by launching into an apology to the company for the bird’s scandalous behavior. Intensely grateful, she gave Kyle a strained smile as she passed.
She found Horatio’s cage in her office, where she had left it, and when she had restored the parrot to his home, Selena took a deep breath and returned to the parlor, reluctant to face the guests after such a scene.
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