Moonwitch (36 page)

“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.

F
riendship, 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.

Much to her chagrin, those same ladies were present the next evening at the ball. Selena had strong reservations about the occasion. She dreaded meeting countless strangers and being subjected to their critical scrutiny. Yet when the day arrived, she was relieved to find she had already met many of them, and that they seemed to accept her with genuine goodwill.

The ball was a great success, if one judged by the numbers of guests that had been pouring into Montrose all day and who now overflowed the house. The only drawback to an otherwise perfect evening was the heat, Selena thought as she glanced around the crowded drawing room. The candlelight that blazed from a myriad of wax tapers looked lovely gleaming off silver dishes and polished floors, but it added greatly to the warmth.

The gathering was less formal than those she was accustomed to, indeed was a study in contrasts—lavish elegance vying with rustic simplicity. In the drawing room played an orchestra of violins and tambourines, while in the courtyard, a grizzled old black man performed a Virginia jig upon a gourd fiddle. The ladies’ costumes, too, presented a view of a disparate society. The planters’ wives had arrived in carriages, bedecked in jewels and lace, yet their less affluent female neighbors had ridden on horseback, dressed in calicoes and were carrying their ball gowns in bundles.

Kyle, in an elegant forest-green coat, was a contrast all to himself, Selena thought as her eyes sought him above the heads of the guests. Rugged yet graceful, he possessed a strength and vitality that was incredibly appealing to her heightened senses.

His blatant masculinity appealed to the other females present, as well, Selena was aware. More than once she caught another lady favoring Kyle with a discreet glance, looking at him sideways with fluttering lashes and a pretty blush. He returned their interest with an open friendliness, his teasing remarks no different from his interactions with his sisters, the aristocratic dowager who had conferred her presence on the ball or even Angel. Indeed, Selena was beginning to realize that Kyle accorded highborn ladies the same treatment as the lowest of tavern wenches—he treated both simply as women.

Yet she couldn’t help experiencing an ungovernable jealousy at all the attention he was attracting, especially when she observed an ebony-haired beauty fawning over Kyle during an entire set of dances. When the set ended, Selena realized her concern was much too obvious, for it was the first thing Bea mentioned when she joined her.

“Don’t pay Miss Jenkins any mind,” Bea advised. “She’s one of the dozens and dozens of ladies who have pursued my brother to no avail.”

“I’m not concerned,” Selena said untruthfully. “Like I, she hasn’t the right color hair.”

“Well, you put her in the shade. You look exquisite—as I’m sure I’ve already told you.”

Selena smiled gratefully at the compliment. In deference to the poorer guests, she had eschewed jewelry and chosen a bandeau that sported an ostrich plume as her only adornment, yet her empire-waist lutestring gown, the shade of dusty violets, bespoke wealth and supreme good taste. She thought she looked attractive, but in the face of such competition from the other beauties present, she needed the reassurance.

Bea gave her that and more, swearing that Kyle had only danced with Miss Jenkins out of duty. Yet Selena was grateful when he turned the dark-haired beauty over to a new partner.

When her own partner claimed her for the next dance, she made a determined effort to bring her jealousy under control, trying not to gaze at her husband above once a minute. Even so she found it difficult. She was far more aware of Kyle than she had ever been of any man. He had awakened her physically to a lush world of pleasure and desire and sensation, of aching need and passion. A thousand times a day Selena found herself wanting to touch him, to slip into his arms and fit her lips and her body against his, and she found it a torment not to be able to do so now.

More incredible, though, was his ability to rouse her with merely a glance. Kyle had only to caress her with those glowing hazel eyes to remind her of past moments when he had been buried deep inside her, and she would start to quiver.

Still, it was only lust. Her plan to make Kyle fall in love with her, she knew, was no further along than it had been several days earlier when she’d met him in the fields. Since then they’d had little chance for intimacy other than their early-morning conferences. And she hadn’t spoken to Kyle at all this evening, not since the first dance, when, as the guests of honor, they had opened the ball together.