Moonwitch (6 page)

“There’s blood on your nightdress,” he ground out, answering her unspoken question. “Sweet heaven! That was why you were so—” He broke off then to eye her narrowly. “I think you’d better start explaining, Miss Markham.”

Selena searched for a plausible reason. “Perhaps I cut myself, Captain—”

“Like hell you did!”

Selena swallowed hard. Kyle Ramsey might be an unrefined American; he might swagger and curse like a common sailor. But he was deceptively quick. She wouldn’t be able to fool him with some halfhearted lie. Yet she couldn’t tell him the truth. “Please,” she said, stalling for time, “you are hurting my arm.”

Kyle gave vent to a muttered oath, but he released her to stalk over to the brandy decanter. He poured himself a very generous amount as he grappled with the dilemma Selena Markham had presented him. If she wasn’t so anxious to leave, he would have suspected a ploy to snare him as a husband. It wouldn’t be the first time a lovely young innocent had insinuated herself into a man’s bed with marriage as her object. But if rumor could be believed, Selena Markham was already betrothed.

Kyle shot her an unfriendly glance. “Lady, I don’t know what your game is, but I don’t much like it.”

“I…” Selena took a deep breath, and, for one of the few times in her life, told a deliberate lie. “I wanted to learn about love.”

“So you gave yourself to a
stranger
?”

Flushing at his disbelieving tone, she stared down at her bare feet.

“You’re engaged to be married, aren’t you? Why didn’t you ask your betrothed to initiate you?”

“I… my reasons are my own, Captain. I don’t think I am obliged to share them with you.”

Kyle gave her a long, assessing look. How did she manage to look so cool and remote after losing her virtue to a man she had only met that afternoon? “What’s your betrothed’s name? Warner? I suppose now he’ll be challenging me to pistols at dawn.”

Selena lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t intend to tell him,” she said quietly. “And I would appreciate it if you would refrain from mentioning what happened tonight, as well.”

“You can bet your sweet life I won’t mention it! I’m not that much of a fool.”

She stood there, silent. Kyle ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “Blast it, I don’t have any experience deflowering virgins, or I would have realized at the time—”

“Please…I don’t hold you responsible. You merely did what I asked.”

Glaring at her, Kyle took a deep swig of liquor. He didn’t need this kind of trouble. He could have—and now it looked as if he should have—availed himself of any of a dozen willing females in St. John’s, but oddly, after kissing Selena Markham that afternoon, he hadn’t quite felt in the mood for the full-blown temptresses he usually favored. He had chosen instead to sober up from his afternoon revelries in solitude. And then Selena Markham had shown up, sobbing and looking like some wild wraith in the moonlight. And what had begun as an attempt at a rescue wound up as a seduction.
His.

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.

“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 left 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.