by Bobbi Smith
"Honestly?" At his nod, she replied, "By their eyes."
"Their eyes?"
"Yes. I can tell a lot by what's mirrored there. And in Andre's case, he has the shiftiest eyes I've ever seen."
Christopher couldn't stifle a chuckle. "And what about me?"
"In your case." She met his one-eyed gaze evenly. "I'm sure my estimation of your character will be only half correct."
He laughed loudly as her quick-witted answer broke the web of restraint that had bound him all night. He liked her...why deny it?
"I wonder what your determination of my character will be when I finally have both eyes in working order?"
"That you're twice as bad!" she retorted.
And with lightened spirits, they strolled around the deck.
Mark and Andre exchanged frustrated glances as Katie and Christopher disappeared down the deck. Making their way inside they entered the saloon together in silence.
"Why didn't you do something?" Andre demanded arrogantly.
"What could I do?"
"Forbid her to see him!"
Mark looked at Andre incredulously, "Forbid her? Andre, whether you're aware of it yet or not, Katie always does what she pleases."
"She's only a woman, Mark and as her brother, you have an obligation to control her. You should protect her. How can you stand by and allow her to ruin her life?" Andre replied heatedly.
"I hardly think one dinner and a walk around the deck are going to harm her."
"Once she is my wife, she won't have such a free run of things." He was furious.
"Your wife?" Mark was surprised. "Have you proposed?"
"Not yet, but I intend to make her mine."
"Katie does have some say in the matter, you know," he stated, suddenly disliking this hot-tempered, egotistical man.
"We shall see," Andre concluded stalking away from Mark in an indignant huff.
The night was magical, illuminated only by the soft beams of the half-moon and a dusting of twinkling stars. Standing at the stern, protected from view by the fantail Katie stared out in wonder at the silver-coated darkness. High on a bluff, a white, pillared plantation house stood sentinel over the rivet And all was quiet, save for the rhythmic splashing of the paddlewheel.
"It's a beautiful night." Katie's eyes sparkled as she spoke in muted tones.
"Yes, it is." Christopher stood next to her, enjoying the peace of the moment.
A northbound steamer passed them, churning white froth on the black satin of the river, its decks alight with a profusion of flickering lamps.
Sighing, Katie faced Christopher and smiled, "Thank you for dinner. I have to admit this is the most fun I've had on this whole trip."
"You really didn't want to make this trip, did you?"
"No.'
"Why? Most women would love to have the opportunity to see New Orleans."
"I don't need dresses and parties every night to make me happy. And besides..." Katie almost gave away too much.
Christopher wasn't letting her off that easily. "And besides what?"
"Nothing." Her answer was sullen as she tried to avoid his question.
"Katie?" he coaxed.
She looked up at him in the semi-darkness and her heart skipped a beat. There was something so overpowering about this man-his dark good looks, his easy manner, his engaging smile-His effect on her was devastating and Katie gave in to her desire to trust him. Gambler-rogue-ne' er-do-well... no matter what Mark and Andre said he was, Katie didn't care. She was following her instincts-she liked Christopher Fletcher.
"Well, it's just that I feel like Father's putting me on display.. .like an auction block or something..."
"I don't understand."
"I know what Father thinks. He thinks by having me presented to society, I'll find a `suitable husband'." She sounded thoroughly disgusted at the prospect.
"You don't want one?" Christopher was delighted by her open response. And if Katie was telling the truth then she would be the only woman he'd ever met who hadn't had matrimony foremost in her thoughts.
"No. I don't want to get married. At least, not yet."
"Is there someone you care for back home?" Jealousy flared but he refused to acknowledge it to himself.
"I have a lot of friends in camp but no one special." She regarded him from beneath lowered lashes, not realizing how naturally seductive her expression was.
"You know, you are the first woman I've ever known who wasnt totally obsessed in her quest for the most beautiful gown to wear to the biggest ball in order to catch the richest husband." Christopher spoke his thoughts hoping what he said really was true.
Katie was startled by his reference to her as a woman. She had always been Katie the daughter or Katie the big sister. The prospect of discovering who Katie the "woman" was, intrigued her.
"You look concerned about something," Christopher broke through her thoughts.
Looking up at him, her expression one of consternation, "I've never thought of myself as a woman before."
"You haven't?" Now it was his turn to be amazed. How could any female, as pretty as Katie, be unaware of her own loveliness?
"No, but it's certainly an interesting thought."
"How old are you?"
"I'm eighteen. I'll be nineteen in October," she answered as their eyes met and locked; hers unguarded yet bemused, his penetrating yet not threatening in any way.
"You are a rarity, Katie Kingsford."
"Why do you say that?" The words were mechanical, murmured without conscious thought, as her whole being was drawn to the warmth of his dark-eyed gaze.
"You're fresh... unspoiled..." Christopher caressed her cheek sensuously with gentle fingertips.
Katie drew a sharp breath at the feelings his one small touch evoked. Who was this man, that he could move her as no one ever had before, awakening within her heart a need as old as time itself? Struggling with this new emotion that surged through her, Katie fought for equilibrium for time to decipher the strange yet thrilling desire to know this man as she had known no other.
"Ah, Katie." Christopher spoke softly, his voice gruff with the control he was exerting over himself. "You're so special."
Bending to her, there in their dark, secluded place on deck, he kissed her gently, savoring the sweet intimacy of their first embrace. For a long breathless moment, all the world stood still, as Katie was lost in the joy of exploring her own desire.
As he ended the kiss and drew away from her slightly, Christopher read all the confusion of her emotions in her face. He wanted to move from her-to give her time, but her arms slipped about his neck as she yearningly whispered, "Christopher..."
He knew she was to be treasured, but the sound of his name on her lips urged him on. Clasping Katie to him, his mouth slanted heatedly across hers, parting her lips and plundering her inner sweetness for the first time.
Katie was mildly shocked by Christopher's deepening of the kiss, but the pleasurable sensations it aroused soon overcame her timidity Pressing closer, she kissed him back, in no way embarrassed by her eagerness to be near him.
Surprised and pleased by Katie's reaction, Christopher longed to carry her off and have his way with her.
Katie was lost in the sultry splendor of Christopher's kiss. An ache was growing deep with her for this man. He had set her afire and she knew instinctively that he would be the only one who could release her from the heat of her need. Fleetingly, she thought... so this is what it means to be a woman.. .this wonderful sense of loving and being loved. She wanted Christopher. It didn't mat ter what people said about him...
And then, all thoughts flew from her mind as she gave in to the desire that pulsed ever stronger within her and in her inexperience she arched invitingly against him.
Christopher wanted to touch her, to caress the enticing swell of her firm, young breasts, to strip away the layers of her restrictive clothes and savor the beauty that he knew was her. And he surrendered to the urgings of his natural d
rives, when Katie offered herself so freely to him. Thus encouraged, his hands began their restless exploration of her, stroking her back and shoulders before moving to cup the tempting fullness of her bosom.
Katie stiffened at the strange feelings that the boldness of his touch stirred within her. Gently but firmly she removed his hand from her breast and guided it to a less intimate spot at her waist.
Pressing his lips to her throat, he inhaled the heady scent of her as his hands moved slowly upward over her ribcage intent on capturing the sweetness of his prey. When at last they rested beneath her breasts, he kissed her deeply and ran his thumbs sensuously over their peaks.
"Don't!"
The shooting thrill of his touch set her blood racing and startled her with its intensity. Attracted to him as she was, she knew that she had to stop. Kissing him was one thing but these further intimacies...
"Don't?" Christopher stepped back to look at her questioningly. When Katie refused to meet his gaze, he moved to take her in his arms again. "Katie..."
"Wait a minute, Christopher," she put him off, as she tried to come to terms with her feelings... feelings that were new and almost frightening to her.
"What kind of a game are you playing?"
"Game?"
"You know you like it..." He started to pull her to him. He knew she was a virgin, but he also figured as untamed as Katie was, that she had had some experience with men.
"Christopher Fletcher, let me go or I'll..."
"You'll what? Hit me again?" he sneered, his amorous feelings dying painfully. Frustrated and not understanding her, he mocked, "Why don't you grow up, Katie?"
Katie glared at him, "Grow up? I may not be as experienced as the women you're accustomed to, but where I come from the men know how to treat a lady."
"Lady? Did you forget you just blackened my eye this morning? And you're the one who agreed to come on deck with me. What did you think we were going to do? Look at the water?"
His hateful words cut her to the quick and Katie blinked furiously, trying to control her angry tears.
"Let's get you back to your cabin, where you'll be safe," he ridiculed, his frustration venting itself in his cruel, taunting jibes.
Katie shook off his hand as he tried to take her elbow.
"Don't touch me, you arrogant... "she began.
But Christopher silenced her with his sarcastic, "Yes, my dear? What were you about to say?"
"Oh, you...
Turning her back on him, she stormed off down the deck cursing under her breath and mentally chiding herself for having trusted him. He was just like Andre. Locating her cabin, she entered and slammed the door behind her.
Christopher watched her go, wondering what had happened. She had been so responsive and then stopped so suddenly. Katie had given him every indication that she would welcome his advances and yet, she rejected him outright... Christopher shook his head. Maybe she wasn't so different from the other women after all. Her teasing encouragement was to tempt a man into trying and then her cold refusal was designed to keep him offbalance, so he never knew where he stood.
Well, he decided, he had had enough of Katie Kingsford tonight to last him quite a while. He had too many other, more important things to worry about. He didn't have the time to concern himself with her quicksilver moods. Trying to dismiss all thoughts of her, he strode off down the deck intent on finding some diversion in the saloon.
Katie paced her room, trying to understand what had just occurred. Now that her anger had faded, confusion reigned supreme. Was Christopher right? Had she been too bold? She bit her lip as she realized how her behavior might have appeared to someone who didn't know her. She had openly gone to a stranger's cabin.. .had accepted his invitation to dinner and then gone naively for a stroll in the moonlight.
Disgusted with herself, she flopped down on her bed. No wonder he'd thought she was less than virtuous. Katie shook her head at her own stupidity. He had every right to be angry with her. Her thoughts a jumble, Katie curled up on her side and hugged her pillow to her. She'd bungled the whole thing. She sighed deeply, wondering if she'd ever see him again.
Her eyes were drooping with fatigue when someone pounded loudly on her cabin door. Katie flew from the bed, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. It had to be Christopher! He had come back to apologize...
When Katie threw open the door, she was thoroughly disappointed to see Mark standing there, his expression thunderous.
"Mark... What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you." He walked past her into the cabin.
Katie watched him for a moment and then closed the door behind him.
"About what?"
"About Christopher Fletcher."
"I don't really think we have anything to say."
"Yes, we do. You've embarrassed me, Katie," Mark commented, remembering Andre's critical remarks.
"Embarrassed you? You've got a lot of nerve accusing me when you're the one who started the fist fight this morning."
"That was bad enough, I know. But then you went and apologized!"
"Damn right, I did," she defended herself. "I had made a fool out of myself. All because of you!"
"But Katie, he humiliated me..."
"It was your own fault. You're the one who got drunk and..."
"I've given up the hard stuff..."
"That's beside the point. Your best bet would be to apologize to him yourself. You were wrong, you know."
Mark looked uncomfortable. "I know. But still, Katie, he's just a riverboat gambler..."
Katie gave him a silencing look. "I don't care what he does for a living. You owe him an apology."
"All right. I'll do it." He gave in to her logic.
"When?"
"The next time I see him."
Katie nodded her satisfaction and then ushered him out of her stateroom. "Good. Now, let me get some sleep."
Andre Montard downed his drink in a vicious motion, barely containing his fury. While he had been outraged earlier in the evening, now, after what he'd just witnessed, he felt murderous. Why hadn't that Mark Kingsford listened to him? He had warned him not to let Katie go on deck with Fletcher, but the damned fool had paid him no mind. And now Fletcher was probably bedding the wench! He had seen tham on deck, kissing passionately. Why the little whore had rebuffed him at every turn and yet this very night, she was allowing Christopher Fletcher to do the very things to her that he, Andre, longed to do!
Andre tried to calm down, but visions of Katie naked in Fletcher's arms assaulted him and he gritted his teeth in impotent rage at the thought of the Yankee being the first to penetrate her sweet, untouched flesh.
Picking up his glass, which the bartender had automatically refilled, Andre turned his back to the bar and glanced about the room just as Christopher entered in search of a diversion from his thoughts of Katie. Jt didn't occur to Andre that it had only been ten minutes since he'd seen Katie and Fletcher in the embrace and that they could hardly have consummated anything in that amount of time. All he knew was that Christopher Fletcher had once again bested him. And this time it was with the woman he wanted to marry. Jealousy burned uncontrolled within him. He would deal with Fletcher tonight and then tomorrow, he would see to Katie. Draining his drink, he slammed the empty glass down on the bar and left the saloon.
Christopher watched as Andre left, anger evident in his every move. Idly he wondered if Andre's anger was because of his father's loss of Greenwood. Shrugging, he dismissed all thoughts of the Montards and turned his attention to his bourbon and the card game at the corner table.
As he entered the saloon, Mark spotted Christopher at the bar. Girding himself for the upcoming conversation, he approached him hesitantly.
"Good evening, Fletcher," Mark greeted before ordering a beer from the bartender.
"Kingsford," Christopher returned.
"I want to talk with you for a moment, if you have the time."
Christopher looked at him levelly, trying to judge hi
s intent. Sensing no malice in his manner, he agreed, "Do you want to sit at a table?"
"Yes."
They walked silently to a table in the rear of the room and sat down across from each other.
"Well?" Christopher urged him to speak.
"I want to apologize for my behavior this morning."
"You, too?" He almost laughed out loud.
"I'm serious," Mark frowned at the other man's offhand remark.
"Apology accepted," Christopher replied wearily and Mark looked at him oddly. "Frankly, Mark, I'd like to forget the entire incident."
"Well, uh, fine. I feel the same way..."
"Good, it's settled. We'll speak of it no more."
"All right. Thank you." Mark stood, offering Christopher his hand and they shook hands companionably.
It was the early morning hours when Christopher finally made his way back to his cabin. He had won at the poker tables again tonight and though the pot was large, it meant very little to him. He had gone out on deck after the final game to smoke one last cheroot before retiring and was about to unlock his cabin door when the unseen assailant struck him from behind. Christopher fell heavily against the portal and slid unceremoniously to the deck, the wound on the back of his head bleeding profusely.
Joel heard the crash and jumped from his bed to throw open the door, just as the attacker was rifling Christopher's pockets. When Joel appeared, uncertain as to what was going on, the unknown man fled, quickly disappearing in the darkness.
"Christopher?" Joel rolled his groaning friend over. "Wait a minute," he instructed, hurrying back inside for a towel to press on the bloody wound. He returned quickly, applying pressure to stop the bleeding as Christopher sat up groggily on the deck.
"Who the hell hit me?" he growled, struggling to get to his feet with Joel's help.
"I couldn't see him, he ran as soon as I opened the door," Joel told him as he helped him inside their cabin.
"Damn! He got my money, too." Christopher checked his pockets in vain. "I just left the tables..."
"Well, whoever it was must have known that you'd won," Joel deduced, examining the wound on Christopher's head.
"Ouch! You ham-handed..."
"Shut up and let me take a good look." Joel ignored his complaints.
