He raised his head to whisper, “Let’s see exactly where you are ticklish, honey.”
“Wyatt, don’t …”
“Trust me.”
“I do trust you,” she murmured, again elated to know that was true. She trusted him as she had trusted no one else, not just so she could be here like this, but so she could give him her heart.
His hands slipped beneath her bottom as his mouth explored her inner thigh. If it was ticklish, she could not tell because she was consumed by the craving that was beyond anything she had experienced before. Her fingers clutched the blanket beneath her as his tongue laved her with a wave of incredible, intimate ecstasy.
Was that her voice calling out to him in such a desperate tone? She was unsure of anything but the escalating fire erupting through her. Then, she was the fire, untamed and unquenched, scalding away every thought and emotion.
When his arm slipped around her shoulders, shifting her beneath him, she raised trembling fingers to bring his mouth to hers. The musky scents of both him and her surrounded her as he whispered something. She could not understand what it was. She could only see his eyes, his eyes that burned with the same fire that had engulfed her.
She gasped as he pushed deep within her. The glow in his eyes dimmed for a moment, and she knew he feared he had hurt her. How could he when she had waited so long for this moment? She pressed her hands against his hips, bringing him even deeper.
His smile brought forth those uncontrollable feelings again. As he captured her mouth, he moved against her, then with her. So slow was each motion, she panted against his lips in anticipation. She clasped his shoulders and gave herself to the rhythm. As she was enveloped once more in the fiery ecstasy, he shuddered against her. His groan surrounded her as she gave herself to the perfection and to him.
Rachel was unsure what woke her from sleep. The storm must have gone past, for starlight now filtered through the fog. The air remained hot, and no sound of thunder suggested any rain was on the way. If thunder had not intruded on her sleep, then what had?
The bed shifted, and she looked at Wyatt, who was sleeping with his arm around her, his fingers draped across her breast. She smiled. For whatever had woken her, she was grateful, because she could marvel in the memory of his sumptuous seduction before she took them with her into her dreams.
Wyatt had awakened her once to make love with her again. That time had been more exquisite than the first time, for they did not hurry. Her fingers ran along her arm, and she wondered at how his touch made her come alive in a way she had never known.
She closed her eyes. Tonight she had learned many lessons from him. His mouth on her and his body against hers had created a spell of love. A small moan escaped her lips as she fought her need to rejoice in his touch again. Having discovered joy in his arms, she would yearn for it for the rest of her life.
She buried her face in the pillow and breathed in Wyatt’s male essence. Had she been a fool to surrender to his spell when she knew this ecstasy could never be hers again once she left the boat? She must go back to River’s Haven, and he would return to his life on the river.
No, she would not let any thoughts of the future ruin this night. This one incomparable night. Turning to face him, she was not surprised to see his eyes were open. They crinkled in a grin as he rose far enough to find her lips and draw her into the splendor once more.
Fifteen
A fist pounded on the door.
Wyatt opened his eyes and yawned. The dawn’s gray was only beginning to chase away the darkness. Or was that fog or rain? A second storm had ripped along the river valley less than an hour ago. It had been more violent than the first.
He started to swing his feet over the side of the bed, then paused. A smile curved along his lips as he gazed at how his blanket followed Rachel’s beguiling body. Her passion had not surprised him, for he had seen her leap to the defense of River’s Haven so often, but her eagerness had thrilled him. She might wear puritanical dress when she visited The Ohio Star, but she was a wanton who was receptive to every pleasure he had taught her.
And she had taught him, he reminded himself with a silent laugh. He had not guessed that he had so much to learn from this sweet innocent.
He forced his hand not to slip along her, for he wanted to watch her sleep a moment longer. Her black hair was spread beneath her, but he could admire the glistening warmth of her cheek and her soft pink lips that had been so luscious beneath his.
He could no longer resist. He ran a single finger along her cheek, and, opening her eyes, she rolled onto her back to smile drowsily up at him. Her hand raised toward him, but she stiffened when someone struck the door again.
“Wait here,” Wyatt said, pulling on his trousers as he went to the door. He looked back at the bed. Rachel held the blanket up to her chin, and her hair flowed down over her like melted chocolate. He doubted if he had ever seen a more appealing sight.
The fist hit the door a third time.
Throwing it open, he was astonished to see Horace on the other side. He started to ask his partner why he was bothering him now, but Horace gasped, “Fire!”
“Fire?” He cursed as the unmistakable odor of smoke curled around him. It had not been fog clouding the windows. “Where?”
“At the bow.”
“The boiler room—”
“Not there. On this deck and the one above. We’ve got to get help to put it out.”
“K. C.?”
“She’s right here.” Horace tugged the little girl around him. K. C.’s eyes were heavy with sleep and fear.
“Go! I’ll be right behind you.”
His partner nodded and raced away.
Wyatt turned. Rachel had pulled on her dress and was buttoning it into place. Taking K. C. by the hand, he drew the little girl into his quarters.
“Honey, the boat’s on fire.” He stuffed his feet into his boots.
“I heard,” Rachel replied. “Do you think lightning hit it?”
“No, I suspect heaven’s wrath was less involved than men’s fury.”
She choked out a denial, then turned to pick his gun up off the windowsill. She handed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said. “Finish dressing and head for the stern.”
“I can help—”
“Just get to the stairs right away.”
“All right. If I can help, call me. Please.”
He nodded, caressing her cheek. “Can you swim?”
“Yes.” Her eyes widened in horror. “Is the fire that bad?”
“It’s at the prow. The planks to shore and the pier are at that end. You need to get off The Ohio Star immediately.” His voice gentled. “Don’t argue with me, Rachel.”
Wanting to plead with him to come with her and Kitty Cat, Rachel bit her lower lip as Wyatt rushed out onto the deck.
“Are we going ashore?” Kitty Cat asked.
“It looks like it.” Rachel glanced back at her shoes and petticoats on the floor. Drawing on her shoes, she buttoned them only partway. If she had to kick them off, she could. “C’mon. We’ve got to go.”
“Your petticoats!”
Rachel scooped them up. She glanced toward the bow as she hurried Kitty Cat out of Wyatt’s quarters and onto the deck. Flames crackled in the predawn darkness, but they did not reach high above the pilothouse as she had feared.
She grabbed a lantern that Wyatt must have left for her, holding it up as she led the little girl to the rear stairs. They were steeper than the ones at the front. More of a ladder than a staircase, so Rachel had to keep Kitty Cat from tumbling down them.
She heard a bell clanging. Something was reeling down the bluff. A trail of men followed behind it. They must be bringing Haven’s pumper. She wondered how long it would take to get a head of steam up so they could take water from the river to put out the fire.
Embers floated on the air. Kitty Cat yelped, and Rachel hurried to brush one from the little girl’s sleeve. They could not stay here.
“Put this over your head,” she ordered, handing Kitty Cat one of her petticoats.
“Why?”
“It will act as a sort of umbrella.”
Kitty Cat copied Rachel as she tossed a petticoat over her head. Going to the railing at the stern, Rachel ran her hands along the top. Was there a break in it, so she did not have to clamber over the railing? If so, she could not find it. She glanced to her right. The railing opened there, for that was where Kitty Cat had been fishing. She did not want to swim any farther than she had to.
“Take this.” She handed Kitty Cat the lantern, trying not to see the tears on the child’s face. From fear or because she had been burned?
Keeping the petticoat over her head, Rachel bunched up her skirt and struggled to climb over the railing. Balancing on the narrow edge of the deck on the other side, she held out her hands to Kitty Cat.
“Put down the lantern,” she ordered.
“Rachel, we can’t go until—”
“Wyatt and Horace will be fine.”
“But, Rachel—”
“Katherine Mulligan! Don’t argue! Come now!”
The little girl hurried to obey, and Rachel knew that she had finally convinced Kitty Cat not to linger. Rachel sat on the narrow strip of wood. At her order, Kitty Cat stepped behind her. The little girl clamped her arms around Rachel’s shoulders, leaning against her back. Again Rachel looked toward the front of The Ohio Star, hoping that she could set Kitty Cat back on the other side of the railing because the fire was under control.
Flames were visible over the upper railing. She scanned the deck but could not see Wyatt. He would be close to the fire, fighting to save the boat. Something snapped, and a shower of embers flew up before raining down on the lower deck and into the river.
“Hold on, Kitty Cat,” she called, knowing that she must not wait any longer.
Sliding off the deck, she fought to keep her head—and Kitty Cat’s—above water. The little girl squealed and began kicking her feet. Right into Rachel’s legs.
“Don’t help,” Rachel gasped as she began to swim toward shore. Her skirt tried to coil around her legs, keeping her from moving.
Shouts came from the shore, and she heard the clatter of the pumper’s steam engine. That strange whoosh must be the pumper spraying water onto the fire.
She stretched her toes toward the bottom, but the water was still too deep. Kitty Cat cried out in terror. Had she gotten water in her face or was it the lightning that sliced across the sky? Another storm?
Rachel wanted to tell the little girl to hold on tightly but Rachel did not waste her energy. They had to get out of the water and to shelter before the storm was over them. Stroking awkwardly, she edged toward shore. She had not realized how far the back end of the boat could drift from the shore while the front was bound to the pier.
This time when she tried to find the bottom, her foot sank into mud. She lifted it quickly before her shoe could be pulled off. Bouncing through the water, not letting her feet linger long on the bottom, she found the stones near the shore. She stood and drew Kitty Cat around her so she could cradle the child in her arms.
Hands came out of the darkness. Someone took Kitty Cat. When she looked up, she saw it was Mr. Sawyer. Sean stood beside him and held out his hand to Rachel. She hesitated, not wanting to pull the boy into the water.
“He’s strong enough to help you, Miss Browning,” Mr. Sawyer said.
She grasped the boy’s hand. Mr. Sawyer had not been jesting. Sean helped her out of the river as if she weighed as little as Kitty Cat. She dropped to her knees on the shore. Mud sucked her down into the dampness. Cool, thick mud. She breathed in its wet scent.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she raised her head.
Mr. Sawyer put Kitty Cat in Sean’s arms. “Let me help you, Miss Browning.”
“Thank you.” She was not going to be proud now. She was soaked and scared. Not of being burned, but for Wyatt and Horace. As Mr. Sawyer helped her to her feet, she looked toward The Ohio Star.
“They’ll take care of it, Miss Browning.” Turning her to walk up the hill, he added, “I assume you’d like to get Kitty Cat in and dried off as quickly as possible. No sense anyone seeing the two of you looking like drowned rats.”
“Yes, we should get inside right away.” She understood what he did not say. No one from River’s Haven must learn she had been aboard the boat. She wanted to thank Mr. Sawyer again, but that would ruin the illusion that he was leading her away from the others simply because he wanted her to get to the red house around the corner from the general store without delay. She was not sure how Mr. Sawyer had chanced to see her in the water, but she appreciated his attempt to keep her from being seen by the villagers of Haven.
At the top of the hill, she looked back at The Ohio Star. Men swarmed around the pier in the light of the fire on the top decks. An arc of water struck the flames.
“Don’t dally, Miss Browning,” Mr. Sawyer said. “If someone chances to look in this direction …”
Rachel followed him around the back of the livery stable and across the street toward the green. The top of her shoes flapped on every step. Again she glanced behind her. The orange light that had reflected in the river was dimming. The firefighters must be winning their battle with the fire.
Following Mr. Sawyer up onto the porch of the neat red house around the corner from the store, she saw Sean set Kitty Cat on her feet in a comfortable foyer. Mrs. Sawyer threw a blanket over the little girl’s shoulders and held out another to Rachel.
“Do come in,” Mrs. Sawyer said.
Rachel took the blanket but said, “We should be returning to River’s Haven.”
Closing the door, Mr. Sawyer said, “You should be dry first. Otherwise …”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I appreciate your kindness more than I can say.”
Mrs. Sawyer put her hand on Rachel’s arm. “We in Haven take care of one another, just as you do at River’s Haven. Come in and sit. I’ll see if I can find you something to wear.”
“I’m soaked. I don’t want to drip through your house.”
“Come into the kitchen. You can’t hurt the chairs out there.” She smiled at her husband. “Noah just put extra coats of paint on them so the children can’t ruin them after playing outside.”
Rachel gratefully followed Mrs. Sawyer into the kitchen. The room barely had enough space for the black stove and the table with six chairs around it. A dry sink was set beneath the window. Beyond the door was another room that was only partially complete, and she guessed Mr. Sawyer was enlarging the house.
Sitting at the table covered with a yellow gingham oilcloth, Rachel reached down and drew off her shoes. “I think I should dump these outside.”
“Allow me,” Mrs. Sawyer said.
“You shouldn’t be doing all this in your condition.”
Mrs. Sawyer laughed as she patted her rounding stomach. “My work and my family keep me on my feet most of the day, and it’s too early to worry about resting. Doc Bamburger told me that I should do anything I feel comfortable doing.”
“But you should take care. Giving birth is so very dangerous.” Rachel’s hands clenched in her lap. She admired Mrs. Sawyer and did not want to think of her health and maybe even her life imperiled because of this child.
“I’m not giving birth anytime soon.” She chuckled. Taking Rachel’s shoes, she went through the unfinished room and opened a door on the far side.
The odor of smoke burst into the house. Rachel stood and went to the door. A heavy, dark cloud hung over the village, blocking the sunrise. Was the fire out, or were they still fighting it?
“Noah has gone back to find out what’s going on and to lend a hand,” Mrs. Sawyer said as if Rachel had spoken out loud. “He’ll come back with news as soon as he can. For now, let me see what I can find you to wear while those clothes dry.”
As Mrs. Sawyer went back out of the kitchen, Rachel realized that she had not aske
d a single question about why Rachel and Kitty Cat had been on the boat. Sinking to the chair again, she leaned her elbow on the table and her cheek against her hand. Mrs. Sawyer did not need to ask questions. Her disheveled state must make it obvious what had kept them aboard the boat last night.
When Mrs. Sawyer returned with an armload of clothing, she dropped them on the table and pulled the thin curtains over the window. Rachel sorted through them and found a skirt and a chemise that would fit her. The skirt would be short, for she was taller than Mrs. Sawyer, but it would be nowhere near as short as the skirts she wore at River’s Haven. Only the bottom trio of buttons on her shoes would be seen.
Rachel quickly pulled off her wet clothes and redressed. Mrs. Sawyer dried out Rachel’s shoes with a towel. Her steady patter about the upcoming Centennial events seemed to require no answer, and Rachel gave her none.
She needed to concentrate on how she would explain this when she returned to River’s Haven. Merrill would be furious beyond words, and she had no idea how Mr. Foley would react. He certainly would be outraged to learn that his reluctant bride-to-be had spent the night with Wyatt Colton on The Ohio Star.
“Here you go,” said Mrs. Sawyer, handing Rachel her shoes. “I figure this is as dry as I can get them. Gladys would have done better, but she’s visiting her brother and won’t be back for another few days.”
“Gladys?”
“Noah’s housekeeper. She lives out at the farm to keep an eye on the house there until we decide what to do with it.” She laughed. “We don’t need two small houses, just one big one.”
Rachel put her hand in one shoe, then slipped her foot into it and began buttoning it into place. “The shoe is drier than it’s been when I have taken Kitty Cat for a walk along the river and had to fish her out. Thank you so much.”
“No need for you to keep saying thanks.” She smiled. “I know you’d do the same for my family, for I’ve seen how much Kitty Cat loves you. Sean tells me that she was mistrustful of others when they were in New York City.”
“Mistrustful? Not Kitty Cat!” Rachel laughed, unable to halt herself as she thought of how Kitty Cat had inveigled her way into Rachel’s heart with such speed and how the little girl had made friends so quickly with Wyatt and Horace.
Moonlight on Water Page 18